Parc de Buttes Chaumont Walk

"The earth is all before me. With a heart

Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty,

I look about; and should the chosen guide

Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,


I cannot miss my way. I breathe again!"

-Wordsworth,The Prelude

Wordworth writes about the function of walking and how, similar to Thoreau, is a means for escaping the filled and crowded life we know too well. 

                    "Ah! better far than this, to stray about 250

          Voluptuously through fields and rural walks,
          And ask no record of the hours, resigned
          To vacant musing, unreproved neglect
          Of all things, and deliberate holiday."

He focusses on the walker as a person, who he is and why they see the freedom they do. Wordsworth makes it apparent that the escape is not as simple as trying to adopt a new take on things, or getting tired with the status quo, although important, he is finding refuge in isolation, avoiding all social contact. 

People like Thoreau, Emerson and Wordsworth, preaching a transcendentalist type    point overall are not shy to admit the refuge they find so much in isolation and complete lack of socializing. They are obviously happy with being away from people and social construct, but why? Is it a matter of fear or intimidation of being separated from something, not being  part of something so much that you remove yourself t avoid being alienated socially? 

All these type of self-finding authors like Wordsworth and Emerson who most famously said "Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." It the whole idea that you are better off finding what has not been found than something that has been discovered. For Wordsworth, the escape is mysterious, and finding this mystery is what he is set on.

This mystery that these writers are talking about is usually finding that they are interested in the simple life, bare bones, the essentials, and that detaching themselves from the busy world, a world with rules may not be out of fear of alienation but simply preference, a preference only walking and exploring could give them. Coverley mostly writes about the joy of simplicity in that he's on this journey discovering himself, discovering the need and appreciation for a simple life, and how of that comes the discovery of spirituality or maybe not discovery but newfound acceptance. You as well as Covereley can see the difference between Wordsworth and Thoreau and the transcendentalist writers writings and his own, his answering more, going deep into his spiritual psychology. But they all share there look at the simple essentials based life.

Junior year of high school half the year in an English studies class we learned the trandentlaist movement, eventually creating a project that would show and implement our understanding of different writers like Thoreau. So I am in tune with Thoreau's reason for leaving society, something I could and still can connect too. The emphasis in his works put on the fact the world (city life) he came from  was never going to allow him to find himself, so walking and escaping that world to a quiet and open woods setting could make him realize something about himself or something greater than him just based on a setting, which I love.

The world now as we see it is known, going out and finding yourself like Thoreau is harder, there is more to escape and what there is to escape from is a world we depend so much on, a world of familiarity, technology and socializing. The nature filled land Thoreau loves so much is not upon our gaze as we walk by a park. That is a copy or natural nature, making it hard to appreciate it as much as a solid walk in the woods. When you think about it, its fucked up how society knows that tearing the natural world down and creating this flat industrial, skyscraper filled place is wrong, yet they will create this thing called a "park" to make up for it. Many people will fall for it and appreciate the park, which nothing is wrong with that, but in reality they are mocking earth, the earth that Wordsworth, Covereley, and Thoreau knew and used to benefit themselves, naturally. Now to do what they did people take short cuts, entrench themselves in media or zoo's, gardens and therapy, but there is also nothing wrong with using alternatives or falling for these things, because if you still get something great of them, out of yourself, why care. 

THE WALK:

With the aforementioned in mind, that is not to say I am one to sometimes fall for it, especially the Parc de Buttes Chaumont, I did not even think it was fake till I started a second walk around looking more intimately. I needed this, head not being where I wanted it lately, and this really helped. By far was the best walk I have taken so far, regardless of whether that be because I needed it or not. I went in the morning and it was beautiful. It was not packed, although there were runners they usually never took the small paths that interested me, but the larger ones near the water. It was quiet, although getting a little louder in different places of the park still relatively quiet for being in the city. 

