Paris
So I reached Paris on Wednesday evening, and I passed the night reading Voltairine de Cleyre (who was American, incidentally) as I idly watched the Democratic National Convention on CNN. Managed to scrape around four hours of sleep, before embarking on an eight hour trawl around the bookshops, weary and progressively more laden as the day dragged on. "Livres" is the right word for those things! But I got some nice stuff, so it was all worthwhile. Pictured below is one of my favourite places in all of Paris:
(I didn't bother taking pictures of my other favourite places, but you can probably guess that I'm not talking about Notre Dame, l'Arc de Triomph, or that Blackpool Tower rip-off they have there). And this, at the end of the trip, was my booty. A modest haul, compared to some I've managed in the past, but I'm happy.
On returning to my hotel, I put my feet up (spoiler!), drank a load of vodka, and gazed at some more Democrats:
On Friday, I had a wander around the Bois de Boulogne, just because I'd never been there before. It turns out that it's a bit dull. Certainly nothing that one would regard as a photo-opportunity. And then I walked from there down to Saint-Cloud, to attend the Rock en Seine music festival. And I thought that I'd actually timed it quite well. The person I was most looking forward to seeing was Kate Nash; she was due on at 7:15, and there was no one playing earlier in the day that held any interest for me, and so I aimed to get there around 7:10. When 7:10 actually arrived, I was just arriving at the nearest Métro station, and I figured that, even though getting from there to a position in front of the stage might take a little while, and perhaps lead to my missing the first song, I could live with that. Only then I realised that I had walked to the wrong Métro station. I was at "Porte de Saint-Cloud", and I needed to be at "Boulogne - Pont de Saint-Cloud". D'oh! And the trouble was that my Paris map doesn't actually extend that far out, so I was pretty much on my own. At 8:00, I did finally instal myself in front of the stage, in time to catch the very last song of the set. And, despite everything, I did enjoy that very much, especially the tone-clusters at the end. (Even though I was too slow in getting my camera out of its sock, to catch a snapshot of her standing on her piano keyboard -- which struck me as a shot well worth snapping).
The next few hours certainly brought nothing else to match those five fleeting minutes. I checked out Black Kids...
... but, much as I'd thought they would be, they were shit. And then watched The Raconteurs: but, entirely as I knew they would be, they were shit too. And then it was announced that Amy Winehouse, headline act and next up on the bill, had cancelled. Much as I'd thought she might. I did have to wonder whether just to give up and go back to my hotel. I had vodka there, after all. Justice, on the second stage, held no appeal for me. ("We are your friends". Well, that's very nice to learn. "You'll never be alone again". I'll believe that when I see it). And I was going to have to wait at least an hour and a half before The Streets were due to take the third stage at 11:00. And I wasn't expecting much from them either. The last time I saw them live was when they were promoting the first album and, much as I do love both that album and the next (although not the third), back then they were pretty ropey as a live act. But wait for them I did, and I was glad to have done so. My word, they have really pulled themselves together live, over the last six years. They are a tight little combo these days; and, promoted to the main stage, they absolutely nailed it! It was like when Pulp stood in for The Stone Roses at Glastonbury 1995! (Not that I was actually present for that one, but I did watch it on the telly, and was as blown away as everyone else was).
They apologised for Winehouse's absence (well, after a fashion: "She's in London, smoking crack"). And they utilised every trick in the book to get the audience participating and in the mood: but it didn't come across as contrived stagecraft, it was just downright fun! They even induced some random Parisienne to embrace me and tell me that she loved me. After what had been pretty much a debacle of a day, I left with a huge smile on my face.
And so to the next day. I finally got round to visiting the Catacombs, something I'd never done before. And all I can say is: golly! When they have a sign like this at the entrance...
... I guess one knows that one isn't in any normal museum. But I had always unreflectively assumed that the ossuary must probably amount to just a chamber or two, in amongst a lot of unremarkable tunnels and quarries. (Incidentally, can anyone please explain to me the sense in gathering stone to build a city, by literally undermining that city's own foundations?). But it goes on for bleeding miles! Well, there must be at least half a kilometre of bones there. And I took a fair few photographs...
... and felt like quite the goth.
And then headed over to the Institut du Monde Arabe, which is a far prettier building than those more famous ones mentioned above...
... because I'd noticed that they had an exhibition on about the legendary Egyptian chanteuse, Oum Khalthoum.
