Je t'aime.

ah so last week I went to Paris. So.... this is going to be a long entry.

It was a strange spur of the moment trip- by which I mean I only booked my seat on the Eurostar Rail three weeks before leaving.

I left at 6:30 on Saturday morning, so as to have the whole day. It did not occur to me at the time that this would mean (allowing for the hour + bus ride to St. Pancreas International) that I would have to wake up at 4am. That would have been fine, but my friend Sarah was visiting on Friday and I spent the day walking around Westminster and having high tea at Kensington Palace. That was really fun, actually, cucumber sandwiches and cinnamon tea followed by breaded studded with nuts and raisins and then some sort of cake. We went to see a free jazz show on the South Bank of the Thames, that was fantastic also (Mishka Adams). Anyway, I got back to my dorm at 10:30 ish and still hadn't packed or showered. 

London at 5 am on Saturday morning is an interesting scene. It was mostly quiet except for the people walking and riding to their early morning jobs, or else returning from their very late partying. I made it to the rail without incident, and very much enjoyed the lax security and easy journey into Paris, only about 2 1/2 hours. I walked from the station to the hostel, which was also really a happy surprise, it was about a ten minute walk from Notre Dame and the big blue door opened into a stone courtyard with lots of light and vines on the walls. If you are looking for a place to stay, I'd recommend this place: MIJE Rue de Fourcy.

So I met up with my friend Ashlee and her two friends from Muhlenberg College in PA, they are all doing home stays in Aix en Provence, where Paul Cezanne lived. We stopped at a sandwicherie for lunch (chicken sandwich and chocolate croissant, best ever). Then we walked to the Louvre and through the Tuileries Gardens outside of it on our way to the Champs-Elysees. This was a long long walk that ended with us trying to figure out how to get to the Arc de Triomphe... there were about 8 lanes of traffic and we were seriously considering making a run for it when we noticed the very small sign pointing to steps that led to an underground tunnel to the Arc. It was very cool to see, I loved seeing all the detail that went into the stonework. We walked from there to the Eiffel Tower, then headed towards home. We were exhausted by this time, and so when we saw a metro we were thrilled... until we got on to it and in the crush of people I managed to get pickpocketed. I didn't realize my wallet was missing until we had switched lines, and  deferred my meltdown until the next day, but in my mind I can almost see the hand with grey and brown hair on it reaching into my bag.

This is the second time I've been stolen from in the last four months. 

But Ashlee covered me for the whole weekend, and I got my mother to give her mother a check to deposit in Ashes debit account... it all worked out, but what makes me mad is that both times I had to pay to get a new student ID - $15 at GW and L10 to King's. So unjust. 

Sunday: I have to mention breakfast- it was just at the hostel, a half a loaf of bread with strawberry jam, a small chocolate croissant and a cafe ole and an oj, but something about that petite dejeuner was really beyond incroyable.

 clock in the musee d'orsay

We went to the Musee D'Orsay, which used to be a train station long ago before it became an art museum. There was some really wonderful Van Gogh and Ashlee loved Degas's dancers.

There was also a painting from 1890 called L'origine  du monde, (Origin of the World) and it was a close-up of a women's vagina, by which I mean spread legs. It was very funny, only men were taking pictures of that one, and an English girl whispered in a shocked voice to her companion, "how horrid!"

We got panini's before going to Saint-Chappelle (an overpriced tourist trap church, but there was beautiful stained glass) and Notre Dame (free, and magnificent- but I did feel strangely about walking around while there was a service happening.) We paused for crepes outside of Notre Dame and reflected on how unreal it felt. Then I went and introduced date marry dump to the Muhlenberg girls and we played that with various french and english royalty for a while.

That night we went to a restaurant called Bodega near our hostel. It was so good we went again Monday, they had this walk poulet, chicken with haricot verts and mushrooms and onions, so good with a margarita.

Monday began early, we had breakfast and got to the Louvre by 10, and explored the Egyptian wing first. Then to Greek statues and Italian from there. Michelangelo's Dying Slave was very cool to see, but the highlight for me was Nike of Samothrace, or Winged Victory. I wrote an essay on this statue freshman fall at GW, I've wanted to see it since then- it's just so intense, the wet drapery and the outstretched wings and posture, it's all so breathtaking.  It's headless, which is strange but somehow it just makes the statue more interesting, more scope for imagination.