Minutes into my walk I was brought somewhere. The smell of plants, the fresh air just rained upon went into my nose but then into my brain. It was the smell of spring wanting to break through. Immediately I was brought to my farm in Virginia and a park near my house called Rock Creek Park. I smile, even though the french don't like it, screw them and there rules for now. I feel like I'm walking through the woods in Virginia on a brisk day, it is a great feeling. I continue to walk around with no route, just the goal of hitting each part of the park. This smell follows me. 

I make my way down to the pond. I see all the different birds and ducks, and start to count them. Suddenly I think about taking up bird watching, but then realize no. 

All the different birds floating around and chilling out on bushy areas around and in the pond brings me to another place. I am now transported to summer at my house in Marthas Vineyard and our pond, a pond that also has many different ducks and birds, swans (if thats not a duck) coexisting. It is reminding me of sitting and watching the pond for hours at times, the image of the moon hitting it, its like I'm there. This walk is now becoming one filled of memories, in the best way though. 

I walk on for another hour, clearing my head, realizing things that need to be realized, only because of the setting. I was not able to do this on other walks, but this one I was. I love walking but never knew that what I needed more often was nature walks, even though this is not a great representation of such. 

I see many dogs, all of which I want. I continue to see many birds. I see people on a hill doing tai chi, I see a man working out with his dog watching. I even see a cat on a leash. I stumble upon a more woodsy looking area which I love, again I am brought back to Virginia. I miss it now more than ever. 

I also start to notice the trees and how they are feeding into this as well. Many people talk about smells bringing them to places in their memory, upon my walk the trees and plants really helped bring me other places. I do not know trees or plants names but there were few that brought me back to my driveway in VA and backyard at my house. Even though I usually hate this big bush/plant  thing in my backyard thathas eaten every ball from baseball to lacrosse to tennis ball in the world, I miss it all the sudden. 

The rain that went on and off never bothered me, even though it usually would, for once it was very pleasant, and when it stopped each time, sun would perk out for a little. I didn't care that it was fake, it is still beautiful and that goes for many parks, central park especially. This walk cleared my mind, may not to the degree of Thoreau, but it did it a good service. The downside is I miss certain things back home more now, things I don't usually appreciate, yet the upside is that, the fact that I appreciate them. I need to find more parks like this or better. Maybe the authentic spirituality of nature lacks from an artificial park like this, but that does not mean I can't be better than that and find a way to pull out some kind of realization from it. As a human, the least we can do is appreciate what nature is here. Like Matthew Mcconaughey said "gratitude reciprocates" 

Marais Walk

I was surprised when I came to Paris and saw the amount of graffiti that lined the walls. I was even more surprised that on this walk we were told that there was an area where you can go to see it in abundance. I mean this is such an old respected city architecturally, why would you paint on it, the walls are too old for that. But to my surprise I found some of it cool. I need to say I am not usually someone who likes graffiti because to me it looks all the same unless we are talking about standouts like Invader, Banksy, and Mr Brainwash. I kept my mind open to it all though before going.

So I embarked on my travels with a list in hand of the very few directions to complete the walk.I got out of the St Sebastian metro crossed the street and started my walk. At first I noticed little graffiti, and what I did see was very typical big in your face fonts. Then it didn't take long to start letting my eyes look around and notice more. I saw a minotaur that used a real bull head integrated into the city and a painted body below. It was cool, really was, I do not know what street that was on though. How realistic it looked and something about it was attractive but since I just finished watching True Detective, it was a little creepy. The amount of Invader street art I saw was very surprising. I only had seen stuff on him in documentaries and pictures online. I thought to myself while looking around “Is this guy from France or something?” because there is more Invader on one block then there is Banksy in NYC. Luckily my phone was out of power by then and I could not take a picture nor look him up to answer this question that was kind of obvious. As I continued my journey I just looked and walked, no opportunity to savor the art with my camera, it was almost like I was, without technology!? But never, I’m 19 and its 2015, I had my computer in my backpack and a charger, but was not about to take it out and use it as a camera. I might be dependent on technology, but I am not desperate. As I turned onto Rue du Pont aux Choux, which I continued on until finishing, I saw the graffiti creeping around from higher places and I noticed the area was very nice with very nice clothing shops, and very nice restaurants. Why would graffiti be in a nice area of Paris? Well I quickly accepted that it is a younger place now, most the people shopping there are younger and most the people eating are as well, so there aren't as many old people shitting on the younger generations ways anymore. On the other hand it can be seen like soho, very nice everything, but there is still graffiti, adding character to something old and been there for some time. Yet when I think about it again, the graffiti that covered the walls on Rue du Pont aux Choux was not graffiti, well not all of it. It was art. The art you would see in struggling parts of the US does not look like Invaders work or the others creative stencil work. This art that was once frowned upon now has different socioeconomic styles it seems. Moving on, I further walked down Rue du Pont aux Choux for a while, window shopping, look shopping, and shopping shopping. This enforced my view of how younger people are taking over this area because this clothing would not look good on your dad, you would beg him to stop trying to look hip and 30 years younger (my uncle). 

