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Au revoir, Paris

It's been a good trip. Soon I'll be leaving on a jet plane, heading home to Donna.

If I can get my luggage into the tiny hotel lift, that is. You know how small and cramped airplane lavatories are? Even smaller. The sign in the lift claims 3 people can get in, but unless they're hobbits, I don't see how. Don't believe me? Here's a picture, with my shoe to give the scale:



See you soon.

Last day

The weather was better today--the sun came out several times, despite the attempts of the clouds to obscure it. But the sun kept moving--or rather, the earth kept rotating--foiling their scheme.

There was also a bit of snow.

I started the day at the Musee D'Orsay, one of my favorite museums. I'm not alone in this; many people told me that it's their favorite museum as well. A former train station, it houses a vast collection of Impressionist paintings.

As I wrote on my post on the Louvre, I like periods of transition, where there is usually an explosion of invention and variation. Periods of refinement, while producing many great works, do not have as deep an attraction for me.

Like the Renaissance Italian painters, the Impressionists were trying out new ways of seeing the world. Here "seeing" takes on two meanings. The first is more obvious and superficial: how do we process light and images, and how can the eye be fooled? One of the greatest of the many great Impressionists is Monet, and of his paintings D'Orsay houses several of his famed Cathedral Rouen series, where the artist painted the same view of the cathedral, over and over, under different lighting conditions.




Impressionism was one of the first salvos in Modernism and Post-modernism. When you start to learn how the eye can be fooled, you realize, it's really how the brain is fooled. And the brain can be fooled by images, how else is it fooled?

Artists have traditionally been skeptical and questioning. But with Modernism, this trend became full blown.

To help us understand this transition, a starting point is a definition of post-Modernism: incredulity towards all "master narratives" (except, of course, towards the master narrative of post-Modernism itself). Modernism was a precursor in that it was skeptical of many traditional narratives.



A great example of this is to compare Ingres' "Odalisque," a classic example of the "male gaze," wherein the woman seems to accept and even shyly smile at the viewer. Not so in Manet's "Olympia," which is a direct response to all the odalisques that preceded it:



Here the woman is not pleased with being viewed; her emotion is not shame at being naked, but challenging the viewer's voyerism.



Even more challenging is Courbet's "Origin of the World" (google it yourself, this is a family blog), which goes even further in questioning the motives and hidden agendas of artists and art-lovers alike.

By the way, the Musee D'Orsay was also undergoing renovation, and so many of its prize pieces had been moved to the first floor. If any important ones were missing, I didn't notice.

After lunch at the museum (another excellent meal, a tasty risotto aux champignons--pricey but no more so than outside restaurants) I walked to the Musee Rodin. You can see the snow on the ground here:



My favorite Rodin pieces are those where the figures are emerging out of stone. (He didn't originate this--it goes back at least to Michelangelo--but he utilized it heavily.) They don't photograph well, however, so I'll restrict myself to more traditional, and famous sculptures, such as "Le Baiser," which in English means "The Snog" and in American "The Kiss."



Of course the most famous Rodin sculpture is "The Thinker."

Donna says an awful lot of pictures of me seem to have objects coming out of my head and so, now, we try deliberately for pictures of objects coming out of my head. It took a few tries to do this self-portrait:




After Musee Rodin I walked near the Eiffel Tower, then caught the metro to the Musee Marmatten Monet, which unsurprisingly houses more Monets. They discourage photographs, which I respected. Then I walked to the Eiffel Tower, and managed to get yet another in the series "Things Coming Out of Calvin's Head."



In case you prefer your tour eiffel sans
hominid, here you go:



I also caught this picture of the Seine as dusk approached.





I finished the day with a plate of fruit de mer. It's amazing how many things that look like, well, snot, can taste so good, and so different.

Tomorrow I head home. Will probably post a farewell to Paris.

Rainy Friday

Workshop broke up around noon. I struck out for Marais. Along the way I whirled through Notre Dame, the famous rose windows, and my favorite stop, St. Thomas, the patron saint of scientists (or if he isn't, he ought to be, the little doubter).


In the Marais, I managed to stumble upon a little Corsican restaurant, Salvi, which Donna and I had enjoyed a few years ago, and ate there for lunch, happy to have made its reacquaintance.





Alas, my luck for the day ended there.

From there I went to the Musee Picasso, only to discover it is closed for renovations. For two years. And three years ago, when we were in Paris, it had been mostly closed also for renovations. I know Picasso was famed for reinventing his styles, but this is ridiculous.

