Day 101: Florentine!

Listening to: "Happy Birthday" played by Jimi Hendrix

I know, I'm horrible. I will update! I want nothing more than to update.

But I can't forget to wish a happy birthday to my good friend Nick, aka Raphael!

I know, this picture is soooo outdated. Mostly because Nick's hair is not at this height anymore. I still think he looks like Raphael no matter what.

Wow, Bryan, totally didn't notice that photobomb until now...

Anyway, not to bring up awkward pasts, but I appreciate Nick for putting up with me, given that I had the most embarrassingly obvious crush on him in eighth grade. Poor guy. He had to deal with a lot. I don't know why he's friends with me. I definitely should've scared him off. I dragged him to musicals, operas, children's movies...

I got to know Nick a lot better through high school and cross country. Now I can actually behave like a proper person around him. It's a lot easier to appreciate his humor that way.

But I appreciate it all, Nick! And I miss you, and I'll miss you next semester, but I'm thrilled that you get to study in Nashville. Living your dream, man. Good job.

Can't wait to properly celebrate our 21st birthdays the American way!

It's also totally appropriate that I'm going to Florence tonight, where Raphael's famous portrait is. So I'm going to have to go see that, obviously.

But yeah... FLORENCE!

I had to show a new picture. Unfortunately, it's hard to crop these without it being awkward. 

Can't wait to be reunited with you, Alex!!! Yayayayay! We have to eat good pizza and drink tornadoes (wait, is that a good idea? Oh well) and discuss art as well as how awesome Bryan is. :)

Arrivederci!

Day 81: Pillows of Heaven

Listening to: "London Calling" by The Clash (listen to terrible John Green joke about The Clash here)

ORIGINAL DATE: April 10th, 2015

Just a head's up: traveling on Friday afternoon/evening (or "prevening," as Sheldon would say) is a TERRIBLE idea. As I'm writing this from the future, I can affirm that statement even more than ever. But let's stick with what happened on this day.

As always, interesting things were said in class about Ulysses:

Class Notes

"I really want some tight lavender pants." - Professor (This was just after he knocked my reference to Gilderoy Lockhart's lavender clothing in Harry Potter, sadly. I thought he was so cool. Eh, I still do. But you can't restrict someone's right to talk about Harry Potter!)

"I don't feel particularly disturbed when I get shat on by a bird." - Professor

Sample dialogue from conversation about how spitting and kissing are actually the same thing (that's somewhere you don't want to go if you ever want to kiss someone again):

AK: My parents are Greek, and they spit everywhere.
EB: Are they Greek or goats?

Stranger Danger

AK: I don't know, it just seems like an unwritten code of common courtesy that you don't interact with other people on the Metro. Don't even look at them. That's weird.
Margo Roth Spiegelman: I had a nice conversation with a lady on the Metro. It was great.
EB: She probably stole your kidney.
Me: And then Bloom ate it. (James Joyce's main character really likes to eat kidneys. Pork kidneys, but I'm sure he would take a human kidney if it were given to him.)

"Porous" also needs to be added to the list of unacceptable words to say.

Basically entire class discussion can be summed up by the song "Ain't No Man Manhattan."

*

Anyway, following that scholarly discussion (we actually broke some ground on the kissing vs. spitting debate), I rushed to Charles de Gaulle Airport for my flight to Luton Airport outside of London. Now, since I'm used to flying out of Heathrow (okay, just once), I was kind of disappointed. Also because Luton is pretty damn far from the city itself. (And because I couldn't do a crazy Love Actually move like break through the security gates to declare my love for my classmate or jump into the Prime Minister's arms and make out with him.)

Of course, the flight was delayed. But it turns out delays aren't terrible when you're already at the airport and have everything ready to go: they're just inconvenient. Luckily, the delay gave me time to buy some macarons for my hosts in London, CeCe and Julia. Oh, and some random dude who was running out the door to Rome. (I didn't catch his name.) I was secretly glad he left because I didn't have enough macarons for the three of them.

(Random: Unfortunately, I can't find a clip or a GIF online, but there's an excellent scene in Monsters University that perfectly describes me. So they're about to go to a frat party, and the monster with two heads--Terry and Terri--is like, "Wait, we can't go inside without a housewarming gift. We have to go get some scented candles!" That is totally me. It may seem insane, but it does get you places. My mother would be proud.)

Day 80: My Latin Quarter Hat

Listening to: "Where Is My Mind" by the Pixies, from the Fight Club soundtrack

ORIGINAL DATE - April 9th, 2015

I needed an appropriately angsty song.

