The Hermetic Closure of Coffins

So for the last week or so I have been obsessing over Napoleon. Yes, it is a constant in my life to love the man, but every once in a while I get a little more focused. Sophomore year it was his exile and time in St. Helena that fascinated me, then I was into his childhood and time at school, and now, his tomb.

I wrote about my first experience at the tomb in August, and since I have been back 3 times. So when we had to pick a topic for our research paper in Paris Monuments and Political Power, I naturally chose Les Invalides. For the last week I have been reading constantly about the tomb, its construction and maybe most importantly, about Napoleon's dead body.

When they retrieved his body from St. Helena, 20 years after his death to bring it back to Paris, he was in almost perfect condition. He was within 4 caskets, like a little Russian nesting doll (oh Russia...sorry to bring it up little guy). I found an article from The British Medical Journal that describes his corpse:

The head of the conqueror rested on a pillow. The large head with the lofty brow was seen covered with a yellowish, hard and very adherant integuments. Under the eyelids could be seen the eyeballs, which had lost little of their volume and shape. Some hairs were still seen at the free edge of the eyelids...The hands showed no change; "the skin seemed to have preserved that particular colour which only belongs to that which has life."

Amazing. The best part about the article is that it starts out "In the lives of saints it is often stated that the body was found incorrupt long after death." They talk about that for a minute then say Napoleon was in great condition. QED, n'est pas? The article tell of a period of history when they used to open up his 6 caskets once a year (August 15-his birthday) and people could take a peek. WHICH IS MY DREAM. Here's a little from M. Jean Richepin:

The General took us down into the crypt...My father took me into his arms, raised me into the air and I saw the Emperor. I have never forgotten that sight. I was eleven years old. What is seen at that age makes a deep impression and nothing can remove from my brain that extraordinary image: the eyes closed, the beard slightly grown, the face of the whiteness of marble, on which spread some yellow spots which seemed bronze. When there mingle in my memory that face of wax, showing some signs of decomposition which I have seen, those eyes which I have seen, I see the Emperor truly as if I had known him. -From a lecture on 25 Janvier 1909

I was poking around some other essays and articles and found descriptions of the kings corpses when they exhumed them from St-Denis during the Revolution (down with the monarchy! get rid of their dead bodies!). It is funny because the better the king, the better he was preserved. Apparently smell has a lot to do with it too. Henry IV was in good condition, Louis XIV was okay, and "Louis XV had blanched skin, a violet nose and buttocks as red as a newborn's."

Lists Are Easy To Read

This is a list of things that I currently miss from NYC (besides the obvious people):

• Dryers (my clothes are hanging off of me)
• Grilled Cheese made with Kraft Singles
• My Blackberry
• Fresh Direct
• Numbered Streets
• Chicago
• The American Dollar
• My Watch Collection
• Mexican Food (Chipotle)
• Making Crafts
• Harlem (Convent & 148th)
• Alta
• NY Pizza

These are things I am assuming I will miss when I leave Paris (besides the obvious beauty, food and wine):

• Outdoor Seating
• Children in Colored Glasses
• Great Street Names
• Navigo
• Everyone in Scarves
• Short Metro Stops (plus they tell you how long until the train comes)
• Twingo
• Professor Christina Von Koehler
• Saying Hello and Goodbye to EVERYONE
• The Eiffel Tower When It Looks Like Liza
• French Limestone
• Taking My Time
• Napoleon
• Ample Use of Fur

Either Way, Cute...

Since I first arrived in Paris in August I have had an ongoing disagreement with the people in my French life. It is all in regard to a Renault advertising campaign that littered the trains and the metro stations through September.

Renault I guess came out with a bunch of new car models and so the campaign was to find babies of the same age and place them on the ads. Effective! Now I know the names of many Renault cars and get excited when I see those cars on the street. Plus the babies were très mignon! but they used the names of the cars for the babies as well. Examples Kangoo, Scènic, Modus, Mègane, Logan, Clio, Laguna and my favorite...

