November, part 1

The November Update part 1

So I’ve been a bit busy of late and haven’t really had time to blog about current events.  Like most things in my life, I was more interested in the past, and spent a good bit of November writing about October.  Now, instead of writing one of my final papers, I’m going to write about November.

After getting back from my weeklong tour of Belgium, it was back to the real world (aka Paris).  Oh joy!  Classes, asses, books, and crooks - what more could a kid want?  (Other than wine, of course.)  My first weekend back was spent getting my life back in order, and then it was really back to the grind.  I don’t really remember what I did that weekend, but I don’t remember going to any bars, either, which is not a good sign.

My first outing after the return to Paris was with my medieval architecture class to the Basilica of St. Denis, located on the outskirts of Paris.  It was in the choir of this church that gothic architecture was “invented” in the first half of the 12^th century.  From the exterior the building anything but attractive, but it’s certainly different.  The interior is really interesting not just because of its architecture and stained glass, but because St. Denis is the church where the royalty of France was buried for about a thousand years.  All over the the church are marble statues laying down, which were once part of immense royal tombs, long since destroyed by the crazed-ass Frenchies during the 1789 revolution.  Downstairs, in the crypt, are the tombs of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, which were exhumed about 25 years after they lost their heads and stuffed in the basement.  I can only hope that there is a bit of space for me left at St. Deniswhen I revive the French monarchy and become the first king in a couple hundred years.

Exterior - they're currently unable to figure out how to clean the exterior due to extensive stone deterioration

One of the very few, largely untouched tombs

Marie-Antoinette is in the middle on the right, Louis XVI is next to her

Some of the reinstalled statues, without the majority of the tomb baldacchinos

The very birthplace of gothic architecture

Two of the few original windows left

The next outing was to the Chateau de Versailles, the royal pad just outside of Paris.  Every time I think of Versailles I also think of the Allan Sherman song that 1) taught me that the French Revolution was in 1789 and b) referred to the chateau as Louis and Marie’s “place” at Versailles.  It’s a quality song, and everybody should listen to it.  

Click here for a link to the great Allan Sherman history song:

Completely unrelated, but I saw this one day on my way to the Metro.  That's half a cow being carried by one man.

Walking from the RER (the Suburban Train Line) to the palace is sort of surreal because all of a sudden you turn your head and SPLAT: Tharr she blows!  Yeah, splat is the noise that Versailles makes, no doubt.  Everything is gilded and it shines like a most inappropriate saying that my grandmother says from time to time.  Since we went as a group of 30 Trinity kids, the visit was a bit rushed, but I feel as though I got a pretty good look at the main palace and its accessories.  Holy shit balls!  I can honestly say, however, that I probably wouldn’t enjoy living there.  Everything was just over the top and never once could I envision myself walking around in bare feet and a bathrobe, which is a very important part of my day.

I did, however, consider the fact that I could throw one Hell of a good party in the Hall of Mirrors.  We might have to limit the kegs and go for “adult” drinks like vodka tonics for the gents and gin fizzes for the ladies, with the occasional dark and stormy, but it would be a good time, I’m sure.  

After the interior visit, we were marched out into the garden, which has been pretty much put to bed for the winter, but is still quite a sight to see.  It goes for miles and miles!  The grand canal alone, the man made canal where the occasional naval battle was staged, is a mile long.  Not too shabby.  After we sat and learned a bit, most people left (typical), but with 2 hours of daylight remaining, Maggie and I did a whirlwind tour of the gardens.  Okay, so maybe we walked a mile in total, but we can say that we walked in the gardens where the royal family of France walked, or were carried, which is a lot more than the rest of the Trinkids can say.  

Entry gate to Versailles

Mars Room, Versailles, I believe

How the French portrayed the Americas on the ceiling

Room of War

View from the Hall of Mirrors toward the gardens

Hall of Mirrors

Bed of Louis XVI

Marie Antoinette's bedroom

All that glitters is gold

Versailles, well the main body of it.  It goes on and on and on outside of the picture.

Fountain near the Grand Canal

I call this Moon over Vesailles.  It will be for sale for 12,000 euros per copy.