This was admittedly a weird day. All I can really say is that I do NOT like French absurdist theater. :/ Waiting for Godot may be ridiculous, but at least it doesn't give the viewer terrible anxiety.

In case you're interested, this was the show I saw.

Anyway, just randomly on the subject of Waiting for Godot: when I saw it with Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, the most noticeable thing was that they would say GAHD-oh instead of Gah-DOH. So basically an emphasis on the first syllable. Those Brits, man. They're weird. :)
Random picture time! Yay!

I didn't know my high school principal was a donor to the Musée d'Orsay. :)

You wouldn't think people would say this to you. You would be wrong.

Ah, so what happened to my plans to go to Crete? Well, it turns out, even in April, it's not technically "tourist season" (my inside jokes are terrible, I know) in Greece. So I would've had to fly to a major city like Athens and then take a boat to the island. Not a problem, right? Well, the boat ride would've taken over EIGHT HOURS. And since it takes that long to get from Paris, France to Washington, DC in the US, I was like, "Um, no."

This can be taken two ways: "I'm trying to say something more original than 'Damn, girl, you look good.'" OR: "You asked me for a compliment and I don't think you're pretty so yeah..."

As with a lot of things, I shared this with Alyssa. Her response: "That is ridiculous. How often do you need to tell a French dude that his pants are falling down?" Very wise, Alyssa, as always. In fact, I feel like this is a better saying to know in the US, given that Justin Bieber's pants hang well below his ass. (I'd link to a picture but I don't want to ruin anyone's sensibilities.)

I think we used to have the same warnings on American fattening food commercials, but we just gave up. But yeah, that bottom warning in French (all my YouTube ads are now in French, annoyingly) basically says, "You should still eat your fruits and vegetables." Which is amusing because it just sounds so mother-waving-her-finger-at-you in terms of warning.

Day 89: Very Quickly

Currently stuck in a hostel in Geneva without luggage. Entertaining myself by updating my blog.

Day 87: No Shit, Sherlock

Listening to: "Moving Too Fast" by Norbert Leo Butz from The Last Five Years

Short because I only have one story. And it's whiny, of course.

In Shakespeare class. Discussing how Shakespeare introduces a character simply known as "Time." Asks how we would portray Time.

I ask if Time is a man or a woman. And about to give my opinion when Hilly Holbrook snickers, "Uh, I don't think Time has a gender."

NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.

The problem is, most actors do. So usually some sort of decision has to be made.

Good grief! 

I love the class content, but some of the classmates... Well, here are two other stories:

1. Sneezed in class. Loudly, like normal. I covered it, of course. Student across the room yells, "BLESS YOU," and everyone laughs. Dude, I can't control how I sneeze. Maybe I should have sneezed on you.

2. Professor asks us who we would cast as Cleopatra today. I offer up Angelina Jolie as a suggestion, mostly because she's usually considered one of the most gorgeous women in the world AND because the rest of the class had turned more silent than a cricket that doesn't want to be found. After I offer up this personal suggestion, they all proceed to bash my choice. Fine. Whatever. Do you have an alternative? Oh. I didn't think so.

Sorry. I just thought this shit ended in high school.

Well, no shit, Willard, it doesn't. :/

Day 79: Stand-Up

Listening to: "I Stand" by Idina Menzel (I can listen to old songs too)

ORIGINAL DATE: April 8th, 2015

Yeah... I had Art History class today.

So we can all guess what happened.

And if you can't, I'll just tell you anyway: I couldn't find my class.

Well, I did find them. When there was approximately 20 minutes left to the period. Sigh.

But I didn't just lazing around the Musée d'Orsay. I took pictures outside:

If you know me, you'll know that I was extremely tempted to do something weird with these statues, like sit on their laps or link arms with them. But I figured it wouldn't come across well.

Since I love train stations, the Orsay is my personal favorite: it's a converted train station.

I love animal statues as much as the next person, but I just wonder what led them to choose the ones they did. You'll see.

I was early, but I used my incredible charm (ha!) to finagle my way inside. I had to drop off my bags. I wasn't carrying them all around the museum.

And then I saw this sign, which is the bane of my existence anywhere:

And before you say anything, it's perfectly fine to take photos before this sign. So I decided to be sneaky.

Oh, yeah, I'm good.

So now, in what's unfortunately become clockwork, I waited...and waited...and waited. And they didn't show up. Left entrance? I looked at the email. Yes. The group left entrance? Yes. 2:00 pm? Yes.

