The Weight of Existence

Sounds of the Weekend

Went to a sushi restaurant called Jam Jam for lunch during their all-you-can-eat happy hour.  €11.90 per person, featuring a merry-go-round of sushi, noodles, fruits, and deserts. Pretty awesome when you didn't smack your hand against the glass doors trying to snag the plate you wanted.  

Muffin Vitamins

Mail was a pain, but it had to be done. Don't ask me how much my 6kg box of shinanigans cost me... alright it cost €47 but it had to be done, and having the goods inside was well worth it (just go with it and humor me). It cost €3.75 for each of these small packages and I almost lost it when they said they don't accept credit cards when I'm staring at the machine right there. Killin me Germany. So, note to self they don't believe in credit, only debit.  Ridiculous, and of course I'm debitcardless thanks to the ass in Ibiza.

After washing our hands of that madness, we headed to the Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe costing €7 and finally accepted my credit card - I'm saving cash for the Train tix and groceries - where it's mostly ever only cash. Oiii god bless.  But there was a good handful of exhibits we wanted to see, and meeting up with another friend of Anna's we started with Steve McCurry and his breathtaking images over the years.

Hi.

McCurry's work blew me away. From Cambodia to India to Tibet and Afghanistan.  His story of finding the woman of his infamous Afghan Girl portrait 17 years later... To capture everything between tragedy, and joy, the painful and thriving, youth and age... I can only wish I could freeze it all the same when I photograph my travels, wanderings, everyday life.  

Nowadays, few can really just let an image be taken of them, without wanting to change themselves or wanting something in return.  Two extremes in a way, therefore altering any meaning the image may have had before. I suppose it's only fair, but at the same time, it would be nice to just trust how the dirt lays on your face, how the emotions shine in your stance, just, how you are - is perfect (otherwise the photographer will just say so anyhow haha)... in all seriousness, I just like to prove something, someone, somewhere exists.  So, shh. be still.

In a nutshell I envy McCurry and how he goes about his profession. To be able to blend in, and show so many diverse areas of life.  It's beautiful, depressing, enlightening, and heavy.  

Art Nouveau rooms for rent

Cairo Exhibit

Inside Out

The rest of the museum was a maze, but enjoyed running through the other exhibits like Name That Thing, Art Nouveau, Inside Out, Cairo, etc til our feet felt like they were going to fall off. Made our way through Humana, a sweet second hand clothing store before climbing the stairs back home (I think there's one in Berlin too?) A great selection of vintage and second hand, but definitely smaller than the Kleidermarkt. Shirts ranging €5 to€15... And if you're lucky you may get to even talk the price down. 

Anna helped me book my way down to Berlin, a 3 hour ride that cost €15 so about the same as a rideshare, but it all depends on the time and whatever you have too.  This is just from the Centralstation of Hamburg (ZOB) to the Berlin Central bus station (ZOB).  

Intimate shit back at the Karussell

CHOWDER

DANKE ANNA & friends. It was a short stay in Hamburg, but I don't think I could have asked for a better transition into Germany!  The people, the food, the art.  Dig it all. It's always refreshing to encounter people will similar aspirations... or let's be a little more broad, people with an aspiration in general. We are, who we surround ourselves with.  And, to me that means we can either drag each other down with fake rainbows and excuses, making a hole in the boat, sink beneath the surface ... or motivate and push each other harder to keep on the path we cut with our own machete! No more distractions.  More room for succeeding. Becoming the person you want to be means nothing if you aren't aware of the kind of person you are now.  

We aren't gettin any younger. 

KL

Must Be About Birds

Jumped on the train from Amsterdam Schipol station through Thalys.  I was a solid 4 hours early, wasn't feeling so well and hunting for a good place to just sit and attempt to feel better.  Not gonna lie, I nearly missed my train - I literally got on it a solid 60 seconds before it took off!  I got distracted on the other side of the platform til I looked at my watch and realized my train was about to leave. I sprinted and dove in huffing and puffing like a total rookie. 

