The Fickleness of Memory

Napoleon Buonaparte remains one of the most divisive figures in French history. He was an emperor with too much power, but he did great things with it. He supported the arts, reorganized the banking and educational systems, was an excellent general, and codified the laws. He was a tyrant, but France may have taken decades without him to achieve this crucial foundation of laws and reforms. I have studied Napoleon in the past, but I only retained the memorable sections. I recalled him being shipped off to an island as punishment. I also remember him fighting in Russia, only to lose because it got too cold. These don’t create the most positive or heroic portrait of Napoleon. Based on what I had learned in high school, I remembered him as slightly pathetic, but his grasp on many French citizens is strong. His tomb was gigantic and centrally placed in the gorgeous Les Invalides. The statues made him appear like a strong leader of the people, and some flowers were even left at his foot by visitors. However, even this building was controversial as many did not want to celebrate him.

In Les Misérables, Marius grows up hating both Napoleon and his father because of how his grandfather and the salon speak of them. He was indoctrinated by these influences, and this turned him into a fierce royalist. Marius’ impression of his father and Napoleon lasts years until he learns the truth about how much his father loved him. This new information launches him on a new trajectory intellectually. He is forced to start from scratch and relearn everything about the world. His grandfather had kept him isolated, which stunted his emotional development. When he finally broke his shell and formed his own opinion, he joined the revolutionary group the Friends of the ABC. Marius’ morals and politics greatly change as he loses the conditioning he grew up with. He reevaluates his impression of his father and, as a result, his impression of Napoleon. Marius is forced to confront his learned prejudices against Napoleon and begins to see his glory. We would like to believe we are in control of our thoughts and opinions, but so many of our beliefs are shaped by other influences that can be difficult to shake.

On Monday, we went bookpacking Napoleon - wrestling with his legacy as Marius does in the novel. The way we remember prolific figures like Napoleon says a great deal about the nature of history. The victorious people are the ones who get to write history. However, the collective memory of groups can also be poignant and play a strong role in how we remember historical figures. Our memory can be manipulated, as we have seen with propaganda. Sometimes the way we remember someone or something is more powerful than just knowing specific facts. Political campaigns use propaganda all the time to get voters to have a negative impression of a candidate. This emotional response is harder to unlearn than knowing a candidate’s stance on issues. Art plays a large role in this. Every painting is a result of particular artistic decisions made by an artist. The way they choose to represent a person/place is never accidental. An artist can choose to glorify something or condemn it, and the result shows in the art. It is commonplace for monarchs to hire painters to create portraits designed to exalt themselves and their court. The Coronation of Napoleon, painted by Jacques-Louis David, screams propaganda to me. The neoclassical piece hung at Versailles is a towering canvas that features Napoleon and his wife in glittering clothes in front of an adoring audience. Anyone seeing this painting can feel the power and prestige of Napoleon’s regime. Even when he has long died, the painting remains to influence viewers in a certain way. Propaganda is effective because it subtly influences you to think about someone a certain way, which lasts much longer in your memory than just facts.

  Marie Antoinette is another prime example. She has been used as a figurehead for everything wrong with the nobility. We explored the Conciergerie over a week ago, which was where Marie Antoinette was held before her beheading in 1793. Her cell has since been turned into an oratory dedicated to her memory. People know Marie as promiscuous, pompous, and devoid of any sympathy for the poor struggling while she enjoyed life as queen of France. According to the information in the Conciergerie, people even spread rumors she had an incestuous affair with her son (which was completely untrue). Marie was actually quite charitable, witty, and devoted to her children. So why do we all remember her so poorly? Revolutionaries needed someone to unite people for their cause. Marie Antoinette served as an easy scapegoat to pin all the ails of the monarchy on. Revolutionaries even created rumors that she said “let them eat cake” to further her scandalous reputation. She was a victim of circumstance and propaganda, which led to her execution. The fact that people still remember her poorly speaks to how easily our memories can be manipulated and taken advantage of.

Our decisions are much less rational than we would like to believe. They are affected by influences that are difficult to see, like the people around us and our own biased views. The only way to counteract this is to try to make the information we receive as objective as possible. Propaganda is easy to come by, and it is far more subtle today than it was during the 19th century. In the age of the internet, people are encouraged to create the most eye-catching headlines and posts to maximize engagement. To create our own opinions and impressions, we must stay aware. Objective information is not just handed to us anymore, we must hunt for it. Discerning fact from fiction is more difficult than ever, but it’s something that must be done if we hope to truly understand and make decisions for ourselves and our society.

Versailles: I say revolt !

Visiting Versailles brought vivid imagery to my eyes. I was able to fully understand what France was like during the time leading up to the revolution. In reading a “Tale of Two Cities” and additional history, I can see both perspectives of the royal family and everyday people. Walking in the palace extends twelve miles totaling an entirety of 2,014 acres. My first thought was “ wow! This is huge. Does one family really need all this space?”. The palace is beautifully decorated, however, it is very flashy. It seems as if the Louis lineage had to make it known that they were wealthy. Almost every wall is decorated with massive religious paintings all from the Renaissance era. They are large and extravagant. I imagine it must’ve cost a pretty penny to get those works commissioned over the years. However, I did think it was a little ironic. For France to be heavily influenced by catholicism, one would think King Louis would’ve took into consideration the well being of his people. For Mark 12:31 states “ Love your neighbor as yourself”. Looking at many biblical references, there is no doubt the God loved all his people and saw no difference. One should treat others how they want to be treated.

 King Louis XVI was entirely too flashy. His expansion of the gardens is ridiculous. As I was walking through some questions that popped through my head consisted of:  Why is the garden so big? Did they have horses take them around? Were the children even allowed to play? Did they get lost? Learning more about the daily life of the nobility was also interesting. I often questioned how can one be so greedy but then I had to remind myself money can be the root of all evil.  I particularly enjoyed visiting Marie Antionette’s quarters: Le Domaine De Trianon. I found it more realisitic and overall wholesome. King Louis XIV, knew what he was doing when he began constructing it for his mistress, Madame de Montespan. It indeed is a place of intimacy.  I thought the cottages with surrounding lakes was very tasteful and an excellent place for children to grow up. 

Reflecting on “ A Tale of Two Cities”, I understand the Reign of Terror and Storming of the Bastille. I empathize with the working class. Dickens’ use of audority sense as well the gory detailing makes sense. Marching up Versailles as a common person pleading for a simple necessity such as food, I would be truly disgusted with the King. How dare he raise taxes to pay for his lavish lifestyle? I would be livid and demand the guillotine as well.  King Louis XVI didn’t even think about inviting the working class to an annual ball where he could show his appreciation for the people of France who work hard daily to keep him afloat. There were two characters that stood out to me as I continued my visit: Madame Defarge and the Marquis. The scene of the woman asking the Marquis for help with the burial of her dead husband and him snarking back basically saying no because he can’t help a dead man infuriates me. I feel that woman’s pain. The Marquis was no king but one could consider him apart of the nobility since he was an aristocrat. His character is the perfection depiction of those who suffer from the sin of greed. He does not care about the people he exploits, comparable to King Louis XVI.

I thought about Madame Defarge as well due to her rage. To learn what happened to her family only reminded me how the rich get away with so much. The Louis Lineage had their way for years.  In thinking of all these things, I came to the conclusion that the French Revolution was successful because it was a radical progressive movement that did not care about bloodshed. The brutality enforced a change. Looking at modern movements, the Black Panther Party was mainly successful due to unity, radicalism, and forcefulness. Huey P. Newton, Angela Davis, and Bobby Seale knew in order to make a change one has to present confidence and muscle towards their oppressor. Another comparable example would be the 2021 storming of the Capitol building. Trump supporters were united in a goal and did not care about the consequences. They exuded superiority, confidence, and force. That is why they were successful other than the fact of their white privilege. Although beautiful Versailles to me is a memory of oppression, bloodshed, and rebirth.

Finding Faces in the Louvre

A trip to Paris would not be complete without a visit to the Louvre, so that’s where we headed off to this morning. Before going inside, I grabbed two pains au chocolat at the nearest boulangerie to fuel up for what I knew would be a long day of exploring the museum.

The bottom two floors (-1 and 0) were filled with sculptures, figurines, and other relics. I most enjoyed walking through the two main atria in the Richelieu wing, which had tons of incredible French sculptures. I tend to think of sculpture as a Greek and Roman specialty, so seeing so many different French statues in these rooms was fascinating.

Taking the stairs up to the first floor, I wandered through the old apartments of Napoleon III. These were incredibly opulent, similar to Versailles' use of gold and extravagant features. Many of the rooms had frescoes on the ceiling with biblical imagery, and large chandeliers helped provide light for the apartments.

The opposite wing was full of European (and a few American) paintings. The European rooms included many 19th-century French pieces, such as Liberty Leading the People and The Assassination of Marat. These paintings were all incredible, and they were done on very large canvasses, which added to my sense of awe. A common theme that I observed while exploring these rooms was that the pieces relied mostly on darker colors and hues. This was fitting because the majority of the paintings depicted battle scenes or death.

