City of lights : take two

The first time I was in Paris it was marred by some unfortunate circumstances. First, our hotel was located wayyyy outside the actual city, in the commercial district of La Defense. This posed two shortcomings: the first was that the area the hotel was in was definitely nothing to write home about, and two the metro ride from the la defense station took about an hour and 15 minutes just to get to the Louvre. It was a commuter train so it stopped maybe about 12 times before we even got across the seine.

This time around this was not the case in the slightest.




We would call the Color Design Hotel on Rue de Citeaux in the Bastille district or humble abode for the weekend. Which if it were any more central we would have been able to throw a rock and hit Notre Dame. I have walked so much in the past few days it feels like my feet are no longer a part of my body. From the Eiffel tower all the way down Rue de Rivoli, through la morais, to Bastille, and everywhere in between. I have eaten incredible, wholesome, foods. The crustiest, freshly baked pain au chocolat. Some seriously smelly, but undeniably delicious, french cheese. The most brilliant, lustrous pink and mauve yellow duck foie gras. Chateau neuf-du-pape, Bordeaux, dujac-morey, languedoc, and Puilly-fuisse. It was a whirlwind of amazing food, wine, art, sights, people, language, and culture.



(the aforementioned foie gras)


Seeing my homeboys in the Louvre again was a sight for sore, trodden eyes as well. Although, nothing will ever compare to the rush felt when I walked into the room full of Louis David and haphazardly turned around only to find myself face-to-face with Ingres' "odalesque". However, I did get somewhere close to that while inside the Muse d'Orsay and me and Mr. Manet's "Olympia" were formally introduced. Amidst all the Corot, Vuillard, Gaugin, Van Gogh, Bonnard, Monet, Lautrec, Degas, Renoir, and so many more I'm surprised I could even remember that many.

France is so rich in things that I hold up higher than breathing sometimes.




I can't even begin to think about my disgust at being back in the states. Well perhaps disgust is too strong a term. It'll be like anyone coming home from a vacation, they're not happy about it. Except this time I've got the bug and I've got it bad...




Seriously, how can i look at this picture (above, from the rooftop of the arch de triumph) and not feel slightly dissatisfied about coming home. I want to be challenged every day to speak another language and function within a culture that is not my own. I want to be able to pop on the metro and hit the louvre after lunch. To drink amazing wines CHEAP! To ride a bike around city streets that have more history than my book in high school.




Above all, I want to live an inspired life. One without the monotony of routine, in particular the routine I have become accustomed to over the past 8 months. I need newness again.




I'll write more in a bit, I feel like I'm slightly still in shock. Both from being ripped out of this place to oblige flight times and, well, just the entire melee of this trip.

Location:Bastille - Rue de Citeaux