In one of my guidebooks it mentioned a nice little shop for gifts. I wandered around, got a bit lost, then found the address.

Closed and moving to a new address.

From there I went to the Pompidou center. It has a great collection of modern art, but after all this walking I wasn't really in the mood. So I headed out again.



Just then it began to rain.

I hung out for a while in an antiquities mall across from the Louvre. The rain did stop by then, so I walked through the Tulleries--although no rain, the wind was bitterly cold. At Place de la Concorde I crossed the Seine and headed back to my hotel, exhausted.

Not a bad day, but not what I was planning.

More tomorrow.

No news

Just busy at the workshop. It finishes tomorrow (Friday) morning and I'll spend Friday afternoon and Saturday at museums. Posts and pictures then.

Louvre

Today was spent at the Louvre.

Both my brain and my feet hurt.

It's off-season, and a weekday, so the larger crowds were actually schoolkids. I got there early so I could get an early, unobstructed view of the Mona Lisa.



Because so many lunatics and fame-seekers have attacked the Mona Lisa, you can no longer get close. Instead it is behind glass, and a barrier keeps you a good 3 meters away:




Going early turned out to be a good idea, because later in the day the room got quite crowded.



I found myself drawn to the paintings in the gallery next to the Mona Lisa, Italian
paintings predominantly from the 16th century. I decided I am attracted to art in transitional eras. My very favorite era are the impressionists, whereartists really began to play with light and perception and representation, and I'll go to Musee D'Orsay on Saturday. But the Renaissance is another time when artists really began to use perspective and light and there was an explosion of inventiveness. I'm also attracted to the slightly whimsical and allegorical character to many of the paintings of that time, with themes such as the Tower of Babel





and the "Cortege of Thetis."



Here's a woman who appears (to me, anyway) to be selling "John the Baptist" t-shirts at the cruxifiction.




18th and early 19th century paintings are less intriguing to me. Oh, there is beautiful work, too many to mention, but it is more refinement of technique rather than the invention of technique. Here is Gericault's masterful "The Raft of the Medusa."






The Louvre is so huge and luxurious it's intimidating. Just the sheer volume of art is overwhelming. And many of the halls in which the art is hung are themselves works of art.






The Louvre not only has European art, but also a tremendous collection of artifacts from Rome, Greece, and the near East, including Egypt and Babylonia. (In essence, French looters, er, art collectors took from cultures they saw as flowing into modern European culture--so European philosophy grew out of Greece and Rome, which in turn were influenced by Egypt, Babylonia, and so on. Only in 2000 did they start displaying artifacts from sub-Saharan Africa, the Americas, and the south Pacific, and they don't seem to have anything from Asia at all.)

The Venus di Milo is one of the most famous pieces. As I'm currently writing a story called "Aphrodite Shrugged," it seemed an apt sculpture.



It is a very moving sculpture, although at times I wonder: who gets to decide what art is iconic and what is not? Is there a committee? The Mona Lisa is a fabulous painting, but at times it feels like a celebrity--most famous for being famous.


Another famous sculpture is Michelangelo's Slaves. I'm always astounded by Michelangelo's ability to imbue stone with the illusion of motion.







One of my favorite pieces is the famous Code of Hammurabi, the world first known usage of Fortran. (Or at least that is how students imagine Fortran, when they first come to me after being brainwashed by the computer science department.)




Towards the end of my visit, I wandered into the sumptuous apartments of Napoleon III.




I was reminded of Hyacinth Bucket (prononced "boo-kay") of the BBC comedy series Keeping Up Appearances, and played by Patricia Routledge. It is Hyacinth's long ambition to set a dining table so glamorous it causes a guest to stagger back in admiration.

Hyacinth never succeeded, but Napolean III certainly did:

A New Trip

I'm in Paris this week, sans Donna, for a workshop on RPA (which stands for "random phase approximation," one of the least helpful descriptions in all of physics). I will bookend it with visits to museums, although most of the week will be working, i.e., listening to talks or giving one.

It was foggy at Charles de Gaulle airport, and it is cold and drizzly. Fortunately the cold isn't as bitter as I feared, so it isn't too bad walking around.



I'm at a small hotel near the Luxembourg gardens, just a few minutes walk from the Latin Quarter and the famed Cathedral Notre Dame.



I walked around a bit, and had a crepe with ham and cheese. The airplane trip was mostly uneventful.

More later this week.

Home!