There are all types of graffiti you see in the Marais, and I found my self liking the more realistic ones and not the ones that took up a whole wall, too disorganized for me. I saw some pieces that used black and white really well with the creamy color of the walls as there backdrop, so much so I wanted to take a picture and make a shirt of some of it.

I came closer to the river and it became dark out, taking away from seeing the art at its most vibrant. I began to shop a little more and started walking into any store that looked cool, even women's stores, and through this found a cool jewelry store selling mens and women's stuff. Don't judge the store by who shops there is the lesson there. At this point I was very close to the river and had called it a day. I found the nearest metro and went on home. On the metro I reflected a little. Over that whole walk I saw so many “Je suis Charlie” pieces probably done weeks ago and will be there for a long time. As I can understand seeing the remnants of an old Invader piece, a piece of art that doesn’t have nearly as much meaning as a phrase like “Je sues Charlie” I would never quite accept nor understand if the city were to take down the “Je suis Charlie” graffiti works because everyone there relates with them, even foreigners, they have purpose to never forget, and its a statement not just a phrase. I hope they don’t cover those up for a very long time, a very long time.

Walk tour 2

Montparnasse is somewhere I would live, want to live, which is common when I find a place that even a little bit more attractive then the neighborhood my dorms are located in. It seems like an all around good place to live. The type of place where big business meets small warm restaurants, and comfy little apartments, all you need essentially. It is stimulating, while maybe not the grand lit paris you see at places like the Opera, it’s a different shade of Paris, with a mix of one huge skyscraper and small quaint streets.  You have a sense as someone just moving here that theres a lot of room for experience there, while Parisians see it as just another place.

I walk to a place selling crepes out of a window connected to a greater restaurant. I ask for the jambon-fromage crepe in FRENCH and the guy says “Okay, so where are you from? I take it that I need to work more on my pronunciation, and reply telling him I’m from Washington D.C. He says “Oh Obama town, you go to school here?” I reply “Yea just moved a few weeks ago. I go to Parsons it’s small and new, I know you haven't heard of it.” He laughs. “Do you like Paris so far, or do you like America more? I tell him “Yea it’s not bad, and yes I do like America more, its home.” and to my surprise he says “I cant stand it, I like America more like you.” We talk a little more and I walk off with my crepe in hand.

My walk is cold, quite fu$$ing cold. I did this walk later in the day around 5:00 so the sun was edging away, practically flipping me off as it slowly left the sky. I had no choice but to move on. 

Walking on, I find my first street. It was pretty easy to find given the size of the Montparnasse Tower relative to the cities average building sizes. I look up and around. I see a huge building, lots of people going different directions, big name stores, and it smells funky for some reason. Is this New York, did that guy put something in my crepe? I want out, I am not a fan. Using the directions I try and navigate myself out with my phone but end up going in a circle around the Montparnasse Tower. I must be tripping because all of the sudden Michael Jordan goes up to me and asks me for directions. Okay that didn't happen but it would have been cool. I make my way out 3-5 minutes later.

