Implicit Self
Images from my soul, dedicated to the world that makes me
Up and about in Paris and London- Part3- Avignon, Provence
I knew that I would go to Provence, with the dreamy landscape that has inspired so many artists I admire, any time I went to France. Therefore, I spent a while looking for a suitable destination in Provence that we could see in about one day, including travel. 9 days in France, in which most days you can go out only in the evenings, because of a conference, is not that much after all!! Marseille, is the most common destination, but it is quite far from Paris and too big. Arles ( apparently no longer in Provence?) had several points of historical interest, built by Romans, but not enough trains and was also slightly further than I was comfortable with.
So, after some thought and research I chose Avignon, the seat of the Pope for a couple of decades starting in the first decade of 14th century. I knew there were some things we wouldn’t be able to see, though they are also very popular (and beautiful) like the lavender fields, especially ones that are tended to by monks in an abbey, as they are hard to get to without a car from Avignon ( I didn’t want to rent a car for one day). But there was the Palais de Papes and the old Saint Benezet Bridge.
So, we bought the train tickets online at home. My husband didn’t want to buy them once we got to France, it was possible that they won’t be available the day we wanted to go. I don’t know why I really didn’t want to buy them here. One thing to keep in mind while buying tickets on the SNCF website ( that sells the TGV train tickets, that are the high speed trains in France and other European countries) catering to the US charge about twice the cost for a ticket. That is after even after the conversion. So we were advised by a very helpful blog to use other avenues. When changing the country of origin didn’t work, we used a french travel agency website – http://www.capitainetrain.com/. It is in French, but I had spent some time on a phrase book and a few CDs. It is not suitable for someone not familiar with even a single phrase in french, but is highly manageable if even a few pronouns and verbs are known. You have to create an account and then purchase. It still costs more than it would in France, I think, but nearly half that of the English SNCF websites.
The trick is to understand the ticket says once you have purchased it- but all you lucky ones who read this post, it just says that you have to print that ticket and get on the train. It is refundable up till 24 ours before departure, and after that they will charge about a 100 euros for cancellation, per ticket. Unless, of course, there is a valid reason. We will shortly come to that.
We were going to Avignon, on a thursday, right before we left Rueil Malmaison the next day to stay in Relais Bosquet in Paris for the weekend.
We reached Gare de Nord about 50 minutes before the train time and went to the information counter to find the platform, as our train was not showing on the monitors. The girl said, you have to change your tickets. There is a strike and this train is cancelled.
Now, if anyone ever doubts my misgivings again, I will have them know, they are almost never misguided. Huh!
Anyhow, we were told we can take any train that day, there were others running to Marseille which would stop at Avignon, but there was little likelihood of getting a seat. It is a 3 hr train ride. I was super pissed and decided that we were not standing for 3 hrs and we should get the tickets cancelled. We stood in line for half and hour, then in front of one employee for another half an hour before they found someone who could tell us why they can’t cancel our ticket and refund it. We had bought first class tickets ( in our joy of finding a cheaper website). They told us that since we bought the tickets from a travel agency they can’t refund it and if we changed our tickets it would cost 150 euros more each person.
Unfortunately, we had not bought an international package for our phone, therefore outside our hotel rooms we couldn’t check our emails, and had I checked mine the day before or early morning, I would have found an email by capitaine trains, giving me an option to cancel my tickets. With apologies and refund. However, since I was not aware of that at the time, I got really angry and went into one of my black moods ( my poor husband!). Decided to take the train at 11. They had told us that our return train should still run ( we imagined we would get our seat in that one).
I didn’t take nay pictures of where we got to sit in the train, but for those who have been on an amtrak or a TGV, I sat behind the last seat in a cabin in between the luggage rack and the back of the seat. Thank God for my size, my feet were trampled on only minimally and I even fell asleep. I couldn’t read my book ( Anathem) and I remained in the black mood. My husband sat with his back to the luggage rack. A girl slept in one. Another girl sat in front of me, in the same place. All announcements are in French in these trains, always.
We reached and I realized I really didn’t know how to get to the city, I imagined it was walking distance, but it may not be so. We certainly couldn’t see the walls of the historic city ( it is a walled in city) from anywhere in the station. I looked around and saw a bus stop and the right bus to take to the city. It didn’t take too long, but it is definitely not walking distance.
From the bus stop, you can walk to most of the places. A kind old gentleman asked if we needed help as we were looking at the city map on the bus stop. And told us Palais des Papes was not more tan 10 min by walk.