Made it home very smoothly. Planned to stay at a motel in LA, ended up driving home the whole way. Only small problem is a leaky hot water tank--no major damage, but will need to call a plumber tomorrow (and, sigh, lose yet another day of work).

All in all we got off remarkably lucky. We had thought about going to Europe, so we missed the ice storm there. No gastrointestinal issues; pollution was relatively low in Kathmandu; the worse was Donna catching a cold and a persistent cough.

We are happy and grateful to be safely home after such a wonderful journey.

I plan to put a few more pictures tomorrow, probably while waiting for a plumber to come. Check old posts for new pics. Maybe even movies!

The Milk Scam

On our last morning in Kathmandu, I thought I'd regale you with one of our minor adventures.

Nepal is a poor country. Westerners are relatively very rich. Unsurprisingly, a lot of people try to get money from Westerners. Foreigners pay much higher entrance fees to museums and cultural areas--quite reasonable, in my view, although it's not clear how much actually goes to upkeep and how much lines someone's pocket. Other people offer themselves as guides and seem quite upset when you say no; others just ask for money. In Pokhara a couple of young students--middle or high school--sold us tickets to a performance of "Romeo and Juliet." We didn't go, but it was unique enough to be worth a few hundred rupees.

Then there was the milk scam.

Walking around Thamel a couple of days ago, where every shopkeeper is begging us to enter, a woman dragging a small girl behind her waived a small bottle at us. "Milk please!" she entreated us. "No money. Milk!" We looked at each other. Very hard to refuse. So immediately the woman shot off, looking over her shoulder to make sure we were following. She stopped at a cold store that sells water, sodas, and small items, and pointed up to a box of powdered milk.

I asked the shopkeeper how much.

"One thousand rupees," she said.

Now, a thousand rupees is about US$15. I haven't priced powdered milk in the US, but I doubt it is $15. So we shook our heads. Immediately the woman pointed to a smaller bag of powdered milk. 400 rupees. Still overpriced, but being soft-headed westerners we signed and bought it.

Now I'm pretty sure the shopkeeper overcharged us for it, and I'm pretty sure the woman got a cut of the scam. On the other hand, it was a more ingenious scam than usual and, well, a few hundred rupees is just the cost of our further education.

(And we should note that scams go on in rich countries too--only we usually know how to recognize those...)

Nonetheless we've had a wonderful time in Nepal. When we return we'll add more pictures, and if we get stuck in Bangkok we'll try to post.

A quiet last day

As I remarked last time, today there is a transport bandh. A lot of shops are closed as well. We just quietly walked around Thamel and then to the slightly more upscale Lanzimpat.

We are supposed to arrive at LAX on Monday evening, but we have a 1-hour layover in Bangkok--after departing the chaos that is Tribhuvan Airport in Kathmandu and dealing with new security measures in Bangkok (thank you very much, Mr. Underwear Bomber). And Thai Air has only 1 flight per day from Bangkok to LAX so it is entirely possible we may be delayed. There is excellent wi-fi at the Bangkok airport so we should be able to make note of it.

But after two weeks it is hard to believe it is nearly over...

Patan and Bhaktapur

Today, our calves still knotted from the descent from Sarangkot, we went to the nearby cities of Patan and Bhaktapur. A few hundred years ago, before the Shah kings united Nepal, these were separate kingdoms to rival Kantipur (Kathmandu). Now Patan is a suburb of Kathmandu and Bhaktapur, even over dusty, in-construction roads, is barely half an hour away. They still retain much of their old charm, except for locals constantly offering to guide us. Fortunately we had our driver to be our own guide.




Power is out again--generators power internet cafes but I'm not connnecting my laptop or my camera to these computers as they likely have more viruses than (fill in your favorite metaphor).

Tomorrow, our last full day in Kathmandu, there is supposed to be another transport bandh (strike). That may be just as well, as we are tired out from our "vacation" and could use a day relaxing. We may try to see a movie. "Avatar" is playing here, and it's possible the plot seems less stupid in Nepali, but we are likely to try for a local film, "3 idiots."

Back to Kathmandu

We're back in Kathmandu. Our legs are still sore from the rough descent from Sarangkot. Tomorrow we will try (again) to visit Bhaktapur.

Pokhara

Everyone has been asking us if we are going to Pokhara. So we went to Pokhara. West of Kathmandu, 2 hours by car, 30 minutes by plane + 1.5 hours waiting in the airport.



Pokhara has a lakeside district where the tourists are ghettoed. It is quieter and more scenic that Kathmandu, although still plenty of ways for tourists to spend their money.