We were tasked with the fun job of finding characters from A Tale of Two Cities and Les Misérables in the paintings. In terms of my criteria, I tried to limit myself to paintings that were completed around the same period as when the two novels were set. This meant that I looked within the general interval of 1750-1850. I also went more off of the personality that I imagined the character might have rather than trying to match exact physical characteristics. As for which characters I specifically sought out, I mainly focused on Cosette, Marius, and Monsieur Gillenormand for Les Misérables. For A Tale of Two Cities, I looked for Lucie, Doctor Manette, and Charles Darnay. I wasn’t expecting to find characters like the Defarges because I assumed that many of the subjects artists would have chosen to depict would have been people from higher classes.

The first people I found were Marius and Cosette. In this painting, a man is sitting on a stone in a forest and a woman is resting on his leg. They both look to be at peace, and they seem to be in love. If we use our imaginations, the forest could be the garden at the Rue Plumet house. It is in this garden where Cosette and Marius meet every night to talk and admire each other for hours on end. If the man in the painting had more clothes on, then that would add to the plausibility of him being Marius.

I discovered Lucie Manette and little Lucie Darnay on a wall nearby. One of Lucie’s most defining characteristics is her hair, and unfortunately, the color was not accurate to Lucie’s in this painting; however, the personality that I could imagine this woman having seemed to match Lucie’s loving and delicate demeanor. The woman is a brunette rather than a blonde, and she is holding a lovely bouquet of flowers. She is also smiling softly and holding “Little Lucie’s” hand. I could envision Lucie gathering flowers to give to her father, Doctor Manette, when his mind was going back to his years in prison.

Speaking of Lucie’s father, there was a painting of an artist that seemed to mirror Doctor Manette’s personality. Doctor Manette is a little older, and he is a great physician who struggles with PTSD. The man in this painting had white hair, glasses, and he was holding a paint palette and brushes. If we were to swap the painting materials with either a stethoscope or shoemaking materials, we might have ourselves an Alexandre Manette. Honestly, I think it was mainly the glasses that made me think of Doctor Manette. I don’t remember him being described as wearing glasses, but it seems to fit him from my point of view.

Next up from A Tale of Two Cities was Charles Darnay, who I found with an alternative version of “Little Lucie.” The man in the picture is shown with his daughter, according to the plaque. He’s wearing a fairly form outfit, indicating that he is probably a little wealthy. Overall, I felt that this man could be an option for Charles Darnay.

Going back to our Les Misérables characters, the person that I found the most options for was actually Monsieur Gillenormand, Marius’s grandfather. He fits the profile of most of the men who would sit for these paintings: wealthy, elderly. I can imagine him wearing a fancy outfit and being a little heavier. The painting that I felt most accurately depicted Monsieur Gillenormand was by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres. It shows an older man sitting in a chair, looking like he’s very bored (which is understandable given that he’s probably been posing like that for hours). The second most accurate picture was of an older man with a younger woman, but I only focused on him. Once again, this man is elderly with white hair, wearing nice clothes, and sitting down. He is also holding what seems to be a coin, which in relation to our novel could have something to do with his wealth and status.

Although Jean Valjean is one of the most important characters in Les Misérables, I struggled to find a man that could be him in the galleries. His hair is described as being stark white, and in terms of personality, I imagine him having a kind face despite his harsh past. He is also supposed to be extremely strong. Much to my dismay, I didn’t really find anyone that matched these descriptions.

I’ve heard it can take a whole week to truly explore all the Louvre has to offer, and after walking through that maze of rooms today, I think that seven days might be an underestimate. I was satisfied with all I saw during the four hours I spent there, but I definitely could have spent days exploring. It was fun to find visuals for some of these characters that we’ve spent so much time diving into. As we wrap up our program this upcoming week, I look forward to continuing to discuss these characters further.

The Nature of Truth

The Louvre is an absolutely beautiful museum. It is well worth the visit and you could devote days to exploring every nook and crevice. It is known for the Mona Lisa (which was far smaller in person), but there are so many gems worth exploring like Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People or one of Monet’s pieces. Even beyond art there was a gorgeous scultpture garden and a room dedicated to the royal jewels. It requires several days to fully walk through the museum, but to actually appreciate everything it holds easily requires weeks.

“By telling stories, you objectify your own experience. You separate it from yourself. You pin down certain truths. You make up others. You start sometimes with an incident that truly happened, like the night in the field, and you carry it forward by inventing incidents that did not in fact occur but that nonetheless help to clarify and explain.”

— The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

I have always held a special penchant for art and what it represents. Of course it is pretty to look at, but I think the concept behind art is equally as fascinating. I love to view it from the lens of one of my favorite books, The Things They Carry by Tim O’Brien. It is a quasi-fiction/nonfiction book about a soldier’s experience in the Vietnam War. It is a well written story about war, but it is also an exploration into the nature of truth. The novel is told by an unreliable narrator who often contradicts himself or flat out lies about what happens at different sections of the book. This seems strange, but O’Brien does this to convey the idea that sometimes a lie can tell the truth better than reality. If I tell you a story and it makes you feel the way I want you to feel, isn’t it true on some level? His format fits especially for war because that is the sort of experience you can never truly communicate to someone that hasn’t been through it. So, O’Brien settles with making you understand the emotion and message of the story even if that requires lying about what specifically happened. Objective truth matters less than the feelings evoked from a story. The Things They Carried is one of the most honest books I have ever read, despite little of it being true.

“It wasn’t a question of deceit. Just the opposite; he wanted to heat up the truth, to make it burn so hot that you would feel exactly what he felt.”

— The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

This concept is so fascinating to me because it applies to everything. Art is the easiest way to see. For hundreds of years painters were aspiring to paint something that was as close to realistic as possible. With the invention of cameras this became pointless. Painters began experimenting with how they could represent the world in different ways. I love impressionism for this exact reason. Monet’s Haystacks, End of Summer (right) may not be a perfect representation of what he saw, but instead they capture what he felt. He is communicating how nature makes him feel through the sweeping brushstrokes and vivid colors. In this way, I think his painting is a truer representation than a photograph. It captures a moment and makes it timeless. A photograph seems to make everything seem stagnant and still, but a painting has the ability to bring something to life. Impressionism does this more than any other type of art (in my opinion). I feel like O’Brien would admire this era of painting for the same reason. 

Books are an obvious extension as well. Reading has the irreplaceable ability to put you into a new world. Movies show you one, but in a book you are an active participant in this world. As a result, they serve as powerful ways to make you feel something. A Tale of Two Cities and Les Miserables are incredibly moving stories. Does Sydney Carton’s sacrifice become less meaningful because he is a figment of Dicken’s imagination? Is Jean Valjean’s story of redemption rendered less consequential because it never happened? I am sure thousands of lives have been changed by these characters and their actions. When you lose the shackles of reality, you have the freedom to go wherever you want. You can create a world of your own, just as Dickens and Hugo did. Reality is so fickle that we need these artistic expressions to open up our eyes. They bypass pure logic and reasoning to get to the heart of something. They are our means of breaking down this crazy and confusing world into something understandable. Art (in whatever form) allows us to communicate with the world. I love science and math, but if we don’t have the creativity and ingenuity to explore and manipulate our world they mean nothing.

Death in the City of Lights

And just like that, we have survived another 20,000 steps/day week in Europe! Our explorations have brought us to Notre Dame, Versailles, the Panthéon, and the Invalides; all some of the most grandiose structures in Paris. As somewhat of an “architecture-junkie” none of these disappointed and offered such variety in architectural style, ornamentation, and grandeur. I could not keep myself from marveling at the magnificent stonework of Notre Dame and the incredibly intricate rotunda of the Panthéon. While appreciating these incredible sights, it was increasingly apparent that there was a central theme that unified them: death. Death in the form of an infamous tomb, a modest crypt, or the charred remains of a 900-year-old monument. Grappling with death and destruction these past few days has been an unexpected part of this trip, yet a welcome challenge that, interestingly, pairs well with the readings.

Anyone familiar with the work of Victor Hugo knows his stories are no stranger to death as they are often used in different capacities to illuminate different parts of the human experience and to advance the universe in which his stories are set. In the case of Javert, his sudden death was unique in that he did end his own life, but not in the name of sacrifice; in fact, quite the opposite. Javert ending his life as he struggles with his morality, the central pillar of his existence, highlights Hugo’s underlying themes about the human soul; particularly the resilience yet fragility that characterize it. Exploring the area where Javert’s suicide took place was surprisingly powerful, despite being a fictional sequence. While we didn’t explore the area as a class, I had on quite a few occasions passed through the area around the Pont Notre Dame and Pont au Change at different times of the day. These visits evoked the same feelings of the soul that Hugo builds upon through his novel. I could not help but think of his final moments along the river, what drives people to this point of despair, and how Hugo so tragically yet elegantly captures this moment. These thoughts and feelings are best summed up by the section that reads:

““Infallibility is not infallible, there can be error in dogma, all has not been said when a penal code has spoken, society is not perfect, authority is complicated by an element of vacillation, a creaking of the immutable is possible, judges are men, the law may err, tribunals may be mistaken! To see a crack in the immense blue glass of the firmament!””