The walk was really nice, as we saw several American brand stores along the way ( that wasn’t the high point, it was just surprising). The buildings and most hotels were really old with beautiful architecture and sculptures, and what is missing in most new buildings: character. We didn’t go in the museum. We did go to the visitor center, which was also quite an old building and lovely. I bought some lavender pot pourri from there. About the only non edible thing I bought in France.
Unlike Paris and Rueil Malmaison, Avignon was sunny and hot. I had dressed in layers anticipating that. My husband had to buy a 10 euro hat. From H&M!!
On our walk we stopped at one of the numerous cafes, and bought a sandwich. It has basil, goat cheese and chicken. It was heavenly, served by a beautiful girl too! We also had gelato, I had Mango gelato. At the end of the street, where I believe the City Hall is, is called the Place de l’horlodge, square, were lines of cafes, on cobblestone pavement and a merry go round. It was too late for lunch, we reached at about 2, so mostly empty. I picked a cafe for dinner later. Just straight down that street and through a smaller street ( all cobblestone) we saw the Popes palace. As it doesn’t have any of the original decor, we decided not to get in. We barely had 5 hrs in total in Avignon. Many people sat around in the courtyard, where someone was playing a guitar or a cello. You can see the outside of the Notre Dame cathedral, with its golden figure on the top, to the left of the Pope’s palace.
Next stop, already visible to me was a street carved through a hill, I had seen a photo of it somewhere and had wondered at the time if I would find it. I did. It is hard to miss actually. The surprising find of another cathedral, of Saint Pierre. Very very old made of stone and very old, still beautiful, stained glass. I think it was there I regained all my good spirits. The place is not to be missed, it has so much soul and peace. There are arrows pointing towards it from some places.
There were some buildings in Avignon, which had fake windows, with very artistic and expressive paintings of people that appeared to be looking out the window. I strongly regret not having a good photo of such a building, I have two, not so good ones that give you the idea. I don’t know what I was thinking when I didn’t take more.
Next, we followed the arrows to the Pont de Avignon, Or the bridge built by Saint Benezet. Who was a goat- herder visited by God. Who single-handedly moved a boulder that many men together had been unable to move. To tell the king, that God indeed wanted that bridge to be built and had spoken to him and given him magical powers. The bridge has withstood a lot of calamities and basically doesn’t span the Rhone anymore. It has clearly marked arrows leading to it, from Palais de Papes, however, at some point very close we got lost and it took a lot longer to get to the actual bridge, we got up on a staircase leading to nowhere by mistake. Lost some time in that. It was almost 5:30, with only two hours left. I wanted to see the small shopping streets in the center of the city, close to the street we walked on to get to the palace. So we walked on the bridge, but decided not to take the stairs to the top of the hill that would probably have given us the 360 degree view of Avignon, plus the picture of what you always see of the Saint Benezet bridge. That would take an estimated an hour and a half, to get back to the Place de l’horlodge and then some more to the bus stop.
So we went to the market streets, which is truly an excellent superposition of old buildings retrofitted with new department stores. Its a very unique look, almost hard to come to terms with, but we did that quickly due to lack of time. No cars can enter these streets. Several local stores selling cookies and a hundred varieties of olive oil, I think I should have bought spanned these streets. I only bought some cookies, that were truly out of the world.
On our way back, from one of the side streets, I bought black Provencal rice. And Rouge Provencal rice. The tourist shops sell various painted versions of a buzzing, colorfully painted, wooden cicadas, if they hadn’t buzzed so much, I would have bought them, I also didn’t know there significance, it is apparently the symbol of Provence and of France. So, next time I go, I will definitely buy a few.
Even in Rueil Malmaison, Josephines walk ( leading to Chateau de Malmaison), is lined with engraved cicadas, in gold colored circular plates, embedded on the streets).
We went to my chosen cafe La Civette, and had a mojito and a out of this world three cheese pizza. I had asked the waiter how long it would take, we had about 45 min to the next scheduled bus, to the train station. He said, relax, you have an hour! And for a change, I did. It was very very good advice. Because not only did I really enjoy the food and the mojito, it helped me not get too mad in the next phase.
We made it to the bus in time and reached with plenty of time to spare. Remember we were expecting to catch OUR train this time and hoped to get our seats, since if you have booked seats you have the right to oust whoever is sitting on them ( like we had been on the train coming in). However, it is never that simple, is it. The trains don’t have coach numbers written outside the coach. So only when you get in can you read them. They don’t nearly stop long enough for you to get off and change sides, plus not all the coached are connected.