Of course, we saw the Mona Lisa, and she seemed to watch me everywhere I went, which was fun. It was more impressive live, after seeing so many reproductions though, it was not really possible to be so awing. 

My favorite painting was probably this huge epic masterpiece of Napoleon crowning Josephine- I could have stared at it for another hour, it was - there's no other word- sumptuous.

We also visited Napoleon III's living quarters which have been preserved, they were attached to the Louvre- a lot of red velvet and crystal chandeliers. 

After much walking through the Louvre we went to Angelina's, a place made famous by its rich hot chocolate and guest list (Coco Chanel and Proust were both frequenters). The chocolate chaud was so rich my friend couldn't finish hers, it really did taste like melted chocolate, that thick, and along with it the waiter brought a vase of heavy whipped cream.

Our last visit Monday night was the Eiffel Tower- E12 bought us a ticket to the top on the slow moving elevator, and by the time we got there it was exactly 7, dusk was setting in and the tower was glittering, as it does every hour after dark.

 We stared for an hour at every possible view as it got darker and Paris lit up (City of Lights, after all), then bought some cheap post cards and I purchased a E1 Eiffel Tower key chain from one the many street merchants, one of whom murmured "eh sexy" after realizing I definitely wasn't going to buy something. 

We split a litre of wine with our dinner and stayed up late talking about American and French boys, but without coming to any definite conclusions.

So I wasn't kidding about the length of this thing- but I can't believe it was only three days, still. I left early Tuesday morning so I could get back in time for Jacobean Shakespeare. All day I kept thinking, yesterday at this time I was ___. But it still feels unreal, or maybe everything else seems less real... je ne sais pas, mais Paris est une belle ville.

East Market predators

Today I sent in my application for a double major in English and Creative Writing- I had to send in 15 pages of poetry and someone in the english department will be reading it and assessing it. I don't even really know how competitive it is, but I am aware of at least one other guy I know applying too- and also that he's got an obsession with pro-wrestling.

That's what's so strange about creative writing courses by the way- you walk into a room of strangers, tell them all intimate and sometimes bizarre information about yourself, and then leave. Once a class of us were packed into an elevator and all I could think was, "she's slept with fifteen guys and calls them interchangeable" until it occurred to me that She might be thinking, "that girl hangs out in cemeteries and writes poems from the point of view of her ex boyfriend". You see my point? It's such a show of flying freak flags. 

Anyway I also went to the East Street Market today, where Charlie Chaplin once shopped. While I was looking at a pretty and cheap shirt, a man next me starting whispering and I thought he was talking to himself so I just walked away. Later I was purchasing some nectarines and there he was again, next to me and muttering. Then, the man and wife who owned the stall I was at came out from behind their counter and forcefully ejected the man from the marketplace. Did I mention that all this time I was wearing headphones and listening to Nirvana? They returned and asked if I was alright, and I asked what he was saying. The husband cocked an eyebrow at me and the wife just shook her head and told me I owed her 2 pounds 50 pence and to be careful. The mystery remains, and I think I'm fine with that.

I've been spending a little time with a guy from my english class, who told me he was a lord- it has occurred to me that he's pulling my leg, but I'm afraid to question him for fear it will offend some sort of weird royal sensibility. Anyway he's very dry and sarcastic and calls me droll and tolerable. Mostly I want to use him to understand British politics better, I think he's the equivalent to a poli-sci/ journalism double major at GW. 

My English Lord and I avoided each other today, we are equally phobic, it looks like... but all in all it was a great Valentines Day. I went to explore Notting Hill and maybe hoped to run in to Hugh Grant falling in love with Julia Roberts, but had no such luck. I did wander around Portobello Market for hours, it was so cool: there are about 2,000 vendors on Saturdays and they all have these little tents and make everything, crepes, falafel, hotdogs, and beyond food there were really great clothing tents and a whole section of antiques and jewelry and I purchased a little clay elephants for my collection- the man who I bought if from said his friend the potter made it. 

Then I met up with friends to go see Vicki Cristina Barcelona- which I loved but also thought was missing something in its characterization of american women- haha Woody Allen still doesn't get it... maybe even less than he used to. Anyway, it was very funny, and Javier Barden is crazy hot, suddenly I understand Morgann's obsession.