But there is the view.




From the town one can see the peaks of Annapurna poking over a northern ridge. Today we took a taxi to the top of that ridge, then hiked up another 40 minutes to the heights of Sarangkot, the location of an ancient fort. Spectacular views, which my camera does not do justice to.




Then, crazy as we are, we decided to hike the 2000' (600 meter) descent back to Pokhara.

We had a map, but got lost nonetheless. Fortunately we mostly just had to follow roads and paths downhill, helped by local villagers used to pointing the way for ignorant bidesiharu (foreigners) such as ourselves.


We finally made back to town, tired but happy.

Tomorrow we return to Kathmandu, for 2 more days before we return home.

Chitwan

One of the pleasures of fantasy and science fiction is to take you to a new world. Even better is when a F/SF story takes you to one world, then after you have grown accustomed to it, suddenly throws open a door to yet another new world. Part of the success of Tolkien, Rowling, the movies of Hayao Miyuzaki, and so are, is the great pleasure is taking you from new world to new world.

That captures our journey to Chitwan National Reserve in Nepal.

We flew from Kathmandu to Bharatapur--waiting four hours because of bad weather. We had been offered a six hour car ride, and in retrospect that would have been the good choice. Nonetheless we finally boarded and took the 1/2 hour flight and landed at a small airstrip. From there we were met by Temple Tiger and driven by chaotic Nepali highway. Already our position as priviledged westerners was obvious--the two of rode in an nearly empty van, with resort employees outnumbering us, as we passed buses jammed to the roofs with Nepalis. After roughly one hour
we turned off and drove past fields and farmers, until we reached the Narayani river, which we crossed by boat.



On the far side of the river, now in the Chitwan National Reserve, we went by jeep through grassland and muddy track, through sal hardwood forest, to reach the Temple Tiger site.



The amenities at Temple Tiger are spartan, but that satisfied us. We did have power and hot water--for 3 hours in the morning and 3 hours in the evening--and a hot fire and all the tea (chiyaa in Nepali) we could drink.

Despite being in the lowlands, it was cold and misty. At night our hut was heated by kerosene heater and while we were at dinner--mitho khaana, or tasty food, by the way--the hot water bottle fairies visited our beds making them cozy and warm.

One of the attractions of Chitwan is elephant riding. In our short visit we had 4 wonderful elephant rides. Elephants are a combination horse and bulldozer, able to push through high grass and dense forest. Furthermore rhinos and tigers will not charge an elephant, making us safe.




The elephants were endlessly fascinating to watch. They must eat hundreds of pounds of food per day, mostly grass, but as we were out on safari the elephants were constantly grabbing snacks as they walked.

I don't know if it is a good life for the elephant. (I also wonder if "elephant driver," or panjit, is a good job. Probably is, but insurance is hell to get.) Elephants are not domesticated like dogs and cattles; these are wild elephants, tamed, but that is not the same. On the other hand, it is very hard to make an elephant do something it really does not want to do. One should also note that overall things have improved in Chitwan; a century ago important visitors were slaughtering tigers by the score.

On a side note, perhaps the best meditation on what the elephant's life must be like is Carol Emshwiller's marvelous SF novel The Mount.

We saw a lot of wildlife: monkeys (2 kinds), deer (4 kinds, including the fetching "barking deer," the world's smallest and cutest deer), wild boar, more birds than we could count although Donna tried with a bird book, and rhinos.


Rhinos seems less scared of us than annoyed to have their peace and quiet disturbed. They have poor eyesight and squint at the papparazzi, trying to see who is bothering them now.

There are only a little more than 100 tigers left in Chitwan. They feed mostly on deer and wild boar. Going on a walk through the forest with our excellent naturalist--who gave us careful instructions on how to deal with angry rhinos, sloth-bears, and tigers--we did find evidence of tigers

a pawprint. On our second full day in Chitwan, while out in the forest with a naturalist, we heard a monkey giving a predator warning. "Must be a tiger or a leopard," said our guide, who carefully steered us away (not being on elephant back made us vulnerable). Humans, it seems, do not earn a warning from monkeys; they consider us weird, not threatening. I do not know if they underestimate us or have us pegged.


I don't have time to go through all the adventures we had, floating on the river and inspecting termite mounds. We had a wonderful time which we will long remember. We were away only 2 1/2 days from Kathmandu and yet it seems a week.

We have been in Nepal barely 9 days and it seems a month.

Tomorrow we go to Pokhara, where we hope for better views of the Himalayas.