It turns out, that the map was inverted ( they display coach positions in the station for the next train). We got on the opposite side, I was really mad at my dear husband, for no reason at all. We came back sitting on top of the cafe coach’s tables. This journey was a little shorter though, two and a half hours. The last one had been nearly three and a half.
It did spoil the day somewhat. But that is traveling for you. I wouldn’t buy first class tickets ever again, no.
But I cannot and even then, was not, mad at the french for having strikes. That is the foremost sign that real workers have rights. That they can demand them. That at least there is some democracy, some visibility of people’s movements. Some acknowledgement of the important status of people who do the hard work. Such a strike would not have happened in the US. But hey, when was the last time you took a train here? And could go to a small city, without renting a car? Had a waiter run after you happily to return a bag you left? A very happy looking young waiter. Who does not need your tip to survive.
Yes, that is France. And I would take it.
My new favorite author- Neal Stephenson
It started with Doug Casey’s referral to Neal Stephenson’s work. I am not sure what led me to the essay about the history of the world’s leading (although primarily, subjectively and objectively different) leading names in computers – Microsoft and Apple. I don’t think any other single essay has influenced me so much, even if it was on a topic that people think has been resolved ( The essay “In the beginning.. there was the command line” was written in 1999) with Apple being the winner, clearly. Of course, clearly in the western countries, maybe North America or just the United states. As it turns out, Bill Gates and Microsoft were never competing to make the better computer. ( yes, that is how ignorant I was). He had already won a much harder and nearly insurmountable battle of selling people intangible ideas (Microscoft Office) in things (CDs) they had never used, did not know how to use and also didn’t know if the ideas and the ‘software’ would be ‘of’ use. Take that humungous machines, (that may be sleek now) but were never purely ‘ideas’ to improve work and home life. I concede Linux is the best and Bill Gates is the genius. But in technological writing- Neal Stephenson just rules!
I won’t get into why Linux is the best, read the essay and if you don’t want to, then you probably already disagree with me. Neither the penguin nor Excel or Open office needs your approval. I am out of the cult, that is Apple. Mentally, at least. That’s where it counts.
Obviously, that essay had to follow up with a book. But wait, I live in the ‘heartland’ of the U.S. The only bookstore in town closed down to open into a baseball cap store with particular interest in vintage baseball caps or such prints on them. Even the second hand bookstore closed. No one cares.
So, I had to wait till my trip to Portland, where I found Anathem on sale ( the exact book that Casey recommended). Stephenson lives in Seattle, and Powell is an awesome bookstore, also in the U.S.
Anathem is quite a tome, but then I read Stephen King and other than the final three volumes of Harry Potter have mostly never regretted starting a nice big fat book. It builds a relationship with the protagonist and more importantly, with the writer. I am someone who can read better when she knows either there are certainly 11 other things that require attention or she is so tired she cannot keep her eyes open. So right before the trip to Europe I began reading the book and it was my companion in the trip. I finished it two days after returning home. Hence this ode to the writer in between my trip report.
The friend who came over to Paris to see us, reads much more than I and all the time. She also reads some different stuff, though not all. She doesn’t like fat books, that’s our main difference, other than the fact she also likes Agatha Christie. I don’t like Agatha Christie. Don’t hold it against me, or do. I can’t change the fact that if there is a ‘mystery’ story I would prefer to have clues that even I could solve. Not some historical event that I couldn’t possibly know about and the killer being a blast from the past. pooh. Yes, I like Arthur Conan Doyle ( who doesn’t?).
Anyway, back to Anathem and Stephenson, she said she didn’t like it and she had only gotten to about 200 pages and got bored (its about a 1000 pg book). I was on about the 120th page, I think. I liked it even better from the 200th page and the origin of this post is what I told her after I finished reading. Of why she should try again ( us being scientists and all).
I told her I like Anathem. Its the story of an ‘avout’, a cross between a monk and a scientist. ( not a pure monk, because they are not religious). Living in relative seclusion in ‘concents’- a mix of abbey and university, from the ‘praxic’, extramuros, or the general people of the world. His kind had developed ‘new matter’, some elements not found in his planet- Arbre, but through various upheavals (sacks), led by the ‘Seculaer power’ ( the reigning government, that keeps changing from a religious leader to a democratic leader to an tyrant to all of the three), had given up the development and use of all such praxic (technologically advanced, or new) things. They are allowed to own only three technically advanced things, a bolt ( a single large piece of rectangular cloth that can be wrapped around in different ways, made of new matter), a cord ( to tie the bolt) and a sphere ( that can be made of any size, and consistency and lit up, also made of new matter.
