Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Calling all fanny packs...

This weekend was a whirlwind of pavement-pounding and sightseeing as the family and Anna Stokes and I blasted through Paris in a little over 36 hours. We in with a plan of attack and tickets already in hand for the Musee d'Orsay and Versailles.

The Orsay is possibly one of my favorite museums in Paris and even two trips later there
are still rooms upon rooms of things I still haven't seen, partly due to the large collection and partly due to the vast number of people that swarm the building day in and day out.

For all the amazing paintings and sculptures that are housed there, I'm sure there are two times as many tourists with their cameras, audio guides, fanny packs and children (yes, loads of children who really aren't going to remember seeing Monet's water lilies or even the Eiffel Tower for that matter). The crowds seemed lighter than we had expected - but still far too many people by my estimation. What I wouldn't have paid to have the museum to myself (a la From the Mixed up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler - anyone read that as a kid?) and an entire day just to amble through it without being shoved or worried that I was standing in the middle of someone's picture. a complete impossibility, I know. but honestly, I didn't go to see an unsmiling Asian man standing in front of Caillebot's Floor Planers. And then I have to wonder - are they really there because they appreciate it all or are they there simply to pose
in front of the famous works and tell their friends they've been there, done that?

Granted, Paris is a big city with a lot of history and attraction to it - I completely understand. But there's something about hearing very little French in the capital of France that disturbs me... maybe it's partly that I've become an elitist sequestered away in my little townwhere there are no tourists and English is hard to come by. But there is something to be said for tour buses, guides indiscriminately waving umbrellas in crowded areas and groups of 40+ people causing traffic jams in rooms at Versailles. Obviously the whole thing is inevitable, and I'm part of the problem! and yes, I do try to convince myself that I blend in like a loca
l, which I'm sure is far from truth.

I think the root of my problem with millions of tourists descending on a place like Paris is the fact that you then don't feel like you've gone anywhere. When waiters and waitresses immediately answer you in English, it seems like you might as well be in New York City ... so while I can moan and groan all I want, I do know I'm part of the group I love to hate, and there's really no changing that. So really, I guess my only plea is - for the love of God, please don't wear fanny packs!

side note: I'll soon be moving into the petit hameau de Marie Antoinette at Versailles... please forward all notes to Marieville.

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