New Horizons

As my time as an official bookpacker draws to a close, I have begun to look back at this past month and ask myself, what does it mean to bookpack? If you asked me this at the beginning of the class, I simply would have answered “you read the books and then visit the places discussed.” Since this bare-bones definition, I have developed a much deeper understanding of what it means to be a bookpacker rather than just a reader or a traveler. As both an inexperienced consumer of literature and an international traveler, this past month has had a tangible effect on the way I approach reading, the way I examine the history, and the way I appreciate the unknown.

Walking home past the Eiffel Tower!

Before starting this class, what I considered to be my biggest obstacle was finding the drive, or even the desire, to read such lengthy novels. Now for those of you reading this, you’re probably asking yourself, why on Earth would you take a class based on classic literature if you can’t stand reading? If you were to ask me this question two months ago, perhaps I would’ve answered “I don’t know” as the challenge of reading a 1300+ page book seemed impossible. The process of reading Les Miserables over two months was certainly a challenge at times, however, the story kept me engaged all the while. Looking back, while I can’t say I would have ever picked up this book out of my own volition before this class, what I now have is a much better relationship with classic literature and reading in general. In my application to join this class, I wrote that “I find myself impatient with readings that do not lay out their message clearly, so I can internalize their message and directly translate into my other works.” While some of this remains true, the element of bookpacking made me feel as if I was reading about something tangible. I feel as if even without the bookpacking element, I can enjoy reading even if the deeper meaning is buried behind imagery or a couple of hundred pages. Visiting places such as Temple Bar, the site of the Corinth Barricade, and even the less than glamorous Paris sewers opened up an entirely new perspective on reading I was never privy to. From this excitement about my new attitude towards reading, I purchased The Hunchback of Notre Dame from Shakespeare & Co., my first book purchase by choice in well over ten years! This new attitude towards reading has been a welcome change in the course of this class and something I suspect will follow me for years to come.

The second aspect of this experience that I am grateful to come away with is a new perspective to examine history. As a student of history, we are taught to constantly look for new ways to study history; be it social, political, or cultural. While I have taken classes that have focused on each of these perspectives to different degrees, there is a noticeable lack of literary works within history. We read firsthand accounts, historical nonfiction novels, and documentaries; but very rarely do we take an entire piece of literature, like our novels, and use it to understand history. Both novels revolve around the revolutionary nature of France during the 18th and 19th centuries, a time I was relatively familiar with from past classes. What differed from those classes to this class is how we looked at small facets of the revolution and their tactics, such as the barricades that once consumed Paris set up by activists or tearing up the paving stones to protest. It is these small acts of defiance that build up to revolution and, while not always successful in the short term, help reveal the attitudes of a nation as we learned. France’s revolutionary period was much more than the Women’s March on Versailles and the execution of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. This period was characterized by episodes such as the Reign of Terror, which saw men such as Charles Darnay wrongly accused by extremist revolutionaries like Madame Defarge. Stories like that of Darnay are what transpired during this time and are precisely what is lost by not viewing history through this literary perspective. Classic literature allows us to read the intricate, elaborate stories of these people created by wonderfully talented authors, and understand the time for how it was to the ordinary person. It creates a sense of imagery that we so desperately lack reading a nonfiction piece on the French Revolution. In a sense, we are more immersed in history than ever when reading a work of fiction in such a way that we can almost interact with the past itself. Visiting these sites only adds to the experience of seeing history firsthand, as you can now physically imagine where great acts of sacrifice took place as I discussed in the previous blog post, "Death in the City of Lights." Conversely, you can see the little acts of culture and day-to-day living that have been influenced by the past as I discussed in my “Unbothered” blog post. In a sense, bookpacking allows you to flâneur through history yourself and recognize the minutiae of the past that amount to the reality we now exist in. As a history major, I look forward to carrying this perspective with me and even taking more classes based around classic literature and maybe even taking the opportunity to bookpack myself for these classes!

The last aspect of this past month that is perhaps the most memorable is the experience of traveling internationally with purpose. Before this class, neither I nor my family was fortunate enough to have left the United States and visit cultures outside our own. For many years, it was a dream for one of us to finally make it out of our comfort zone and see the world beyond our comfortable corner of Southern California. Finally getting the opportunity to leave the US and experience the differences in American versus British and French culture that make traveling worthwhile. Visiting London was, surprisingly, an easy transition from the United States since it felt so similar, from language to communicate to media. Despite the similarities, my experience in London was the stereotypical British, tea-drinking, fish and chips dream I had always imagined. Perhaps the best part was the people we encountered who welcomed us with open arms, told us the best spots in town, and bonded with us over our traveler’s excitement. If I had to describe London in one word, I would ultimately have to say: homey. Despite their relative proximity, London and Paris are two cities that feel worlds apart from the foundations of their society. Exploring Paris was perhaps the first true instance of culture shock I had ever experienced; from the arguments in the middle of Parisian traffic to the boulangeries on every corner. Paris is a world of its own in that it thrives on individuality and a deep-seated passion for life, yet the city itself feels so uniform that you wouldn’t be amiss to mistake the 6th arrondissement for the 16th. As you flâneur through the city, you find yourself in amazement at every alley, walkway, and storefront even though they may look the same as the one you passed just a block away. This sort of charm is what kept Paris exciting and made three weeks disappear in the blink of an eye. From this whole experience, the moments I will cherish the most were my moments along the Seine, whether, with the class or alone, there is a certain “je ne sais quoi” about these strolls.

Class memories at Versailles!

As this experience draws to a close, I can say that I truly look back on this past month with nothing but deep appreciation. Appreciation for the wonderful locals of London and Paris. Appreciation for the world-famous sights and sounds of these magnificent cities. Appreciation for a new perspective on learning. And an appreciation for the close-knit group of friends we bookpackers have formed in just a mere few weeks. Through all of it, having friends to share special moments with made the experience all the better. From strolls across the Thames at night, to watching the Eiffel Tower shimmer at night, to enjoying impromptu meals with one another; all these are memories I hold near and dear to my heart. It is because of these incredible memories, great friends, and new experiences that I find it hard to say goodbye to Paris, goodbye to my new friends, and goodbye to the class that permanently expanded my worldview. While it may be the cheesiest way to end a study abroad experience, I can think of no better way to end my time as a bookpacker with an overused quote:

“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

— Dr. Seuss

Time Moves Differently

How was this last month real?

I’m sitting on the plane home to Chicago reflecting on my experience. For one month, I dedicated my life to this class, committing myself to the study of a specific period of history, walking in the shoes of those who lived during the period of the French revolution.

I was with the same people every day learning specific material; free from distractions, happily dedicating a small chunk of our lives to the task of bookpacking. It’s rare that we get a chance to home in on one thing for an extended period. At USC, I feel like I’m constantly juggling my various off-the-wall, unrelated interests, so I’m very grateful for having the privilege to commit myself to one topic in this manner. There’s something so special about focusing on one thing in this way—it allows you to immerse yourself in a different world fully.

I was talking to a classmate about how time had felt so weird on this trip. Somehow, it felt like it went by so fast—but when I stop and think about it I really do feel fulfilled. We packed so much into our time, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s been a month, but it feels like a week and a year at the same time.

Something I loved about this trip was the fact that I was exposed to USC students I would have otherwise never known. Last year, doing mostly theatre classes, I didn’t meet that many people outside my major, and even then, I didn’t put in as much time as I could have to cultivate relationships with those who didn’t share my interests. On this trip, I could make connections with people whose interests lie far from my own, and I loved seeing new perspectives. In class, I had moments of awe as my classmates shared pearls of wisdom, and it’s so cool seeing how our individual interests translate to the topic at hand.

Connecting with my classmates on this trip has also brought me new experiences I would have never had like going to niche restaurants, enriching museums, and interesting boutiques. Opening myself up to these new experiences made my time in both cities all the more enjoyable, and I’m so grateful that everyone shared themselves with each other. There were so many times when I felt directionless, and if it wasn’t for my classmates’ spreadsheets and wish lists who knows what I would have missed!

But I think what has felt the most unreal about this trip was simply the feeling of walking the streets in London and Paris. The curvy twists and turns of Paris’ boulevards felt like a hug as I wandered aimlessly; never bored and always looking for the next thing to do. It really felt like surprises lay in every corner. On our excursions, it was always so fun when we’d have a goal to find, then when we reached it we’d simply wander the area. Knowing the history behind the streets I was walking made the shops and restaurants I went to feel all the more special, as I imagined what those same places may have looked like centuries ago.

Bookpacking requires an active imagination. When you go outside looking for the real life settings of fictional novels, you have to be creative as you fill in the gaps. This was a fun challenge for me, and although at times it was difficult, the moments where I really “got it” were extremely rewarding.

I had one of those moments in Paris outside of a church, where a tree was placed right where Hugo described it in Les Misérables. Using the tree as a starting point, I could fill the rest of the street using my imagination—filling in the blanks to see it as Hugo described.  At times, you feel silly— getting excited about a tree—but once you give into the geekiness it’s such a fun experience.

With this class now done, I want to take the curious, imaginative nature of backpacking with me to my everyday life. Whether I use a novel, a movie, or a song as my reference, I want to go on little scavenger hunts around the world. I’m already thinking about the countless places I can go in LA that are mentioned in my favorite pieces of media, and I’m excited to geek out over them. This class has encouraged me to experience the world without the need for action. A simple stroll can be exciting if you make it that way. Bookpacking is about experiencing the world as it is while comparing it to what it’s been to those before you.