I sent another email to my professor in which I tried to be funny but really just hoped that she does not hate me as much as I would hate an asshole student like me. :/

Anyway, I decided

and just went into the damn museum. I'd seen all the artwork that I read about last night. I know the Realists and the Impressionists. I just would use my old strategy of standing beside a painting I knew they'd have to come and see. But it seems my talent is for picking paintings that she decides to visit at the end of the lecture. :/

Love this horloge.

I decided to check downstairs to see if there was a secret passageway that groups entered, as I was waiting by the entrance upstairs, assuming everyone came through that way. And it turns out--they don't. So yeah. The woman I saw said I missed my group by 10 minutes. 

 Oh well. So just stick with the original plan.

But as I was heading up the stairs, I noticed a lot more people were taking pictures. Well that was just rude. Yet the guards weren't yelling at them. Maybe they didn't see them? Nope. There was a guard just blankly staring as a woman took a picture of the Fake Gates of Hell. What?

I looked back at the picture of the sign. And I realized it was different than the one I saw a few weeks ago in one way: the flash.

So the Orsay FINALLY is allowing pictures! See? Small victories!

I went a little crazy in my excitement.

Manet's painting that caused quite a stir. Apparently it didn't look "lifelike" enough. Well, it turns out, in real life, we don't always look three-dimensional to the eye: we just KNOW we are. So Manet was more interested in what he saw than what people thought he should see. (By the way, this painting is called Le Balcon, and the woman to the left is fellow painter Berthe Morisot.)

Speaking of Berthe Morisot, here's one of her paintings. It translates to Chasing Butterflies, if my French is adequate enough. I just love the title because I spent all my middle school career chasing a certain butterfly. (Whoops. That will make sense to no one. I guess I can admit it now. We had "code names" that we designated to our crushes. For some reason we called the guy I liked "the butterfly," and as we started learning French that year, "la papillon" soon became the preferred title.)

Absolutely love Degas's sculptures. There are more at the Smithsonian, and a lot less oglers, which is sort of sad. But I like hanging out with these alone. They feel so personal and intimate. It's a side no one saw of Degas until after he died.

Why didn't he show his sculptures while he was alive? After he premiered The Little Dancer Aged 14, the art community (i.e., critics and proto-hipsters) did not take to it well. "Why aren't you painting? Why not choose a famous subject?" Degas was hurt (naturally) and so never showed any of his sculptures in public again. Fortunately, this didn't deter him from making them. Although none were originally bronze: they were all wax even after he died, only cast in bronze years later.

This painting makes me think of Grandpa. I can't put a finger on it because there are so many boat pictures in this place (and at the Louvre), but this one is just so peaceful in a way I think he would have appreciated.

Yeah... Turns out when Claude Monet wasn't painting sunrises and water lilies or even cathedrals and haystacks, he painted turkeys. Seriously. As you can tell, this painting is still from the period in his life where he hadn't gone too experimental yet.

So Gustave Caillebotte (and I cannot pronounce his name) was a painter, but he was lucky in that he came from money. So he was like those fake hipsters today who actually buy all their "secondhand" clothes at Urban Outfitters, where a white tank top costs about $50. Anyway! I guess it was convenient because he could host salons for the cool Impressionists--otherwise their work wasn't going to be showcased.

 I love this Degas painting (I have a poster of it hanging across my bed), but unfortunately, its placement on the wall made it impossible to photograph without that annoying glare. But yes, I like this one because I feel like this must've been the painting that Ahrens & Flaherty consulted as they worked on The Little Dancer. The whole musical basically looked like this: the girls, the director, the practice room. It was so great.

 So unlike pop/alternative singers of today, artists were actually surprisingly handsome. You expect people to look pretty now, and it's kind of strange when they're not--just because I'm thinking, "Wait, casting people have thought people I know look fat but this guy became famous with his Scott Farkas yellow eyes?" It's just a result of the times we live in, I suppose. Conversely, I guess I just expect everyone in the past to look hideous, given that they didn't have access to nice blow dryers and Brazilian waxing. But Monet looks good in all of his portraits. He's one of those dudes who ages really well.

 I love Manet. You've got to be bold to paint a picture of solely a lemon, and then another one of just an asparagus stalk. And now people pay money to see it! He must be rolling in his grave laughing.

 So, I don't think this is Bastille Day, but it sure looks like it. I like this one because it looks appropriately "viva la revolution" Les Miz style.

 One of my favorites! Well, just since about two months ago. A professor of mine last semester, Professor Chaves, sent me this photo to explain why I thought the Louvre looked like Grand Central Station. (I can't believe he actually read my blog. I sent my teachers the link, but that was because my head had kind of swelled.) So this is Le Gare St. Lazare, which is a train/Metro station that still is running today. It doesn't look like this (unfortunately), but I'll just pretend it does.

