This would be our last full day in Paris and before I get started about what all we saw this day I have to tell you about the journey underground. It seems that Paris was putting on the grand finale this day because all of the other days we'd been there we had never had people perform on the subway before. We'd see performers in the hallways that were in the underground, and we'd see beggars along the streets shaking their plastic cups at us and speaking in pleading French to us, but we'd never seen these people on the train. On our way to our first destination we encountered one beggar woman who sang, and one entertainer who danced. The beggar woman was dressed all in black with her hair covered (didn't look at her face-really don't want to make eye contact because it would show I really do want to give something to them), and she carried a cane. She had this cane because her right foot was completely turned so that her toes were facing her left ankle. When she first started singing it was in small spasms so that those who were on the train with us looked at each other and a silent question was raised between everyone: "Is that woman singing? Do I really hear that?" As she walked down the aisle between the seats though she got louder and made her notes go on longer. A lovely voice. It really was. I wonder if anyone put money into her plastic cup as she went along singing and shaking it in peoples faces. While I sat there I wished I could understand French. I wanted to know what the sad song was about.
The thing about beggars is that we never give them money. Every day in Paris we see them. They set up just outside the metro, in the underground, along the streets, close to religious houses, anywhere were there would be tourists. Some of them you can tell really could use the money, and it feels terrible walking past them, as if you don't hear their cry. The thing is is that if you give them money other beggars who don't need it will swarm.
I wanted to give the woman who sang on the metro money. No other beggars were on the train, it wouldn't have hurt.
Later I also wanted to give the man who danced money. It was really quite funny because after the singing woman got off the train a very tall, skinny man got on the train with a microphone and a portable stereo system. He first started rapping and to be quite honest it was pretty good. Definitely was a nice change from the somber mood the old woman had left people with. After he got done with one song he turned on a different upbeat song and started "dancing". Mostly it consisted of bouncing a bit and then doing a flip between the bars that were on the metro. It made me and a few other people smile. The girl that was sitting closest to him dropped a coin in his plastic cup and we both caught each other smiling and turned away. I don't have any euros, so I couldn't drop any in, and Poppy didn't give any to him.
At the end of the day we'd end up on the train with another performer. I'll talk more about that later though.
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It took us a while to get to the cemetery Pere Le Chaise. When I heard from Ahmee that we would be visiting a graveyard I asked the usual question: Why? Ahmee told me that this cemetery was famous for it's unusual gravesites and for the prosperous people who were buried there. Basically if you had a piece of the earth in that cemetery dedicated to you or your family you had money and were a member of the elite. When we arrived we walked out of the metro right next to a fleur shop and the entrance to Pere Le Chaise. The fleur shop made plenty of money. Not only were the right next to a famous graveyard, they also supplied maps of the graveyard and locations of where to find the most famous people who were buried there. Of course we had to get the map and look at all the names and circle the ones we were interested in. What was somewhat daunting was that none of the names had a specific number attached to them, just the number of the section they were in. We had no idea how big each area would be. Turns out, we only found two names on the list that we circled. They were: Frederick Chopin (grave is overflowing with flowers), and Elizabeth Rachel. (Chopin's picture... not my image) 
To be perfectly honest I was more interested in looking at the graves. It looked like a town of them! Many of the elite decided they wanted to place a small chapel above their deathbeds and have this chapel honor their names and those of their family members who were buried there. The fancy doorways, intricate stonework, and the basic showing off of money was what really interested me.
Some other things that I found interesting were the sections that were dedicated to the Jews. These tombs were written in Hebrew, they were in the lower corner of the cemetery, but they were just as impressive as the others. We found the Elizabeth Rachel family buried there (the Rachel’s' had a little extra money-they used up space in front of their chapel to have two box-gardens).
Every now and then you'd find something completely different from these chapels. Occasionally you'd find huge sculptures, half-cut pillars (symbolizing they were cut down in the prime of life), hieroglyphic rocks, huge monuments standing several stories high (all to dedicate one man), the list could go on and on. There were so many of these graves! I know it might sound very weird, but I thought it was really fun walking through the cemetery.
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Something I realized when we were eating afterwards in a little cafe across the street from the entrance was that I don't want to be buried, I want to be cremated. I want to be cremated and I want my ashes placed into a really deep hole and plant a dogwood in that hole. I want to become a part of the earth, a part of a beautiful garden, and dogwood trees have always brought me great joy. I don't want a huge stone dedicated to me. I don't want to be buried into a church. I don't want monuments erected in my honor. I want my name documented and the area that I was buried documented so that future generations can find me, but I don't want anything grand. I want to be buried under my favorite tree in a garden.
We hopped back on the metro and went back into central Paris to check out the Musee de Orsay.
The Musee de Orsay was quite an amazing museum. The main thing that I liked about it was that it was much smaller than the Louvre but it had tons of things that I was interested in at the same time. The museum used to be a train station, and a very fancy one at that. The makers of the train station wanted to make it a high quality station and so decorated it with fancy moldings, with lots of glass, and with plenty of chandeliers. The chandeliers were not in the main station however. The train station had a hotel in it. It was in the dining hall of the old hotel that we saw lots of chandeliers and mirrors. Most of the museum had been redone so that the old grandeur of the station didn't distract from the art. In the dining hall however they preserved the old so that they could have a marvelous restaurant. When we ate lunch there I swear I felt like I was eating in the hall of mirrors. Obviously it wasn't that grand, but it most certainly wasn't a far cry from it.
