by Rosrin Wuithiran
When one thinks of Paris, the Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre come to mind. Of course, these are gorgeous, amazing locales that tourists should make the effort to visit. Within these popular locales and in other places are quirky and notable things to see and appreciate. Luckily, you don’t have to travel to obscure areas of the city to find them.
St. Denis Statue
If you have a limited amount of time in Paris and must skip some attractions, don’t pass up on Notre Dame. You’ll have an opportunity to visit a peculiar statue along with a certain hotel (see below). On the left of Notre Dame’s entrance, a row statues of saints stand above you. One is headless and holding his head in his arms. This is St. Denis, the Patron Saint of the possessed, frenzy, and rabies (along with being the Patron Saint of Paris). He was martyred in 250 A.D. and after his execution, was claimed to have carried his severed head for six miles preaching all the way.
The Hotel Dieu
When we went to Notre Dame, I was delighted to find the Hotel Dieu next door. Why? This was one of the first hospitals built in Europe, in 622 AD. I assumed not many travelers knew it was a hospital and passed by thinking it was a hotel. (It says, “Hotel Dieu” at the entrance and is decorated with international flags.) The present building was not the one from 622 AD, as that original one was burned down in the 1700s. The one we see today was built in 1822. Why is it still called a hotel? In French, it translates to Hostel of God. The first European hospitals during the Middle Ages were managed by the clergy. Their purpose initially was not to treat the sick but to serve as lodging to travelers.
The folks who may have known it was a hospital may have perceived it as an ordinary hospital from the outside. So what makes the hospital so special besides its age? For a public hospital, it is absolutely gorgeous inside. Imagine being a patient and looking into the interior to marvel its architecture to cheer yourself up. Luckily, you do not have to be sick or fake an injury to enter the hospital. Just walk inside as a tourist and explain to the front lobby receptionist you want to go into the gardens behind her. (I pointed to my camera and then to the gardens, and she understood.) The gardens are more recent as they were created in the 1970s. Looking at its intricate design, I thought, am I really inside a hospital? Hanging on the walls surrounding the gardens are sketches and illustrations depicting historical events at the hospital, such as Napoleon III’s visit. As the epitome of modern and history meeting together, we found a statue of an Avatar creature at the far end of the gardens. We presumed it was a gift to the hospital, and that they decided to let it reside in natural surroundings (as representative of the film’s supported theme).
The National Army Museum/Napoleon’s Tomb: Kissing Couples and Child Armor
This military museum houses historical artifacts of armour, artillery, and various weapons through French history. Napoleon’s Tomb is situated at one end where you have to leave the museum building to walk to the building’s tomb. We were certainly not military experts nor were we that interested in the museum (as we had planned on just going to Napoleon’s Tomb at the end of the tour), but a couple of amusing gems popped up here. We saw hundreds of knit armor and noticed some really small ones that would fit a child. Did children have to participate in the wars as well? Child labor laws did only appear recently in time! After passing by several cannons on our way to the tomb, we found a cannon with figures of two pairs of kissing couples [TOP PHOTO]. We could not find any history panels to explain its origin. Did the cannon makers have a sense of humor to make love and not war?
Musee de Rodin: A Room for the Mistress
The Rodin Museum houses the famed sculptor’s best works; he requested the government to establish a museum for his artwork. But what you might have known is that Rodin’s mistress, sculptor Camille Claudel, also has a collection here. Rodin and Claudel had a fiery on-and-off relationship; she once accused him of stealing her sculpting ideas. After Rodin left her to return to Rose Beuret, his longtime companion and mother of his son, Claudel spiraled into mental illness, living in a mental institution the last years of her life. Rodin, perhaps having a soft heart and appreciating her talents, requested Claudel’s works to be showcased in his museum.
The Hermaphrodite of the Louvre
Hundreds of passers-by probably have not noticed the resting Hermaphrodite statue situated near an exit at the Louvre. Why? If you had not known about the statue, you could have glanced at its curved backside and side cleavage, thought it was lovely, and walked out of the Greek statues exhibit without realizing the surprise. The statue’s maleness is facing the wall in a corner. In our guided tour, we were rushed out so quickly that everyone just walked on by. Except myself of course, who made the effort to walk around the statue for the amusement.
Private Tour: Les Invalides, Napoleon, and Musée Rodin Walking Tour
If You Go:
September is ideal, the weather is cooler, but you can still catch some sunnier days. Beware the walking distances; what looks close on a map is in reality several miles apart.
