Paris, so much has been said about this city. So many times has it been represented in literature, film, photography there's even a class in Sciences Po about it. Sometimes it feels like there's nothing more to say without just contributing to an immense bubble of banality and speculation, bla bla bla, related to the 'idea' of Paris... what it is, or should be, to residents and visitors.
Nevertheless, I know this city has been photographed from every angle, and that doesn't keep me from enjoying carrying my camera around. I find myself in the most cliche situations from time to time, and instead of trying to resist it I've resorted to just laugh at myself, stop being so obsessed with trying to avoid being a stereotype with a body, and go on.
Speaking of the representation of 'Paris': stereotypes, images of the city and so on, here comes creeping the Moulin Rouge. Now it's time to tell a little personal story when I found myself in the Moulin Rouge (the movie, not the place [un]fortunately, not yet decided).
Right when classes started (about a month ago) Bridge and I decided to very randoml attend a party a girl from Costa Rica (only other in Sciences Po!) had invited me too. I knew some people, not many, and Bridgette knew me so she had instant VIP status.
Just kidding, no not really. Just kidding 90%!
Anyways, everyone spoke Spanish, everyone danced, everyone was screaming and smoking and drinking and it got so dizzy inside with all the smoke, dark yellow lighting, and twirling figures that I had to go to the kitchen to get some water. And here I found my new friend Eduardo sitting at the window. He was just gently leaning and threw a huge Venezuelan smile at me! I realized Sacre Coeur was in direct view from the open window and tried to take a shot at it, hands trembling which made the lights shaky.
Looking at the pictures the next morning Bridge told me Eduardo looked just like sitar (John Leguizamo playing Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec) in Moulin Rouge. So right!
The Duke: I don't like this ending...
Zidler: Don't like the ending, my dear Duke?
The Duke: Why should the courtesan chose the penniless sitar player over the maharajah who is offering her a lifetime of security? That's real love. Once the sitar player has satisfied his lust he will leave her with nothing. I suggest that the courtesan chose the maharajah.
Toulouse-Lautrec: But, but tell me, that ending does not uphold the Bohemian ideals of truth, beauty, freedom, and...
The Duke: [shouts] I don't care about your ridiculous dogma! Why shouldn't the courtesan chose the maharajah?
I have to see this movie once again to catch on little things on the script I never noticed! So this was my Moulin Rouge night, which ended with Bridge and I walking all the way from the sorroundings of La Fayette, passing through Grands Boulevards to Strasbourg-St Denis, where we had crepes and shared a Velib back home to Bastille (which took unknown amounts of effort and strength to stay balanced and pedal at the same time!).
Donc, voilà. 30 minutes later the sun is still outish and I still want to go to Parc de Belleville. Promise is still on. Cemre will be blogged about before I leave to Copenhagen on Tuesday!
YES COPENHAGEN ON TUESDAY, immense joy!
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