"Kalsoum", if you prefer. And that was okay, albeit rather smaller than I'd have expected for 7 euros. And then I went and saw The Dark Knight (v.o.), and I guess that was okay too, albeit a little noisy.
And then, today, home again. It's nice to go travelling, but it's so much nicer to come home.
(I didn't bother taking pictures of my other favourite places, but you can probably guess that I'm not talking about Notre Dame, l'Arc de Triomph, or that Blackpool Tower rip-off they have there). And this, at the end of the trip, was my booty. A modest haul, compared to some I've managed in the past, but I'm happy.
On returning to my hotel, I put my feet up (spoiler!), drank a load of vodka, and gazed at some more Democrats:
On Friday, I had a wander around the Bois de Boulogne, just because I'd never been there before. It turns out that it's a bit dull. Certainly nothing that one would regard as a photo-opportunity. And then I walked from there down to Saint-Cloud, to attend the Rock en Seine music festival. And I thought that I'd actually timed it quite well. The person I was most looking forward to seeing was Kate Nash; she was due on at 7:15, and there was no one playing earlier in the day that held any interest for me, and so I aimed to get there around 7:10. When 7:10 actually arrived, I was just arriving at the nearest Métro station, and I figured that, even though getting from there to a position in front of the stage might take a little while, and perhaps lead to my missing the first song, I could live with that. Only then I realised that I had walked to the wrong Métro station. I was at "Porte de Saint-Cloud", and I needed to be at "Boulogne - Pont de Saint-Cloud". D'oh! And the trouble was that my Paris map doesn't actually extend that far out, so I was pretty much on my own. At 8:00, I did finally instal myself in front of the stage, in time to catch the very last song of the set. And, despite everything, I did enjoy that very much, especially the tone-clusters at the end. (Even though I was too slow in getting my camera out of its sock, to catch a snapshot of her standing on her piano keyboard -- which struck me as a shot well worth snapping).
The next few hours certainly brought nothing else to match those five fleeting minutes. I checked out Black Kids...
... but, much as I'd thought they would be, they were shit. And then watched The Raconteurs: but, entirely as I knew they would be, they were shit too. And then it was announced that Amy Winehouse, headline act and next up on the bill, had cancelled. Much as I'd thought she might. I did have to wonder whether just to give up and go back to my hotel. I had vodka there, after all. Justice, on the second stage, held no appeal for me. ("We are your friends". Well, that's very nice to learn. "You'll never be alone again". I'll believe that when I see it). And I was going to have to wait at least an hour and a half before The Streets were due to take the third stage at 11:00. And I wasn't expecting much from them either. The last time I saw them live was when they were promoting the first album and, much as I do love both that album and the next (although not the third), back then they were pretty ropey as a live act. But wait for them I did, and I was glad to have done so. My word, they have really pulled themselves together live, over the last six years. They are a tight little combo these days; and, promoted to the main stage, they absolutely nailed it! It was like when Pulp stood in for The Stone Roses at Glastonbury 1995! (Not that I was actually present for that one, but I did watch it on the telly, and was as blown away as everyone else was).
They apologised for Winehouse's absence (well, after a fashion: "She's in London, smoking crack"). And they utilised every trick in the book to get the audience participating and in the mood: but it didn't come across as contrived stagecraft, it was just downright fun! They even induced some random Parisienne to embrace me and tell me that she loved me. After what had been pretty much a debacle of a day, I left with a huge smile on my face.
And so to the next day. I finally got round to visiting the Catacombs, something I'd never done before. And all I can say is: golly! When they have a sign like this at the entrance...
... I guess one knows that one isn't in any normal museum. But I had always unreflectively assumed that the ossuary must probably amount to just a chamber or two, in amongst a lot of unremarkable tunnels and quarries. (Incidentally, can anyone please explain to me the sense in gathering stone to build a city, by literally undermining that city's own foundations?). But it goes on for bleeding miles! Well, there must be at least half a kilometre of bones there. And I took a fair few photographs...
... and felt like quite the goth.
And then headed over to the Institut du Monde Arabe, which is a far prettier building than those more famous ones mentioned above...
... because I'd noticed that they had an exhibition on about the legendary Egyptian chanteuse, Oum Khalthoum.
"Kalsoum", if you prefer. And that was okay, albeit rather smaller than I'd have expected for 7 euros. And then I went and saw The Dark Knight (v.o.), and I guess that was okay too, albeit a little noisy.
And then, today, home again. It's nice to go travelling, but it's so much nicer to come home.