Discovering Les Miserables Through Artwork and Places

As seen through the various artwork in Paris, the art based in the 18th century is heavily influenced by The French Revolution and the growing radicalism and change being established by the French people. Two of the places I noticed this trend in particular were at Petit Palais and The Louvre. While I was gazing at the artwork, I noticed many distinct connections between the characterization of the French Revolution in the art and in Les Miserables.

Throughout this time of revolution, the French citizens radically altered their political landscape, uprooting centuries-old institutions such as the monarchy and the feudal system. This is what Hugo was describing in his vivid depiction of the French people’s lifestyle including their clothing, physical features, as well as emotions in Les Miserables. One example of this is a painting in Petit Palais by Marie Bracquemond in 1880 which resembles an adult Cosette to me. She is dressed prim and proper with the iconic frills as depicted by French impressionist artist Bracquemond. Coming from the name itself of impressionism, Bracquemond produced such fine work to clearly show what a woman of a higher class might look like. The representation of such people was more likely during the revolutionary time because there was such polarization between the rich and poor.

Historically speaking, the French Revolution started as a way to change the relationship between rulers (rich) and citizens (poor) in an effort to redistribute who was given power and how power was distributed amongst the people. Slowly this developed into the French people against the higher ups which is shown undoubtedly in what is known as the main revolutionary painting in The Louvre, or more officially “Liberty Leading the People”. It is clearly shown in the painting that people of all social classes were fighting for their right to power and to live a life in France. This stuck out when viewing both “Liberty Leading the People” as well as Victor Schnetz’s painting in 1787 at Petit Palais. Both have evidence of strokes of red paint on the men that represent the blood of both the angry men and the fight against the rulers. Additionally, many of the ceilings in the Napolean suites of the Louvre are built similarly to Versailles which gave me a clear image of what it would be like to live lavishly like the rich French people during the revolutionary times. This helped me understand how unfair it was for the poor people who were given little to nothing for their livelihood. Another parallel between these two paintings are that there is a person who appears to be of a lower societal status that is holding the French flag in both paintings; the difference, however, is that in Victor Schnetz’s painting a French man of a higher social class is holding a man of lower status that is bleeding. The blood represents the poor people who have to fight for their lives to be able to survive against the harsh treatment from the rich.

The child standing next to the man holding the flag reminds me of Gavroche. Directly translated from French, Gavroche means “street urchin” which in fact is what the character Gavroche is. He fights along for his freedom as none other than a poor person, a street urchin. Furthermore, the fact that there is a child in the painting could also represent not only Gavroche, but also a hope for the future generations of French children. There is a child in "Liberty Leading the People" as well that is brandishing two guns. Showing two different instances of a child fighting for the revolution in the artwork represents how the revolution is fighting for the next generation. I also found that the symbolism of a young boy fighting alongside the people could be to show the righteous nature of the cause. If a child is influenced enough to take action, the reason must be true and just. There is no clear explanation as to why a young boy seems to be present in these revolutionary painting and Les Miserables, but the representation of Gavroche shows us how children may have tied into the revolution.

Another example of this hope that was so unmistakably shown in the paintings is in Les Miserables itself with Valjean. Myriel rescues Valjean from the prison and essentially gives him a clean slate which he would have never expected. He is given hope for a new future full of love and free from the suffering and injustice he was subject to at the hands of the French upper class. Through these various examples, Hugo and the other artists are able to give us a clear view of what it was like for the people during this chaotic time of revolution, change, and growth. We can see the horror and pride on the faces of the people in the painting. Along with this, in the book, we are able to see the character development in Les Miserables with their stories of hope for the future. This was a fight for the people, for their independence.

One of the other places I found quite fascinating that reminded me of Les Miserables was The Garden of Luxembourg. These Gardens are known for their architecture including beautiful fountains, promenades, sculptures, etc. In Les Miserables, this was where Marius and Cosette met which was really amazing to be able to experience. It felt as thought I was a part of the story and was able to put myself in their shoes.

Another place was the Place de la Bastille prison. Being able to see the prison in its present state was surreal because that was a real prison used during the revolution. Revolutionary prisons and their turmoil were prevalent in both Les Miserables and A Tale of Two Cities. I could imagine how Charles Darnay and Jean Valjean may have felt being locked up in their respective times.

Overall I would say that there are little tokens of Les Miserables sprinkled throughout Paris that I was able to see. It is clear that this was a fight for the people which was accurately depicted in Les Miserables, although it is a fictional story. The examples and descriptions are authentic and being able to see that connection to real life gave me a new perspective that I will cherish as I reflect on this experience.

Final Reflections on Bookpacking London and Paris

Wow wow wow what an incredible experience! I’m back home now, and am kind of in shock at how much I experienced during these last four weeks. I knew from day one in London that I would walk out of this experience as a changed person, and I can now fully confirm that. From the sweltering week one in London which nearly gave me whiplash, to our Paris discussions and covid weeks, to our apartment woes (which took the shape of mice), to saying goodbye to everyone at our last Champs de Mars picnic, I feel like time has simultaneously blown by and also passed so slowly. I think Roy said it best- it felt like I was living every minute. And it lent itself to a very full, enriching experience which I will be taking with me going forward! Not just what I learned in class, but also the lessons about how to live. In this post, I want to focus on the three biggest things I’ll be taking away with me as I move on in life. 

Such a cute group photo that happened pretty organically! Missing: Tia and Lingaire!

First: I really loved spending time with my classmates, becoming friends, and learning with and from them. I’ll admit, I was definitely worried about how it was going to be at first. I went into this experience after two months of planning my own itinerary and mostly living in hostels where I was meeting and leaving people all the time. So I was worried about feeling like my flow was cramped by group things, and was also worried that I would only be able to form superficial bonds and would not be able to make friends. My worries proved useless (as they usually do). The first week of meeting my classmates and seeing them both in and out of class dispelled any concerns about both things. I think everyone was on the same page about wanting to be friends with each other which was really cool and made it easy to accept one another and connect. Even after moving to separate apartments across Paris, people were still proactive about meeting up and doing things together, so it really felt like we were trying to build a community. Making that effort, and having it reciprocated, was awesome for me, who is usually socially anxious and introverted. So yeah, it sounds a little cheesy, but I liked making friends! I also really liked seeing my classmates both socially and academically. I feel like I got to see different sides of everyone with how they were informally versus in class. I have class friends and outside friends and work friends, and they don’t usually mix so I don’t hang out in groups. So taking this class together and getting to know different sides of people, feel out our group dynamics, was really fun. I have felt this before in some other classes, but learning is so much better when it’s with friends! I have definitely had classes where I have been afraid of speaking up because something sounded dumb, or if I felt like I was the only one thinking a certain way, but I think that because we knew each other outside of class, it made it easier for us to get along and have really rich discussions in class. I will possibly try to talk to more people in my USC classes going forward! 

Second: Doing a deep read of the book, noticing the locations described in the book and making connections in the real world to history and the present, was so worth it. I’ll make another humbling admission: I have a super short attention span, to the point where when I have to read for class, I will usually listen to the audiobook at 2x speed while doing like three other things at the same time. So a lot of the time I just get the plot and a sense for the prose. But for this class I really dug into these books, spending a lot of time with them, especially Les Mis. And although I probably could have “gotten away” with reading less in depth, I don’t regret the amount of time and energy I put into reading it. There were so many quote-able moments, or moments where I was like “hold on hold on let me think on that.” Making time for myself to really reflect on the texts instead of trying to read them really quickly just to do it enabled me to get so much more out of them. Also, it was really satisfying when I could recall what happened in a scene off the top of my head, and it allowed me to participate more freely in the discussions and excursions. Even if I can get away with just skimming, I’d like to push myself to read more deeply and spend more time with the text because I will gain more from it. I’m typically worried that I’m wasting my time on books that are “meh”, but it’s a self fulfilling prophecy. I don’t give books a fair shot at teaching me something if I’m breezing through them. I will probably always consider Les Mis as an example of how the more you put into a book, the more you’ll get out of it. And yeah, it brings me no small satisfaction to be able to say that I’ve read it.

Who could EVER have imagined I’d find a little sewer outlet cool… not me!!!

Third: The possibility for deeper travel experiences has opened up for me! I really like traveling- I have done some work experiences abroad, some volunteering, a lot of tourism, some normal “just living” in my destination countries… but I have never read a book as a way to engage with the place I visit. It may have been that the books we read were just very history-oriented, but it felt like I was visiting and living in Victorian London and Revolutionary Paris. Which was SO COOL because ordinarily I would have just seen the tourist sites, walked around admiring the pretty architecture, and eaten some relevant food. I feel like the idea of “bookpacking” has unlocked a whole new world for me! I’m excited to do it going forward, can’t wait!

So yeah, I had a really great experience bookpacking London and Paris with everyone! I’m really grateful for our class, for the opportunity to come on this trip, and for the work that Andrew did to create such an enriching experience! I’m also glad to have had the opportunity to reflect on these experiences in the form of blogs- I hope that Future Me comes back to these one day and re-experiences what I’ve been writing about. To Future Me: Be a flaneur, Stay curious, Reflect, Push yourself, Make friends, Enjoy Life!

Quo Vadis?

I always manage to forget the immense toll travel takes on the body. After flying across the ocean, staying awake for over twenty four hours, I am shocked that my body doesn’t know what to do with itself. The nausea and the fever which have been the unfortunate and unignorable reality of my first 48 hours at home. Whether exhaustion or some obscure pathogen is making me feel this, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I feel this way and continue to travel anyway. This kind of miserable, total-body exhaustion does not deter me from wanting to travel again as soon as I can. The body says no, but the soul says yes.