I continue through my walk. Sadly cafe’s are not open because it’s 5:00 and they are all getting ready for dinner. I am now walking down Rue de Vaugirard. I find this street to incredibly beautiful. It’s the Paris I like, not too busy, the classic apartment buildings, and little streets that pop out of nowhere. I decide to go into a knife store because it looked cool. I see this large property, guarded by many officers, that is officers that are holding AK-47’s. I want to take a picture with one the guards in the front of the driveway but think to myself and realize that is a stupid idea. What is this place? I’m walking around it and see there is a nice garden. I give up trying to figure out what it is exactly, waiting for Robin to tell me on Wednesday.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Rue De Vaugirard

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Place I don't know?














I find this one place walking down Rue Raccine I think. I went in because it looked classy but not to stuck up to happily serve a kid wearing Vans and Johnny Cash middle finger t shirt. I sit down at the bar. No one but two people are there sitting together at a small table. I’m a little bit hungry at this point and I can see their food. It looks alright, so I get a Guinness to say substitute a little meal. I take a sip and I feel I have eaten a bowl of mashed potatoes. It’s good though even though it’s from a bottle. I finish it way quicker than its intended to. Little conversation is made with the bartender because he seems like he’d rather read a a phone book then talk to anyone.

Not the lace but it was close.

I pay the check and leave. I feel a little warmer, I’m telling myself the beer did it and that I’m good now, I can walk happily. I’m cold now, it took 30 seconds, but that 30 seconds was great. I continue walking down Rue Racine. 

I am now starting to get about finished with this walk. I make my way to Rue de Harpe. Its weird but I like it. There is one restaurant/bar that is the most vibrantly lit restaurant you have ever seen. It was a mix of christmas lights, Mexican fiesta lights, halloween lights, and dock lights, yea dock lights, and put them all over there restaurant. The only thing fitting for them to have served would have been schnitzel but I think it was Italian. 

Moving on from there I chose to take my own route to end the journey because like John Baxter wrote “every Parisian, and everyone who comes to know Paris, discovers his or her own ‘most beautiful walk’” (4). I walked aimlessly around the small streets of the latin quarter watching large groups of tourists jump on one another to get a picture of a church and a pig roasting in a window. 

I do not know what street I was on but I found a gallery with large scale realistic sculptures. They were the oddest things but also so cool, something right out of Juxtapoz mag. I continued to walk around the little streets until I decided to go into another bar and grab another quick beer, again Guinness. The place was cheesy, very outgoing purple lighting, music way to energetic for the lack of people in the bar. This time the server struck up a conversation with me. He asked where I was from, and again I said D.C. He told me how Guinness in Paris is not that good because you can only get it in the bottle and places serving it on tap are practically nonexistent. Fun fact of the day right there. I got done with beer and conversation, and walked on out. I’m tired and cold. All the places I pass on my way out of the jungle that is the latin quarter look unappetizing because the Guinness has filled most of my stomach.

I make my way out to Shakespeare and Co. I have crossed the finish line.

I like this place, its tighter, more comfy then the large open streets located near school. I sound like a hippie but corporations are taking over and you can see that near the opera, yet Montparnasse holds onto a lot of the classic beauty the city is known for. You must find the places you are most comfortable to feel most comfortable as a newcomer to Paris like me and may students are, but this is true for many places.

 Does this mean I don't miss home? I miss it a little bit, but I realize besides family, music, and instruments, theres nothing better there. Back home it’s just bluh for me, but here it hmmm. That sounded stupid, but its true. This is an adventure, and experience and missing a place is useless when it comes down to it. Four months here is not long and for me needed in a way so I can come back to my country and my home, and maybe appreciate more.

I know I will really be able to grasp this city, the country and continent come spring time, WHEN THE SUN IS WARM. 