As it turns out, the protagonist- Raz, Fraa Erasmus, later finds that several other concents have different rules (the dubious double standards in everything, I tell you!!) and their fraas and suurs ( male and female young scientists or specialists in a field, respectively) may own several different things in addition to the essential three. Some concents don’t do ‘science’ nor preserve it, they develop ways to fight like samurais, even when several decades go by without wars or open fights – these are the Valors, that appear later in the story. Other concents are dedicated to simply preserving history and historical aspects of how the Mathic world ( world inside concents) of the avouts began with the original ‘thinker’ or philosopher – Cnous and his two daughters. As in our world, it is the interpretation of what the great thinker saw and said that leads to the two basic divisions in the Arbran world- the scientific knowledge oriented avouts- who believe in the daughter named Hylaea and the faith believers – deolaters who worship the other daugher Deat as the goddess of the seculaer world. Although, there are several different types of religions or cults in that world, led by all kinds of evangelists and priests.
I liked it because I liked all the parallels it made with my world. Although, I will not go into all of them.
I feel like an avout in the Mathic world of science trying to learn and remember what is already known. Sometimes finding ‘really; new things (yes, there is a difference, really new things are really that much rarer).
In the book, the option of being an avout and giving up the praxic world is open to everyone, because the gates of the concent open every 10 years and there are other ways in which orphans and dying infants can be taken in as well. Smart children are often led to the concent by their parents. However, not all smart people become avouts, to the surprise of Raz, who finds several surprises in the seculaer world he had not anticipated. Just like one can find brilliant people in all walks of life, who we may think would have been suitable for running a laboratory on advanced physics!
His reinsertion into the seculaer world, the main adventure of this book, is comparable to the outlook of a hermit or even a tribe might think of our ‘civilized’ areas, having been in the concent for a decade since the age of about 8. His sister Cord is unlike any extramuros girl, he realizes as he sees others, and is very intelligent. He knows they share genetic material so this is to be expected, but her new boyfriend is indeed a surprise with his strange habits, yet sparkling brains.
Among the many things that had been invented by the avout in the past, before the last and third sack, was a way to manipulate genetic material. This appears several times in the story and is used to obscurely explain how some really old avouts- the Thousanders live for several centuries. It turns out to be even more meaningful when it is revealed that the thousanders and their concents have a very secret pact with the seculaer power. The pact protects the planet and allows the thousanders to use their knowledge to prevent aging and disease, as an exception to the law against it. There is even a group of people- the Ita, that are a mix of CIA/FBI/ Software engineers/, whose loyalties are questionable (CIA/FBI/NSA) and they are still essential for the normal working of the concent because of their technical knowledge, but may have a double role of being their watchdogs. They are an essential component of the story.
However, the beauty of the book is, it really doesn’t know any bounds. The speculation reaches out to what I think is likely to remain the biggest unsolved mystery in my life- that of aliens, parallel universes and most importantly of what our conscience (although not dealt with directly in the book) and our consciousness is made of.
I really did like the linking of Cosmi ( several or all existing cosmoses ) using the “wick” theory, that suggests that changes in one universe or Narrative causes changes in another one or more that lie below in the ‘wick’, metaphysically (cause and effect relationship). That evolution may have been guided by such events to give rise to similar changes in different planets, that would explain the existence of human or human like beings in very many planets in different universes or solar systems. Additionally, the affected changes inside our brains ( and maybe in other beings that have brains) are really consequential. Hence, we may all collude to something similar in the end, as the cosmi above ours, in our wick go through similar phases of change, development and destruction.
This system of flow of consequences leads to several collapsible cycles where all things break down and then start anew. I especially liked the brain existing in different Cosmi/ narratives, maybe when we sleep, at the same time ( though we may not feel so). In other words how we make decisions or suddenly arrive at them may be influenced by other parallel universes. How things may make sense after sleeping.
It is a long book. I could go on and on. But I will stop here. In one sentence, the book intertwines several fields of thought wonderfully, facts that are universal, like the Pythagoras theorem, scientific thinking in society ( one like ours, but not quite), the necessary intrusion of political power in its manifestation and effect on the general public and finally the Orwellian nature of language- that can often lead to much misinterpretation and loss in translation, leaving the uninformed quite misled.
The book is really about how much courage and depth Neal Stephenson has, and to me, he is Fraa Orolo. The one that guides willing pupils to see the light, the beauty in a world filled with pain and hopelessness. Of feelings of being trapped, of being useless, lonely and finally of no special use. That even though we may be helpless at what the cosmos above us throwing at us this minute, the changes in our brain can be useful and used to making a difference. Just see the beauty where you can.