— Les Miserables (1185)

Tomb of Marie Curie at the Panthéon

Tomb of Victor Hugo at the Panthéon

Napoleon’s Tomb at Les Invalides

Switching gears to the more personal, visiting the resting places of Charles Dickens, Victor Hugo, Marie Curie, and Napoleon all provided different feelings around the experience of death itself, compared to exploring the area of the Javert incident. Napoleon’s tomb, for example, was magnificent and commanded attention yet there was certainly an atmosphere of hesitation and disdain for his actions and the anti-democratic dictatorship he installed. Conversely, Marie Curie’s tomb was understated compared to Napoleon's, yet its beautiful flower arrangement for her and her husband provided a sense of appreciation and respect for their incredible work and research. Victor Hugo’s tomb was perhaps the most powerful, as it sat alone but was decorated with a single, wilted flower with a small notecard with a message to the effect of “Thank you so much for all your work, we still feel your influence today.” All of those tombs impacted me in such different ways, these people whose works I had read, theories I had studied, and wars I had learned about had become real people right in front of me. Their legacies had become more than words on paper or a history channel documentary but people who were immortalized for all to see and appreciate despite never coexisting.

For those who have experienced loss, whether personally or by extension, it is an experience completely incomparable to any other. Tragic and heart-wrenching yet central to the human experience and a reality we all must face one day. This idea of loss is exactly what the quote below discusses, how it is imperative to cherish the mind, soul, and feelings of another person rather than the physical form. This becomes especially true in the case of those who you may not have known but have learned about through family, friends, or school and have grown to admire. By appreciating their being and the impact they had because of their mere existence, we can reconnect with those the world has lost and continue to reap the rewards of their intellect. This is no better exemplified in the anonymous note left on Victor Hugo’s tomb; even 140 years after passing, his works continue to influence our society today. I felt a connection to Marie Curie’s burial site as I’ve spent years studying chemistry and her impact on the discipline comes up everywhere. To see her resting place and feel her impact firsthand was an amazing experience that I did not expect to have on this trip. The Panthéon and places like it hold a special purpose in that they are a vector for human spirituality, to connect with those who touched the world and continue to influence it with their writings, discoveries, or thoughts and we as a society are lucky to still access this incredible wealth of humanity.

““Woe, alas! to any that have loved only bodies, forms, appearances! Death will deprive them of everything. Try to love souls; you will be reunited with them.””

— Les Miserables (839)

Filthy Rich

The beauty of Versailles cannot be ignored once as you step into its gates. Even before entering, you can admire its grand size and magnificent golden gates from a distance. While the upkeep of Versailles costs over 15 million euros a year, Versailles continues to remain “one of the most excessively visited monuments on this planet” (according to Secrets of Paris). And while it is most definitely a site to see, I began to wonder if it’s logical to maintain such a place. After all, 15 million a year is a lot just to upkeep one place. 

Personally, I am so thankful to have seen this palace. The ceilings are lined up with astonishing artwork, and each room has its own theme accompanied by an audio guide explaining all there is to know about each room– you could easily spend days just exploring each room. 

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And as stunning as the palace was, my personal favorite part was the gardens. Back in LA, one of my favorite places to visit was The Getty. I would get there at 11, spend maybe 2 hours indoors, and spend the rest just taking in the beauty of the central garden. This was my getaway from my daunting thoughts of the future. Walking around the gardens here gave me that same sense of comfort. 

Funnily enough, I felt slightly unsettled the entire time I was there, almost as if this place shouldn’t exist. And honestly, it shouldn’t have. No one should have had that much money to spend on themselves. The absurdity that took place at Versailles is, to say quite simply, ridiculous. The royal blood relieved themselves wherever they wanted, gave birth in public, and had unused rooms because of just how much space they had. 

GOLDEN GATE

… covered in over 100,000 gold leaves

So what does it mean that this thing stands tall to this day? Still kept up and polished after all these years? That the royal gate, destroyed during the French Revolution, was rebuilt back to its glory centuries later? Yes, it serves as a historical monument, but at what cost? It reminds us of the massive gap in incomes yet that still exists to this day. So, has anything really changed?

After going back home, I decided to do some research. While it costs 15 million euros to upkeep a year, Versailles also creates over 2,500 direct jobs. It contributes to long-term projects like The Démos project, which aims to “expand access to culture by teaching children from disadvantaged areas without any prior musical training to play an instrument as part of group classical music lessons.” It sponsors about 100 kids for free workshops and even supports private lessons for 15 kids. To learn more, take a look at https://en.chateauversailles.fr/news/life-estate/versailles-solidary-palace#long-term-projects. 

Reading all this provided me with a sense of relief. What was built and used as a statement of sheer power and money now stands for something more: equity. Versailles now stands for the enrichment of the people: a transition of power. 

Hall of Mirrors

Standing in a gallery with 357 mirrors and gorgeous, gorgeous chandeliers

with Hallie and Julia <3

Mapping Les Misérables

As someone who loves looking at maps, I’ve had a field day mapping locations from Dickens’ and Victor Hugo’s Paris over the past week. It fascinates me to compare old maps with our contemporary maps and see where they differ. The urbanization of Paris becomes especially prominent when we look through the years, and I find it interesting to see how this huge international city has evolved over the centuries.

The main maps that we are using for our mapping exercises include the 1778 and 1823 maps of Paris. I’ve been relying on Google Maps for my modern comparison, usually switching it to satellite imagery so that I’m able to get a better understanding of what building or space occupies each land area.

Over the weekend, we were tasked with locating the house that Cosette and Jean Valjean lived in on Rue Plumet. Hugo notes that the house was previously owned by a High Court judge, and it had a villa, a garden, and a big iron gate.

“Towards the middle of the last century, a High Court judge in the Paris parliament who was keeping a mistress on the sly – for in those days aristocrats were open about their mistresses and the bourgeoisie were secretive about theirs – had ‘a little house’ built in Faubourg St-Germain, on that deserted street Rue Blomet, now called Rue Plumet, not far from the spot then known as the Combat des Animaux.”

— Les Misérables

Hugo goes into so much detail about the layout and appearance of this house that we can assume it was based on a real house in that location. Although the passage of time has likely reshaped this house into something different today, we still walked down the Old Rue Plumet, now called Rue Oudinot. We actually did manage to find a large gate, but there was no garden in sight. Turning the corner, we found another tall black gate with lots of greenery around it.

On Monday, I studied the maps to find the street where Marius and his grandfather lived (Rue des Filles du Calvaire), as well as Jean Valjean's apartment on Rue de l’Homme-Armé. Finding both of these locations proved to be fairly straightforward.

“The lodgings in Rue de l’Homme-Armé were situated overlooking a back yard, on the second floor, and comprised two bedrooms, a dining room and adjoining kitchen, and a room under the eaves with a trestle-bed that was allotted to Toussaint.”

— Les Misérables

Near the end of the novel when Jean Valjean is living alone, he walks to Marius and Cosette’s house daily. The happy couple lives with Marius’s grandfather, Monsieur Gillenormand, on Rue des Filles du Calvaire. Valjean is described as exiting his house on the St. Croix de la Bretonnerie side, then walking past Blancs Manteaux up to Rue Culture St. Catherine. He is said to turn left at Rue d’Écharpe onto Rue St. Louis. Valjean continues along this road until he nears the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, where he turns around to head back home. Although there are some gaps in Hugo’s route, we have enough information to trace a possible route that Valjean could have taken.

On Wednesday, we began our walk by finding the approximate location of Valjean’s house on Rue de l’Homme-Armé. We discovered that the modern name for this street is Rue des Archives, and we made our way up this street. We turned onto Rue des Blancs Manteaux, near what used to be the Blancs Manteaux monastery.

We stopped at the Victor Hugo museum in Place des Vosges along the way to try to gain a glimpse into Hugo’s life. I most enjoyed seeing the painting of Jean Valjean helping Cosette lift her water bucket, which was the scene in the book where Valjean met Cosette for the first time.  Seeing this reminder of their relationship made me realize how sad Valjean must have felt stumbling through these streets. He deeply missed Cosette, who for so many years had been his reason to keep going and do good in the world.

We did not finish the walk all the way to Monsieur Gillenormand’s house on Rue des Filles du Calvaire, because one of our group felt faint in the heat - but our failure to complete the walk was actually more true to Jean Valjean’s experience following this route. Marius, believing it best for Jean Valjean and his criminal past to stay far away from him and Cosette, had made Valjean feel alienated from the family. Valjean’s hopelessness caused his walks to become shorter and shorter until he no longer even left his bedroom. Similar to Jean Valjean, we did not walk all the way to the place where Marius and Cosette lived.

Transitioning from mapping residences to mapping the events that took place in the Latin Quarter, we started off by locating Café Musain. The café was used as a meeting place for the Friends of the ABC, the fictional student revolutionary group that met to discuss politics and life.

“They met in Paris in two places, near Les Halles in a tavern called the Corinthe, of which we shall hear more later, and near the Panthéon in a little café on Rue St-Michel called Café Musain, which has now been pulled down.”

— Les Misérables

Even though the café is located on Rue St-Michel, the Friends of the ABC were said to have met in a back room with a staircase that led to Rue des Grès. I found the little Rue des Grès right near the Luxembourg Gardens, another key book location.

In our afternoon bookpacking for this section of the novel, we strolled around the Latin Quarter before locating the site of the Café Musain. The Latin Quarter was really neat to explore. With university buildings, small restaurants, and narrow streets, I could imagine Marius walking around the area as a young man. He would have walked into the back room of Café Musain, listening in on the Friends of the ABC as they talk politics. There is no longer a café on the corner of the old Rue des Grés and Rue St-Michel, but we stopped at the nearest café for an afternoon snack.