After that, the next thing thing of importance that I saw was the special exhibition on the Comedie Française at the Petit Palais.  It was good, but I really enjoyed the other half of the museum, which is filled with a relatively small, but very good, collection of art and furniture, not to mention the Petit Palais itself.  It was built for the 1900 Universal Expo, and was kept for some reason.  What luck!  It’s a great building!  Since coming to France I’ve become mildly infatuated (borderline rain man, here) with the Art Nouveau movement, and particularly the work of Hector Guimard.  Well what should be in the basement of the Petit Palais?  Hector Guimard’s dining room, given to the French state by his widow.  Score!  I’ve decided that Art Nouveau art (i.e. paintings aren’t bad, but I still much prefer architecture, which I can touch).  

Orphélie by Paul Albert Steck, c. 1894

Guimard's dining room.  A poor installation with bare white walls - not at all authentic

The next thing of worth mentioning was a trip to a great bar in Paris called Footsies, located not far from the 19^th Opera century.  (Figures I would mention a bar.)  Now the thing that makes Footsies especially wonderful (after completely ignoring its name) are its prices.  Yeah, they’re a bit expensive, but drinking there is like a game - and I love games.  Since it is geared toward yuppies coming for drinks after work and trying to show off their class to prospective mates (this sounds very scientific, if you ask me), the Bar is a bit high tech!  The prices change!  Depending on what is being purchased at the time, its price increases while others decrease.  Every 200 seconds the prices change on the large screens according to demand so it’s always a rush to get your cheap drink when the prices are good.  Well, after “buddies” one night (buddies are forced meetings with French kids to talk about forced subjects - luckily my group now has a cool buddy.  The first one was an absolute dud.) we (the American buddies from our group) went to Footsies with my Dutch friend, Thomas from SciencesPo.  He’s pretty awesome, so from time to time we feel the need to bring a bit of Dutch into our lives, so he gets invited.  He was so gracious as to grace us with his presence and even remind us of important Dutch words.  

For posterity I include them here:

-stroopwafel (the cookie/waffle thing turned into a whoopie pie with a carmel-like sauce) - Not be confused with the band the Amazing Stroopwafels, a Dutch hybrid between the Beatles and the Grateful Dead

-vluggertje (a quickie)

-toeterlam (the state you're in after 2 Long Island Iced Teas)

Unfortunately I’m afraid I’ll have to avoid the vluggertje since I can’t pronounce it, but the other two are already finding their place in my vocabulary.  

After Footsies we found another bar (thank God for small miracles!) called Harrys.  It looked crowded and fun, until we got in and saw the average age: 71.375 years.  Not exaggerating.  We were about to run like the wind when we noticed the wall decorations: college banners.  Well we couldn’t leave now, we HAD to find Trinity College.  About 15 minutes later, after traipsing all over the bar and leaning over every table possible, we found the TrinColl banner.  As luck would have it the people at the table below Trinity happened to leave, so we slid right in.  

Opera at night

Some of the other banners

Well, since it’s now time for me to go “cherche le pain” (get the bread for dinner tonight), I’m going to end there and do the rest of November in another entry.  If Alexis comes back into my room one more time to remind me of the damned bread I may have jump off my balcony, so it’s probably best if I get a move on.  HOWEVER, before I leave, I noticed that there has been a bit of a lull in the action and that is never good... I mean that less people have been stopping by the blog.  You know, thanks to Google and blogspot, I know how many people come to my blog every day, and at what time, where they come from, what kind of a computer they use, and if they’re using Safari, Internet Explorer, or some other kind of internet thing on their computer.  Kind of creepy, actually.  I do think it’s interesting that in the last 10 days my blog has become popular with somebody or with a group of somebodies in Russia!  How cool is that!?  So far I’ve had readers from ten countries worldwide, which means there are about 175 left to conquer (I had to remove a handful of the communist countries that don’t allow internet access, and certainly wouldn’t like my twisted blog in their twisted countries).  So, moral of story, Don’t be a snob, share my blog!  

Okay, so it doesn’t rhyme, but you get the point. 

À bientôt.

Bruges

BRUGES

30, 31, 1 October/November

Posted 20 november

After Antwerp, which proved to be an incredible city, vibrant in every way, and totally interesting from a museum perspective, I had very high hopes for Bruges, which always seems to get rave reviews online.  Everyone seems to love Bruges, so I was really excited as I got off the train under grey skies, and got a taxi to the hotel.

