Gay Paris Part 2-February 8,before the gig
I had a truly awful nights sleep, partly due to the fact I was too hot but also because of a horrible dream, and awoke on Feb 8th with a banging headache. Still, a quick shower , some breakfast (croissant and a roll of course),and Mikes' outrageous anecdotes soon cheered me up.
We decided to walk from our Hotel down the Rue De Faubourg-Montmatre (near the Pigalle) to Notre-Dame rather than taking the Metro. We stopped to laugh at a silly joke shop, which sold plastic turds, monks with big willies poking out of their habits, naughty cards etc, before continuing on our way.
The square in front of the Notre-Dame was of course crowded with tourists-including ourselves-many of whom were in the queue to ascend the Tours Du Notre-Dame. We admired the intricate facade,with Mike explaining the religious significance of the carvings (including one where it appeared a Devil was trying to bugger someone before packing them off to Hell).We then admired the intricate interior.
I lost my sense of direction several times after that; we eventually found our way round the back of Notre-Dame-which is much quieter and from where the view is much better-and tried to enter the Memorial to those Deportees sent to Auschwitz by the Nazis. Unfortunately it was shut, so after going the wrong way AGAIN, we eventually made it to the Marais, the old Jewish (and now also gay) Quarter.
The Marais is lovely-mainly comprising narrow streets and small shops. Much of this style of street layout was cleared from the rest of Paris after the Revolution, especially by Baron Haussman in the nineteenth century, and replaced by broad avenues.
The first Museum we visited was the Musee Du Martyr Juif Inconnu, an excellent modern museum concerned specifically with the persecution of the Jews in Nazi-occupied France, within the context of the Holocaust in general. We spent two hours there, by which time I was completely washed out emotionally.
The Musee De La Poupee sounds like a museum dedicated to lavatorial activity, but is in fact a Museum of Dolls. I was expecting to see a sea of sinister Dolls with sharp teeth, staring eyes (or no eyes at all)-something similar to Childs Play. In fact most of the small tableaux were charming rather than sinister, although pleasingly there were a few vicious looking dolls, one that looked as if it had met a group of expert headshrinkers and a few patchwork disasters, so all was not lost.
After this Mike and I decided to slowly make our way back to the Hotel. I found the Rue Faubourg De St Denis, and thought to myself Aha!!! The street we walked down in the morning (this was not true-see above) to myself-so we set off down it. It certainly seemed grubbier than I remembered, and by the time we got to what seemed like Little Bangladesh, I was getting slightly worried. Mike pointed out, by the time we had almost reached the Gare De LEst, that we had gone out of our way. Fortunately we only needed to turn west to reach the Boulevard De Clichy, but whilst doing so took in depressing, dirty, bargain basement Paris, three pairs of knickers for one Euro style, in baskets overflowing onto the pavements. So I was glad to get back to the Hotel and have a rest before the gig.
I had a truly awful nights sleep, partly due to the fact I was too hot but also because of a horrible dream, and awoke on Feb 8th with a banging headache. Still, a quick shower , some breakfast (croissant and a roll of course),and Mikes' outrageous anecdotes soon cheered me up.
We decided to walk from our Hotel down the Rue De Faubourg-Montmatre (near the Pigalle) to Notre-Dame rather than taking the Metro. We stopped to laugh at a silly joke shop, which sold plastic turds, monks with big willies poking out of their habits, naughty cards etc, before continuing on our way.
The square in front of the Notre-Dame was of course crowded with tourists-including ourselves-many of whom were in the queue to ascend the Tours Du Notre-Dame. We admired the intricate facade,with Mike explaining the religious significance of the carvings (including one where it appeared a Devil was trying to bugger someone before packing them off to Hell).We then admired the intricate interior.
I lost my sense of direction several times after that; we eventually found our way round the back of Notre-Dame-which is much quieter and from where the view is much better-and tried to enter the Memorial to those Deportees sent to Auschwitz by the Nazis. Unfortunately it was shut, so after going the wrong way AGAIN, we eventually made it to the Marais, the old Jewish (and now also gay) Quarter.
The Marais is lovely-mainly comprising narrow streets and small shops. Much of this style of street layout was cleared from the rest of Paris after the Revolution, especially by Baron Haussman in the nineteenth century, and replaced by broad avenues.
The first Museum we visited was the Musee Du Martyr Juif Inconnu, an excellent modern museum concerned specifically with the persecution of the Jews in Nazi-occupied France, within the context of the Holocaust in general. We spent two hours there, by which time I was completely washed out emotionally.
The Musee De La Poupee sounds like a museum dedicated to lavatorial activity, but is in fact a Museum of Dolls. I was expecting to see a sea of sinister Dolls with sharp teeth, staring eyes (or no eyes at all)-something similar to Childs Play. In fact most of the small tableaux were charming rather than sinister, although pleasingly there were a few vicious looking dolls, one that looked as if it had met a group of expert headshrinkers and a few patchwork disasters, so all was not lost.
After this Mike and I decided to slowly make our way back to the Hotel. I found the Rue Faubourg De St Denis, and thought to myself Aha!!! The street we walked down in the morning (this was not true-see above) to myself-so we set off down it. It certainly seemed grubbier than I remembered, and by the time we got to what seemed like Little Bangladesh, I was getting slightly worried. Mike pointed out, by the time we had almost reached the Gare De LEst, that we had gone out of our way. Fortunately we only needed to turn west to reach the Boulevard De Clichy, but whilst doing so took in depressing, dirty, bargain basement Paris, three pairs of knickers for one Euro style, in baskets overflowing onto the pavements. So I was glad to get back to the Hotel and have a rest before the gig.
fun history fact: do you know why they widened the streets as you mentioned above? to prevent future insurrection - wider streets are harder to barricade. you probably knew that already, huh?