I think my next stop is Kensington Palace.

Library and Charing Cross Road

So recently in my Modern Theatre class we've been reading Strindberg- the guy credited for beginning naturalism in the theatre- or at least writing the manifesto for it. We were talking today about his Dream play- he was so interested in dreams and what they meant at the same time as Freud, and He also believed that there were symbols, but also that dreaming enabled a spiritual place of transcendent experience- not sure what that means? Me neither.

(This is Maughan Library- it's not Gelman, but it's home. ps it's one of three prime examples of Gothic architecture in London- also on that list is Parliament)

The last dream that I can remember was going back to visit GW, and everything was slightly wrong, but I was still happy to be there... maybe this means that the exact same thing will happen senior year?

Side note: I just found out that I got 2135 F street housing, but I can't find out who my roommates are. It's sooo frustrating.

Ok so today I visited Charing Cross Road,

 and I love it- I walked about ten minutes and passed five book stores int at time- and I got a deal! Bought a Tale of Two Cities and Fathers and Sons for only 8 pounds! Tomorrow (if it's over 40 degrees) I'm going to Notting Hill and Portabella Road Market, then to read Dickens where it is meant to be done- Fleet Street. I know- I should stop my crazy partying.

P.S. Does anyone know where J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter? I remember reading that she wrote part of it sitting outside a Starbucks or something in London... I must go there.

Love, Chelsea

Weekend With Dad

This weekend my Dad was visiting London during his layover at Heathrow, on his way to India for birdwatching. (Yes, sometimes I feel like I live in a Wes Anderson film). We met up at the hotel he was staying at and went for a walk along the South Bank to the Tate Modern. Then we ate at this cool restaurant in the Oxo building, before going to see Richard Dreyfuss in Complicit at the Old Vic. The play was a bit much, the lead kept on crying and whining in a high pitched voice, it made it difficult to understand what he was saying.

On Saturday we went to The Tower of London- it was really cool, our tour guide was a Yeoman Guard or a beefeater, and she made all these jokes about beheadings and torture, comparing the coin that was traditionally handed to the executioner to severence pay... she was cute.



It was very strange though, being in a place where so many queens had died... and the Royal Jewels, they were pretty cool- I've never seen so many diamonds, or so much purple velvet.

Sunday we went to the British Museum, also very cool, I wandered through Japan, and took a picture of the ancient japanese bling- netsuke.

Covent Garden... of Eden?

Well it's almost Feb 5- yikes. I don't really believe in conspiracy dreams though, they make me a little jumpy but not obsessive.

Robert Frost on the subject:

Some say the world will end in fire

some say in ice

from what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice

I think I know enough of hate

to say that for destruction ice

is also great, and would suffice.

Today I went to Covent Garden with my friend Lily- she grew up in London and showed me all these really cool shops, like one place where they old sold socks and leggings, and they had all these really cool knit stockings in bright bright colors and there were also these weird lace lingerie thong socks- it was a little kinky!

She also told me that the church in Covent Garden (which was originally an estate belonging to a dude) was built to make the man appear to be religious- but he actually chose the cheapest possible design for the building.

Later on I was reading these poems and one of them was Elizabeth Barrett Browning, it was a poem of praise, and the end of each stanza was the line "He giveth his beloved- sleep" and she was not talking about rest or napping, she was talking about death. To her, the greatest gift the God bestows is the final rest. Most people don't even want to think about death it so disturbs them, she was writing poetry in thankfulness. It's a beautiful poem.

I don't know why this is coming across as such a dark entry, I've had such a good day. Maybe it's just because I haven't witnessed any sunlight in over a week.

wool

-Today in my Shakespeare class we were talking about King Lear:

  King Lear, at the beginning of the play, decides it's time to retire- so he decides to split his kingdom equally among his daughters, but only after each tells him how much they love him. Two of his daughters recite flowery praises, but the third, Cordelia, keeps silent. She claims that she cannot "heave her heart into her mouth"- she can't put into words what she feels.

Lear is pissed, and disowns her- he completely believes that what his other daughters said to him was true, because he trusts speech- he sees no separation between words and action- to say- is to make it so.

His Duke, Gloucester, is in another situation- this man trusts only what can be proved. His illegitimate son Edmund takes advantage of this by presenting him with a false letter. Gloucester believes Edmund because he believes what he sees, not what he hears.