Given the homerun feeling of the Antwerp hotel, with its spacious accommodations, I was ready for a reality check as I walked into the Hotel Notre Dame in Bruges.  I met with the beast at the desk (well, maybe that's an overstatement... I'm sure she would be attractive to a 65 year old biker dude with more hair than a grizzly and some thick beer goggles), and she gave me my keys- one for the front door, and one for my room- and proceeded to show me to my room.  (I love that there was a front door key because there isn’t always somebody at the desk to keep an eye on things!)  Either something got lost in translation, which isn't likely since she was speaking pretty good English, but long story short, she brought me to the base of the stairs and said my room was up there.  Now, these weren't just any stairs, these were clearly the service stairs of a mid 17th century house.  Without doubt these were the smallest stairs I've ever seen, and my foot barely fit sideways on the tread.  On the plus side, if I fell down, there was only one bend to go around before I would land in a heap on the first floor, unlike a certain staircase in a Connecticut fraternity that I’ve been known to tumble down.

Anyway, it's probably a good thing that the lady didn't actually show me to my room because there would be no space for the both of us in it.  I don't know the dimensions of a double bed, but there was nowhere in the room where the bed was surrounded by more than 30 inches of carpet; in fact, it's surrounded by much less than 30 inches.  Suffice it to say that this is a bit more of reality than I was really prepared for.  I think the prostitutes in Antwerp had more space in their pubical cubicles than I do in my bedroom.  Oh well, it's not the space that matters, it's how you use it.  

After getting settled it, and with the time now approaching 3:45, I decided to do a brief walk.  If I had really been thinking, I would have left Antwerp early in the morning so I would arrive in Bruges before noon.  As it was, leaving at 1:05, there was really no time to see a museum before it closed, and all the major museums are closed on Monday, so I wandered around and looked at churches.  

The first church I visited, and perhaps Bruges' most famous, was the Basillica of the Holy Blood.  Now, first let's talk about blood, Willie, and churches and how they all fit together.  Blood is in the body, and it's normally red.  There is blood in my body and occasionally, when I’m not careful, it comes out.  Once in a while, upon such occurrences, I pass out.  When I found out that during communion the Catholics actually drink the "blood of Christ," I was a bit taken aback.  Isn't there some Papal decree saying no drinking Jesus?  Isn't that cannibalism?  Well, I don't know, but I do know that in the world of Protestantism, the wine served (or grape juice as served in the Union Church of Northeast Harbor) does not become blood before the eyes of the congregation.  It's a symbol, a representation... definitely not blood.  

Why does this matter?  Well, not only does the Basilica of the Holy Blood serve "Jesus" at mass, but they also have a vial of Jesus, which makes them especially famous.  Yes, they have (or claim to have) a vial with a bloodstained fabric, which is said to be that which Joseph of Arimathea wiped from Christ.  Funny they haven't reconstituted it and had it with Communion Wafers, huh....  (Well that was vulgar!)  Anyway I marched my way up the stairs into the little tiny Gothic church, and there up high on this throne like thing was a lady wiping off a glass vial after somebody had just left from fondling it, with a huge line of people waiting their turn.  There was the dry Jesus!  I sat down for a minute, thinking about whether I wanted to go and see this in person, of if the Mona Lisa Proximity Rule was in effect (I'm close enough to see it, I don't need to stand in line to be closer- my opinion of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre).  Well, since it was supposedly Jesus, and not some clipping of a toenail of some largely unknown saint, or a piece of a piece of a piece of a tooth of some body like a lot of other churches show off, I decided I wanted to see this, and to get my hands on it.  

Now, the Catholic Church isn't stupid, and they're certainly not a 501(c)3 non-profit.  They love making a buck when they can.  (Examples include all the admission fees I've been paying for churches.)  Well here, rather than actually charging, there was a large sign basically saying: If you want to touch the dry Jesus blood, you should put some money into the box to help preserve our church.  As cheap as I am, I pulled out some money - thrilled to get some of those damned heavy coins out of my already too loose pants- and put it in the box as I went up to see the Jesus vial.  Plus, since it was going for a cause that I liked - the preservation of a beautiful little Gothic cathedral - I hardly winced as my fingers finally let loose the death grip they had on the money.  After taking my sweet time going up the stairs (I'd waited for this moment for an entire 4.5 minutes), I followed the lead of the scores of people ahead of me and put my hand on this little vial which was underneath a rounded piece of glass.  I made sure to place my palm so it wouldn't obscure my view, however.  There were clearly some dark rusty spots in the vail, but whether or not they were blood, I don't know.  I don't know what blood looks like after a week, let alone 2000 years!  Having basked in my glory of the Jesus vial for a goodly amount of time, I thanked the lady and got off the podium thing to take a seat.  