More quietly beautiful Degas sculptures:

 Monet experimenting with wind. God, that must've been hard. But he makes it look so effortless that we just look at these and say, "Oooo pretty flowers/dress/parasol."

Camille Pissaro was also part of this crowd, but I admittedly don't know much about her work. Got to commend her for making a name for herself, and I'm glad that she and Berthe Morisot appeared to be accepted. However, I'd like to point out that this activity does not look safe in any way.

Renoir paints the most random things. Yeah. Like this is a field of bananas. I had to take a picture of this because it brings to mind this:

Very quickly: the story behind this one is that my Calculus teacher in high school, Mr. Rankin, was totally awesome and did cool things like pick bananas and ride camels in Israel. Well, I decided to illustrate these episodes from his life one slow day in class (to be fair, every day is a slow day after the AP exam, and Mr. Rankin still somehow got us to learn useful things). But Mr. Rankin just laughed and said that's not how banana trees work. So he showed me in the picture to the left. (You'd be surprised how well math teachers can draw.)

I think this captures the Impressionist message nicely. It looks so wonderful and vibrant far away, and though the colors are still bright up close, suddenly it just looks like streaks and dots. And I guess critics back then were not a fan. But ALL art is essentially streaks and dots. The Impressionists are awesome because they knew they could exploit the viewers' flawed human vision (hey, our eyeballs can only do so much) and create illusions like this.

The title calls this Julie Manet. And I like this because it proves you can paint of portrait of a girl and her cat without it looking totally creepy, like that one at the Louvre. I'm still shuddering thinking about the Shining-twins look in that girl's eyes at the Louvre. 

 I want to ride in a boat at Giverny! Speaking of which, those tickets have got to be on sale by now, right? It was warm today.

 Where in the World Are Monet's Haystacks? Well, here. And Miss Porter's. And the Marmottan. They're so randomly distributed.

I would've brought this to London with me as a present for Loren, but I don't think she would want me getting arrested. :) But yeah, that's Parliament.

 

I love Monet's cathedrals. My mom thinks they look washed out, but I just love the progression. I also love how the paintings are not in order of when the sun rose to its setting. You have to figure out what's going on.

Rodin sculpture that is titled The Man Who Walks, which is quite a feat, considering he has no head to steer him. Although that didn't stop this chicken.

 And above are the classic Monets everyone loves to see. I actually have to go to the Orangerie tomorrow, as we missed class yesterday (our professor was sick). I do love these. I think they're peaceful and beautiful. But I also am like, "Okay, I've seen dozens of water lilies by now. Does this guy paint anything else?" And I've appreciated Monet ever since I've seen his other work as well. It's always more interesting to know the whole rather than a part.

 Of course, my absolute FAVORITE Degas is here and not at the Smithsonian. Wah. But at least I have a picture of it now! I could look at this all day. It's simply titled like most of his other paintings: Blue Dancers.

 Honestly, this brings to mind piano lessons from The Music Man for some reason, even though this scene is nothing like the one in that musical. But what I'm really wondering is, how is that sheet music staying up?

 Every good artist needs to paint a billiard table at some point in his life. Luckily, Degas could still knock it out of the park.

 The Woman in Green. If I'm thinking of a Picasso painting, this is probably what I'd conjure up in my mind. I really want to see more of his paintings though. I need to get back to the Jewish Quarter.

 I found myself inexplicably drawn to this painting, and it turns out, it is also painted by Degas. See? We have a connection. What we have is real.

 A Corner of the Apartment by Monet. Once again, a brilliant example of how wonderful art can come from ordinary scenes.

 This crib painting (which is just called The Crib) by Berthe Morisot looks formal to us now, but it's actually very intimate for the time. The woman is not wearing dress clothes; she's in a nightgown. Her hair is not done all the way. We're inside and not outside like with most of the dude's paintings. In fact, this is Morisot's sister, and therefore the baby is Morisot's niece.

 I love bright red.

 But I'm still wondering... So then what is the statue we have at the Smithsonian? Are the French holding out on us? Are we holding out on the French? This could be Dancer-Gate, or something.

This Degas painting has two titles: In a Café and Absinthe. I think we can all agree which name is better. I actually discussed this one with the class, and we all lamented about how absinthe just isn't the same anymore without the wormwood. Like we were there to experience it!

Beautiful Renoir called The Swing. Love how the light is scattered across the painting.

My artsy-fartsy picture that I leave you with. :)

Good night! Sleep tight like Shakespeare!