Walk 1

It’s mid afternoon and I decide to to use the time for walking around the Latin Quarter for class. It’s Sunday so not as much is open and there are less places to eat, a bummer for a hungry young man who has the metabolism of a hummingbird. On my way to the small ally ways of the Latin Quarter, I pass by and look at the Notre Dame Cathedral. I don’t stop to marvel at it because walking by taking a stare at it and moving on my way is all I need to appreciate it. It was interesting though to walk by and see the people, aka tourists taking pictures. It seems almost that people care more about getting a picture at the Notre Dame Cathedral then just going. Continuing my walk I just thought about how proof of being somewhere is more important then just having had a memory to some people, a lot of people these days to be honest. Moving on, I start to enter the small ally ways I wanted to walk through. These streets are attractive to me. They have a personality that I feel more comfortable with then say the Opera. It is the type of place I could live, would want to live while in Paris, similar to the way I like Bastille. I found a cafe, don’t recall the name of it because it’s like recalling a deli you quickly ate at in Manhattan. That allowed me to get into a mellow, lazy, people watching mode. I got a coffee and watched people walk by. Even though it was a Sunday, there were still a decent amount of people walking about. As I sat there drinking my coffee I took in the area, the people, and the smell. About 45 minutes passed by and my coffee was gone. I started to feel kind of restless in a way, the kind of restless you adopt from New York City. I did not know what to think of this feeling. Was it the coffee? No, because coffee doesn't do much to me. I decided that to counter act the high-strung feeling I would switch to beer. People watching became more entertaining. After a few of those and the light started to dim in the city, I paid and left. I walked around only enjoying the infrastructure because once again it was Sunday and there was not much open. I passed by where the original Shakespeare and Co was, passed the Stein residence, and passed where Hemingway lived for a little, all now just part of modern day paris, store fronts, homes, etc. I regret not having gone to the Luxembourg Gardens because that seemed later like quintessential Latin Quarter thing to do, so I unfortunately cannot write about that. I got on the train and went back home to realize once again, and the last time, that it was Sunday and I had no food, so I had to settle for some Chinese food that was not to good nearby by dorm. 

Getting back and reading Orwell, I found that his views of Paris were quite anachronistic. Orwell writes  Down and Out in Paris and London in 1933. It makes sense he writes about poverty because 1933 was prime Great Depression time. The characters he writes about don’t exist here anymore. You only see happy social youth or older well dressed folk in Paris, maybe a view homeless people but not very much. For instance a kid who cobbles shoes to pay his way through college. Paying your way through college making shoes is not a possibility today. Orwell also talks about the incredible poor state of his hotel. A bad hotel like that could not exist in such a high class demanding city like Paris anymore. “It was now that my experiences of poverty began—for six francs a day, if not actual poverty, is on the fringe of it. Six francs is a shilling, and you can live on a shilling a day in Paris if you know how.” (17) SIX FRANCS? He is saying you can live on that if you know how in a day. My coffee was like around five bucks, maybe a little more, and my beer was like nine if not more. You can’t live on six francs in today’s Paris, not just because francs aren't a thing anymore in France, but because that would be like living on less than 6 dollars in New York City today. HA. Orwell talks of not just a poor time in Paris but the world. The streets I walked and sat down by were cool, young, attractive, they look like happy places with happy people, where fun can happen. Sure there are still hard working people in Paris, and they are not the ones with the nice suits and fancy coats, their the Henri’s (minus the stabbing part) of today’s Paris. I feel lucky I can walk the streets of Paris as a student and not worry like Henri about money, not about having to work hard all day to make ends meet, not worry about a girl like his spending a lot of it, I hope, not going down that road again. I’m lucky is what I feel when I get to sit at a cafe in the Latin Quarter and drink a beer in an amazing city like Paris because thats not something everyone can do.

Hemingway 1

I came to Paris with an open mind, possibly hoping to find myself in the least cheesy way possible, but at the same time accepting a difference in culture and learning from it in exchange. So far, in my short two weeks here I realize what it is people see in Paris, and the reasons behind it's beautiful and romantic portrayal in all of the media, but I also realize that Paris is not only this. Where I live, the ever glowing light of the cities monuments, beige apartments, and streets at night, well Olympiads is probably not the best place to find this.