Travelling is a luxury in terms of expense, but it is different from most other luxuries in that, when done right, its purpose is to push one outside of their comfort zone. I indulged in some luxury in Paris and London: fancy meals, 10 euro cups of hot chocolate, et cetera. But it wasn’t these things that really made the trip for me. It was the burning feeling in the front of my calves after a long day walking the winding streets, and the callouses on my feet, which ended up feeling like the point of the trip. The times when I did get to sit back and look at the sky were made so much better by the constant movement, by the glorious fatigue of this project.

I don’t sleep well the night before travelling. Whether I have to board a plane or train, or get behind the wheel and drive, some ineffable restlessness comes over me. I don’t know if it’s a feeling of excitement or nervousness, but I just can’t sleep. Thousands of miles crossed with blinding speed, over hardly enough time for the mind to understand just how big this world is. It is the knowledge that life, temporarily, will change in enormous and unpredictable ways, which precludes me from sleep. There is a great precipice with every mile, and I must close my eyes and trust that my stride is long enough to cross each one.

“Quo Vadis?” An apocryphal bit of scripture quoted on an advertisement in the window of the luggage store on the Rue de Passy puts it so succinctly: “Where are you going?” This phrase, used here to embody travel, does not entail pleasure or luxury, but pain. Christ responds to Peter’s question, “I am going to Rome, to be crucified again.” The most significant long-distance route in Les Miserables is Jean Valjean’s journey from Montreuil-sur-Mer to the court in Arras. Jean Valjean, quo vadis? He goes back to the court, to be crucified again. I know this seems a bit far-flung, but stick with me.

When Mark Twain said that “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness”, he was suggesting that travel can expand the human soul, and I would argue that kind of expansion does not happen so easily by way of luxury and pampering. It is just this kind of exhaustion, this little bit of suffering, that allows the traveler to grow as a person.

Finding Familiar Faces in France

                         As I continued my journey as a flaneur during my final days in Paris, I came across many familiar faces. At Musee D’orsay, I saw several images of Fantine during her time of struggle. “La Misère, etude pour Famine” by Gustave Guillaumet is a clear depiction of her lifestyle with Cosette. I am instantly reminded of book five: The Descent. Hugo describes Fantine’s journey to her death that is filled with sorrow, sacrifice, and heartbreak. He states, “The further she fell and the darker everything around her became…. Fantine had aged 10 years since the day before.” (169). Drawn in chiaroscuro, the darkness of the piece is a true reflection of the period in her life. Fantine is laying down exhausted as the day has come to an end. The woman’s clothes are like rags hanging off her body, like those of Fantine when she is described as a “seamstress reverting to a peasant again…a poor and sorry sight.” (137). The placements of light in her sternum and breast show the frailness of her body. The dark shadows placed within her face (eyes, nose, and cheek) show the distress she is in. The way Guillaumet paints her eyes staring directly into the viewer is truly powerful. It shows that she once was a beautiful woman who has been torn down by life. Seeing the infant child attempt to grasp onto her mother’s breast reminds of what Cosette might have endured before Fantine gave her to the Thenadiers. Furthermore, adding to the point above Guillament’s use of lighting shows how famished the child is. It is like you can almost see her bones shining through. This painting is such a powerful depiction of Fantine through Hugo’s lens.

The next painting, I saw was at Musee D’orsay and a picture of a battlefield. This both reminded me of the Battle of Waterloo in Les Misérables and the Reign of Terror in A Tale of Two Cities. Unfortunately, I did not get the name of the artist, but their work was during the 1700-1800’s. The composition of this painting tells a story from beginning to end. At the top of the painting in shades of purple, brown, and gray depict a group beginning a battle with flags waving in the air. Being still and motionless, they are like a heavy cloud hanging above. Looking up they are fearless like Characters of Dicken’s such as Madame Defarge, Mender of Roads, and the man who killed Monsieur. As we start to look below, there is a field of dead men covered in blankets. Their swords are left untouched while there is a faint fire burning in the distance within the men. I am reminded of the sunken trenches; many soldiers lost their lives as well as the number of men that had to be buried. I briefly want to talk about the painting directly under this one, which is done by the same artist. This painting is in close relation with the Reign of Terror. Set in a town, dead bodies of all people fill the ground. The houses are missing windows, paint, anything once could imagine. Surrounded by dark clouds, the space is filled with pure destruction. One thing that struck me the most was a single religious cross standing on a table. Out of all the chaos, this piece symbolizing faith is the only thing that has survived. I believe this is key because France is heavily influenced by Catholicism. I think about all the chapels we visited.

The final piece I’d like to discuss is Atala Portee Au Tombeau by Girodet-Trioson, found in the Louvre. I chose this painting because it reminded me of Jean Valjean and Marius’s long battle over the love of Cosette. Trioson paints a woman being held by two men on each side of her like a seesaw. The woman is angelic as she lays between the two. She is covered in a white cloth with her hands clasped signaling contentment. At one end the young man is holding her at her feet. Taking a closer look at his face, the lighting shows he is in despair. His eyes are closed, and forehead frowned as he grasps on to her for dear life. One could compare this to Marius’s great depression he faces when Jean Valjean stops bringing Cosette to the park. Furthermore, the placement of this young man mentioned above can be a symbol of marriage. Traditionally, when one is proposed to, their partner gets on one knee. His placement is a clear depiction of his unwavering love for this woman, it will break his soul to lose her. On the other side of the spectrum, the older gentleman is holding her by her arms, making sure her neck is stable. To some extent, one could argue this is a position of a caregiver. When bringing home, a child for the first-time doctors tells parents to make sure their hand and neck are supported. In my opinion, this man is Jean Valjean. Thinking of Hugo’s various descriptions of him, the first one that comes to mind is when he arrives at the Thenardiers in his long-hooded yellow coat. Currently is the start of his journey to fatherhood and love for the young child. In this painting, I see him doing just that, holding onto the love he felt, scared he will lose it to this young man. Furthermore, looking at the woman caught between these two men, I think of the internal battle Cosette faced. In Trioson’s painting one could infer that the woman is dead, however in my interpretation it is a reflection Cosette’s soul. As written by Hugo, her life is full of tragedies. She is now caught between two men she loves: Father and lover. At first Jean Valjean moves her away from Marius twice, next Marius stops Valjean from seeing her once they are married. Constant mishaps continue to happen to her, yet she is written in a way that her feelings do not matter like Lucie of A Tale of Two Cities.

As I end my journey as a flaneur, I am amazed at Paris’s beauty. It is a place rich in culture ranging from art, food, and religion. History is everywhere! Reading Les Misérables and A Tale of Two Cities helped me realize what this great city has to offer besides of tourist attractions. If I did not embark on this journey, I would have never viewed art through literary lens. It has been such an amazing experience for me. 

Perhaps it's the Simple Things...

Here’s to my penultimate weekend in Paris!

On Saturday we spent our time getting to tour the Louvre which was truly such a splendid delight. On one end the Louvre is a magnificent building and the architecture is something to marvel at. Inside the building, the paintings transport you to another world. It is a world that would be so wonderful to be completely entranced by. However, unfortunately, due to the capacity of people that tour the Louvre at all times, you find yourself constantly bumping into people which puts a bit of a damper on the awe-inspiring experience. Nonetheless, the painting is much bigger than I was expecting. In fact, most of them are massive. When I put this in the context of the time in which they were created this only makes it even more impressive. I felt as if I was in a special little world as I toured the rest of the Louvre.

This got me thinking about the concept of fantasy and its relation to both a Tale of Two Cities and Les Miserables. Both novels are fictional tales, albeit Les Miserables was loosely based on a real-life person. And despite their fictional nature, they are classic novels that explore life in Paris and London in a way that feels real to what the actual lived experience of the time might have been like. Of course, this is part of the purpose of any narrative. And yet, the intersection between fantasy and reality felt a bit blurred while I was visiting the Louvre. At times I would see these grand paintings of humans with angels' wings or humans being personified as other mystical beings and I simply stared in awe.

While those paintings were not meant to illustrate reality they still had a profound effect on me in real-time. In the same way, the novels that we are reading in class are not based on true events but they also provided me with a meaningful experience. Of course, there is nuance here as the novels were are reading are still meant to mimic real life whereas the paintings I am referencing were completely in the realm of fantasy. Nonetheless, the texture and contrast between fantasy and reality is something fun to dig into especially when I place it in juxtaposition to the novels were are reading.

As I enter my last week in Paris I find myself appreciating the city more than I originally did. When I first got here, I found myself underwhelmed by the city. It was everything I expected in terms of the city layout and certain aspects of french culture. But at the same time, I found myself not appreciating the acclaimed appeal this city is known for. For example, I alongside many of my other peers found the food in Paris to leave much to be desired, which was surprising coming from a city renowned for its culinary expertise. But now I as I enter my last days in the city, there is a unique and subtle love I am starting to develop. This love is rooted in the very simple things the city has to offer.

Today when I woke up, I looked out my window and simply stared with love and awareness of the garden beneath me. The sun had only just started to peak and the air felt fresh. The garden was lush and green. And for that moment, life felt good. Being able to order a pastry at every whim is also another delight, since there seems to several bakeries on any given block in Paris. It is the ability to “flanuer” or roam about the city in a pensive manner. It is simply the simple things in Paris that make this city so marvelous.

But isn’t the simple things in life what make life in general worth living, not just life in Paris. For example, when we look at the novel Les Miserables, we see various characters and how their lives intersect. At the backdrop of it all is the brink of revolution and active revolution. But even this novel was at its heart showing regular everyday people trying their best. Characters such as Jean Valjean, Marius, Eponine, and Cossette were all at the end of the day driven by the love they had for other people in their life. And the revolution that drove the plot, was a really a fight for a simple life. Everyday citizens were dying violent deaths for the right to be able to comfortably exist and love others around them.

