Yeah, yeah, the video is a day late. But I kind of missed Pi Day. Sad stuff, I know.
However, I could never forget about the Ides of March! Whooooooo. And no, not that Ides of March that always inspires the infamous debate: Ryan Gosling or George Clooney? (I vote Cluny, actually. Haha. But no, really, I do vote Clooney.)
Because I'm in the mood and I have occasion to, here is a picture from the production of Julius Caesar that I saw at the Folger Theatre in DC in November. So incredible. I'm sure I looked excited (and deranged) as I sat enraptured listening to Antony's wonderful rhetoric. Why can't we write speeches like that? More importantly, why can't everyone see all the ploys politicians use? Anyway. I also like the part where they trample Cinna the Poet all because his name is Cinna (like one of the co-conspirators). I can totally relate, Cinna. I know way too many Katies who might be the subject of such wrath.
Anyway, thoughts of pie did remind me that I had to make a pie for class. But you know what? I have my pie, I wrote my first paper, and I drank my tea: my day is complete. I still have to fold laundry, but considering most college students don't do it, I don't think I'll be shunned by society.
Today, in search for dinner, I ended up at the Saint-Germain-des-Près Metro stop. And for once, I did not go into Les Deux Magots! By the way, I discovered that in the American vernacular, Les Deux Magots has been pronounced like "Less Duh Maggots." Which inevitably has led to people asking me why I enjoy eating at a place with the word "maggots" in the title.
Well, even if the title of this restaurant was "Vomit-Flavored Jelly Beans" or at least sounded like it, I wouldn't care. Fitzgerald drank absinthe there! That's not going to change my mind about anything. Would I jump off a bridge if my dearest friends and family asked me? Hell no! But if F. Scott Fitzgerald asked me, well, I would be like, "Golden Gate sound good?"
But anyway, as my cousin Amy told me before I even left for Paris, across the street from Les Deux Magots is a church called Saint-Germain-des-Près Église--which is actually redundant of me to say, since that literally is me saying "a church called ____ Church." Whatever.
Seeing as it looks appropriately creepy and it's Sunday, I decided to go in.
This place, since it's less crowded than Notre Dame, is kind of scary. I mean, there were people inside, and most of them appeared to actually be there for religious purposes. Therefore, it felt even more important to tiptoe around in my noisy boots and try to avoid my shining red light on my camera. There were these crashing noises occasionally, but other than that, it was rather comforting. Well, it was cold, but I've found that's common with not only churches but also synagogues.
Since I'm not really familiar with the church, I can't provide any interesting let alone funny captions. I do have questions, though. Yes, even we heathens are interested in church traditions and Bible stories. The Bible is the number one piece everyone alludes to in literature, after all. You have to know it. And you should want to if you want to improve your reading experience! But I digress.
It felt slightly irreverent to take pictures, but I saw one guy doing it, so I decided it was okay. Plus, Amy and Brain didn't get to see this place, so I felt that it was my duty to do some recon.
I need to take some time to translate this, as to my uneducated brain, it appears to say at first glance: "Our quarter to the wolf." I mean, what? That can't be right. And if it is, then, I want to know what goes on at this church.
To my church-going friends (yes, I have those): do these purple clothes signify anything?
Light through stained glass is always better. That's why I have this hanging beside my bed:
I would've lit another candle for Grandpa, but I actually had no money on me. Yeah, I know the looks you all are giving me, as it was the same look the woman collecting tithes--wait, those aren't a thing anymore, right?--at the door.
I've seen holy water, but this is taking it to a new level. Is this related to any saints? To Jesus? Or does it bring a new religious meaning to the phrase "the world is my oyster"?
First time I've seen foliage in a church. I'm not being snarky. That's just a factual observation.
This little "jail cell," for lack of a better term, is frightening. As a child, I would've so been afraid of being put in here for asking whether the candles we lit on the Christmas wreath were for Hanukkah. (Yes, I'm fully aware that I was an idiot as a child.)
Here's the outside of the church. Looks much better in the daylight. In fact, I don't think I've been to this area in the non-dark.
I've taken my mother's advice and have started taking photos of signs. I look like a dumb tourist, I know, but it really helps to remember not only paintings but places. Plus, I can look up a picture of Versailles any time; what I really want to remember is how this street looked when I was here for my spring semester junior year.
The placement of the obnoxious sticker doesn't strike me as coincidental. Whoever put that sticker on this sign is part of the "HO CREW," that's for sure. Just read A Very Easy Death and you'll be more understanding of Simone de Beauvoir as well. And No Exit is just awesome. All these existentialist authors remind me that I still have to visit Samuel Beckett's grave.
BONUS ROUND: INSIDE JOKES
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