The disagreement lies with the gender of this child, Twingo. What makes it even harder is that were Twingo a real name, it would most definitely be unisex. I would love opinions, right now between people I know it is fairly split.

Secret Pleasure

I have this one hair in my left nostril that grows so fast and after while starts to tickle me. All of my nose hairs are a light color except for this one.

Every two months it grows out enough for me to pluck it out of there, WHICH I LOVE.

Secret revealed. Too much?

I'm Back. And I'm in Marseilles.

I was running, sweating, errand-ing before I left. From class to pick up my newly-fixed computer, home to pack and shower and then I just HAD TO have drinks with a few friends before I hopped on the train.

My information on the computer was somehow not lost, which they told me it would be. I love you .

So now I am here on a trip with my Marseilles and the Mediterranean World class, a little class of 8 plus the teacher and another NYU administrator. It was a nice three hour train ride and an amazing dinner last night, some museums and city walking today. A more detailed description to come later, I have something else on my mind.

Landmarks.

At breakfast, before we left this morning, I realized I had never seen the Mediterranean Sea. It's interesting that I had not even considered the fact before today. It is such a central place when it comes to history, the basis of modern civilization, education and thought, that it somehow seemed familiar. I felt like I had been there, like I knew it for some reason. When I realized that I was taking it for granted, I got really excited and nervous about this landmark in my life, seeing this, the Mediterranean Sea for the first time.

So later in the day the point comes in which we climb hundreds of stairs to the highest point in Marseilles, to Notre-Dame de la Garde and I refuse to look behind me as I climb the steep hill. I want to get to the top and turn around and faint or have an seizure or something like that as I stare out at the turquoise water. I know behind me is Chateau d'If where Monte Cristo famously planned his fictional revenge and the amazing Vieux Port with it's fortress rising out of the sea and all this is in my mind.

So I turn around, and of course nothing like that happens. I don't mean to say I was disappointed, because I got out my journal and started to write about the beauty (which of course exists). I wanted to write in that moment words that would be monumental, I was hoping for some moving description that my grandkids would find in the attic someday and frame. But instead I just felt like a schmuck sitting there writing. It was just pretty and that's all I could write. It wasn't a 'landmark' moment in my life. I will always remember it, sure, but I felt nothing sacred.

But wait, there is more.

Later, we went to concert that my teacher found for us. That's what she said, "we are going to a concert." I didn't ask, I had no expectations.

Well, I guess I expected a band to play, which happened and was fine and dandy, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was after about 9 minutes that a man in a tux emerged from the shadows, came onto the slightly foggy stage in front of the red lights and began to dance. Flamenco. He was in the center of the stage with the band behind him and he was dancing. I have never seen anyone dance like that before. Stomping, sweating, spinning tossing his coat this way and that, it was shocking.

I have not been as inspired as I was tonight in a long time. And it was because I wasn't expecting it. It was not what I thought I was getting myself into, and so I could not be disappointed. There was such a sense of passion in that room, it was performer-audience community at it's best and it inspired me. It was at that point that I couldn't STOP writing in my journal, as much as I wanted to watch the band play and dancers dance.

I had never seen the Mediterranean until today. I saw it today when that man came onstage and began to dance. I was a foreigner in a new world. I thought I had a sense of what the Mediterranean was, but I had no idea. We keep talking about it in class, and I just didn't understand it until tonight. The Mediterranean is not a body of water, it's not a group of people, it's not a region, and no one can really agree what makes it what it is. Honestly, I don't know either, but I liked it and I want more.

Wine in Baby Bottles and Fondue

This post is about exactly what it sounds like. A fondue restaurant where the wine is served in baby bottles.

But first a wonderful day at Versailles. We awoke at my house and I had to sing, yell and jump on my friend Cassandra to get her off the couch and so she would come with us. My friend Bailey was staying with me too, and we made our way to the train station where the amazing Professor Christina Von Koehler was waiting with a head full of knowledge about the place and with free train tickets from NYU Paris!