It’s the simple things in life.

The Marvelous Paris Sewers

He may not look so friendly here… but believe me, “Old Grandpa Hugo” is filled with wonderful knowledge.

Victor Hugo loves a tangent.

Reading Les Miserables is kind of like listening to a wise grandfather tell you a convoluted story— sometimes he'll trail off and go into detail about what seems like nothing, but it's always welcome because you know he has so much to say. So, I sit back and listen, trusting that “Old Grandpa Hugo” is going to help me see life a little differently.

Hugo’s tangents can be about anything. Sometimes it's about the human condition— poetry about the universal experience of falling in love. Other times, it's in-depth summaries of French military battles and political history. But weirdly enough, I think one of my favorite parts of Les Miserables was the tangent about the Paris sewers.

In the climax of the novel, Marius is severely wounded and unable to get out of the barricade. In this moment of extreme peril, Jean Valjean heroically saves his life by carrying his body through the Paris sewers. It's this epic, biblical-Esque moment where against all odds, Jean Valjean navigates a maze of disgust to emerge at the other side a new man.

During this epic moment, Hugo goes on tangents galore. He spends a good chunk of pages just describing the history of the Paris sewers; going into deep detail about their construction and how they have changed over time. Suprisingly to me, this tangent wasn’t just bearable— it was genuinely enthralling.

So, prior to leaving for this trip, when I received the syllabus, I was thrilled to see we were going to the Musée des Égouts de Paris: The Paris Museum of Sewers. When people asked me what I was most excited to see in Paris, I liked telling them “the sewer museum” just to see how they’d react. I found it fun to be excited about something so odd— and I really was thrilled to see the “underbelly of Paris” that Hugo so eloquently described.

“There were in Paris at that time two thousand two hundred streets. Imagine, underneath them, that forest of shadowy branches called the sewer.”

— Les Miserables; Victor Hugo (1145)

As we descended down the stairs, I first noticed the smell. It was distinctly sulfurous, only increasing in disgusting intensity as we ventured further through the sewers. The sewers were a maze of dark twists and turns, just as Hugo described them. Certain turns were blocked off, and through the bars, you could see dark tunnels oozing with dirt and grime and rats scampering about.

The museum began with an overview of the history of the sewers, providing us with a moving map that showed how the sewers grew over time. It was very rewarding to see Hugo’s information backed up by the museum, and the visual helped greatly.

Looking below me, through the grates I could see a rushing stream of sewer water, bubbling its way along the floor. It was so difficult to look at (and smell), but it was also fascinating.

As we made our way through, this thrilling portion of Les Miserables came to life. I imagined Jean Valjean in these same sewers, tiredly laboring his way through with no end in sight. Marius on his back, with sweat and blood dripping down his face; I saw his boots, heavy with the waters that had infiltrated them, and I saw his clothes soaking wet.

Throughout the section, there’s an emphasis on rebirth as Jean Valjean goes to the lowest of places both literally and figuratively to emerge in the light. Visiting the sewers helped me understand the urgency and perilousness of this section of Les Miserables, as I understood the depth of just how low Jean Valjean had to go in order to emerge as a new man.

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A sewer-rat-monster-creature. Beware!

The sewers may have not been the most glamorous thing to see in Paris, but for the purposes of this class, they ended up being one of the most memorable. Walking the same vile pathways that Hugo wrote about in the 19th century was deeply impactful, and experiencing it all first-hand made it all the more fun. Through Bookpacking, as we experience our novels, we’re flexing our empathy skills. There’s a sense of understanding that comes from experiencing exactly what our characters are experiencing— taking in the sights and smells as they do in the novels. I’ve loved using my imagination to see the characters all around me, inhabiting each space as they would have in their time. It makes even spaces as bleak and stinky as the Paris sewers a marvel to experience.

The Sewers and Their Waste

Going through the sewers, my senses were bombarded with repugnant smells one would expect from society’s wastes. As we walked around, all I could think about was how Jean Valjean could go through this. In Les Mis, the sewers were a safe haven for crime and all the vices of humanity, and to go through them as Jean Valjean is to see what we as society don’t want to show. For Valjean, it was where criminals would thrive; an area where they could commit all the crimes they desired away from humanity’s gaze, free from judgment or repercussion. To go through the sewers as he did, is to see an aspect of humans that we try to hide. Just like we try to hide our sewage due to its unappealing smell and sight, Parisiens would hide their true nature in the sewers.

Just as Hugo describes it as the physical representation of humankind's vices in Les Mis, the meaning behind his experience stuck with me with every step I took. I could truly never have gone through what he did, because the smell alone was more than enough to keep me away, and that wasn’t even close to what Valjean had to experience while trekking through the sewers. Despite my dislike of the sewers, I thought of Victor Hugo’s beliefs on how we as a society waste the use of sewers. Even in our time, the sewage we throw away has no more of a use than Hugo’s time. Even though it may no longer be a breeding ground for crime, it’s still just another physical representation of how society hides away the less appealing aspects of humanity instead of finding a better use for it.

In the face of climate change and a growing population with food shortages becoming more widespread, we still just toss away our sewage as a useless resource instead of being more productive with it, like using it as a form of fertilizer. It shows that even today, that we as a civilization have not grown enough to develop societal object permanence, instead adopting an out of sight out of mind policy regarding all the unappealing problems we have, leaving it for another day.

The sewers alone aren’t the only way we do this too. We create massive landfills to hold all of our trash until it eventually washes up on our shores and inside our wildlife, and yet we still ignore it. People don’t show concern until the problem is up in their face; until the food we eat is more plastic than anything else. Going through the sewers, I didn’t have a choice to ignore it. There wasn’t a way to get rid of the smell. It was surrounding me, and it was all I could think about. It showed me that we as a society need to learn how to be more useful about our resources, and that we need to develop better strategies of handling our problems than simply putting them out of sight. Just as the French did in Les Mis with their crime and their sewage, we today still choose to ignore our problems until it’s right in front of us. Even though I may not have been directly in the sewage like Jean Valjean, I felt as if I understood him and Victor Hugo better. To have to go to humanity’s underworld is to see an aspect of us that we choose to hide away from, yet to stare at it directly is to understand where we need to grow and develop.

Flaneuring & The French Quality of Life

I have really loved these last two weeks in Paris during which our excursions have been a little shorter and less-regimented. I feel like with more time and a chiller agenda in terms of Things To See, I have really been able to experience the slow pace of life here. I’m really living it up with the people-watching and cafe society which are so endemic to Paris. Just the other day, I met and had a conversation with a bartender who was also studying literature and wanted to be a writer. He said he liked working as a bartender because it was great for character studies. Awesome, right? I can totally imagine Dickens or Hugo hanging around a cafe, pub, or bar watching people walk through the door and thinking about how to render them in writing. 

Beautiful garden we happened upon when flaneuring, that made me smile :) It feels like such a privilege to have moments like these!

It feels so luxurious to be able to spend my afternoons lounging around, going to cafes, and flaneuring because it is such a different pace than what I’m used to back in Los Angeles. To the point where I’m really dreading returning to real life. At home, there are always things to do- I’m volunteering, working, studying, going to class, cooking, cleaning, walking my dog, trying to network, etc etc etc. I maintain a constant state of doing things, to the point where I feel guilty when I find a little bit of down time. It’s like, we have such a culture of productivity in the States, where time is money and if you’re not making money you’re being lazy. And I know this mentality is totally a social construct. As a sociology major, I’ve read theories behind this; Weber’s book The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism suggests that when the Protestants originally came to the States, maintaining a good work ethic was evidence you were predestined to go to heaven, and the accumulation of capital was for the glorification of God. But along the way, the means to worship became the end- good work ethic and reinvestment for the continual growth of capital just became valued for what it was, and is a huge part of American culture today. And despite so many French people saying Paris has a busy busy work culture, I haven’t felt even the tiniest speck of what I feel in the US here. Maybe that’s because I’m here as a student, and I have most of the day available. But it really does feel that life in France is different. Is this why all the writers flocked here in the 1800s?

Going to Shakespeare and Co where famous authors like Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald lived felt right. I could totally understand why Americans would want to come here to write. The balance of life is better and the social value on quality of life is more inspiring and conducive to art. Reading the excerpt from Edmund White’s The Flaneur confirmed for me that a culture which accepts being - not producing, not working - but just being and noticing, sparks creativity in a way that the deadline-oriented States does not.

“The flâneur is by definition endowed with enormous leisure, someone who can take off a morning or afternoon for undirected ambling. since a specific goal or a close rationing of time is antithetical to the true spirit of the flâneur. An excess of the work ethic (or a driving desire to see everything and meet everyone of recognized value) inhibits the browsing, cruising ambition to ‘wed the crowd’. Americans are particularly ill-suited to be flâneurs.”

