The weekend was spent drinking, walking around and people watching, and of course dancing to all the music which was literally coming from around every corner.  One of my favorite moments was dancing in the main square of the Vrifthof, dressed up as a pirate with my sword in one hand, a beer in the other, and dancing as it began to snow with costumed friends and strangers alike.  There was a magical feeling in the air last weekend, and I was so excited to be a part of this crazy event; it’s the first time I’ve really felt like a true part of Maastricht culture. 

The story continues in Paris…
On Wednesday, after an amazing weekend in Maastricht, we left on a train to Paris at 5:50 am (yikes) after spending the previous night in Liege, Belgium (which is a cute little town, with good food too).  We checked out a church near the hostel, Sacre Coeur (Sacred Heart) which was situated on the top of a hill that had a fantastic view of the city including the Eiffel Tower.  The church itself is gorgeous, as the pictures show:

We visited the Louvre Gardens later that day and pulled up some chairs next to a nice pond to enjoy a few baguettes and swigs of wine, which is an awesome place to just sit and admire the scenery:
Part of the reason I was so excited to go to Paris was to see Cleo, one of my best friends from home, who is lucky enough to be studying abroad in this great city.  We met up later that day and had a nice dinner in her little flat.
The next day I met up with the rest of my group (seven of us from the same Center for European Studies program went together: Peter, Tyler, Adam, Kevin, Jared, Shay, and me) while Cleo headed off to class at the Sorbonne.  We went to the Louvre, which was both impressive and overwhelming.  Just from the outside, you know looking at the enormous building that you’re in for a full day if you wanna see the better part of the treasures buried inside.
Once inside I headed for the sculpture section first, passing by the Winged Victory sculpture, one of the best preserved pieces from the Greek Hellenistic period, despite her missing head.
I saw the famed Venus de Milo, a marble statue found off the coast of Italy by an unknown artist, with a mystery surrounding why her arms are missing.
From there I continued on upstairs to the most famous painting in the museum – and possibly the world – DaVinci’s Mona Lisa.  There were signs pointing to it from everywhere, and when I walked into the gigantic room where it is housed, there was no mistake that I was in the right place.  What surprised me the most was not the actual painting, but people’s behavior as well as the extreme security measures taken to protect the artwork.  There was a crowd of about 30 in front of it, and at least half of them were aggressively taking pictures of the small, relatively modest painting, which is arguably the most reproduced work of art in history.  It was odd to me that even though these people had probably seen hundreds of reproductions of it in their lifetime, they took even more photos of it, and didn’t spend half as much time just looking at and appreciating the piece.  A funny thing was the amount of people who’d get their friend to take a pic of them in front of it, mimicking the pose.  Here it is behind bulletproof glass and laser sensors:

That night we decided to head to another famous attraction of the city: the Eiffel Tower.  We picked up some baguettes and wine at a grocery store and walked through the park leading up to the tower, and all the while it was impossible to look away from it, all lit up and a light pointing out and rotating around, reminding me of the Cape May Point lighthouse of all things.  We got closer and sat on a bench to enjoy our food, admiring the yellow glow of the tower and misty grey sky.  At ten o’clock the tower bewitched me even more as it sparkled for a good five minutes as we all stood and gawked, took pictures, and smiled.

The next day we woke up early to go explore more of the city, deciding first to take a stroll along the Seine and over to the Notre Dame cathedral.  The facade of the church as we walked closer and closer to it, was overwhelming in size and ornate architecture, and I tried to imagine what it must have been like for people to see it for the first time in the 14th century, when nothing but horse-drawn carriages and modest huts filled the city.

After visiting the cathedral we hung out in Luxembourg Gardens for a few hours, eating and lounging by a pond full of ducks under the moving clouds that shed a nice bit of sunlight on our faces, and the better part of us fell asleep in the sun.

We then headed over to Les Invalides, the burial site and museum for French military heroes, including Napoleon.  Walking up to the massive domed building, there was no mistake that it was made to be impressive, and I felt that even more upon entering and gawking at the stunning fine art and sculptures that covered the ceilings and walls of the altar before getting to Napoleon’s tomb.  It was interesting to compare Caesar’s burial site in Rome, which was surprisingly modest and small and situated off to the side of the Roman Forum, to the grandiose and overwhelming shrine of Napoleon.  The actual “coffin” of Napoleon could have housed ten coffins, and was positioned right underneath the grand dome of the building, with two floors from which people can look over a railing to view the massive spectacle surrounded by ten imposing larger than life statues of the saints, all reverently gazing towards the coffin.

I didn’t have much time to worship Napoleon because I left to go meet up with Cleo and celebrate a fantastic Friday in the city of lights.  We went out with her friend Gabby who’s also studying abroad in Paris, and found a great bar along a cute cobbled street right across from the St. Michel fountain.  We danced to a great DJ and were impressed by the great-but-expensive drinks on the menu, some of which were served by masked waiters with lit up sparklers in the glass.

After a great night I woke up in Cleo’s apartment and we met up with Gabby again to go visit the Catacombs of Paris, mostly out of morbid curiosity.  We arrived at the modest old building where the main entrance is housed and were shocked by the long line of people waiting to get in.  After a wait of about half an hour, we entered the abandoned mine that was converted into a depository for literally millions of bodies that were previously buried in other Paris cemeteries, but had to be moved (over the course of a decade) out of the ground because of overcrowding and the fear of contaminating the well water… yeah, quite the cheery place.
We walked down about a hundred steps to get to the actual start of the old mine, and walked for twenty minutes until we entered the “Empire of the Dead”, as indicated by a very creepy sign over the door, beyond which the halls were lined with the stacked bones of hundreds of the dead.  At first it was really fascinating and shocking to gaze at all the bones and wonder at the strange way they were arranged, but as time went on I began to feel more and more disturbed as I thought about the way these people’s bodies were separated and even worse, put on display for tourists, sitting there for hundreds of years… it was disturbing to say the least, and we were glad to get the hell out of there.  What was perhaps more disturbing/ ironic was the touristy shop across from the exit, selling skull t-shirts, necklaces, postcards, and yes, even skull wine. 

After working up an appetite looking at skeletons, we went to a good cheap Chinese cafe for lunch (Imperial Chicken for me), then headed over to the world’s most famous bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, situated on the bank of the Seine, across from the Notre Dame.  What a cute little eclectic shop!  One of my favorite parts of the trip was wandering through its book-stuffed shelves and contemplating the literary luminaries that have passed through its cramped quarters (Hemingway, Joyce, Ezra Pound).  I enjoyed perusing the stacks and sought out a nice little copy of James Joyce’s Dubliners, which is the perfect size to carry around and read whenever I want to feel intellectual.  And, after taking a few corny pictures in front of the store, it was time to say goodbye to Cleo and Paris and head back to Maastricht, and reality.  Ah, but Paris, Je t’aime, et je reviendrai. 

In my next entry I’ll talk about classes, my new resolution to read a book per week, and my case of croissant withdrawal.

Au revoir for now, everyone!