I didn't think I could learn so much about Versailles by not even going in the house, but I should have known anything is possible with Christina. We simply toured the gardens. I learned why certain fountain are in certain places, the mythology behind them and whether or not they were supposed to make for a fertile night in the rooms of the palace that overlooked them (for example). We visited Marie Antionette's little fairytale village, and of course everyone was more amused by the piggies, sheepies and little-guy goats than by the rest of the compound (This is why homeless people with pets always get us too).

I had a cup of hot chocolate that was just chocolate that was hot. If I didn't drink it fast enough the top would solidify and I would have to eat the skin. Yum. Later I saw dragon-man statue with the biggest and pointiest nipples at all of Versailles, but then I thought back to drinking that hot chocolate and came to rival him.

Anyway it was an beautiful day full of education for fun (always an easier way to learn) and about 6:30 we made our way back on the train, with plans of going to the fondue and baby bottle restaurant.

The place was about 10 feet across and not very deep, the ladies had to sit on the inside because the only way to get to the seats against the wall was to climb over the table (and I guess guys are too heavy?). Our waiter hates the stupid young people who frequent the place and he let's you know. He and the other waiter repeatedly made fun of my bow-tie and I just happen to sit in the seat where he put down everything on the table. He would smack me in the head with the bread basket, with the bowl of potatoes, and with his elbows. I loved every minute of it. That guy stuck to his character, and I could tell underneath he was smiling.

The food was not great, I mean it was basic meat and cheese fondue. Fondue is always about the experience anyway, and the baby bottles made the night what it was. I could not think of better way to drink red wine. I am trying to stop chewing my nails, so I needed something to satiate my oral fixation. Though they cut bigger holes in the nipple (!?) and it did make it go down fast, not to mention baby bottles are not tiny. By the time we left we were all in a jovial mood and went off to dance and continue the festivities...

If Ever I Would Leave You...

...It wouldn't be in Autumn.

Here I am sitting in our little mansion that is the NYU in Paris campus on a Saturday. This coming week is midterm week and so our basement library is open today. At this point it is just me and the salty French librarian with her pursed lips and red rectangle frames. As I walked in and saw only empty computers I said "Ah bon!" and she made a grunting noise back. Life without a computer (still haven't quite diagnosed mine) is hard, but kind of good because it forces me to read in my spare time or come here to actually get work done (well now, I am blogging).

The last few weeks here have had their ups and downs, I had guests for about two and a half weeks straight and therefore didn't get as much as I needed to done, got a little stressed out at times but also had a lot of fun. This city is always a cure when I get worked-up though, I can just take a walk and I feel great. I have a feeling when I get back to New York it is really going to hit me hard. Though I have just as much work here, it doesn't feel like it. New York always has some larger pressing matter, some way of forcing me into submission and beating me down into a robot who relies on his Blackberry to tell him where he needs to be with whom and what he needs to talk about with that person.

Okay I get it, that is called obligation, and I don't have much of it here. But that's not how life works, unless I'm able to always just escape time after time. I've done a pretty good job of it up until now but I think I'm getting a little old for that. Evan's got some decisions to make when he gets back.

But for now: French limestone, brick streets, pasteries, autumn air, new friends, and the bluest sky I have ever seen.

I hope my friend Sasha doesn't mind that I keep using her photos, but this one seems to fit.

My computer is BROKEN

It froze, I restarted it. When I did a circle with a diagnol line came up on that grey start-up screen. That was there for a while, so I restarted it. Next time a folder with a question mark came up, and continues to come up any time I try. This does not seem like a good thing to me.

If you know anything about this kind of thing, let me know. I don't want to go talk to an apple guy about my computer in French.

I will try to update as much as I can, but most of the time I am in the library I am trying to work (like right now...) and though we can change the keyboards here to English if we like, they are very different.

I'll type this sentence two times, once with the English keys and once with the French keyboard!
=
Iùll type this sentence tzo ti,es; once zith the English keys qnd once zith the French keyboqrd1

WISH ME LUCK!