Swines.

This city is not sanitary.

With people all over the worlll freaked out about the H1N1 virus ("the swines" as Chelsea and I like to call it), we are basically reminded nonstop to wash our hands.  The director of our program told us it is necessary to wash your hands nine times a day.  Which is pretty sound policy, seeing as the germz are EVERYWHERE.

I get on the metro and hold on to a metal pole for balance that has been held by millions upon millions of hands before mine.  I stand really close to people, often being breathed on.  The Paris metro transports over 7 million people every single day.  I exchange money with multiple street vendors/cashiers/vending machines/taxi drivers several times a day.  I eat my meals with groups of people, and share food and drink with my host family.  I sneeze.  I cough.  They sneeze.  They cough.

Anyways so all this talk about the swines has me (and a lot of other people I'm sure) hyper-aware of potential germ exchange and it just hits me SO many times a day how I really, really need to wash my hands nownownownownow.  I need to get hand sanitizer and carry it in my purse.

In other news, classes have been really cool so far.  Ivo Bonacorsi is teaching us about drawing and being super Italian while he's at it.  We went to the Rodin Museum this week, which was a holy crap level of awesome.  I drew one of Rodin's sculptures while I sat under a tree next to Alexia.  The drawing looked like a neanderthal with an African mask on, but Ivo helped me get some perspective on some things like, you know, basic proportion and elementary shading.  I was proud of my improvement.  Here is a picture of the garden outside the museum, which is where a lot of the works are located.

I was sitting on the right side of this pic, behind those trees.  There's more stuff over there, and it's shaded, which is important for a person who sweats enough to make an olympic sport out of it.  Yes sweating.  I win at the sport of sweating.

Chelsea and I went to the Musée d'Orsay today.  Let's talk about how jaw-droppingly amazing the Orsay is.  First of all, it's in an old train station, so it looks like this:

The Orsay houses works from soooo many artists, including Degas, Monet, Manet, Matisse, Renoir, Van Gogh, etc. etc. etc. (I'm not sure why the only painters I can think of right now are impressionists.  Oh, maybe because I know nothing about art.  Art history majors, you can put your two cents in if you care.)  It's kind of overwhelming to stand in front of these original pieces.  Like, Van Gogh's Starry Night for instance - everyone knows what that looks like, everyone has seen a picture of it.  But seeing THE Starry Night.  The one Van Gogh stood in front of and worked on.  His actual paint and shit.  In addition to paintings, there are also sculptures at the Orsay, including THE LOVE OF MY LIFE RODIN.  Here is some Rodin for your personal viewing pleasure:

This is La Porte de l'Infer (The Door of Hell).  So. Intense.

And this is le Penseur (The Thinker).  Iconic.

You know who's better than Rodin?  Camille Claudele.  More on her later.

Weird, awkward, funny-if-you-were-there anecdote for today:  Chelsea and I spent a lot of time on the metro today, it was extremely crowded and tiring and you should see how dirty my feet are.  Needless to say my flip flops have been retired.  Okay so my host family is out of town this weekend spending some time at their country home, so Chelsea was coming over to spend the night here.  We got to the Belleville station and stepped up onto the street looking for a crepe vendor to end our long tiring day...you know, with some Nutella.  Unfortunately, I live in China.  I mean...you get what I'm saying.  All that was open was Asian restaurants with whole duck roasting in the windows.  Not sweet and savory like a crepe.  SOOO it occurs to us that there are vending machines with Kinder Bueno (best chocolate bar on earth, bar none) back down in the metro station.  We go back down the stairs, swipe our NavigoPasses again, go through the corrals, and head down some more stairs toward the platform where the trains arrive which is where the vending machines are located.  Barely off the steps though, we spot a homeless man laying DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THE VENDING MACHINES LITERALLY WITH HIS PANTS OFF.  He was laying on his back, head pointed away from us, with his legs IN THE AIR.  WE SAW HOMELESS MAN BUTT TODAY ON THE METRO.  It was a really strange urgent moment filled with confusion, and we immediately turned around and went back up the stairs.  Not to be distracted from our mission, we figured we'd go to the opposite platform to get to THAT vending machine for some Kinder Bueno.  We go down THOSE stairs and head towards the chocolate, only to realize that Homeless Man has rolled over, still with pants off, so that his bum bum is facing us from across the rail tracks.  We got our candy and left.  Mission Accomplished.

I bought a book at the Musée d'Orsay today called Je Vous Écris de Paris (I Write to You of Paris), with a bunch of famous people's letters to friends and loved ones about eating, sleeping, breathing, walking, LIVING, in Paris.  I am so excited to read it!  

I leave you with a couple songs/videos.  I've been listening to my iPod on the metro and definitely have a few choice tunes I've been switching to everyday.  First up is "You Are the Best Thing," performed by Ray LaMontagne live on the David Letterman Show:

And lastly is "Heads Will Roll" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.  The lead singer reminds me of a Space Age Olive Oyl.  Just look at her spindly long legs and little black booties.  The video is weird, FYI if you are easily disturbed.  Just listen to the song:

Hope you enjoyed.

Peace, love, and Paris,

Rhiannon