Being able to map these locations and routes before we go out to explore has really helped immerse me in the bookpacking experience. Every mapping exercise is like a little scavenger hunt, and I can’t wait to continue walking the streets of Paris, tracing the steps taken by characters in Les Misérables.

Our Deepest Fear Is Not That We Are Inadequate...

We arrived in Paris last Sunday. As I was on the Eurostar I continued to reflect on my experience in London. In doing so, I started to draw some more insights and connections about how the novels we are reading related to my lived experience in the place we were now leaving. But, as I find myself in Paris I see myself in the same reflective state as I was on the Eurostar. The only difference is I am no longer in a transitory state as I remain stagnant in one country.

I don’t particularly know what I was expecting from Paris, except greatness. As we read a Tale of Two Cities and Les Miserables, both novels spend the majority of the setting in Paris. Of course, both novels illustrate the intricacies and depth of human suffering, but they are also exceptional literary classics. Paris remains a hub of excellence where renowned authors, playwrights, artists, and philosophers come to experience life. And so, when I say I was expecting nothing except greatness from Paris, perhaps I was setting myself up for failure. How can one expect greatness, yet remain naive enough to not specify the parameters of what constitutes greatness for you?

In this way, I oddly feel that this internal dilemma relates much to the struggle of Sydney Carton. He is a man capable of greatness, and yet his own inability to recognize his talents leaves him constantly at the mercy of exploitation by Stryver. And so, as I roam the streets of Paris, I wonder to myself. I see so much to marvel at. There are chic restaurants at every corner, there are niche shopping stores, and the buildings remain so quaint, and yet I cannot help but feel as though I am just touching the surface. There is greatness lurking somewhere in Paris and yet I have yet to uncover it.

Where will I find it? I am not sure. I have no idea. Perhaps I will find it in the city lights, or promising nightlife, or maybe in an unlikely friend. The possibilities are endless and at the same time wholly unknown. And what makes this most frightening is that I remain the master of my own fate. Will I cower like Sydney Carton at the immense responsibility that is pushing forward direction in one’s own life, or shall I fly?

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.”

The first time I heard this quote was while watching Akeelah in Bee as a small 10-year-old girl. It was a poignant scene for me then, and eleven years later still remains as such, feeling even more applicable to my life now. As I reflect on the character of Sydney Carton during my first few days in Paris, I find that his narrative arch is intrinsically linked with the notion of responsibility. But the question with both Sydney Carton and myself, remains a responsibility to whom?

For Sydney Carton, his self-deprecating nature showed how little he thought of himself. Was he afraid of life itself or was he afraid of himself? For me, I see the greatness in Paris. I am aware of it. And yet, I remain paralyzed in actively seeking it. Am I afraid of life itself or am I afraid of myself? Perhaps the answer is both. On one end, I almost want to save Paris, so I can always savor the anticipation I once held about one day of visiting the city. But, on another end, I know that should I experience the city as much as I know I am capable of, I will change in some formative way.

At this moment, I suppose both me and Sydney Carton are, at the root of it, simply afraid of growing. And, I think that is understandable. I choose to embrace this emotion and allow myself to recognize it in me fully. But, I refuse to allow it to consume me. I refuse to wallow in it. This same stubborn refusal is a fate I would have wished on Sydney Carton.

The French Lifestyle: living and appreciating(without AC)

Alors! We are in the city of love for this blog although I’m not quite sure if I’m feeling love in the air or if it’s just the lack of AC. In fact, Paris’s infrastructure in general seems to lack most modern conveniences like elevators and hot water. Not that I’m complaining, I did just live in USC dorms for a year. I think that this aspect of Parisian lifestyle intrigues me because its not just the apartments, but the city itself that feels like it missed the last century. Yellow limestone buildings with black rounded roofs seem to line every inch of this city. Modern buildings and those of before the 19th century are harder to find in the central areas.

In my isolation I looked out onto the view of a city that lacks much modern infrastructure, yet doesn’t feel old fashioned at all. In contrast to London, which did feel like it was paying homage to the past, Paris gives the effortless feeling of being “in fashion” regardless of what century it is. The people are dressed in pleasing aesthetics from head to toe with each accessory adding to the ensemble. They walk at casual paces, eat for hours, and go through life as if they are taking in every moment and savoring it. Part of the magic of visiting Paris is understanding this feeling and being able to “flâneur” through the streets. More than anything, it seems hat French people do not work or at least do not work in public. Every person seems focused on their leisure activity of choice, be it reading or biking. Cafe’s are places to sit back and have a cup of coffee with some nice conversation rather than a place to use your phone or focus on work.

I have found this to be a more relaxed way of living. Often in the US and other parts of the anglo-saxon world, we are immersed in a society that values work and productivity over enjoyment. Spending time not being productive is instead sometimes seen as a waste and the value of it is truly lost on many Americans. Things don’t need to be the most efficient or convenient. AC is not a comfort that Parisians need because they find happiness with the current state of things.

The enlightenment and its idea that every person has value was propagated during the French Revolution. It is interesting to compare what the French were fighting for in comparison to what Americans fought for. While the “no taxation without representation” model was heavily based on property and money in America, France wanted rights to allow every person to enjoy life. Yes, the constitution does grant rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but it feels like these rights are saved for those who work or have money/property. The lack of strong capitalistic influence in Paris furthers the representation of its values. Most restaurants and bakeries remain owned by citizens mastering their craft. They do not have the abundance of fast food and chains on every corner that eventually put family-owned spots out of business.

Moreover, the French find British and American societies to lack culture because we do not focus as much on the finer things in life or the simple pleasures. Unlike New York, where it feels like most things to do are centered around spending money, Paris’s beautiful streets are a joy to walk on their own. Sitting in a park, picnicking, and just strolling represent the true Parisian lifestyle. Edmund White explored this idea in his excerpt “The Flâneur”. In London, I was planning out things to do for every second I had of free time. I was finding myself maintaining a schedule and trying to fit as many things as possible into my day. In Paris, I started out wanting to achieve this, but it just became exhausting. My Anglo-Saxon tendencies didn’t fit the casual vibe within the city. As I spend more time here, I am adjusting to really enjoying the moments and soaking in all of the wonderment around me as my main method of tourism.

France operates on a more socialistic system today where people use their liberties to progress their society. It feels like the people in France are all part of one identity, whereas Americans seem more focused on individual economic liberty. Fighting for liberty was the center of Les Miserables, and the giving nature of Jean Valjean is something that shows the ideals that were respected or made to be respected in French society. It is apparent that the French have worked together to create a political system in which living is valued over working and many people are able to enjoy life. The right to live and flâneur about is something that is very valued by French society though it may be seen as a “waste of time” by someone of a more Anglo-Saxon mindset.

There were several gardens and open spaces in which I found French people to be relaxing and enjoying their time. They were enjoying each other’s company, snacking, or reading a book. It was impossible to find anyone on their phone or trying to complete work. This was especially true in the Luxembourg gardens, where Cosette and Marius met for the first time. As I walked there, I caught glances with other strangers flaneuring about, but unlike Marius and Cosette, I did not find any true love. The location shown for their connection felt rather magical though, and I could picture how one would find the love of their life in those gardens.

Overall, I have learned from my strolls in Paris to take in the beauty of the world and particularly the French architecture. Rather than be disappointed by the absence of certain modern luxuries, I am delighted to adapt into the French mindset and just appreciate that which exists.

French Opulence

Bonjour! I’ve had an incredible time exploring Paris over the past week, embracing the delicious food, rich culture, and stunning architecture. There is truly nothing better than flâneuring around the city, following your nose to a boulangerie, and successfully ordering a croissant in broken French. The French are really onto something with these pastries!

Aside from eating mouth-watering food, we’ve spent our morning seminars discussing the causes and events of the French Revolution, and after exploring Versailles yesterday, I fully sympathize with the revolutionaries.

Although the characters did not visit Versailles in A Tale of Two Cities, it represents a key cause of the revolution: class divides. The incredible opulence of the palace and surrounding gardens is enough to make anyone realize how unfair life must have been for everyone who was not at the very top of French society.

Walking through the town on the way to the château, there was nothing in particular that jumped out at me. It seemed like an ordinary and quiet country town. However, turning the corner onto Ave. de Paris, I found myself awestruck at the pure size of the Château de Versailles. It loomed over the town on its hill, and the golden gates glistened in the mid-morning sunlight.

We began our tour in the main château. Intricately carved statues lined long halls, and thick tapestries hung on the walls. Looking up, I marveled at the stunning frescoes that covered the ceilings in many of the rooms, most notably in the royal chapel.

To think that this residence was home to so few kings amazes me. While the nobility walked these gilded halls, the lower classes struggled to afford a stale piece of black bread. Dickens explored the ignorance of the aristocrats through the Marquis. The Marquis ran over a child without a second thought, throwing down a coin as an offering for the life he had just taken. Just as Versailles sits above the town on its little hill, the upper class thought themselves to be on a whole other level.

In order to immerse ourselves in the full opulence of Versailles, we stopped for some hot chocolate at Angelina. This was by far the richest and thickest hot chocolate I had ever had, and it paired perfectly with a dollop of Chantilly cream (which I learned was one of Marie Antoinette’s favorite toppings).