To be fair, and in agreement with the quote above, I am discussing the quality of life for a very specific and privileged group of individuals. Maintaining a slow pace of life, the passivity of a flaneur, presupposes the means to maintain such a lifestyle. Furthermore, I found myself a little hesitant to flaneur around by myself in unfamiliar areas as a woman. So being a flaneur is furthermore restricted by safety considerations. Actually, thinking about how identities shape the ability to be a flaneur, I wonder: if Hugo and Dickens had been wealthy flaneurs from the start, would they be as concerned with the state of society? Probably not! They might be curious about it, but I think without Dickens growing up poor, working in a boot blacking factory, he would not have been able to write a character like Dr. Manette. And Hugo was an activist whose villainous character Thenardier was named after political opponent Louis Thenard. Both of their real-life struggles shaped the novels we read and celebrate today, and I really don’t think they would carry the same punch if the authors were truly flaneurs. So maybe, while flaneuring can allow breathing room for creativity, some pressure is also necessary to create art. There is a balance to be found between the Parisian lifestyle and the American lifestyle, or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself as I woefully fly home. Well, I don’t have the answers. it’s at least something to ponder as I wiggle on… 

In France We Riot

As we continue discussing Les Miserables and its many themes and connotations relating to revolution. I cannot help but make connections to modern-day France and how its revolutionary history has helped shape the scope of society. This is especially true in comparison to the United States which has a society with laws and regulations that are stifling and limiting the individual and their right to the pursuit of happiness.

It was so fascinating walking through what once was. I thought a lot about how time allows for change and evolution, but even with change, there are still some aspects that remain the same. In fact, we visited the building in which Cossette and Jean Valjean would have been living in the novel. As we were viewing the building I could easily envision Cossette looking out her window longingly. I could also easily envision Marius looking up the building hoping to catch a glimpse of Cossette from the window. And so, even though the street had changed drastically it still had remnants of its century-old history, that with the context of the novel, made it easy to physically enter the world of the novel.

The ability to really ground yourself in the fictional universe of any narrative is such an asset, especially when pondering various themes. This past week we visited the area in which the students and others fighting for the revolution in Les Miserables built barricades. It really put the revolutionary spirit in perspective for me. As such, I started to think about France’s history with revolution and how that corresponds with their present-day times. I have always found it super interesting and admirable how the French are known for rioting when they disagree with the government. It's a part of their culture; the French are known for their love of protest. And as a result, they have a society that prioritizes individual well-being, at the very least, in comparison to American lifestyle values. We see this in their universal healthcare, the ease and affordability of medication, and even their lengthy vacations in the summer. The ability to protest effectively allows there to constantly be dialogue and collaboration between the people and their government about how to form and shape society. I find this to be a very beautiful concept.

As it relates to Les Miserables, the process of being able to follow a narrative in which at certain parts you got to witness certain individuals eat, breathe, and live revolution was such an interesting dichotomy when put in place with present-day France. Specifically, some of the students in Les Miserables were very dedicated to the cause of the revolution. However, it almost felt like the modern-day equivalent of a naive and pretentious college student who just discovered Marxist literature and won’t let anyone within a two-mile radius of them forget it. But what does that mean? What does it truly mean to be young and radical? For example, Marius discovers revolutionary ideals through learning about the true details of his father’s history that has was hidden from him by his grandfather. But in joining the revolution, one cannot help but understand that no matter what Marius will always have a safety net. He chose to be poor, which is radically different than being confined to a life of poverty. At the end of the day, he comes from a comfortable background, and should things ever get too tough for him, he can always go back to his grandfather who loves him dearly and will welcome him with open arms. This is a privilege most people fighting for the revolution are not privy to.

And so, I think we often have to call into question the true nature of people fighting for progressive ideals when much of their own well-being is based on inequity. Will they continue to fight for equality if that means that their own way of life will be compromised? For example, there are many people in Western countries that speak openly about the injustice the West has inflicted on the global south, through colonization and neocolonialism. And it is very easy to champion wealth distribution on a global scale when you know that the chance of such a thing happening is virtually impossible. But, if it were possible in some hypothetical situation, I think many of the same people who champion this kind of equality would not be so eager to redistribute wealth if it meant that their own quality of life had to be diminished.

For example, a country like France, as with all western nations, built most of its wealth by depleting resources from African nations. Under the hypothetical situation, that France was forced to give back all of the stolen wealth it has accrued, or even a portion of the stolen wealth it has accrued, this would devastate France’s economy. And so, once an individual’s way of life is being directly threatened they are much less likely to want to pursue the most equitable course of action.

It is timely to note that Haiti is still paying off a massive debt to France in exchange for recognizing Haiti’s sovereignty as a country.

Overall, the concept of revolution is of course an important topic. It is such a treat to be able to ponder such topics in a country like France. However, I think it is also very important critically think about the investment we all truly have in the concept of revolution and a progressive future. Our background and upbringing as well as our current socio-economic standing will certainly shape our investment. This is true within the context of Les Miserable and this is true now.

Paris: Beneath the Surface

When most people take a trip to Paris, they check out the usual sights—Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Arc de Triomphe, along with a few more museums, gardens, and cathedrals. If they’re feeling adventurous, they may take the 30-minute train ride outside of Paris to see Versailles, or hop on the metro to Parc de la Villette and stroll down the canal. All I know is that I’ve never seen the Sewer Museum on any Paris tourism guides.

Of course, this didn’t stop us from venturing beneath the surface at the Musée des Égouts on Tuesday. Although the museum is not a prime tourist destination, I was surprisingly looking forward to the excursion. I had never imagined that someone could get so excited about sewers!

The sewers play an important role in Les Misérables, as they facilitate Jean Valjean’s escape from the failing barricade later on in the novel. Hugo spends a little under 20 pages diving into the intricacies of the Paris sewer system before detailing Jean Valjean’s rather graphic trek through said sewers.

Contrary to the weariness I experienced while reading some of Hugo’s other lengthy tangents, I was thoroughly entertained by the sewer chapters. I couldn’t help but picture Hugo doing loads of research on sewers, searching through maps and history books to aid his quest for sewer-related knowledge. It was quite funny to picture this, but at the same time, the message he conveyed through the exploration of the sewer system was very profound. He spoke on the progress we have made in terms of public waste management, and the general idea of progress is explored in the rest of the book.

In his chapters on progress, Hugo cites specific dates when large steps were made toward the improvement of the sewer system.

“In 1806 he lowered the floor of the Ponceau and, creating new routes everywhere, in 1809 he extended the sewers under Rue St-Denis to the Fontaine des Innocents, in 1810 under Rue Froid-Manteau and la Salpêtrière, in 1811 under Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Pères, Rue du Mail, Rue de l’Écharpe, Place Royale, and in 1812 under Rue de la Paix and Chaussée-d’Antin.”

— Les Misérables

At the Musée des Égouts, there was a fascinating timelapse video that showed a map of the sewers as the years went by. It was interesting to see the lines grow and diverge, becoming denser and denser over time. Having read Hugo’s history of the sewers, I had a rough understanding of how the system evolved prior to entering the museum, but the museum helped fill in the gaps. All I could think about was how much Hugo would have loved this museum—and how unfortunate it was that I found no references to Les Misérables down there!

Hugo also spent time describing the darkness of the sewers. They were a place of filth, a sort of criminal underworld. Reading this section reminded me of the River Styx, a key feature of Greek mythology. The Styx was said to separate the world of the living from the Underworld, which closely aligns with the text. Marius was barely hanging on to his life down there, and Jean Valjean’s quest to save him ended with exiting the sewers and returning him to the surface, aka the land of the living.

This connection to the Styx was reinforced by Jean Valjean’s walk through the sinkhole. When he was nearly at the point of collapse, with his head barely above the mud and water, Jean Valjean reached solid ground. The whole “Achilles’ heel” metaphor stems from the myth of Achilles, who was dipped in the Styx by his mother. He was fully submerged, except for his heel, which became the one spot on his body where he was vulnerable. One idea for this vulnerability is that humans cannot be fully invincible, as that would breed chaos. Throughout the novel, Jean Valjean survives so much and escapes so many difficult situations that I began to think of him as this invincible figure. I began to assume that no matter what obstacle he faced, he would somehow survive. It is important to remember that beneath the strength, he was still human. If we dig further into the idea of an Achilles heel and assume that Valjean’s walk through the sinkhole was a dip in the Styx, it actually makes sense that his face is his weak point. Try as he might to escape Javert, Javert almost always recognized Valjean by his face.

When Valjean exits the sinkhole, it is as if he has undergone some transformation. “He stood up, shivering, chilled, stinking, bowed beneath this dying man he was carrying, dripping all over with filth, his soul filled with a strange brightness” (1161). All of the words leading up to the part about  “a strange brightness” greatly contrast the end of the sentence. He is in the most miserable situation I can imagine, and yet he feels bright. This optimism speaks to Valjean’s resilience, which he has shown time and time again throughout the novel. Although his physical strength may not have been renewed, “his willpower was not [gone]” (1162). This bears some resemblance to the myth of Achilles, as Achilles gained a sense of confidence stemming from the invincibility the Styx granted him. While I’m sure Hugo did not intend to connect the “sewer sequence” to the River Styx, I still think it’s an interesting parallel to draw.

Overall, I loved getting to see a small section of the sewers, as it gave me a better idea of what Valjean would have been walking through. It did not smell as bad as I expected, which was a big win. Additionally, the museum just so happened to be across the river from the spot where we assume Valjean would have emerged from the sewers. So many great connections!

As my time in Paris comes to an end, so do my blogs. I have thoroughly enjoyed exploring the city through the lens of our two novels over the past month. I will be sure to pay closer attention to locations mentioned in books that I read in the future to see if I can map any of them!

Rendering History... or is it Fiction?

The craziest thing happened the other day! I was flaneuring with Roy and Vincent and we saw a man in full 18th century dress- powdered face, wig, and all- walking around the corner. Naturally, we decided to follow him. And we were not disappointed. From the opposite side of the road we saw about fifty women walking towards us, all dressed as peasants (I think?) from the same era. Now, at this point, we didn’t know exactly what time period they were from. And yet, immediately, a vivid image of these women storming the Bastille came to me. As it turns out, they were extras in an AppleTV series retelling Benjamin Franklin’s trip to France to ask for support for the American Revolutionary War. It was perfect and SO fitting for our class topic. I don’t really identify as religious, but it seriously felt like an act of divine intervention… truly a Les Mis moment in which some divine hand, call it fate perhaps, was at work. 

