Day 13: The Spleen of Paris

Les Deux Magots, utterly touristic but incredibly historic: I sat down and had myself a hot chocolate "à l'ancienne." That means as thick and sweet as you can possibly imagine. Pair that sugar rush with some people watching and you have yourself a pretty darn good morning. Even the rude French waiter could not change my "joie de vivre" for the day.

I could imagine Simone de Beauvoir alongside Jean-Paul Sartre, her little romantic buddy, sitting down at the same table I had been sitting in, pulling inspiration and content from the life spinning all around. It is almost as if, in that chair, you have suddenly been halted in time, but the rest of the world is still going at full speed.

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While admittedly, I could have stayed in that one position for the majority of the day, I had other things on my agenda. Off to la Librairie des Femmes.

Sounds like the word "library" in English, I know, but it actually means bookstore (the word "bibliothèque" means library). A little perusing and a mental note to come back later to buy a French book to immerse myself in, this quaint vaguely nondescript bookstore was about to be traded in for another major tourist destination: Shakespeare and Company.

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The unaffiliated (confirmed) and now slightly suspicious Shakespeare and Sons (different yet the same) in Prague holds quite a dear place in my heart from 7th grade when my mom and I would essentially trade books there habitually as it was the only place we could find books to read in English during that year of "homeschooling" in Czechia's capital. I won't deny it. They, the bookstore, are who I have to thank for my foray into Twilight. I was young and impressionable. Blame the fake "Shakespeare and Company"...not me.

Anyways, for this reason, the real Shakespeare and Company in Paris holds an associated dear place in my heart. They even won some brownie points because the cat roaming around inside was cute. I bought a bright yellow pin that says, "Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise." While paraphrased from the bible, the bookstore's original owner is to be credited for these exact words: George Whitman. It is neither W.B. Yeats or Shakespeare that deserves this credit.

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Walking out into the sun after I acquired this little treasure, I proceeded to walk into two churches, one from the Middle Ages and one more baroque-esq.

On the way to the Nabis expos at the Jardins de Luxembourg, my group and I passed by 9 Rue de Vaugirard where they are building a "cité des femmes" (like a women's center) which reminded me of my final research paper in French on Christine de Pisan.

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The Nabis exposé was one I found delicately beautiful as it reminded me of a more impressionist Mucha, and Mucha is an artist I like very much.

Then, we finally visited the Jardins de Luxembourg officially. A nice stroll through to get to the other side.

A tiny little museum was the last stop for the day of exploration (my group was responsible for the presentation and discussion). Called Musée Zadkine, it was this Russian sculptor's "atelier" in Paris. Cut away from the street, this hidden museum was a little sanctuary, full of green ivy and curving sculptures. I spoke with one of the guards for a bit and enjoyed the conversation in French.

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Then, we had to get back to Reid Hall to prepare our presentation. A latte macchiato later, everything was organized and ready to go.

I was familiar with the topics as I wrote a 10-page research paper on Simone de Beauvoir and Christine de Pisan last semester. It is refreshing when educational choices come back to benefit the advancement and further learning of topics.

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Then a walk to the theater for the evening through the vaguely familiar streets. Needing a notebook, I walked into a little bookstore where one book's cover read "The spleen of Paris" which I thought was perfect. It is actually a quote from Baudelaire, a poet, who we have already had a chance to read in this class.

Arriving at the Théâtre du Vieux Colombier, tonight's play was entitled Hors la Loi about abortion and the case of Marie-Claire in France. Extremely powerful to the point that the viewer almost felt like they were suffocating with the facts, I found it something that should be shown to an even wider audience. A standing ovation. Then a good night to all. The heaviness was sinking in and needed to be processed in the comfort of a bed.