After our break, we continued our tour by exploring the sprawling gardens. Looking at a map of Versailles, the main château barely takes up any space. It is mainly dominated by the vast classical gardens. I struggled to wrap my head around the fact that this palace was actually someone’s home rather than an incredible tourist site. With around 2,300 rooms and 800 hectares of gardens, someone could probably spend months exploring Versailles.

Our first glimpse of France in A Tale of Two Cities is of the people desperately drinking spilled wine in front of Defarge’s wine shop. As I strolled through the gardens, I kept this image in mind. The desperation and poverty that Dickens conveyed through this sequence were starkly contrasted by the opulence of the gardens alone.

After walking for about two miles in the gardens, I finally came across the estate of Trianon. It consists of three main areas—the Grand Trianon, Petit Trianon, and Queen’s Hamlet. When someone stopped me to ask which one of the many surrounding châteaux belonged to Marie Antoinette, I paused before answering uncertainly: “I think all of them.”

Of course, pointing the finger at Marie Antoinette is similar to hating Madame Defarge. They were both products of their upbringing, with Marie Antoinette being brought into this society and Madame Defarge being shaped by her family’s tragic past. Marie Antoinette is often seen as a prime example of the opulence of the upper class, but she is just one of the many nobles who prospered at the expense of the lower classes. It truly is no wonder the tension between the upper and lower classes boiled up to the point of revolution.

Jumping to the modern day, it is mind-boggling that monarchies still exist today. While I understand that the class divide in these countries is not nearly as wide as the class divide in revolutionary France, it is still odd to consider that a person can hold so much power over a country simply based on their ancestry. Versailles is not unique in its opulence—plenty of other palaces around the world are still occupied by the nobility. This leads me to question whether all monarchies are headed towards their end as our world continues to modernize.

As we have learned through Les Misérables, the abolishment of the monarchy in France did not necessarily put an end to all the issues the country was facing. A new order still had to be established. We will be diving into Les Misérables this week, and it will be interesting to explore the outcomes of the revolution, what came next, and how successful it was in breaking down class divides. À bientôt!

Attention Aux Pickpockets !

In 2003, singer-songwriter John Darnielle, better known by his alias “The Mountain Goats” was in Paris for the MOFO festival, and was told out of nowhere that he was to record a new song, which he had not written, nor prepared for. On the wall of the studio he saw a sign, “Attention Aux Pickpockets!”, a purposeful mistranslation of which would yield the title of the song, “Attention all Pickpockets”, a short and bittersweet ballad about two people parting ways from a relationship fueled by hard drugs and the very heights of passion. It currently holds a place of high honor as my favorite song.

“So there I go, not the same person that you used to know
Peeking through the fish-eye lens at you

And the coronet blows
Where the oleander grows
And us two, not the same people that our old friends knew

And so down the street, you head, in the high summer heat”

— "Attention All Pickpockets", The Mountain Goats

There is a purposeful obscurity to the song, as Darnielle said in 2007 at a concert in New York, that when you are an indie artist sometimes you have to do things that are “contrary to your own purpose”. Even though it is worthy of being an album, or even a single, the song only exists on the B-side of the CD release of a single called “Letter from Belgium” from the album We Shall All Be Healed, and as a result it isn’t available on any streaming service except Youtube, where it was uploaded by a fan. I’ve looked for a copy of the CD online, but the only listing is from a seller in Belgium, for 4 dollars and 98 cents, who cannot ship to the United States. Its obscurity gives the song an undeniable charm, a kind of status as a hidden gem, and leaning into this kind of paradox, of occasionally going against my own instincts as an artist, in the hope that I end up with something I didn’t even know I was capable of.

I can’t really pinpoint what it is I love so much about this song. It just has this kind of rarefied aura of wistfulness that I associate with my own summer nostalgias and departed friendships. There’s a particular line, “And so down the street / you head, in the high summer heat”. Something about Darnielle’s work has always reflected my Los Angeles upbringing, despite gaps in time and distance (he spent most of his childhood and teenage years in Claremont, in the east, while I was all the way west in Calabasas. But I think there is something about that shimmering high summer heat that is so particular to Los Angeles that is like an emotional sinew between people.

Sitting in my Parisian apartment, writing this, the high summer heat is written on the sweat-dripping backs, the open windows and more than anything in the tranquil Sunday lethargy of the late afternoon. I can trace this heat back to so many memories, bathed in golden light, and I can trace it back to this song, “Attention All Pickpockets”. I have my own gallery of rogues with whom I’ve whiled away the summer evenings. This is the same Parisian high summer that inspired the lyric which when I first heard it, brought me visions of our shared valleys back in California.

There is also something about the title which speaks to me in a strange way. I’ve never picked a pocket in my life, but the idea of a sign which calls out to the people who are normally warned against, to outcasts and misfits, has a certain poetic resonance. This kind of message is a recurrent theme in Darnielle’s work. Many of his albums, probably most prominently 2008’s Heretic Pride, contain themes of pariahdom and the psychological burden of the outsider. But strangely, the role of the outsider is one of the most universally shared. I believe almost everyone has been put on the margin at some point, or has at least felt that way. So when the call goes out, “Attention All Pickpockets”, more heads would rise than one might expect.

My apartment in the 16th arrondissement is right near the Eiffel Tower, and so on a casual stroll down the Pont d’Iena I see plenty of “Attention Aux Pickpockets !” signs. Then I look around for a second and think about who might be the one to pick my pocket, then I expand my mind a little bit and think, who might my fellow pickpockets be? Who might be sharing this experience with me? What kindred spirit walks along this bridge over this glass-green river, who I never even had a chance of knowing, and who, as we part might look at the back of my head walking down the street just moments after I turned to look at theirs?

Going Beyond the Map

We have progressed to the stage of class that involves mapping the locations we are reading about in our books. For both A Tale of Two Cities and Les Miserables, it is an advantageous way to bring the sites to life. Reading about the walk Sydney Carton takes around Paris or the garden that Jean Valjean and Cosette frequent is one thing, but seeing it in real life is another. We have mapped both specific locations and journeys of characters, and both are rewarding in their own way. 

“Then the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if creation were delivered over to Death’s dominion.”

— A Tale of Two Cities pg. 327

One of my favorite parts to track was Sydney Carton’s final journey in A Tale of Two Cities before he was executed in Charles Darnay’s place. The section of the book was incredibly moving and beautiful. Carton is one of my favorite characters, and watching his development from a depressed and aimless man to one who has found his purpose in saving others is lovely. In his final journey around the Seine, you can see how far he has come.

      We have not walked this exact passage yet, but we did walk the paths of the tumbrils as they brought Carton to the guillotine. The walk was done in broad daylight, which may slightly detract from the introspective state it should put you in. However, the view was gorgeous as we passed the Louvre, the Palais Royale, and Place de la Concorde. After reading the book, each location feels tinged with years of pain. It was difficult to imagine the horror of the French Revolution given how far removed we are from it. Reading A Tale of Two Cities almost seemed to enhance this sense of distance as we saw the events as a backdrop to the stories of fictional characters rather than just learning about it. However, walking the path made it more real.

       Dickens tends to focus on individual characters and events through their eyes rather than just recounting historical events. The impact of this is twofold. It can make the actual events much easier to understand because you can see them from a human perspective. However, this human perspective offers certain limitations. You can never achieve an objective idea about historical events because of the limitations of the character you see it through. I am a big subscriber of perspectivism. I don’t think it’s possible for any of us to access a truly objective perspective on an event because all our thoughts and experiences are filtered through our past. As a chemistry major, I believe in some truths, but the vast majority of facts are inaccessible to us because we mirror the world through our human perception. As a result, we can never truly understand the reality of something because our own views and ideas limits us. Therefore, as I revisit these mapped locations I am forced to rethink my interpretation of them. When reading, I saw the walk along the Seine through the perspective of Carton, the tumbril’s path through the view of the revolutionaries, and the route across France through Darnay’s interpretation. Now that we visit these places in person, I have to see how my perspective and interpretations shape these. 

      As I walked past the Louvre and Palais Royale, I tended to pay more attention to superficial things. I noticed the architectural style, the crowds of people, and the general grandeur. I thought more about how the sheer opulence of the palace must have been leagues away from what 95% of the population of France experienced. Everything that stood out to me and what I thought of it was shaped by what we had studied in class and what I’ve learned about the French Revolution. This starkly contrasts what is focused on in A Tale of Two Cities.

“Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh.”

— A Tale of Two Cities pg. 385

     A Tale of Two Cities captures the horror of the tumbrils while also capturing how numb people have become to it. These revolutionaries are so used to seeing this spectacle that they hardly bat an eye. Their perspective has been dramatically altered by how regular this level of violence has become. The people are dissociated from what this really means for the revolution and themselves. If I were shipped back to 1792 right now to watch the passing carts, I would not react the same. This is, however, a moot point because I didn’t experience the years of oppression and injustice the revolutionaries did. I didn’t feel the purity in the initial goals of the people and how it twisted its way into violence and vengeance. All of this to say I will never experience these locations the way Dickens or Hugo wants them to be because I never lived the life of an eighteenth century peasant. Despite this, there is still much I can take from the experience regarding how I see the world. Since everything I see reveals my own views of the world, this bookpacking trip offers a unique opportunity to reflect on what preconceptions I have and how these might limit me. It is so easy to get lost in our own mindset and views that we lose sight of the fact that everything is so much more complicated than we think. I think literature and travel overlap in the ways they help people step out of their own perspectives. They are some of the rare ways to see the world in a new light, and I hope to take advantage of the opportunity and how it challenges my own perspectives.

