Hangin out with Van Gogh, Cezanne, Degas, Monet, Manet, and Renoir

Day 12
Thursday, May 26

My new elephant friend outside Musee d'Orsay

An illicitly taken photo of my favorite Degas

No class today, so we decided to get some culture and visit a museum. Since we got up at noon, we figured the Louvre would have to wait until we could devote a full ten hours to it, so we jumped on the train to Musee d'Orsay. Turns out there's really no "good" time to go to avoid the crowds--on weekends the line to get in extends around the block, but on week days you get all the field trips and tour groups. We waited for thirty minutes to get in, but this place is worth it. Musee d'Orsay is a converted train station, very open and flooded with natural light.

The Absinthe Drinker

I started snapping pictures right away until a fellow museum goer warned me that they'd confiscate my phone (which doubles as my camera) if they caught me. My solution was to be more sneaky about my photo-taking. I managed to get a few shots while dodging the docents. I loved Degas and Cezanne, but there's really no beating Van Gogh. His style is something I have tried to use in my own painting projects, but unfortunately my art professors asked me to adhere to a tighter articulation of my subjects. Maybe I did it badly, but I have to wonder at what point is art "sloppy" verses stylized. Now that I'm done with the studio art classes, I think I'll try again to paint/draw in a looser vein.

After spending the afternoon at Musee d'Orsay, Diana and I came home and made dinner, opened the vino, and got ready for a party in Buttes Cheauxmont, one of the most beautiful parks in Paris. Rose joined us for some more wine, and together we headed out to the party. We stopped in L'Embuscade for a quick drink, and there we found our poetry-loving Parisian friends from two nights before. They were very happy to see us, and one of them decided to come with us to Buttes Cheauxmont. It was nice to have him along because he repelled all the creepers on the metro while simultaneously charming us all the way to the park. Its also convenient that he speaks English beautifully--better than I do. Apparently when the French learn the English language, they learn to speak with a British accent; its considered more "proper" than American English. I agree. Maybe I'll bust out my British accent for the rest of the trip just to see if people react to me differently.

L'Embuscade, the bar beneath our apartment.
The name translates to "The Ambush" (ha).

Anyway, the rest of the night was very fun, party-ish things and beautiful people, too much wine and mingling with the locals. and Day 12, voilaa.