Oh wait, I should at least explain what the title means. Well to get anathematized, it means you are court martialed with disdain as you flouted one or more (usually more) of the laws of the Mathic world, which include contacting the extramuros in between aperts (when the gates open). So most great thinkers, later called Saunts ( like saints, but not quite), had been thrown back, even Fraa Orolo does ( simpler term for anathematized), into the seculaer world. Basically, how every great thinker is treated in a world not prepared to accept anything new. Close to burned at stake. But again, not quite.
Up and about in Paris and London, part 2- Paris
What would you expect in a city that you have read and heard so much about? In every romantic or artistic movie, in every modern and Renaissance artist’s life history and more recently in ( somewhat unpalatable) thriller mysteries (read Dan Brown)?
I found that no movie or book did it justice, and that it is clearly the place for an artistic mind to play its tune. I also know why no one could do it justice in writing or movies, Paris is to experience, not an explanation. In fact it defies all kinds of explanation, in my mind. Although, i do believe that you can describe the people that live there over all the different eras and somehow put all their experiences, ideas and ideologies together and somehow breathe all that in into the soul of the city. That is Paris. Not the Tour de Eiffel, nor the Moulin Rouge or the Opera, Louvre or Cathedral de Notre Dame. Though all of those are as much a part of it as the metro stations and the cafes that line the streets, full of people very evening. People having drinks and people watching, the chairs turned outwards, people watching is taken seriously there!
On our first day in Paris, our second day in France, we had my friend as tour guide and I think we probably did the most site seeing that day, we saw the pyramid in the courtyard of the Louvre, the Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur and Montmartre, Pont Neuf and the Bastille area. The lover’s bridge ( with locks) from 1970s that I saw myself, was true to its name, filled with lovers busy locking themselves in a padlock and throwing away the key!
I particularly like the La Basilique Sacre Coeur on Montmartre. There are so many majestic monuments, like the Arc de triomphe, that are riveting and breathtaking. day or night. We never climbed on top of any of those, I don’t know, I prefer seeing the monument that seeing the city from on top of it. I am not a landscape photographer for a reason. I like details, not an overview.
The Eiffel tower looks wonderful in daylight and with lights on, the sparkling lights on the hour when it turns dark ( around 10 at night in the summer) are also very pretty. The bridge with locks that have families and lovers’ names on them, was very interesting. Pont Neuf with grotesque masks lining its arches, offers quite a view of the Seine and the Eiffel tower. It is the oldest bridge on the river.
We ate is several cafes and restaurants, and I can recall the name of about three of them, one, Cafe Central ( close to Eiffel tower) and Cafe Constant.
We walked into the tail end of what must have been a phenomenal farmer’s market, in the Bastille area (it was a Sunday) with a large variety of very large sausages, cheeses, hundreds of varieties of fish!! I saw my first whole octopus.
The next time we went to Paris was see a Moulin Rouge show, something my dad had recommended and i believed would be entertaining and spectacular. Surprisingly the food and the champagne was also not bad! Though they did take away the exquisite dinner napkins in a hurry, probably afraid of them being taken as souvenirs. The show was full house and lasted about two hours. Exotic costumes and dancers. As part of the variety show some very skilled acrobatics and a few magic tricks. But nothing was as spectacular as the lit costumes of the finale. Definitely worth the steep price, if you are not certain how much you would enjoy the opera knowing no French ( and if you definitely don’t have opera appropriate attire).
We had been staying at Rueil Malmaison when we went for that show, at the end of the week, we moved to a hotel close to the Eiffel Tower, the Relais Bosquet. We stayed at a classic room ( one up from standard). It has to be best hotel I have ever stayed at, despite the room being restricted in size, it is IN Paris, after all. I couldn’t stop thanking the supremely friendly manager and whoever was present at the reception. They were just plain wonderful. They kept our bags for free for five days when we went to London, despite the fact that we were not returning to the hotel to stay our last night in Paris. I would totally recommend that hotel, and I will certainly stay there the next time. It is already highly rated in Tripadvisor.
We walked to the Eiffel tower, several times, once during the day and twice at night. But the tower can be seen from several little streets and I really thought some of those views were quite unique. So, I am glad we walked instead of taking the metro.
However that said, taking the metro in Paris is very very simple, there are information centers in almost every station, especially near the tourist spots. Once you have a map, it is easy. However, as I said in the last post, you don’t need a map or the information center, someone is likely to help you in English, if you ask. we didn’t need to, but that’s thanks to my friend, who already got us used to it the first day in Paris.