And so the two men are both punished- Lear goes mad and Gloucester is blinded. Gloucester can therefore no longer see to believe, and Lear loses comprehension, and so all his understanding of words shifts, including his understanding of his own identity.

One of the critics I read said that both men are fated to their specific punishment because of their attachment and relationship with language, and that resonates.

Helllo!

   So today It was still very snowy- but the buses were running again, so I could leave my little patch of London and head to class.

But First- I just had a strange experience. I made friends with a girl in my building, and she invited me to accompany her to play pool- but first she wanted to go to the smoking pavilion. I didn't know that there was such a thing- but then I realized she was talking about the little bus stop bench where there were always four or five people standing talking on the phone with cigarettes in their mouths. We were chatting, and suddenly I realized that the girl on the other side of me smells very strongly of marijuana! I then further realize that the two guys standing in tee-shirts a few steps away from me speaking in Russian to each other are in fact smoking from a large glass bong- (which actually had a pot leaf on the side). 

Then a security guard speaking in some language I'm not familiar with begins walking crunchily and slowly across the ice covered lawn leading toward the pavilion. At first I thought he was talking to himself, until I see he has a one of those little speaker phones. The two guys watch him for a second, take one more hit each, dump the rest of the contents into the conveniently placed trash can and walk slowly back to their building. The girl puts out her joint and follows. Then, my friend puts out hers and we walk to the pool table in the opposite building. I asked her what that was all about and she shrugged.

Anyway I thought it was all pretty strange and un-UPD like.

ugh, when did worrying about class schedule for next year start?

I am not going to worry about graduating in a year, I'm not going to whittle my time away thinking about how little their is, I am only going to do what I like to do. And what I have to do. And as often as possible I will make those two be one in the same. 

When I graduated from high school, it drove me crazy to hear my friends say how much they would miss it, and each other... saying it and thinking about it didn't change anything- I guess my real fight is with stating the obvious. More and more I want to adopt the Buddhist rule of stopping before I speak and asking myself three questions: Is it truthful? Is it necessary? Is it kind? Honestly I'm less concerned with 1 and 3... they seem almost irrelevant to me. If something is necessary, than whether it is true or kind can back up, it's got to be said.

But what I hate is chit-chat, and I think this explains both why I hate meeting new people and why I have never gotten over a certain ex. With new people, you have to say certain things that you have said a million times and that mean nothing and change nothing. It is such a waste of time and energy and life force! And with Mr. X, there was always more thoughtful glancing around then trying to attach meaning to something with words that words can never articulate anyway. 

In the novels of Henry James, there is so much focus on eye contact- the most important revelations in most of his stories occur with two people looking at each other and suddenly seeing something, something it might be impossible to explain- just that there is so much more going on between two people just looking into each others eyes than through any other way of communicating. 

I bought pre made pina colada- it's very good, but we have no ice.

Markets

The other day I went around with Stein to meet a friend of his in Camden. First I met him at his building which is an LSE (London School of Economics) dormitory on the South Bank of the Thames, from which you can see St. Pauls Cathedral.

We walked to the underground station and on the way there passed through the Borough Market, which was this really cool open air food and ceramics market. There were people selling all these different kinds of homemade jams, cheese, bread, and like at Trader Joe's there was quite a bit of taste testing available.

We then took the tube to Camden, where there was another open air market. This one was more about hats and tee-shirts that said things like, "Dolphins are gay sharks." I wanted to try to find a shirt with Sid Vicious on it, but the only Sex Pistols shirt was one that I already owned, Never Mind the Bollocks, here's the Sex Pistols. Then we walked around Camden for a bit, it really reminded me of South Street in Philly, there were a lot of goth British kids with chains and heavy eyeliner and mohawks. There was one very normal looking middle aged man with his beard dyed neon pink. Just his beard...

Later, we walked to meet Stein's friend and passed a bunch of skate boarding parks, I guess that is really big here, I see them all over.

So Last Night I had my first ever Fish and Chips! It was delicious- with a screwdriver. I went out with Stein and a bunch of his friends from LSE, about 7 guys, so I felt Right At Home.  4 were from GW, and we really just talked about the mutual friends we had there. Then the talk turned over to the Superbowl, so I peaced out. This semester is looking pretty familiar.