“Flâneur-ing” Around Paris

Humor me for a moment and let me describe what my typical day this summer back in the Chicago suburbs (where I live) would look like.

It starts at around 9 or 10 AM when I’ve woken up without an alarm by the sheer power of sunlight. I get up on my own time, slowly making my way to the shower, and then get ready for the day ahead. What exactly I’m going to do today, I don’t know, but I know I will be leaving the house. My family, already awake and similarly aimless in their direction for the day, are ready to go, so we leave the house and walk. We’re not sure where we want to go, but we walk around knowing we want to be anywhere but home. On our walk, we pass through Starbucks and grab a coffee. We sit around for a bit, enjoying each other’s company while feeling the breeze of a well-earned Chicago summer. My stomach begins to growl at around 12 PM and I realize the only thing I’ve put in my stomach today is an iced coffee. We get up from our seats and go across the street to the local market, grabbing a semi-fresh baguette to take home. On the walk home, we give into the temptation that the smell of bread exudes, eating a third of the baguette before we’ve reached the front door of our house. After eating our midday brunch concoction, we get in the car to do pretty much the same thing in a new area. I enjoy this sense of aimlessness at home during the summer, as there’s not much that I need to get done, and it’s always a needed dose of quality time spent together.

A photo I took earlier this year of my mom and older brother at Starbucks. Can you tell I’m a little homesick?

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A silly Tiktok I made in June exactly describes my wish to live “like a Parisian”.

This week, one of our assigned texts, The Flâneur by Edmund White, caught me by surprise as it seemed to describe my family’s silly pastime back home as a quintessential Parisian ideal. So much so in fact, that as I read it I laughed audibly to myself. I find it so funny that my family and I walk around our American, un-walkable suburb pretending we’re Parisians. I mean, how hilariously pathetic is that image?

I like poking fun at my family for how we make our American lives as “European” as we can and find it especially comical that as much as we try to get fresh bread, or sit in cute coffee shops, at the end of the day we are in America, and the best we’re gonna get is Starbucks and some semi-stale baguettes.

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““The flâneur is in search of experience, not knowledge. Most experience ends up interpreted as – and replaced by – knowledge, but for the flâneur the experience remains somehow pure, useless, raw.” ”

— Edmund White

In the text, White describes a flâneur as a Parisian who walks around with no goal in mind, taking in the sights and smells of Paris as they come.

So, with the spirit of a natural American flâneur, I’m making it a goal to experience Paris in this unique way. After each of our excursions, I’ve been exploring the area we end in as a flâneur. So much so, that my fellow bookpackers and I have dubbed the experience as “flâneur-ing”. It may be sacrilege to the Academie de Francais, but “flâneur-ing” has now become a verb among us bookpackers. For example, I’ll say to someone, “Do you wanna go flâneur-ing around a bit?” and they’ll know exactly what I mean.

After class on Thursday, Ian and I went “flâneur-ing” in the 6th arrondissement for a bit, and it’s been one of my favorite experiences in our travels so far. We simply went wherever our eyes took us, letting our curiosities take the front seat. We walked into some of the most eclectic boutiques I’ve ever seen— everything from trendy cashmere sweaters to jewelry stores to calligraphy shops hiding in every corner.

My fake definition for “flâneur-ing”

A Jewellery shop we found which was featured in the TV show Bridgerton!

We “flâneur-ed” exactly as Edmund White described, so much so that we even forgot to eat during the several hours we were exploring. The text references a “great literary flâneur” named Walter Benjamin. He says that “‘Frequently the flâneur is tired, having forgotten to eat despite the myriad cafes inviting him or her to come in, relax and partake of a drink or a snack: Like an ascetic animal he roams through unknown neighbourhoods until he collapses, totally exhausted, in the foreign, cold room that awaits him.’”

I can assure you that our stomachs were aching as we walked around— yet it didn’t matter to us. The chance of discovery and surprise at every corner was enough to keep us motivated beyond our natural instincts. The city of Paris can sometimes be too exciting to stop at a café!

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For those who do sit and stop at cafés, though, it seems that wasting time is a non-issue. I think what has surprised me the most about Paris is just how much it is like everything it’s made out to be. You look at cafés and people are just sitting there—no laptops open, phones out—and I’m not even talking about technology—people aren’t even reading. They’re simply looking out at the street, taking in the world around them while conversing with whoever’s around. There’s an air of leisure here that is rare back home. As an American, it’s quite baffling.

I assume Parisians just know how to balance their work and their free time— giving each aspect of life its own moment to shine. I’d like to take that philosophy back to USC with me. In college, I’ve struggled with partitioning my time so that I can relax and get work done separately. I bring my homework with me everywhere, and it creates an atmosphere that makes work loom over me at all times. When I get back to USC, I’d like to set time away for leisure; a time where I can connect with others and the world around me— without having the stress of homework surrounding me at all times.

And in time, when I can’t remember my time in Paris as clearly, I can always think of my family— “flâneur-ing” around our suburb, living life like Parisians no matter where we are.

What Exactly are We Looking for?

When we go to another place, what are we hoping to find? I guess it depends on who we are and what we value. Do we want to see different things? Feel different air? I think, to an extent, when we travel we are looking for simple variety, but in a place like this, like Paris, I think there is something more at stake. After all, what is the mythology of this place? There is more than steel and stone on the banks of the Seine. It is a city of intellectual vibrancy probably unmatched through the entire world.

Photo provided by parisjazzclub.net

The other day we went to St. Germain de Pres in the 6th arrondissement of Paris and we came across Les Deux Magots, a self-proclaimed “Café Littéraire”. It is an image I am deeply familiar with, of the exchange of ideas, of the coffee-steamed air practically electrified by great minds. The great minds of the 20th century gathered here. For the first time I got more than just a hazy image of the places these people I admire frequented in Paris. And past the initial reference towards this place, I found it to be just another cafe. It was in a beautiful area, but there wasn’t anything particularly inspiring or enervating about the place itself.

In the garden of Eugene Delacroix, near Les Deux Magots

I realized, then, that these communities of intellectuals whose works have made me cry and laugh and lose sleep were not indeed attracted to Les Deux Magots. They were attracted to each other. Many of the people I am thinking of were expats (James Joyce, Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein) who, to come here, had to forsake their home countries and the familiarity and safety those places bring, all in the name of finding likeminded people. I am comforted by this idea of intellectual communities as centered around people, instead of places. It makes me think that of all the wonderfully smart, lively, courageous people I have surrounded myself with, we have created our own little circle of minds in Los Angeles. There is nothing inherent about Paris that makes these kinds of ideas possible (or if there is, it’s probably negligible), but there is a spirit of freedom that we must allow ourselves to have. Because of this mythology, it can be easy to say that the ideas born here have extra weight. But it is a fact in the birth of the ideas that they must be allowed to hold their whole weight. One must allow for the risk of minor pretension to let the truly genius ideas be set free. One must never equivocate or shut themselves down through doubt. The greatest inhibition towards intellectual freedom is self-doubt, and to be immersed in a place like Paris, to be counted among such a people, I don’t know how anyone could doubt themselves.

Imprisoned in Paris

Visiting the Conciergerie was quite interesting. I was able to make connections to the U.S. as well as Dickens. Walking in you are greeted with space and stone walls. The architecture is quite amazing. Reading how prisoners had to pay for their beds despite being arrested is mind-boggling to me. It shows how the French Govt had little empathy for its people and suffered from greed. Another interesting fact I learned was that all classes no matter their rank in society were held there. On average, an estimate of 3% of the total population was from the nobility. In thinking of today’s criminal justice system, the concierge could be loosely related to the general population within jails or prisons. It is a mix between the two but mostly comparable to jails. Those in the Conciergerie committed crimes from various levels and were all awaiting trial or sentencing. In similarity, those in jail are awaiting trial or held on minor crimes resulting in sentencing of less than a year. Consequently, the majority of classifications in jail fall under gen pop. Gen pop can be described as confined, loud, and dirty. Inmates are housed in bunk beds positioned side by side, enclosed by one door. Furthermore, to paint the picture of this lovely housing, as of 2021 California’s total prison population alone was 647,200 people alone. During the reign of terror, between 1793-1795 an estimate of 2700 people were detained in the la Conciergerie while awaiting their death. That is a lot for this time period. Standing inside and reading about their treatment, I could not help but think about Charles Darnay. He must’ve been going through a series of emotions including, fear, disgust, and defeat. After renouncing his family and living an “honest life” and having a family this is what his life has come to. Imagine having to sacrifice the comfortable living of your wife and kids to pay for meals/beds in a slump. How pathetic! Moreover, moving on to Sydney and his great sacrifice. His walk from this hell to the road of redemption through the tumbrils. Interesting Dickens’s idea of redemption is death, however, death can be transcending. For Sydney, it is, his sacrifice is classified as his rebirth. Spiritually, it’s the end of one cycle and the beginning of another but I digress. Taking the journey to the guillotine was excruciating. It felt like a mile but imagine the scorching sun, people spitting, yelling, and throwing food at you. How Miserable! All because the majority had a difference in opinions. On top of that, you are going to literally get your head chopped off. No mercy. I empathize with Mr.Carton. For him to remain that strong, knowing what’s at the end of the journey shows true growth in self-awareness and confidence. 