The only really confusing place in Paris is the Louvre and of course its humungous size doesn’t help. There is very little written in English anywhere, you can rent the audio guide which does have English. The arrows points are totally cryptic, it is seriously a treasure hunt!! However, there are very few museums that can compare to the Louvre. The palace converted to the museum is beautiful, and the collection far more than anything I could safely assimilate in a day, or even 30 days. So we just did two wings, saw the Mona Lisa, Venus De MIlo, Winged Victory, Cupid, some Michelangelo sculptures and several of Da Vinci’s works that I prefer over the Mona Lisa, some Rembrandt.
A very rare and old painting using entirely different colors than I have seen ever before. The best thing was that we didn’t have to stand in line for the tickets, we got off at La Carousel metro station and that is an entirely separate entry to the Louvre. My husband found this suggestion in the tripadvisor. And it really is true. Not one person head of us.
We also went to the Lafayette galleria- I didn’t buy anything, it was very crowded and the only place in Paris I didn’t like, even if it is in a very beautiful building.
There are many places we didn’t have time to see, or rather we would have had to rush through them, like the Musee d’orsay. But, I didn’t want to do that. I just wanted to walk around and eat and drink. I wish I could recall the names of the dishes we ate, but alas, I can’t. But most of the fish and all of the shrimp was very good. Desserts are to die for, especially the gateau called ‘Opera’. There are various kinds of bread, and we barely scratched the surface of the variety of bread and gateau. Not to mention the cheeses.
Our last night in Paris (after 5 days in England) coincided with the summer solstice, which is commemorated by Fete de la Musique, a street (all streets!) music festival, all night in Paris. The dinner was at a small, but old ( 78 yrs old) restaurant that served an apple tarte in flames ( i am so sorry that I cannot remember the name of the restaurant).This time we stayed right next to one of the biggest train stations, the Gare Du Nord. At Ibis hotels. This hotel was also very nice, friendly reception. But my heart is sold to Relais Bosquet. There were several jazz singers, little choir groups playing all around Pont Neuf, where we decided to hang out that night. Some circle, as we that’s what we saw first in Paris. We saw the Eiffel Tower sparkle, one last time from the bridge. It was wonderful, children, youngsters, older couples, everyone was on the streets. That is what I love about Paris. There are no hotspots where only the young or the old or the children hang out. Lots of drinking too! But most of the drunks are well behaved in Paris. It was definitely a perfect end to a memorable trip, in my most favorite city in the world. Paris.
Up and about in Paris and London- Part 1- Rueil Malmaison
It is rare that anything that is much anticipated actually delivers more than what you expect. For me, after realizing that even science is full of hot gas most of the time, during my Ph.D., and being as disappointed as a child who realizes that its parents are also human, after all, I was left with the sole long term dream of traveling to Europe. At least once.
I have to say that there is that wish that didn’t disappoint, at all. For the longest I had imagined that I will never find a place I actually feel comfortable in, some place that brings me joy just by being there. In all honesty, I didn’t think that the people surrounding me in such a place would be speaking a language I only know a few verbs and phrases of, but even so, the knowledge that such a place exists, has done my spirit a whole lot of good. Rueil Malmaison- a suburb of Paris ( but nothing like any suburb I have seen in the U.S., so should really be called something else for the true American reader), where even Napoleon spent a few years being happily married to Josephine ( who may not have been as happy), also made be feel happy just because I was there.
Maybe it was an older lady with her dad in a wheelchair, who stopped to help us when they saw my husband doing his ritual turning around in circles whenever he is confused about directions. Maybe it was the knowing smile in the old man’s face when we confirmed that indeed, we were from India. He said he had been to Pakistan- India border, 80 yrs ago. I didn’t know the french for 80 or years ago. But I told them I could count till vingt. The lady (whose name I regret not asking, but hey, we had been there three hours and my old college friend was waiting for us somewhere we had to look for), was happy to know that I knew that much, as she realized this was our first time in France. She may have thought that we lived there, she had started to speak in french. But having picked up one of the verbs I know in french, I had responded that we had found what we were looking for (though, apparently, we had been mistaken!). It is true that she thought that people from India should have no reason speaking in a language of the imperialists that ruled them ( she said, and I definitely felt that it is an observation she didn’t appreciate, ‘ You speak English, even when you are Indian?’, at that point she didn’t know we didn’t live in France ( so we should either have been speaking some Indian language or Francaise). Although some people may regard this as being snobbish, or condescending, I did not. Let me explain, I am highly attuned to demeaning cadence in a conversation, having worked with an idiot for 5 yrs who didn’t know anything ( and didn’t accept or appreciate that I did) and thought that having a certain ‘position’ vindicates one of actually having the knowledge that SHOULD have led to the position, in a perfect world. Who chose to use just that tone and facial expressions, all the time, that one would assign to this lady, had she actually been condescending. But that was not the case. She is from a culture that believes in taking pride from wherever you are, especially if you are from a country that has a glorious history, culture, traditions and scientific acumen- India. I in fact appreciate her seeing India in what it really is.