I have been adjusting to the culture but I find it harder, personally, to appreciate a city like Paris until the weather starts becoming warm. Even as newcomer to the city, I agree with Hemingway when he writes "All of the sadness of the city came suddenly with the first cold rains of winter, and there were no more tops to the high white houses as you walked but only the wet blackness of the street and the closed doors of the small shops..." (16). I walk down the streets, in the cold rain, sometimes witnessing a faint fog blocking buildings and houses. I too find a sadness in overcast that Hemingway does, as it prevents a full picture of what makes Paris so incredible.

I like Hemingway's use of "transporting" and can relate even as someone who hasn't necessarily written very much creatively. I think the same goes for me if I'm writing music, because too try and create something like a story, it feels better and more real when you can transport your way there. The freedom a writer has is only as good as their imagination, and if you can somehow try and feel what it is you are composing and creating through a drink even, or a place, the final product is that much more authentic. When Hemingway orders a drink because his characters are drinking, it is almost natural for him to try and be there with them. I love how he talks about writing in the cafe because we all have sat down at cafe and experienced the French way of getting a shot of espresso and using that one little tiny cup of liquid as an excuse to sit down and watch the world move, really people watch. When Hemingway sits down and writes in the cafe, he see's a woman sit down near him, so we think cue the romantic music and love at first sight in Paris, but no. He writes a line that all men can relate to when seeing a woman for the first time thinking omg I love them and I don't know them. "I've seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil. Then I went back to writing..." (18) This could practically be a scene pulled out of a comedy film starring someone awkward like Woody Allen per say because when he looks up and doesn't see her, he feels sad, so he decides to eat some oysters (aphrodisiac) and feels better. This whole perfect romance view of Paris doesn't need to be the majority, I find the opportunity for funny events like that to happen a beautiful thing to look forward to as well. Do I expect to see the Midnight in Paris Paris? I do, but also want to see the Everyone Says I Love You Paris too.

I had the pleasure of visiting the Opera Saturday night which was interesting in the sense that I got to see a form of entertainment I had never seen before, but also see older swanky dressed Parisian's whom don't have a thing in common with. It was only interesting to see the say more up tight citizens of this city versus the younger people around the city. The notion that French people are not very big on Americans is not very true, that is if you were born after 1955, so I don't know if the Opera is my kind of place, but it was worth watching and gawking for a little to see some of these people that could have been taking right out the 1940's bourgeoisie, the very people Hemingway lived with. Yet there are uptight people everywhere, whether that be New York City and maybe at their Opera, or even my hometown of D.C. where everyone wearing a suit (most likely working for the government) acts like they haven't their partner naked for 30 years.

I find the way Hemingway writes about Paris very alluring and it backs up so much of this media that paints the place as this amusement park of romance and beauty. I could say the media is simply just based off Hemingway's positive view of Paris, and that Hemingway himself is making it out to be more of a fairytale than it is, but I do not know yet, having only been here for weeks. Physically I can see what he marvels about so far.

He writes about wandering from street to street, talking about the different cafe's, looking for a place to refuge and write. I find that through living here, like he must have, choosing a place everyday to get familiar with the areas people and layout is a good way of becoming a student living in Paris rather then a tourist. We can tell Hemingway knows the places he doesn't like very much and knows the places he can enjoy. I've found one place so far in my journey, but not because I was wandering, but because I looked up a bunch of possible cool bars to go to. I picked one of the places, that being called Le Fanfaron and went to check out the area as well as the bar. I found a place I feel I could enjoy going to, rather to the Opera. There was a little bit of the language gap to work with, but the people there looked like they came out of The Wild One, which is something I like and is a large improvement from the Opera folk, at least for me. Everyone knows there are so many different types of groups and cultures within the NYC world, and if you stay long enough you find your own. I think the same goes with Paris and I like that.