As the crew walked by, I asked one man what scenes were being filmed that day. He said that Ben Franklin’s arrival in France was supposed to be kept on the down low, but news had leaked and a crowd of locals was waiting for him. So they were reenacting this momentous, but somewhat secret, arrival. This explained the mass of extras in common person costume. And it also meant we got to see what the masses would have looked like during the time depicted in A Tale of Two Cities! Here’s the thing though. As this man, the stand-in for Ben Franklin (Michael Douglas) himself, was passionately explaining the historical moment being rendered in film, I was skeptical of how it would be portrayed. I caught myself thinking, there’s no way a “secret” moment can be comparable to the original event without being totally dramatized and warped by nostalgia. And why are they even making this series? I question this. Plus, if it were really hushed up, it should not have been such a huge event during which journalists detailed the composition of the crowd, what streets he walked down, and how the people acted when they saw him. My skepticism towards the tv show made me reflect on the way we accept our novels by contrast as semi-historical documents,  especially Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. If I'm questioning this TV rendition and its sources, why aren’t I questioning Dickens? Because he wasn’t even alive for the French Revolution... he was only born in 1812, after the storming of the Bastille, after the Terror, heck, he wasn’t even an adult until even after Napoleon’s reign! And yet, my picture of middle class domestic life in the late 1700s is so heavily shaped by this one novel. Which is fine, I actually think walking into this show was a reminder to view the novel as a historical drama- I can take the picture of domestic life seriously but the portrayal of historical events with a healthy dose of skepticism. 

So anyways, in the spirit of bookpacking, we stood watching for a full 30 minutes before flaneuring on our way! I even got a photo with one of the extras :)

I had no idea that Hugo was an artist, much less a talented one! This is quite a bleak illustration… it is reminiscent of how he portrays society in Les Mis.

To be honest, I had similar questions when I walked through the Victor Hugo house. Questions about why the directors chose to highlight certain parts of his life: what narrative they were building and with what purpose. I downloaded the Victor Hugo House app which contained images and audio guides. As I was walking through the rooms, I learned about his life in exile and was struck by just how little I knew about his life as an activist. And I didn’t even know he was an artist! Going from thinking Hugo was just an author to thinking about Hugo as an activist was disorienting. I was like, wow this dude really kept himself busy. With the way the directors focused almost exclusively on his life and not at all on his books, it almost seemed to me like his novels were secondary to his activism.

I’m glad that I downloaded and read through the content on the app because I think its perspective on Hugo’s political life balanced out my one-sided perspective of Hugo as a writer. My attention towards why the directors chose to portray Hugo as an activist actually made me realize just how intertwined his political life and his novel writing were. Even as he protests against judicial violence, he renders his arguments in literature through the redemption arc of Jean Valjean. This interplay between his novels and his struggle to shape the real world lends credibility, a sense of his stories being rooted in the painful reality, to Hugo. 

This is an example of the media included in the Victor Hugo Museum App which emphasizes Hugo’s life as an activist. I can see how the attitudes which he voices to the senate are rendered in his literature in the themes of forgiveness and progress.

“The publication in 1829 of The Last Day of a Condemned Man - a plea against the death penalty, considered by Hugo to be “judicial violence”, highlights society’s responsibility for the destitution of the lower classes. This empathy and deep humanism would now go hand in hand with both Hugo’s literary work and his political commitments, leading him to intervene by turns as a man of letters, a politician, an orator or exile in favour of liberty.”

— Victor Hugo Museum Guide

Hugo actively shaped not only his present by his activism, but also how people considered the past: the revolution of 1832 was literally not significant until he wrote about it and memorialized it. His credibility as someone politically active in the times he portrayed in his novels allowed him to call attention to the state of society. Similarly, in the present, the Hugo House’s focus on his life rather than his novels does presuppose familiarity with his writing subjects; however, it ultimately deepens the readers’ understanding and belief for his message. 

So my two encounters with companies retelling history (AppleTV and the Victor Hugo Museum) made me question how and why each of the narratives are presented as they are, and ultimately led me to question the same about the two texts we read. I concluded that Dickens should not be read as a historical document, but rather taken with a grain of salt keeping in mind where and when he is writing from. In contrast, my experience in the Hugo House helps me trust Hugo’s writing even more as a historical and political document. He witnessed and involved himself in the politics of his time in a way that Dickens could not.

The Louvre and Artistic Synapses

When Andrew told us that we were welcome to spend all day in the Louvre, he specifically called it, “one of the greatest treasure houses in the world”. Art is undeniably valuable, but the assignation of this value has been troubled throughout history and in the modern day. Fine arts, through the labor and expertise put into them, have a primary designated value. If the art piece means something to enough people or displays an exceptional level of talent, the piece then gains a secondary cultural value which is further reflected in monetary terms. This cultural value compounds as the piece’s fame grows in time until it becomes almost inconceivable what a piece would be “worth”. This is when a piece of art becomes “priceless”.

But much of the discourse I’ve seen from people who are “anti-art” and specifically “anti modern art” is a condemnation of this monetization. I have seen countless people refer to modern art as a money laundering scheme devoid of skill, and I refuse to believe that is true. Art is valuable because it holds beauty and because it allows us to share the experience of its splendor.

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For me, literature holds a very similar kind of value. In class, we were talking about how reading Les Misérables made us feel, and when a certain touching moment was mentioned, I saw the room’s eyes light up in recognition, as we all recalled the feelings inspired by that scene. We had all lived in one moment, in different places and different times, and now we were being brought together in a special way by the simple act of recollection.

Art is a treasure, but it does more than gold or silver. Those contain external beauty, the beauty of the natural world. But a piece of art contains a glimpse of the beauty of the human soul.

This power struck me profoundly when I saw the statues of the Ancient Greeks and Romans at the Louvre. There was something inimitable, undeniable in them, which the neoclassicists of the 18th century couldn’t replicate. The Victory of Samothrace and the Venus of Milo, standing proudly dismembered, brought me that sense of wonder and connection with the ancient world that less immediate things like historical accounts and even the poems and plays could not. When I say that an Ancient Greek statue feels eternal, I don’t mean it in the literal sense, because of course some day it won’t be there, but it does feel symbolic of some deeper human eternity. The interior infinite that Hugo extols so highly is somewhere deep inside of us, and the further we march in space and time from the most profound expressions of that infinity, the greater the magnitude of its reflection.

When we got to the 19th century French painters, I saw the intersection of these two worlds as we matched the faces of the 19th century to our visions of the characters in Les Misérables and A Tale of Two Cities. This opened up a whole different way of interacting with art. I am already a visual reader, but suddenly these books came to life in a way they hadn’t before. Seeing period clothes and artifacts portrayed in every day scenes, as well as the painters’ ideas of what a quotidian drama would look like. There was a generative, combinatory effect of these artworks, almost moreso than of the prints directly inspired by the novel, which we saw in Victor Hugo’s house.

I believe that art should be studied, but more than anything I believe that it should be experienced, and one should open themselves as broadly and vulnerably as possible to hear what others have to express.

All These Riches...

Opulence. Luxury. Absolute decadence.

As we continue on our Bookpacking journey I continually find myself almost dumbfounded by the sheer amount of riches that this country of France holds. Of course, this is only the result of its history as a major imperial power. However, outside of that lens, I find myself looking at this from a more insular perspective. This is especially true as we read a Tale of Two Cities and Les Miserables. The dichotomy between the peasant class and the elites in terms of quality of life and wealth is incomprehensible at certain points.

I started to feel hints of this curiosity about the wealth disparity peer through on Thursday as we walked through the Rue St Honoré. We are walking through the streets, I cannot help but marvel at the beauty these buildings hold. They are tall, and exceptionally French, which is synonymous with elegance, simplicity, and grace. As a modern-day tourist, I find myself so eager to know how it was back then. I want to know what life was like two hundred years ago in contrast to the current moment in which I am standing.

Of course, it is impossible for me to truly understand the experience of the common-day people in Paris centuries ago. However, that does not stop me from trying. As a result, I use the novels of a Tale of Two Cities and Les Miserables as literary mediums to help transport me into another world that can help me more effectively attempt to understand the plight of the common day people.

As such, when I am working from the limited and colored perspective of these two novels, I cannot help but feel infuriated on behalf of the common folk. I think of people such as Dr.Mannette, Sydney Carton, Eponine, and Fantine. When I think of these characters I find myself deeply affected by their stories, albeit fictional, and wonder why greed continues to wreak havoc on the most vulnerable.

It was not until I visited the Palace of Versailles that I was both mystified and completely outraged. Of course, the plethora of rooms within the Palace of Versailles was absolutely exquisite! I kept thinking to myself I can’t believe someone lived like this! Wow! Holy Moly! But, in contrast to that, the moment I think about the life struggle of Fantine, I cannot help but think of how evil one must have been to be content living in a palace and land mass so grand it is the size of a small country.

As I reflect on the concept of revolution, while visiting the Palace of Versailles, I envision the peasants who once stormed the palace and killed the king and his family. And I feel vindicated on their behalf. I think it is just and right for them to have done so. And I guess in this way, the spirit of revolution touched me while at Versailles.

