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See entry for Museum at Carnavalet (24
Fevrier) |
In the space that was left blank by Jean Hanuman’s act of vandalism, (which now, it appears, was less serious than it seemed to be, since all the pictures have “miraculously” been recovered), we had several guests, along with more kinds of Paris Tourist destinations. Here on this page I post some highlights of the photos we were able to take.
For instance, one of Mia's most long-lasting and one of our dearest friends
were in town and we got to visit. Here's Gail, her daughter (also a dear
friend) Zelaika, and Mia.  |
Hanuman is quite taken with Zelaika. Is there a spark there? You tell
me.  |
When our friend Jennifer, who is a fluent French
speaker, was here, we decided one night to go to a current French film hit,
a kind of fluffy and melodramatic piece that nonetheless had a subtext to celebrate
the city in which we dwelt. The title: Paris.
Unfortunately, we ended up getting kicked out
of the movie theater (except for Jennifer, who was able to use her French skills
to claim that she wasn’t with us, which only Hanuman held against her,
and that only for a short while, as she was able to get back into his good graces
by giving him a luxurious back massage.)
How we got kicked out of the theater.
Well, the film, celebrating Paris, was intent on shooting
the city from the highest points available in the city, for the panoramic view
of the ville, or shooting the monumental statues that dot this historic
city from the ground.
Shot of the Eiffel tower. Hanuman (not in a hushed
voice) “Been there, climbed that.” (J’etait la, j’ai
le grimpé.)
Shot of the Cathedral Sacré Coeuer. Hanuman:
J’etait la, j’ai le grimpé.
Shot of the Montparnasse tower. Hanuman: J’etait
la, j’ai le grimpé.
 The Eiffel tower against a cloudy background from the Pont Alexandre III |
 The obelisk, from the Place Concorde |
 The Cathédral
Sacré Coeuer |
 Here is one of the views featured in the Cedric Klapische film Paris. Jennifer, Hanuman and I spent a lovely day climbing the stairs of the cathédrale and the hilly streets of Montmarte. |
 A photo op with Hanuman. I posed him and went down some stairs. Jennifer promised she'd watch him, but stayed some paces away (embarassed?). As I was setting up the shot I heard somevoices behind me saying "Oh, look, someone left behind a keepsake. How cute! Dad will love a picture of this." It seems the trio were from Green Bay and were taken by Hanuman's attire. Hearing they were fans, Hanuman began to discourse on Brett Favre's career, Aaron Rodgers as his successor, the upcoming NFL draft, and subjects too intricate and learned to be conveyed by your humble narrator. |
By now the people in the crowded theater
(and let me say that the French people in general are not at all shy about letting
you know when you are stretching the bounds of propriety) are turning around
to angrily shush the little monkey man. Which seems to egg him on all the more.
The towering statue by the Bastille. Hanuman:
J’etait la,, j’ai le grimpé.
And etc. (I am forgetting at least 3 more
things that Hanuman claims to have climbed, and which I don’t doubt that
he has.)
| The final straw came about a third
of the way through the film. There were multiple subplots, one being a French
civilization professor who despairs of finding meaning or value in his life
(a French film, after all), and he seems to want to make meaning though
his sighting of an especially enthusiastic and quite beautiful French student,
played by Mélanie Laurent. Hanuman, in a louder voice than he has used up to this point, on seeing the camera’s gaze lovingly caress this lovely French jeune fille, nearly shouts: J’etait la, j’ai le grimpé. |
 |
And. . . away we go, conducted out
by the theater ushers, and a good thing it was, since we risked being beaten
to a pulp by the cinephiles surrounding us in this plush French theater.
(Jennifer, having stayed for the rest of
the film, filled us in with the dancer with the fatal heart disease, the boys
who ran the marché (a fruit man, a meat man, a fish man, etc.), a self-loathing
waitress who allows herself to fall into an abusive relationship but ends up
(well, I don’t want to tell you she was killed in a motorcycle accident,
because that would ruin the ending, so let’s just say that her character
is abruptly removed from the film—somehow); and the market dudes are at
the big market at like 3 in the morning when they happen to meet a quartet of
horny ladies from the world of haute couture and some of them end up
having sex in a 30 degree meat locker with slabs of carnage all around and—well,
you have to understand that it is a French Film, after all). And Juliet Binoche,
who has taken over the role of Gerard Depardieu of being in every French movie
that is released to the public, does a striptease for the fruit-seller guy.
Oh, and you don’t pronounce Romain Duris’s name Dooree, but Doo-reese,
which is odd because nobody ever tells you when you should and when you shouldn’t
pronounce the last consonant of a name. (Like why isn’t Frantz Fa-none
called Frantz Fan-oe?).