This encounter had been preceded by some unpleasantness as we made our way to Rueil Malmaison. We were tricked at the airport into paying a 100 euros in a private car, knowing full well that one should never be solicited into taxis as only fools fall into that trap. I was pissed and my husband no doubt dreaded an impending gloomy mood. It is not more than 40 euros to Rueil Malmaison from Charles de Gaulle airport, I had checked. But my dear college friend had come over from Netherlands, and after seeing (and with the help in finding) her all sorts of ill thoughts just vanished!
Maybe it was schoolkids ages 9-13 skateboarding (safely) to and from school, or riding ‘vintage’ push scooters. Or people carrying long french breads in bags and running after buses. The city center, with a lovely church and a square being full of people at the lunch hour. Or the beautiful flowers everywhere. The observant worker at a take out restaurant who remembered what I had ordered and asked for, after one visit.
The shutters on the side of every apartment in every building, colored brightly in lovely pastel shades. Or the streets, with wonderful Patisseries and restaurants, cafes and small cars.
It was possibly a combination of all of this that helped me realize that happiness may not be a place, but it can most certainly be ‘in’ one. Don’t believe all the cliches, when the world is waiting for you. I know now, that even though I may never be able to live in Rueil- Malmaison, or Paris ( that made me as, if not more, happy) there can be a place, with its people and its character, that make me happy.
The chateau where Napoleon and Josephine lived together for about two years (Josephine died there, later) is beautiful and still has most of its original furniture, oil paintings and that borrowed from other Napoleon’s palaces . The adjoining park with some very beautiful statues, told me in its own way, that even parks need a history to have a character and peace that can move you. It was not easy for me to get to the chateau though, we did our ritualistic circular dance before finally reaching it. The first two times I went we couldn’t even enter because the park and chateau closes at 7 pm and is closed on Tuesdays. Inside, we were asked to take our backpacks off so that we don’t ram into anything and it is possible that there was someone keeping an eye especially on us. But it maybe just my opinion. As I said, everything in the place was original, and other than the noble porcelain and other smaller things, there were no glass coverings or enclosures. Plus the rooms are not huge, or even really big.
Rueil Malmaison is about a 20 min metro ride to Paris, maybe less if you get off at an earlier stop in Paris, in the RER A train. I may never have gone there had it not been the venue of my husband’s conference, but I am glad we did. The hotel – Qualys was very nice, especially the housekeeping. They took great care to accommodate me, as I didn’t leave every morning to go anywhere and definitely messed up their schedule. Even then, they waited till I left, sometimes as late as 1 pm, to clean the room.
Walking distance to the RER station and our hotel is the Seine river front, where there is a Le parc de impressionists dedicated to the well known impressionists, including Manet, Monet and Renoir, who painted the view of Seine and other places in Rueil, presumably standing along one or the other shoreline. I saw my first view of mute swans, with a chick in between them. That completed my wish list for Rueil-Malmaison.
Yes, I could live there.
Another unsuitable job for a woman…?
It may be because women are more sensitive, or more prone to need extraneous approval for self esteem, but there certainly seems to be some types of work that make women prone to being depressed and suicidal.
There are endless biological reasons related to hormones that make us more vulnerable at different periods of time. Men use other resorts like drugs and alcohol to get over the pain. And of course violence. However, suicide is also technically a very violent act, towards one self. No dearth of women drug abusers or alcoholics either.
But if women can survive being in politics, Sonia Gandhi, Mayawati, Jayalalitha, Sushma Swaraj and so on, possibly one of the least favorable environments for the delicate sensitivities, why is it harder to survive the entertainment business? The recent suicide of Nafisa (Jiah) Khan, a young bollywood actress (25 yrs) , who acted in about three four movies, sent me back into introspection and the differences in profession and how the male or female brains handle them. I remembered P.D. James being warned against being a police detective, homicide, as it was an ‘Unsuitable job for a woman’, she said in an essay with that title. However, from what I know, men and women swoon and throw up at the sight of dead bodies, in medical school and probably in crime sites.