If you do a guided tour of the Louvre, be aware that they may just hit the highlights in a given number of hours. For us, it was only two hours. It has been said it takes a total of three days to see everything! While seeing the major works is delightful, you may have to go on your own pace without a tour for the other works. Or find a negotiable tour where you follow the guide but then go off on your own after the end of the guided tour. Also, utilize your time wisely; the Louvre is closed on Mondays as of autumn of 2011. The Hermaphrodite statue is at the end of the Greek room near the exit staircase (the Venus de Milo is at the opposite end of the room). Check out www.louvre.fr.
The Military Museum is next door to the Rodin Museum. If you exit from Napoleon’s Tomb, go left on the street, Boulevard Des Invalides, and then turn right on Rue de Varenne to get to the entrance around the block. See www.invalides.org and www.musee-rodin.fr.
About the author:
Rosrin Wuithiran is a freelance writer from Texas. She has traveled to Thailand, London, Macau, Paris, and many U.S.cities. She has written pieces about San Jose and Phoenix for other travel magazines. Her writing portfolio is at www.roswriting.webs.com.
Photographs:
All photos are by Rosrin Wuithiran.
Before our adoption journey began, I knew next to nothing about Kazakhstan, in part, because until 1991, the country had been swallowed up in that vast entity known as the Soviet Union. So swallowed, it had lost its name, its freedom, much of its language and very nearly, everything about it which made it distinctly Kazakh. Even today, driving the streets of Karaganda, one notices the crouching, well-worn blocks of Soviet style apartment buildings with their Soviet graphics and wonders at the statue of Lenin still posing in the center of town. Still, there are no statues of Stalin, and that is a comfort. After all, it was Stalin who used Karaganda; along with hundreds of other locations in the vast Asian and Siberia steppes, as a full-service slave labor camp, a part of his infamous Gulag system. For years, people were deported to Kazakhstan from places as far away as Germany, Poland, Korea and Japan, put to work in the coal mines still prevalent in the area today and kept behind fences studded with barbed wire, guard towers and patrolled by guard dogs. Alexander Solzhenitsyn; the famous Russian author and Gulag inmate, was set to work not far from Karaganda in Ekibastuz, Kazakhstan. His famous novel, “ One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich”, was based on his experiences as a prisoner there.
Though economic times are tough, there is a new openness to Karaganda. We met people, from translators to drivers, to those working in the orphanages we visited, who were willing to discuss the painful past of their city, its history of Soviet oppression and to ask us in turn, about our experiences in the west. No attempt was made to hide the shoddiness of much of their surroundings nor were they too proud to ask for help, especially as it pertained to my husband and I buying much needed supplies for our daughter’s orphanage. We found the younger adults and children particularly interested in our lives, our language and why were had come so far to their city. Indeed, it was the older generation of residents who kept their distance and watched us warily when we walked past or played outside with our new daughter. Perhaps a life spent under the thumb of a communist regime had taught them to be more cautious.
Some of our best experiences however, focused on the spiritual rather than the temporal when we were invited to attend Sunday services in the beautiful Russian Orthodox cathedral. The religion, having been suppressed for so long under communism, seemed vibrant, the worshipers devout, the choir and ritual a balm to heart and soul. The nearby mosque was also impressive and stood as further testimony not only to Kazakhstan’s rich cultural and racial diversity, but to its new found religious freedoms as well. Trips to the surrounding countryside and out into the vast steppes were also a welcome change. Out under the endless Kazakh sky, one begins to understand this once nomadic race of people who still claim the land, air and sky as their own.
For those wishing to visit Karaganda, hotels, restaurants and apartments are available, in various price and quality ranges. While in Karaganda, my husband and I stayed in an apartment whose previous owners had emigrated to Israel, leaving the apartment, along with their clothes, family pictures and clothing, behind. Many permanent residents will move in with relatives and rent their apartments to foreigners willing to pay well and keep their apartments clean. The price for such an apartment is still reasonable and is a great way to get to know the people, places and culture of the city. Karaganda boasts a nice lake and central park in its downtown area which is a welcome change from the traffic of the streets and during the summer, a large circus plays in town which is an event the entire city looks forward to. Karaganda also supports a university and various academic institutions. There are gardens, a water park, a theater and a museum which contains many interesting displays on traditional Kazakh nomadic life which we found very well done. We also enjoyed the many monuments dotting the city, especially the massive memorial dedicated to the Kazakh effort during World War II.
Declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Gobustan contains unique rock art engravings and images depicting the lifestyle, culture, economy, world outlook, magic and totemic conception, customs and traditions of the ancient inhabitants of the area. Long time ago the sea waves licked these mountains and then abandoned them leaving characteristic relief traces on the polished rocks.
Gobustan rock carvings are marked with thematic diversity, plot originality, and certain artistic skill. Most of the petroglyphs depict people, domestic and wild animals, such as oxen, goats, gazelles, deer, horses, birds, fish, as well as battle scenes, ritual dances, bullfights, boats with men, hunting, fishing, solar symbols, etc.
Personally, I am not sure about the presence of the Vikings in these areas. But the Romans were for sure. A rock found in Gobustan contains a Roman inscription which proves the presence of a centurion of the XII (12th) Roman legion, known as the Fulminat (Lightning) here on the shore of the Caspian Sea during the reign of Emperor Titus Flavius Domitianus in the second half the 1st century AD. Some assume, this may be the easternmost point any Roman patrol even ventured to. I can read the inscription though I am not good in Latin: “IMP DOMITIANO CAESARE AVG GERMANIC LIVIVS MAXIMVS LEG XII FVL” (“Emperor Domitian, the Blessed Caesar Germanicus. Livius Maximus, Legio XII Fulminata”).
Near the end of our trip I ask my brother whether he would like to see the “Gobustan kitchen”. He first think I am joking. But I am not. I take him to the place I have read about many times and show him the bowl-shaped depressions carved out in the rock. They were probably used for collecting rainwater, the blood of sacrificed animals or for cooking. I remember from the old people that until quite recently mountain shepherds used these “bowls” for boiling milk by dropping heated stones into them. It may be an explanation about the usage of similar “bowls” by the prehistoric people.
The chalky north coast of Normandy captures the heart of every visitor at first sight. Years of seawater erosion and weathering have sculpted the coastline on both the west and east sides of the beach, leaving behind towering white cliffs and protruding headlands pierced by arches of various sizes. No wonder Monet visited Étretat every year between 1883 and 1886 and produced more than 60 paintings.
“You are right to envy me. You cannot have any idea how beautiful the sea has been for two days, but what talent it will take to render it, it’s crazy. As for the cliffs, they are like nowhere else. Yesterday, I climbed down to a spot where I had never ventured to go before and saw wonderful things there so I very quickly went back to get my canvases. In the end, I am very happy.”
Following the trail all the way to the top of Manneporte, I could see, on the east side, Porte d’Aval and Pointe d’Aiguille again next to each other as in L’Aiguille et la Porte d’Aval, Étretat. Monet painted the same motif from the beach below us as well. Bathed in the mellow evening light during low tide, the pillar and the arch in the painting hardly appear overwhelming although they still look gigantic compared with the tiny boats between them. While the view before me was imposing, the painting impressed me with its serenity.
Spinning rides and vendor booths pack the central square. They are selling wooden toys and traditional crafts and that curious gingerbread that seems to be a fixture of the German-speaking festival: heart-shaped with endearments printed in icing, meant to be worn around the neck. There’s music in the streets, and a group has gathered around to watch an old couple who is dancing a slow waltz. I’m surprised to see how many people have arrived wearing the traditional lederhosen and dirndls. As I squeeze my way between hordes of carousing Austrians, I feel as if I have arrived in the wrong city. I hadn’t pictured the town of Mozart’s birth to have such activity.
The older gentleman sitting across from me tries to engage me in conversation, so I bust out my best German – in my poor imitation of the Northern German accent I had learned in school. I might as well have been speaking gibberish to the Austrian, so we settle on my native tongue. A pair of women join the stilted English conversation, and I finally learn that September 24th is the Feast of St. Rupert, the patron saint of Salzburg. The festival in town occurs on the weekend each year closest to that date.
But then the three Austrians start a new game that I can only describe as ‘inebriate the foreigner’. A second beer from my new friends is in order, but that isn’t all. I’m obliged to accept a glass of Sturm, a young red wine that tastes amazingly like grape juice. Dangerous for a heavy drinker, but very tasty. A wink from the man and scrunched noses from the women tell me I’m in trouble at their next plot. A girl wearing both a long dirndl dress and a barrel comes by our table. The Austrians hand the girl money, and a single shotglass of clear liquid is placed in front of me. All eyes turn my way and I feel a twinge of foreboding.