But the ghost of revolution would not have been able to reach me had it not been for Les Miserables. I needed that human perspective to help me feel the passion behind the revolution. In a sense, I needed the holy trinity to fully feel revolution. In this, I needed the historical context that I’ve been getting through class discussions and field excursions. I also needed, the stories from the two novels, but particularly, Les Miserables, to allow me to sympathize with the peasant class. Lastly, I needed the lived experience of touring places like the Palace of Versailles in order to invoke the spirit of revolution within me.

How do we define the concept of revolution? Of course, we are all well aware of the traditional concept of revolution that involves grandeur, violence, and sacrifice in hopes of a better future for all to come. But what about the smaller revolutions? What about the intrapersonal ones? The ones that involve a radical reinvention or innovation of one’s self and one’s soul.

For example, Jean Valjean is the main protagonist of Les Miserable he navigates a society on the brink of a revolution until eventually revolting. But if we pay keen attention to his character arch, he seems to go through several striking emotional revolutions himself. His character’s ability to become a man of mercy and morality is perhaps the most obvious one. Bishop Myriel’s kindness to him allows him to embark on this transformative change. But even towards the end of the novel, Jean Valjean is able to undergo another revolution– one of acceptance. We see throughout the novel that his love for Cossette often prevents him from letting her go in search of her own life. Yet, Jean Valjean’s ability to exercise his own volition and allow Marius to marry Cosette speaks bounds about his evolution.

All of this is to say, as I walk through the streets of Paris, I wonder what my own revolution may look like. Walking through the Palace of Versailles has certainly awakened a greater clarity about the dynamics involving wealth and greed that seem to continue to preserve across timelines. But as I continue to search for greatness in Paris, perhaps the greatness I will find will not be in the streets, but rather within myself. I think that would be a wonderful discovery in and of itself.

18-Year Confinement

Personally, week 3 ended up being rather dull– confined into a studio apartment alone and counting the days until I could jump back in on the adventures. Obviously, getting Covid was not on my agenda. I most certainly did not plan to isolate for a week of our month adventure here, especially not in Paris. But it happened. And it’s got me thinking.

I only had to quarantine for 5 to 7 days. Yet, even on my second day, I felt myself growing claustrophobic, itching to just take a short walk outside and feel the fresh air around me. Even with my voice gone and slightly feverish, I wanted to do more than lie in bed and wait for the seconds to pass. While I was lucky enough to have people to facetime and talk to, I missed seeing people face to face. I missed the freedom to walk out whenever I wanted, whether it was to go on a little stroll, meet up with friends, or to go get myself some strawberries I’d been craving for the past few days. I missed deciding what to do with my time and exploring the streets of Paris. And yet again, it’s really only been a few days in isolation.

Even when Covid first quarantined us all, I had a tough time with the idea of not seeing the people important to me. But imagine this– but extended. Could you imagine being isolated– alone– for 18 years? Imprisoned, left to make shoes for 18 years– prisoner 105, North Tower?

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In A Tale of Two Cities, Dr. Manette is imprisoned in solitude for 18 years. For 18 years, he was forced to make shoes, refer to himself as prisoner 105, and mindlessly obey the guards. To me, it’s a miracle he ever came back into the reality of who he was before the trauma. Solitary confinement may be the cruelest punishment of all. And quite honestly, it is inevitable that he eventually falls back into his imprisoned state of mind. No matter how you look at it, 18 years is an absurd amount of time to be stuck in one place. 18 years without the simple pleasure of choice– to listen to music, sing, and have a meal with your family. 18 years stuck in one room, alone… are you even alive?

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“We need Joy as we need air. We need Love as we need water. We need each other as we need the earth we share.”

— Maya Angelou

Similarly, Jean Valjean has been imprisoned and degraded for 19 years… for stealing a loaf of bread for his family. But even if he hadn’t just stolen a loaf of bread, would he have deserved 19 years in prison? Would that justify up to 20 years in jail even if he robbed a bank? Who is prison helping if it holds some of the people in our society who need the most help and shoving them down to the very bottom, degrading their sense of self-worth?

“To have once been a criminal is no disgrace. To remain a criminal is the disgrace.”

— Malcolm X

As a 19-year-old, I cannot imagine how almost 2 decades in prison could do anybody any good and prepare you back for the real world. In both Manette and Jean Valjean’s situations, they not only lose their place in society but a sense of self. Both struggled to reintegrate into society, even after having done nothing wrong. In fact, Jean Valjean’s release pushed him to act more like a criminal when he first came in. He leaves prison with pent-up anger and newfound shame as society views him as a dirty figure worthless of redemption. Prison life changes you, and more often than not, you lose the things you need to get back to everyday life. When you lose your job and rejoin the world years later, you realize life has moved on without you. The sad reality is no one’s holding your hand when they throw you back into society.

Instead, you open your eyes to the corruption, just as Dr. Manette did.

I wish this blog post had a happy ending, but I’m not sure we figured that out as a society just yet. Here’s to hoping we figure it out soon.

The view keeping me sane from this 1-week isolation

Love and Loss

While rather somber, it felt fitting to follow up my last blog post about death with a concept central to both A Tale of Two Cities and Les Miserables: sacrifice. Sacrifice, be it giving up time, money, or lives in the name of someone greater than oneself is a recurring theme throughout both novels. Interestingly, the concept has popped up throughout the past few weeks while exploring London and Paris. From the prison cell at the Conciergerie where Sydney Carton makes the ultimate sacrifice to the much more understated urban scene of the barricade where Eponine similarly gives her own life in the name of love. Both of these are examples of the themes of sacrifice both Dickens and Hugo consistently refer back to yet as a way to further their stories and comment on the human experience of love. While it is one thing to read about sacrifice in these books, it is another to visit it and experience its effects firsthand.

The Conciergerie

The place where the feeling of sacrifice can be felt most heavily was within the Conciergerie, a medieval palace turned prison used to house those awaiting execution during the French Revolution. As a museum, it has refurbished prison cells designed to give a sense of how they might have looked 200 years ago when men such as Charles Darnay himself were written to have filled them. Visiting these cells was a surreal experience, not just for its relation to the book, but the reality that this is the true space that thousands of wrongly accused spent awaiting their last moments on Earth. For most visitors, this concept is hard to grasp but visiting the Conciergerie through the lens of A Tale of Two Cities brought up these intense feelings of sorrow, pain, and loss that had been felt hundreds of years ago. In my previous post, I described the idea of death and how it has followed our explorations and class, however, the feelings around sacrifice are similar yet uniquely distinct. In A Tale of Two Cities, one of the most striking quotes in the entire novel lies towards the end:

““I am not afraid to die, Citizen Evremonde, but I have done nothing. I am not unwilling to die, if the Republic which is to do so much good to us poor, will profit by my death.””

— A Tale of Two Cities (442)

This sort of willingness to die for a cause much greater than yourself is a nod toward the theme of revolution that the book is based around. This devotion to creating a better society was echoed all around as we bookpacked Paris, and truly made the already wonderful city that much more of an immersive experience. Wandering the beautiful streets and curious corners of Paris, such as the ones pictured, where people of all creeds are free to roam and intermingle free of persecution is precisely what the revolutionaries had envisioned, a true Republic for the people of France where the power of the people dictated the governed. While the current situation in France may have its issues, it is certainly leaps and bounds better off than it was before the democratic revolution that millions fought so hard to achieve.

Looking at sacrifice from the perspective of Les Miserables is eerily similar to A Tale of Two Cities, particularly in the case of Eponine. Both Sydney Carton and Eponine sacrificed themselves in the name of love for another, love that may not be entirely reciprocated or understood by the recipient. In the case of Eponine, she was willing to sacrifice herself and ensure that Marius and Cosette would end up with one another in the end, despite her true desires. Similar to visiting the Conciergerie, visiting the site of the barricade in Les Halles allowed us to access the emotions of the sacrificial moment that Hugo so beautifully portrayed. Despite now being nothing more than an intersection at the fringes of a mall, the site of the barricade represents much more for us bookpackers, as it is truly the setting for our story of love, brotherhood, and revolutionary might yet a backdrop of despair, tragedy, and sacrifice.

As the class continues, more themes about the human experience are revealed by both Dickens and Hugo in their unique ways. As with the previous blog post, I constantly find myself surprised by the emotional intensity that comes with visiting places we read about. Before this class, I would expect only a non-fiction work to evoke such a response since it involves real stories. However, the stories we have been reading, while based on historical events, are fictional yet produce an even stronger response than a simple retelling of a true story. The connection both authors create with the reader transcends words on a paper, particularly in Les Miserables, we become increasingly intertwined in the universe of the story. Visiting these universes through bookpacking allows us to access their thoughts, emotions, and feelings that we would otherwise be unable to. Perhaps the most valuable aspect of this experience thus far has been the ability to take words on paper and make them come alive through exploring, researching, and interacting with our stories in a different way.

Versailles: The Opulence of Inequality

Even though I didn’t have the opportunity to visit Versailles, I still made sure to learn as much about it as I could through documentaries and photos. The opulence of the palace was astounding, and all I could think about was the beauty it held. The luxury of the gardens and golden rooms speak to the amount of wealth the French royalty held. After seeing Versailles, I was left with one main thought sitting at the forefront of my mind. My first impressions of the palace were luxury, wealth, and beauty, yet at its core was a darker representation of inequality. Today, we see the palace as a museum, a monument to what humanity can create, and a symbol of French influence.