An interesting point, I may bring up through our stroll is that France is highly religious. An estimate of 60% of the population identify as catholic. There are numerous amounts of churches, chapels, and cathedrals within the city. I also noticed the street names derive from catholicism. Upon walking into these places of worship, one is greeted with stunning architecture as well as paintings. All deriving from catholic ideology. It is truly beautiful but I can’t help but think of a recurring theme: religion as a social construct used to define superiority, inferiority, and gender roles. I say this with respect to all religions, however, I must make this point. Reflecting on Lucie and Madame Defarge's characters they serve as polar opposites. Lucie is considered to have the Angelic domestic role as a wife and parent. She has little thought and is expected to support her husband without any apprehensions. She strokes the ego of all male characters and sees the good in all. She is simply a woman without her own thoughts. Whereas Mdme Defrage is depicted as a blood-thirsty woman who sees revenge as the only option. To further this point of religious superiority, throughout the novel, Dickens mentions slaves in conversation with the old regime. During the time period, of A Tale of Two Cities, I’m interested to explore more of Dickens’s thought process in writing this novel. Is he thinking about religion? Is he thinking about slavery? Misogyny? What’s going on in his brain?

A Modern Take on Parisian Flaneurs

Continuing this journey as a book packer, I am becoming increasingly engulfed in the novels we are reading in class. It is now easier for me to empathize with each character. As we walk, stroll through the places they have been. Personally, Paris has made this connection for me seamless due to the flaneur lifestyle. In this short week as a flaneur, I have learned so much. I say revolt is the answer! First, I would like to talk about the French lifestyle and then move on to three experiences that made me reach this conclusion. Coming from Los Angeles where everything is moving at a fast pace has me questioning. In the states why are we pushed towards imposter syndrome, to hustle and bustle, with no days off? Whereas the French enjoy life and all it has to offer. As I am walking down the streets, people are laughing, smoking, and eating. It is so calming here, very much a leisure lifestyle that I want to learn more about. The piece by Edmund White speaks to the lifestyle of the French Flaneur or the flaneuse. He describes them as a “ mirror as huge as the crowd–or to a kaleidoscope outfitted with a consciousness that at every shake of the tube copies configuration of multifarious life and the graceful movement of all its elements.”( 1). Thinking of Gavroche, he offers so much experience to the novel Les Miserables. The young child is our inside look into the gritty life of Paris. He is the Gamin, the wanderer, the flaneur. Paris is his playground. He is forced to grow up because he is living on the streets but he also uses this to his advantage. He has acquired a great knowledge of street smarts. I instantly think of the chapter where he takes care of his brothers and shows them the ropes.My mind thinks of the homeless or even the scam artists walking the streets. The homeless make up 44% of Paris’s population, a little less than half. One could argue this is a loose comparison but very much accurate. They are the modern-day flaneurs or adult gamins. I say this with no negative connotation added. Several times I have had people come up to me and try to run a scam whether it was a lost coin, ring, or petition. In addition compared to London, there are more homeless visible on the streets. These two groups are one subset of the flaneur lifestyle. Like Gavroche, they see Paris for what she truly is outside of the glitz and glamor– the fine dining and fashion–. Both were failed by the system of some sort and have had to overcome a majority of challenges.  Although sad, we can look at this in a positive light and change our view of this community just as readers began to love Gavroche. Through this observation, one question struck me: what's going on in the world today? What is going on with the French economy? How are the taxes?

Exercising Empathy to Access the Past

I ended my last blog with a question: 

What personal insights can I draw from the bookpacking experience when I consider the authors’ and characters’ experiences, hopes, disappointments, and especially fears when seeing the sites?

I tried to keep this question in mind the last couple days as we bookpacked Paris for A Tale of Two Cities. In the last few days, we found La Force, the prison where Charles Darnay was held, and walked the route Sydney Carton took in the tumbril towards his execution. We also visited the Conciergerie where Darnay was held and tried. Each of these routes and buildings are now repurposed. La Force is now sort of hidden in a shopping street, only marked by a plaque. The route Sydney was taken on is a wide shopping road; we walked from the Louvre to the Tuileries and passed numerous souvenir shops and nearly got run over a few times by busy Parisians. The only place that really commemorated the Revolution of 1789 and the Terror was the Conciergerie which is now a museum.

As I was walking through these areas, I tried to imagine how Darnay would have felt. It was harder for me to empathize with him when we were standing in front of La Force than when we were in the Conciergerie. The efforts made by the museum to preserve a sense of the events that occurred there went a long way towards helping me get a feel for the significance of the complex. I did visit the Conciergerie about six weeks ago and when I say I breezed through it, I mean I played the Rick Steve audio guide, read most of the informational blurbs, and got literally nothing from it. I glanced into the room with the list of names of people killed from the Conciergerie but nothing stuck with me. This time around, I was much more intentional about my visit. I really tried to think about how Darnay and Dickens might have experienced the space. I felt a sense of injustice and confinement in the overwhelmingly thick walls, even all these years later. Using the museum guide really helped me visualize how crammed the cells were and increased my feelings of unfairness that Darnay had to pay for his meals in prison. I really tried to use my attachment to Darnay to better understand the space, and I got a much deeper experience of it than the first time I went. So for me, my connection to the humans who occupied the space made the history more accessible to me. 

The museum technology made it easier to envision the prisoners’ situation.

Similarly, when we were walking the path Sydney Carton took to his execution, I tried to imagine the fear he must have felt, traveling such a long distance, knowing the fate that awaited him. The Terror was aptly named; I imagine he must have been terribly afraid despite his resolve. 

My experience of being in the Conciergerie and tumbril path made me reflect on the relationship between remembrance of history and empathy. The more I thought about it, I realized that I was empathizing with fictional characters. And even though Darnay wasn’t a real person, my attachment to him still piqued my interest in the place he was held and the events he survived. My sympathy for Carton led me to a more personal connection to the Terror, an individual-level view rather than an impersonal statistical overview. Standing in the room of names in the Conciergerie this time around, I was struck by the realization that all of these people are real, with narratives every bit as compelling as Darnay’s. Yet to hear their stories I would have had to specifically look them up in the database. 

This reminded me of our class discussion about how novels make history more accessible, even if it’s less accurate. Because it’s interesting! So my reflections on history and empathy within and outside of the novel really cemented for me that the novelist has an important role to inspire people to look into the real lives of people. Even if they aren’t super accurate, they still make sure that the people in history aren’t forgotten and act as footholds for an exploration into the past.

Unbothered

First view of the Eiffel Tower!

Bienvenue a Paris, the city of lights, love, and lukewarm water, or “carafe d’eau,” as those of us looking for free water at some of Paris’ finest establishments call it. As we were welcomed with 95℉ heat, we quickly realized free water is a rarity we Americans take for granted. In my search for water, I have encountered the many, many differences between the French and American cultures that are painfully apparent to foreign visitors to Paris.

Aside from overpriced bottled water, one of the first aspects of Paris that jumped out at me was the cafes, for two reasons: their sheer number and their configuration. An intricate, beautifully designed labyrinth of cafes provides an almost perfect image of Paris to the unfamiliar since it seems that there are more cafes than people at times. Uniquely French, they offer coffee, pastries, and quick meals for Parisians and tourists alike seeking refuge from the busy streets of Paris. Perhaps what is most unique about these cafes is their emphasis on outdoor seating, most of which with street-facing chairs. While easy to overlook, it is very obvious that at a table of two, rather than being sat across from one another, the chairs are arranged next to each other. While a small detail, this reveals a unique aspect of the French culture that we lack in America, focusing on the other.

“Looking at people go by has always been the Parisians’ favourite pastime; no wonder they’re called gawkers.”

— qtd. in The Flâneur

As Americans, we are taught that staring and/or commenting on others is rude and not to be done in public, however, in Paris it seems tolerated and even encouraged within these cafes. While I could certainly appreciate the activity of people watching coming from a Mexican background, my American background came into conflict with this aspect of French society. To simply sip your coffee with a friend at a cafe and comment on those passing by is a leisure activity for the French, their affinity for the simple activities and pleasures of life. Not only are people watching something you notice in cafes, but in restaurants, museums, and the metro, where wandering eyes are the status quo in Paris. While this is a welcome change from America and its 51st state (London), there is certainly a level of culture shock that comes with understanding the way the French perceive others. The greater Anglo-Saxon culture places a huge emphasis on the self, whether it be the way you speak, your demeanor in public, or your professional goals. We as Americans are taught to constantly be aware of how we present ourselves in public, manifesting in a surplus of self-awareness to the point of self-censorship. This lack of self-censorship is exactly what the French culture celebrates and what attracts people from all over the world to Paris. From the cigarettes, public displays of affection, and heated arguments, the Parisians have allowed themselves a sort of emotional freedom that much of the West has seemed to have lost along the way. This style of living is liberating in the sense that Parisians seem unbothered about the facets of life that are central to American society. Unbothered by tardiness. Unbothered by distance. Unbothered by stares. All of these amount to aspects of our society creates significant institutions back in America, yet to the French are nothing but distractions to enjoying the minutiae of life and the beauty that surrounds them. This brought me to perhaps my favorite new term, activity, and state of being: The Flâneur.