In the exhibits we got a good look as some famous paintings and artists. Two that were at the top of my list were Monet and Van Gogh. They're at the top of a lot of people's lists though so that's not saying much. Something that made me laugh was the names of other paintings/palettes that I loved. Two in particular I believe were named: The Dreamer, and The Night Party. The Night Party was done with pastels. It had a several women running (or flying-their dresses were trailing far behind them), whose dresses were brightly colored. There were lots of bright colors that seemed to blur, but when you looked closer you could make out details, such as the women’s joyous faces. To accentuate the color the artist used dark surroundings, a really dark blue. I thought it was incredibly pretty. The strange thing about The Dreamer was that I'd had a daydream where I'd seen that exact painting. A young woman clad in a white dress was sitting at the top of a mountain, looking across a river at the mountain on the other side. The only difference between my daydream and that painting was that the river opened up to the sea.
A completely different painting that I really liked was incredibly bright, and many would say looked hippie. Most of the paintings done in that time were done with dark colors. This one was very very bright. It showed a knight in shining armor standing in the middle of a crowd of naked women who were all reaching out to touch him. All of the people in the painting were in the middle of a field of flowers. The bright light from the sun made the colors lighter rather than bright. It's difficult to explain, but with Monet and Van Gogh often there were pictures that I loved where the light seemed to be golden and hazy. This picture the light was white and clear.
Shortly after seeing the room that contained Monet’s paintings we decided we needed to head out and go shopping. The place we needed to go to was quite close to the St. Germans shopping district. We headed out that way as Ahmee explained to Poppy and in the guide book it said this place he "reasonable prices" our question was whether or not their version of reasonable prices would match our definition of reasonable prices.
I got to navigate our way there since the diagonal streets messed with Ahmee and made her completely turned around. It wasn't difficult for me. What was difficult was convincing her which way we needed to go. She'd say "ok" and start following me and then just before we'd cross the street or walk the direction I'd suggested she'd ask someone else which direction we needed to go. I was right each time.
It's not difficult to understand a map and get directions from it (as long as that map is detailed enough), especially if you pay attention to your surroundings. Walking makes it much easier to do both of these. I noticed where we were and what side of the road we were on and matched them up on the map and then from that decided which roads we needed to take to get to our destination. I've been doing this since I was in first grade. Momma handed me the map when we were driving from North Carolina to meet up with my dad in Kentucky. She told me I had to tell her where to go and warn her when we needed to turn on to a specific road. At first I was nervous, but as time went by I grew more confident. I managed to get us where we needed to go. Of course, there was no danger in this at all (for those of you who question taking directions from a 7 year old), my Mom had memorized which roads she needed to take. She just needed me to check and see where we'd need to watch for those roads.
I've known how to read a map just about as long as I've known how to read English.
At any rate, we got to the shopping center Bonmarche and we took a look around. The prices were basically the same as those found at Harrods: hundreds of euros for articles of clothing. Unlike Harrods, though we didn't get anything. In Harrods Ahmee got some hankies. In this store all we did was look, or rather, "educate our tastes" as my Momma puts it. Unlike Harrods, my favorite section wasn't the furniture section. This time my favorite sections were the dressy clothes. The gowns that were stunning, the high heeled shoes and boots that I loved, and the accessories. If I emerge from this trip a fashion diva, it's not that I'm judging people based on their clothes and what they look like, I just like the way some things look. I'm pretty fond of designing and dreaming up pretty things: I've drawn hundreds of houses that I'd like family members or friends to live in, I've drawn hundreds of outfits and dresses that I thought were cute, and I've drawn up specific things of furniture in the hopes that someday I'd find the couch that I'd drawn and love or the bubble light piece that I'd want in the place of a chandelier.
All of the pretty rooms and gorgeous paintings I've been seeing recently is making me want to draw, want to create, want to dress up. Unfortunately I don't look so great right now. I'm having a very small break-out. Got a total of three zits threatening to come up, and at the same time all of my nose blowing has been causing the area around my nose to get very dry. Eyebrows could use a bit of plucking too. Yes, I do pluck my eyebrows a tiny bit, I just get rid of the "loose ends". I basically just trim it up. I refuse to pluck my eyebrows down to paper-thin lines. I'm sorry, but I think that think that I was meant to have my thick eyebrows and that while they might need a bit of trimming up every now and then they definitely look better than something I would make. I think that beautiful things of nature should only be altered by the experts or not at all, Ex: I think trees are quite lovely when left to grow on their own. Japanese Bonsai trees are incredible as well. They're experts. I'll let my wee sister Emma have the paper-thin eyebrows, while I work with my thicker ones.
After we educated our tastes and made our way back to the metro we got to listen to an accordion player. I didn't listen to this one very long, I was too tired to pay much attention to him and when we got back to the room I cleaned myself up, emailed people, and then went to bed.
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