To the French during the time of Les Miserables and a Tale of Two Cities, the luxury of Versailles was a slap in the face to the poor in France. The first look at Versailles left me in complete awe. Even the mender of roads in a Tale of Two Cities who was angered by the aristocracy gazed upon the palace and saw the palace's undeniable magnificence. He even cried out to praise the king, even though all of his misfortune was a result of the king. I can definitely empathize with feeling a godly presence upon viewing the chateau, but for him, the palace wasn’t just a museum, it was a symbol of all the wealth the French monarchy held while people were starving on the streets. In Les Miserables, Versailles stood as a message to the commoners everywhere. It spelled out in bright gold letters: ‘We are better than you.’ It stood as a monument to all that was wrong in France at the time. You had people struggling to find food, dying on the streets, while French nobles dined luxuriously in Versailles with the problems of their country far out of sight. This is what eventually led to the revolution as the people revolted against this unfair treatment and inequality.

Even today, our wealthy may not live in golden palaces, but they still build massive estates as monuments to their wealth. The walls they built still stand today in the form of gated communities and fences with the same intent of keeping the poor and society’s problems out of their sight. People still die every day from wealth inequality and lack of access to food, problems that we could solve but still choose to ignore and keep out of our minds. Even in Los Angeles, we have communities and roads filled with tents housing the homeless that are suffering from inequality, just as the French did in Les Miserables. It shows a lot how we as a society choose to revere the palaces built by the wealthy and treat them as monuments to culture instead of seeing how they represent the issues deeply ingrained into our lives.

Louvre Reflections

In 1793, Henri-Pierre Danloux painted Jean-Francois de La Marche (1729-1805), comte-évêque de Saint-Pol-de-Leon, émigre en Angleterre en 1791. This is exactly how I picture Mr. Lorry!

We went to the Louvre on Saturday, and despite the crowds, saw so many characters from our books in the Denon wing! I spotted figures which could have been Lucy, Eponine and Marius, and Mr. Lorry! Okay, the characters were definitely not present in the same way that Gavroche was in Liberty Leading the People, but the likenesses were similar enough that I could picture the characters when I saw the paintings. 

I imagined the characters would have been wearing similar clothing, but more than anything, the things the artists chose to highlight resembled the aspects the author chose to emphasize.

For example, the themes of light and dark pictured in Le Christ Sur La Croix by Pierre-Paul Prud’hon. In this painting, there is a strong contrast between light and dark, where Christ’s body is almost entirely white and the background is almost entirely black. One can make out a shadowy figure in the background, but the central figure is unquestionably Christ, whose body is disproportionately illuminated by an imaginary light source. This painting really strikes me because of the veneration of Christ which pervades the entire piece. Elevating and illuminating his body to such an extent in the portrait reminds me of Les Mis and its themes of extreme goodness and extreme evil. There is no in-between with Hugo. Jean Valjean is saintly and Thenardier is evil. I wonder if this type of religious painting was going through Hugo’s and his  readers’ heads when they wrote/read Les Mis. As a modern reader, it is tempting to read the book with a secular mind, as we are used to reading texts from a variety of time periods which are shaped by different religious beliefs and politics, but at the time of its writing, both Hugo and his audience were probably deeply religious, as this painting really helps me visualize. Seeing this painting helped me reevaluate the novel in a religious context, much like seeing the musical did. It’s so religious! The morals, the good vs evil is all shaped by a religious context, which is important to today because morals are a social construct changing through time and place. 

The next painting that struck me as similar to the themes in the books was also by Prud’hon. His portrayal of this woman in The Soul breaking the bonds that bind it to the earth in an angelic light reminds me of Dickens’ portrayal of Lucy. Not only is the woman in the picture absolutely glowing, but the painting is also placed at the head of the hall in a place it would receive a lot of light, thus amplifying the angelic feeling of the piece. It reminds me of Lucy, whose character is revered throughout the novel. Not only are her actions and words kind, but the other characters constantly praise her compassion and hold her up as an angel. The Louvre does the same thing as Dickens by holding women up in an angelic light, except it’s literal rather than figurative.

Then, there was Eponine by contrast, who I chose to highlight in this post for a different reason. I found her portrait interesting because it wasn’t even remotely a portrait of her. It was a painting of a totally different historical event, and she wasn’t even a central figure, but I saw her in it. I found a painting by Delacriox called Massacres at Chios; Greek Families Awaiting Death or Slavery and saw a man and woman slumped onto the ground. The man is wounded, staring intensely into space while the woman has downcast eyes and looks resigned to her fate. This reminded me of Eponine and Marius, where Eponine is looking for a place to die for Marius, and Marius has never once looked at her the same way even as she is suffering for him. It would be a stretch to say Hugo saw this painting; what’s more concrete to notice is that when I saw this portrait as a modern reader, although the events of the painting are a totally different place and before our revolution, I couldn’t help but project my knowledge into it and see what I wanted to see. I think my process of viewing the art and relating it back to things I have read reflects what we do when we learn new information, particularly about the past. Because we have such a poor grasp on time, we are always learning things in relation to the other things we know. So any history uncovered today… How much of is it shaped by what we want to know?

The final painting I wanted to reflect on was a self-portrait of/by Jacques Louis David. According to the information placard, David painted this portrait while he was in prison in 1794 after having served the revolutionary government during the Reign of Terror. What struck me was his hard, angry stare. I can imagine him staring for hours at himself in a mirror trying to capture each detail, down to the lines in his forehead and the circles under his eyes. His grim face is the face of a man who once believed in the revolution but has been cast away by it. In noticing this painting, I can’t help but think of all the similar attitudes held by people who lived through the revolutions and its aftermath. This bitterness does not just go away with the restoration and a little bit of time. I can imagine that both Hugo and Dickens were writing amidst tumultuous times surrounded by many different political attitudes and resentment. This painting helps me realize that not only were Dickens and Hugo recording the historical events of the times, but they were also informed by the prevailing attitudes.

So in all, my visit to the Louvre enlivened and enriched my thoughts around the books. I think I got a better picture of the time in which the authors were writing, and the context of which they were writing about. The books also significantly deepened my experience of the Louvre. As someone who isn’t a painting person, I would never have imagined spending as much time enjoying the art as I did after having discussed the novels and learned the history. I should do this for every museum I go to! Very cool!

The Little Things

As we waltz around Paris, I like to think about what the Parisans we pass are thinking of us…

“Why are they staring at a random building?”

“Did they just gasp at the name of a street sign?”

“Am I hallucinating or does it look like that map they’re using is from the 16th century?”

“Americans…”

But, what might make a typical Parisian say “sacre bleu!” make us Bookpackers squeal with delight.

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For example, part of our excursions have included locating Jean Valjean’s various hideouts throughout Les Miserables. One that particularly struck me was Jean Valjean and Cosette’s home on Rue Plumet. To prep for this excursion, we first mapped the exact location we thought the house would be. Before class, I created a side-by-side of the same location using Apple Maps and the Girard map of 1823.

I was thrilled while finding this location— pinpointing exactly where we believed Jean Valjean’s house would be today, and seeing how the shapes of the streets of Paris haven’t changed much over the years. In this side by side, you can really see a strong example of this, as the trapezoid shape of the streets stays largely the same!

Finding Jean Valjean’s house on the map proved to be an interesting challenge, as certain street names have changed over time. Particularly, the street where the house was located is called Rue Blomet in the book, but today has been changed to Rue Plumet. It’s a pretty simple change, so I guess it wasn’t that challenging… haha.

Still, there’s something really gratifying about this process— seeing visually how little things have changed in so much time.

Arriving at the house, we looked for evidence of our period in each corner. Being one of the places where Jean Valjean hid, it was appropriately remote. Not many people were walking around, there weren’t many interesting shops or restaurants, and the streets were calm. You could feel how this location was a perfect place for Jean Valjean to hide in plain sight. Curiously, we found that the Chinese consulate happened to be right on that same street where Jean Valjean lived, so it seems that this place has always been a secure, semi-remote location and continues to be to this day. As we trace the locations of various events in our novels, it’s so rewarding to see how areas keep their essences over time, and it makes it all the more interesting when we can see ripples of the past in the present.

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As we explore Paris, the little things stand out to us bookpackers. The names of streets, shops, and cafes make us gasp as we watch the influence of our novels on Parisian life.

We pass a bar called “Le Gamin”, with an image of a young boy— reminiscent of Gavroche from Les Miserables.

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Or a home where Victor Hugo once lived in, three decades before he writes Les Miserables…

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And during our excursion in the 5th arrondissement, among the beauty of the area, we find a building ornately painted with scenes of provincial life.

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On another excursion, we take a stop by Nicolas Flamel’s home, the oldest house in Paris, and we learn about his quest for the Philosopher’s Stone. Suddenly, as I learn about medieval Paris, I’m also bookpacking Harry Potter! I especially loved looking at the intricate designs on the building. I love medieval art and iconography, so I was enthralled by the home. Looking inside, we saw that what was once a place where Flanel welcomed the homeless for free meals was now a Michelin star restaurant with absurd prices… maybe the middle ages weren’t so bad after all.

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I’ve been loving our excursions because they challenge me to look at Paris through a different set of eyes. During our excursions, I’m looking at the Paris of our period— walking through the contemporary streets but living in the Paris of old. When our excursions end and we’re free to explore on our own terms, I’m seeing the same areas through a contemporary lens. I feel this switching of lenses has really given me a holistic view of Paris; both what it was then and what it is today.

Bookpacking is about the little things. It’s about going to a random location in a random place, not because it’s number one on a list of “must-sees” in Paris, but because we’re on a citywide scavenger hunt. Using the books, we look for geographical clues leading us around Paris. The feeling of finding the exact location you were searching for is so rewarding, and even more so when the book we’re referencing is from the 19th century. It feels like we’re on a mission; looking for clues around contemporary Paris that reveal the past. The people around us may be scratching their heads as to why we’re so excited about such small details, but we know exactly what we’re here for.