In the end I guess it's hard to say if that's REALLY the blood of Christ.  I guess it all depends on how much you want to believe.  In the meanwhile however, I'd like to thank the early Catholics for having their blood, and drinking it too!

High Altar

Tubed Jesus - sort of like Tubed Steak

After I’d spent a sufficient amount of time in the church (it’s really beautiful!), I left to do some more walking.  Bruges is very different than Antwerp architecturally, and the old buildings are definitely very beautiful.  I walked around the central square, the government buildings, and in general burned calories like a pyromaniac.  Bruges is interesting in that it has many canals going through the city, so it’s sort of like Venice, but more reserved.  In these canals, like Venice, are little power launches of about 26 feet with LOADS of tourists (I was going to write fat Americans, but there are also some full-bodied Germans) going around.

What was happening in North America in 1669?  Not much.  This was happening in Bruges

I made my way to the church of Notre Dame to look that over.  Not too shabby, but mostly closed because it was after 5, so I had to leave that on the list of things to do.  From there I went back to my hotel to change my clothes and get ready for dinner.  Making my way to the central square, I was impressed by the beautiful buildings illuminated - it’s really beautiful!  The only problem was that there was a food festival going on in the middle of the square, so it was impossible to get a clear view across the square.  Nonetheless Bruges: not too shabby.

I woke up the next day with a long list of things I wanted to do, including getting to the tourist bureau to get a better map.  I got there too early… figures.  So I walked a little distance to the “ten Wijngaerd Beguinage,” walking through Bruges former red light district along the way, which is now just an alley.  If you don’t know what ten Wijngaerd Beguinage means, it’s okay.  Neither did I.  It basically boils down to a convent campus built in the 17^th century for spinsters and other women who were shunned by society and ended up making their own organization, which still exists today.  It’s very quaint, with whitewashed buildings, an open quad area, a river, and a chapel.  It’s very calm and beautiful.  

Now after 10, the sun was out, and I marched over to the concert hall to the info bureau.  On my walk I got my first real taste of Bruges: TOURISTS!  They were everywhere.  There were literally entire streets that were choked because of tourists.  It was horrible.  I was shocked to find that the info bureau didn’t have a line you waited in.  Instead you took a number and waited… and waited… and waited….  But in the end I got the information and found out which museums were open on Monday (many European museums are closed on Mondays).  

Historic Preservation à la Flemande

My first stop was the back to Church of Notre Dame, which has the only Michealangelo ever exported from Italy during the artist’s lifetime.  Maybe I’m a snob - okay, fine, I’m a snob, but this was not a big sculpture.  If you can only see one Michaelangelo in your life, don’t make it this one.  It’s in a side aisle, and behind about 3 inches of glass.  I have no clue what they’re afraid of because you can’t go within 20 feet of the damned thing.  It’s not that it’s not beautiful, because it is, but I felt like I couldn’t really get close enough to appreciate the sculpture to look it all over.  The church also has the tombs of Charles the Bold (tomb dates from 1562) and Mary of Burgundy (tomb finished in 1502).  They also had a number of the medieval tombs open with glass on top of them, allowing people to see the interior decoration, which was interesting.  

From there I did the supposed “number 1 must do in Bruges.”  Apparently you have to go to the top of the bell tower of the on the central square.  So I stood in line for 1.5 hours and finally climbed the bell tower, reaching the top just in time hear the 1pm bells go off.  Suffice it to say that I’ll never hear again, but the view from the top was really impressive.  You could see for miles and miles!  The only problem was that the 366 steep, slippery, stone steps led to a severe case of jelly legs, and I was well into beer number two with lunch before my normal legs came back.  

After my lunch of a Indian-curry-rice-filled “pancake” (really a thicker crepe), I went to the Stadhuis, the town hall.  It’s a fast museum, and at first it’s nothing impressive, but when you’re upstairs in the Gothic Banquetting Hall, it’s all worth it!  Although it’s much changed, it’s really beautiful!

Gothic Hall

Walking around

From there it was time to get a good walk in, because I was feeling a little bit lazy, and there was a lot more I had to see.  I quickly walked to the edge of the town to see the windmills, which were exactly that: 2 old windmills.  BFD.  From there I walked to the Jerusalem Church, which is supposed to be some funky church, and it was funky, all right!  The altar was about 15 feet above the nave level.  I think the architect had been drinking when he did the plans because they made no sense.  In the crypt chapel, which was about 5 feet below ground level was a tiny door, about large enough for a 5 year old.  Well, after channeling my inner toddler I squeezed my way in and found a fully laid out sculpture of Jesus laying on the floor.  It was beyond bizarre.  For whatever reason the Jerusalem museum ended up being in the same compound as the Lace Museum, so with my entry ticket to the church I had entry into the lace museum.  Oh boy! What fun!  Well I walked through, and even though it wasn’t something that got me all excited it was really interesting.  I had no idea there were so many types of lace or that you could make entire images in lace.  

