“It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn’t know what I was doing spending Sundays in Paris.”
Now, not a lot of people know this but… that was actually the first draft of the opening line of Silvia Plath’s The Bell Jar.
It got changed because the publishers read the opening line of Ted Hughes’ poem “Your Paris” which, of course, starts… “Your Paris, I thought, was American” and thought that he was dropping a subtle hint.
All of which has absolutely nothing to do with this lovely photo blog!
Sundays in Paris is a photoblog by T who is an anesthesioboist (whatever that is) who lives in Boston, Massachusetts and is a wife & mom and a doctor too.
And, she listens to classical Christmas carols all year round because they make her happy!
Now, just to get this straight… Sundays in Paris is so named because the photos are all taken in Paris and each post is posted on a Sunday.
Nothing at all to do with Sylvia Plath or Ted Hughes, or even Charles Bukowski who didn’t like Paris and said of it….
even in calmer times
have I ever
bicycling through that
Well Charlie boy, you ain’t going to like this blog then, are you?
The Arty Stuff….
Not sure he would have had much time for Chagall and Valadon either, then?
Although, interestingly, Chagall wrote a volume of poetry and Suzanne Valadon fed caviar to her cats on Fridays.
And, although I feel that I should apologise for rambling a bit here, this is exactly the sort thing that you have to expect to happen when you start browsing through a blog like this one (or any good photoblog really) - the sights invoke memories, the memories expand and, before you know it, you’re rambling away “talking to yourself all the time and dribbling food down the front of your shirt.”
As T herself says… “One of my favorite things to do in Paris: stroll aimlessly.”
And that’s what I like to do with photoblogs.
And, talking of Utrillo (Valadon was his mum and encouraged him to paint), what about this lovely view of Sacré Coeur, today and then?
Don’t you just feel that you are walking…
“Through frame after frame,
Street after street, of Impressionist paintings”
The Foody Stuff….
Do you like Croissants? What do you think of the Best Croissants in Paris?
What about Pain d’Épices?
And I’m glad that I found the Fishermen’s Crêperie.
Although I’m not sure which category I come under…. Fishers or Sinners?
I’ve got a horrible feeling that both categories apply to me!
Assuming that it’s the latter, I think that I’ll pop off to the oldest sweet shop in Paris – Á la Mère de la Famile and stuff myself senseless!
The Paris Stuff….
Well, you learn something new everyday, don’t you?
Did you know that the rue des Petites Écuries is supposed to be the most peed on street in the world?
No, me neither. Well, you live and learn!
And, just for once I’m going to review a Paris blog and not mention Dog Poop or Pavement Garnishing!
Anyway, Hughes said it better than I could when he told Plath…
Your Paris, I thought was American
I wanted to humour you
When you stepped in a shatter of exclamations,
Now, I’m just a mere peasant, living in a cow shed in rural Brittany but…
Can you think of any better way to describe the whole tricky subject of Dog Plop than “Stepping in a shatter of exclamations”?
Of course, Paris is full of assorted sights to take your breath away.
What about this Early Morning Sight that Took My Breath Away?
So, summing up…
I like this blog; it makes me think.
I can look at A Trumpeter Under A Paris Bridge and wonder who he is, what story has he got to tell and what tune is he playing?
The secret is, as T rightly says… Even a Glimpse can Inspire!
If you have any poetry in your soul you’ll already love Paris, unless you’re Charles Bukowski (whom I’m knocking off my Christmas card list straight away!), and will love having a poke around Sundays in Paris.
After all, even if you can’t live in France full time, you can always say to yourself… I want to be here!
And me? Well, I’ve got a horrible feeling that I’m going to be Trying out Berets in Montemarte. If I get arrested, could someone come along and bail me out?
All the best
P.S. I do apologise for all the poetry.
And, that stuff about the first line of The Bell Jar – well, I have to admit that I made it up!