“It’s an immense pleasure to take up residence in multiplicity, in whatever is seething, moving, evanescent and infinite: you’re not at home, but you feel at home everywhere; you see everyone, you’re at the centre of everything yet you remain hidden from everybody.”

— Baudelaire qtd. in The Flâneur

This aspect of French society has been perhaps the most beautiful part of experiencing Paris thus far and has truly changed my perspective on how I occupy my time throughout the day. Despite growing up and currently living in the relatively relaxed, laid-back Southern California culture, there has always been a certain pressure in terms of how I spend my time. This has become even more relevant entering a competitive degree program at a prestigious university, where it seems that even my recreational time should somehow contribute to my personal or professional goals. However, the beauty of "flâneuring" is the emphasis on simply walking to walk, seeing to see, and existing to exist. While this may seem an oversimplification, to flâneur is to let your surroundings guide you and take the backseat and enjoy the world that passes you. Practicing this art in Paris has allowed me to enjoy this city on a deeper level than I expected, opening my eyes to the little aspects of their city that I wouldn't have seen otherwise. Children playing tag in the park, families gleefully encountering massive stuffed teddy bears that seemed to be interspersed throughout Paris, and the generosity extended towards street performers are just a few of the pleasures I have encountered while flâneuring in this beautiful city.

“Americans are particularly ill-suited to be flâneurs. They’re good at following books outlining architectural tours of Montparnasse or at visiting scenic spots outside Paris.”

— The Flâneur: A Stroll Through the Paradoxes of Paris

Despite the above quote about Americans, I truly hope to implement flâneuring into my regular lifestyle, not just when traveling, but simply exploring the streets of San Diego back home or Los Angeles during the school year. To flâneur is truly one of the most rewarding yet simple activities to partake in alone, with friends, or alongside strangers. And for that, to flâneur is truly to be a part of Paris no matter where you may be. With all that being said, flâneur away!

Forays into Parisian Cuisine

For my blog post about London, I fit in the spectacular food scene with my discussions about the culture and experience of the city. The Parisian food scene, however, deserves its own post. It is impossible to come here and not feel the deep love and appreciation Parisians have for their country. The flâneur is a word created solely to describe just strolling through Paris and enjoying the city. Another very common activity is popping in at one of the many cafes and sitting outside to people-watch. No city has this much appreciation for itself. This idea extends to the food. Parisians hold deep regard for their food, and it shows. I have never had a disappointing meal, and most meals have been fantastic. The quality of the food speaks for itself. At every patisserie or boulangerie, you can see an artful display of bread and pastries. Everything looks so appetizing, and you can tell the owner/workers deeply respect what they are doing and do not take it lightly. Finding a disappointing coffee or croissant in the United States is easy. Everything in France is made with the most care and attention to detail. Food is such a substantial portion of the culture that even something as small as a croissant is treated as important.

Food is a central part of Parisian culture, and this shows in the quality of French food as well as the way meals are treated. I have visited Paris before, so this part was not new to me. Meals are treated as a whole event. It is so common in the US to skip breakfast, work through lunch, and snag a quick takeout dinner on the way home. We are a culture centered around productivity and work. France is far different. Meals are often several hours in length and often consist of multiple courses. Breakfast may consist of a small croissant or pastry, but it is still regularly eaten at a cafe while people-watching. Lunch is a larger meal usually accompanied by drinks and hours of talking. Dinner is somehow bigger. I commonly see people sitting outside a restaurant and ordering several rounds of drinks, eating, ordering more drinks, and maybe a coffee or dessert at the end. This takes hours and lasts well into the night. I love this because it makes eating feel so communal. It is a place to get together and enjoy each other’s company. I think we have lost this in the US, so it is pleasant to see a country appreciate how food can bring people together. It is so fun to participate with my friends as we step into this culture and style of consumption. Taking a step away from the suffocating air of productivity in the US has been a good way to recharge and explore a new environment.

A lot of the importance of food also derives from the importance Parisians place on leisure. This again diverges from the US, which tends to demonize taking time for oneself. Parisians regularly engage in leisure activities and take time away from work. This shows in the massive skincare industry in France, as well as the way food is treated. It is treated as a space to get away from work and it lasts several hours (though I’m not sure how workers have the time to do so) and takes up a good portion of the day. Every street is lined with cafes and restaurants, usually filled with people lounging and drinking. Les Miserables conveys this Parisian attitude in subtle ways. The meeting of Cosette and Marius only happens when they are both taking long walks and strolling through the Luxembourg gardens. Cosette goes on this walk with her father every day. They stroll along and enjoy themselves and each other. Food is not at the forefront of Les Miserables (a lack of it plays a bigger role), but the cultural attitudes that affect the food scene can be seen. It is so hard to relate to this, but I can attempt to emulate this blasé attitude. I originally took this state of leisure as a mere cultural quirk, but a conversation we had in class changed my attitude about its roots.

During a discussion about the ending of A Tale of Two Cities, Professor Chater probed us about what the revolutionaries of 1789 were really fighting for. Liberty and equality? Revenge? Justice? He argued that they were fighting for the banal state of just enjoying life without worry. Many of us have come to look down on the sort of apple pie / white picket fence life. The revolutionaries were fighting for the freedom to live and make life as boring as you would like. This thought really struck me. The life of leisure that Parisians enjoy is hard-won and costly. Thousands died so that the Parisians were able to live without fear of the oppression that crushed the majority of the country for hundreds of years. The food culture in Paris is an extension of this, but the cultural attitudes toward leisure are something to be proud of. It speaks to the strength of the french in working toward what they want. Just being able to sit out and enjoy the beautiful city around you is exactly what the forefathers dreamed would come of France. I think this way of sitting in the moment and finding beauty in the mundane is all any of us can hope to achieve.

Stout-Hearted Sacrifice

Palais-Royal and its Garden

A marvelous sight of today’s excursion

During our seminar today, we’ve done something that we haven’t done just yet. While we were down to just 8 students, we spent over an hour discussing A Tale of Two Cities and analyzing its characters and Dickens’ choices. We discussed Lucie and her role as this symbolic literary figure– “the golden thread” that holds everybody together. We probed the question as to whether or not we wanted to or should have seen more of Lucie’s personal thoughts throughout the novel. 

Sydney Carton, image courtesy of MEISTERDRUCKE

While we didn’t come to a cohesive conclusion, I personally felt that it was necessary to leave Lucie the way she was– distantly hung up on a pedestal. Because as “the golden thread,” as the main reason why all the rest of the characters are able to become close to one another, Lucie holds a lot of responsibility. And if Dickens had developed Lucie into a more personable character, we would have lost that sense of absolute purity and innocence. If we were to see more of Lucie’s humane thoughts and relate to her more, we may not be able to precisely understand why Lucie could be that middle-ground for the story. It might be harder, as a reader, to see how one person could hold so much power in people around them to do good. Even so, I can see why some people in the discussion wanted a more fleshed-out character.

The best thing about this discussion was that I felt much more connected to the places we walked during our afternoon exploration. While I was able to get a sense of connection before, this day felt particularly more relatable not only because it specifically required us to walk Sydney Carton’s path before [spoiler alert] his sacrifice, but because we talked so much about how the characters made us feel and why we believe some of the characters were portrayed as they were. 

La Force

(or what’s left of it now)

While the walk was significantly different to what it was when Dickens wrote the novel, you could still get a grasp on how long and gruesome the journey the tumbrils must have taken from La Force. Walking through Sydney Carton’s ride to his death, I began to think about the sacrifice some people are willing to make. Personally, my dad made unimaginable sacrifices when he first moved to America. Past the age of 30, my dad didn’t know any English when he first immigrated. He sacrificed 5 years of seeing his daughter in the mere hope of providing her a better future than the one he had. He endures being ridiculed and/ or ignored for his differences– his accent– yet, he continues to hold strong for his family. Sometimes, I can’t help but look back and wonder if I’m doing enough to make his sacrifice worth it. I wonder if he regrets having gone through all that hard work and wishes he had spent all that time in Korea with the rest of his family. 

His sacrifice. Of comfort. Pride. Freedom. Just so my brother and I can have the privilege of eating what we want and dreaming of being whoever we want. His sacrifice means the world to me. 

Referring back to A Tale of Two Cities, it was mind-boggling for me to see that Lucie mentions nothing of Sydney Carton after his sacrifice for her and her family. She only repeats “Look back, look back, and see if we’re being pursued” over and over again, which, while understandable, really undermines the weight of Carton’s sacrifice (Dickens 366). To be fair, I’m not sure if Lucie even knows how Darnay escaped his death sentence. While that would be reasonable, I am slightly upset Carton didn’t get the recognition he deserved from the characters. Perhaps I’m being biased.

Vendôme Column

at the Place Vendôme– celebrating Napoleon’s victory of the Battle of Austerlitz (another spot we visited on route of Carton’s final journey).

Walking through these streets, for this very reason, made me a little emotional. In our group discussion, we talked about how the little things are what really matter. It is the little things. I still remember the first week of freshman year when I came home to a little “Take a new fresh bandaid!!” sticky note and a box of bandaids from my roommate on my desk. I still remember waiting in line at Barnes and Noble when a stranger behind me commented that the book was a great choice (to be honest, I don’t think I ended up reading much of the book for years). Or when my friend insisted that she would pay for my drink. 

It is the simplest of things that make life just that much better.

A year’s worth of handwritten notes from my freshman year roommate.