The coolest part of the lace museum was the “demonstration room.”  No, I didn’t learn how to make lace, but it was a big room with about 15 old ladies making lace.  They were laughing and gossiping, and making lace.  I’d never seen anything like it.  Some of these ladies had hundreds of little wooden spools with string, and they were keeping track of what to do with each one.  I was afraid to look at the string too much for fear that I would tangle it up, so I have no idea how they did it without getting one jumbled mess.  Not only were these old biddies paying next to no attention to what they were doing, but to me it looked like they were just throwing the little spindle/spool things around, and suddenly making something really awesome.  I wish I had taken a video because it was really impressive.  

After leaving the lace museum I went for a little walk around where the former medieval walls had been.  It was really a beautiful area and the sun made the buildings appear really warm.  I wandered for a while, had dinner and eventually went back to my hotel for the last night of my vacation.

The entire thing isn't much bigger than a stamp

Look at the tree - there isn't anything there

My final day in Bruges was even more scheduled than normal for me.  Since all the museums were closed the previous day, I had some major ground to cover!  I started bright and early on the top of the concert hall, which is supposedly a “sound center” or a museum of music.  Whatever it is, it’s not much.  It’s basically a bunch of bells hanging near wooden mallets and you go to make noise.  As somebody who is already a loud person, this didn’t do anything for me, but I was going with the idea of the view, which was good.  It wasn’t nearly as good as the tower, but it was good.  It was a shame, however, that some knee-high snotty-nosed 5 year old mistake kept making noise.  It was also a shame that you couldn’t go all the way to the edge, but I still managed a few decent pictures.

From there I went to the Gruthouse Museum.  It sucked.  Out loud.  It was random, there were next to no labels, and there was just a big board to read.  It was a mishmosh of old stuff that, while cool, was too abstract for me.  The coolest part of the museum was the private chapel that the family built into the choir of the church of Notre Dame in 1472.  You could go right into it, and technically you were in the church.  The next museum was the Grunen Museum, which is an art museum.  It was pretty good and a nice size.  Not too overwhelming, and with a great exhibit of Flemish primitives.  With that done I went to the store of Stephan Dumon, the chocolatier suggested by the beast running the hotel.  I shouldn’t call her a beast because she turned out to be a very nice woman and was very helpful.  She just looked like she was run hard and put away wet more than once….  The chocolatier was in the basement of this building and is a completely family run business, but I still managed to spend over 30 Euros on chocolate.  Damn, I’m good.  Chocolate in hand, it was lunch time: FRIES, of course! 

I went to drop off my chocolate at the hotel and then went to the Brugs Vriges, the former court house.  HOLY SHIT, BATMAN!  It was very beautiful and had the most amazing fireplace I’d ever seen in my life.  Speaking of superlatives, it also had the most beastly transvestite I’d ever seen in my life.  This “woman” was all of 6’6” and had an Adams apple that would make any Granny Smith blush.  This woman was a miserable bitch, to boot.  She was horrible to anybody who entered and God-forbid you should ask a question!  But she was sure interesting to look at!

Exterior of the Brugs Vriges

By now the weather was getting a bit gray, so I hustled off to my final destination: the Cathedral of St. Savior.  I’d tried to go the day before, but choir rehearsal kept me from entering.  Well I finally got in (famous last words, I know), and it was, like all churches in Europe, very beautiful.  This one had really beautiful stained glass, and lots of tapestries hanging like I’d read was the norm centuries ago.  Even with the tapestries, it was absolutely freezing, and I definitely didn’t want to sit still for long!  The cathedral had enclosed their cloister and made a museum, which was actually very good, and free!

With time running out, I ran back to the hotel, grabbed my bags, and walked to the train station, arriving just in time for the rain to start - the first rain of my entire vacation.  I’d say that was pretty damned lucky!  I got into my first class car (it was actually cheaper than the cattle class in back), had internet the entire way home, and arrived back chez moi just in time for dinner.  How wonderful is that!?

PS- remember that you can click on a picture to make it bigger.  I'm afraid if I leave them full size on here each message will be a mile long!