Art comes with its own hang ups- lack of appreciation can kill the art and the artist. Whereas in politics, the drive is not particularly appreciation, it is power. Hence, the people who choose it are either born into it or choose it after long, careful strategic moves that need intense planning. They may be more prepared for the onslaught that follows, hence better fortified against it. Public figures, in politics and entertainment, expect their dirty laundry to be hung out for people to see. Doctors probably understand they can contract anything infectious from patients, occupational hazards are often known before hand (unless it is a side effect of some chemical or production component).
I kept coming back to this need of being wanted and liked, and for people choosing the entertainment business, of being famous. That seems a more feminine trait, that of being needed and liked, or am I being biased?
Perhaps it is the unpreparedness for fame or shame or even worse of indifference and oblivion, that leads to suicides, in show business. The final attempt to attract attention, or the only decisive way for giving up. I do believe people have a right to their lives and should be allowed to end it, if it becomes even more unbearable than it usually is. Although I am not clear on how to know when that indeed is the only course.
Another young Indian actress, had been crowned Miss India, Nafisa Joseph, also committed suicide. She was also a Miss Universe runner up. Anchored several MTV shows and seemed intelligent and cogent. It was said that the reason was she had relationship problems. But then, who doesn’t. Ask any victim of domestic violence. How do they find the will to live?In all other accounts both these beautiful young actresses had a lot going on for them. They thought otherwise, of course.
I am only comparing the will and strength to go on, in a way of life they chose or accept, when I compare victims of ongoing domestic violence and the young actresses who committed suicide, no one can tell from outside who is having a harder time or feeling more lonely.
In India, the young find ever more reasons to kill themselves willingly, so many high school students commit suicide because they see not doing well in an exam an end to what they and their family perceived as the only way to a good life. Not that the older and hardened men are left behind, the millions of farmers who have died at their own hands is a witness to that sentiment.
The end of hope is real for many people, regardless of profession, but maybe the sexes define it differently. Most high school students suicide attempters are probably male, the farmers mostly male as well, that seems to be more family responsibility or honor related.
It is possible that female actresses or models start their careers at a younger age, than the male counterparts, not really knowing what the whole package proffers, looking at the glitter and the glamor. But all that glitters…
However, Jaya Bhaduri, Dimple Kapadia, Juhi Chawla, Urmila Matondkar, among others made their mark, albeit after a lot of struggle. Others have accepted other roles in life, when they couldn’t make it in movies and grew out of modeling/ singing careers ( Sushmita Sen, Victoria Beckham, Nafisa Ali). Whenever I look at all the child artists, I feel anxiety and fear for their future well being, I don’t know of many who survived through that stage of being in the limelight, into being well rounded human beings with a realistic view of life. Hollywood is full of such stories, be it Fred Savage, or Macaulay Culkin, Britney Spears. Even Charlie Sheen, who was also a child actor, is only obnoxious and self destructive now. So again, it is not really something only females seem to be more vulnerable to. There is a reason it is called show business, it is open to criticism, and one has to be inured to that. Some form of assessment is present in all professions, are doctors and scientists not prone to be categorized into good or bad and successful or not? It may not be tabloids that do that, but in fact, serious criticism in science journals is much more scary. Tabloids and entertainment magazines are known to be rumor mongers and change their mind or lose interest pretty quickly. Unlike scientific journal editors!
Growing up and making something of yourself is very stressful, for everyone. Acceptance of what you have and contentment are even harder to achieve, but without them whatever you achieve will be meaningless. Even an Oscar. Whatever wills the purpose or goal of a life, maybe fate or DNA or upbringing, life is more than a goal or should be. Families can cause and prevent serious depression, isn’t it relationship issues that drive a lot of people to suicide? I don’t know what an ideal support system for people would be, because anything that can make you can also break you into pieces, but I do believe the following poem by Rudyard Kipling says it very well, because in the end, it is you and about you. That’s not being selfish, because even people who live to help others only do it because they like it and are able to do so.
I also believe that’s where writers, poets and philosophers come into our lives, because they can fill the void others have left in us. ( some use religion as well, I am not a proponent but it does have its uses). It does in fact, hold true for both the types of brains.. male and female. Unfortunately, this poem and those thinkers are only for people who survive being young and ambitious and have not witnessed their own children starving, with loan sharks threatening their only source of livelihood. That is the burden for society, for us all.
If, by Rudyard Kipling
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son! ( or a woman! :))
Implicit Self 