Got to Gare du Nord Station (aka Paris Nord) around 430pm, grabbed the Metro down to Montparnasse then ligne N aka suburban train because the couchsurfing host I had now lived just two stops out of the city.  The station was large and I had to ask someone where it was. And note to self pronouncing 'ligne' is not the same as 'line'. So; when asking Ou est le ligne N? Ligne = lean - ye. just a faint ye sound at the end of lean. It was on the next floor up after exiting the Metro area. Looked for the screen that pointed towards clamart and met there.

Thony and his flatmates host plenty of people, one of my friends included, and were super nice and welcoming.  But whatever sickness I felt earlier seemed to amplify and I had to call it a night after some champagne card games.

Woke the next day to head out to the countryside to Thony's parents home that used to be a large farm.  It was huge and so pretty, old traditional bulidings throughout the small town and barns every other way.

Thony took me to Baie du Somme, just an hour north of his parents. Took a short walk/hike through not a dirt trail; but purely sand through tall skinny twisted pines of the sort (pictures to come later) ending at large dunes just before a flat empty beach. 

The dunes were so cool, but on the walk back I felt like I was going to collapse.  My head was pounding my chest heavy and snot city burning up my face.  You get the picture; I looked terrible, and upon returning Thony and his mum helped get me a doctor appointment and finally I get my hands on some antibiotics (along with assurance that my dangly gross toe nail wasn't infected).  I got lucky here, and didn't have to pay (shh, we got to beat the medical insurance system) but otherwise I can only assume it would be a shit ton of bones and much more of a hassle - so THANK YOU Thony and Thony's mum!  Finally started to feel better after a couple days of rest as well, but the doc said I just must have caught something while running from country to country train to airport to buses etc.

On our way back to Paris, Thony took me to a traditional little french village before our search for Monet's house in Giverny.  Seeing the gardens and home cost about £7.50, so not much really but the line was hugeeee if you have just as much love for your time as you do for Monet, I'd buy a ticket online ahead of time.  But besides that, it was all truly lovely, and thankfully, quiet with tourists admiring the gardens.

Finally went into the Louvre today with a friend I made from Toulon who happened to also be in Paris at the same time.  It was a rainy day in the beginning, so hopes were high that it wouldn't be busy. HA, ya dream on.  The sign said there was a 1.5 hr wait, the line was wrapping around the whole courtyard, but we thought we'd at least try... and it actually only took us 40 min, relatively fast so that was a relief.  Upon entering; your bags get xrayed then you go down a couple escalators to the ticketstands - £13 flat, but free if you are a resident and under 18 years old.

Je voudrais = I would like

un billet = one ticket

s'il vous plait = please (cause you ain't an asshole)

My nightmare

Poor Mona being suffocated

Miss Jeanne et moi

After the Louvre we started to walk towards the Centre Pompidou for the Lichtenstein and Hantai exhibitions as well as some modern art to balance out what just happened at the Louvre. On the way however, noticed a colorful looking building that turned out to be 6 floors or so of artists studios open for curious eyes for free.  So naturally, took in some more doses of brilliant art.  

59 Rue de Rivoli

Overall, I found the Louvre reassuring, in the sense that it didn't have me totally falling off my seat, but content in seeing and appreciating the works that I learned of in school/slept through in history class (from Egypt to Rome to Italy).  Les Artistes du 59 Rivoli only got me excited to get my own space to work and drown in paint, while the Pompidou was a fun lil awakening on what all the fuss is about nowadays, and had an exceptional view of Paris - meaning I now didn't feel any urge to pay £13 to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower for any sort of skyline view! Just got it here plus art so, really unless I meet prince charming and he scores 11pm tickets...  I enjoyed all them on different levels, and when I think of being a 'tourist' I believe it's important to be selective in what you go see, or more importantly what you pay to see.  It pays off to know what is inside an exhibition or museum before you make such effort to see it with your own eyes (or better yet touch it when no one's looking hehe).  Going just to go, leaves your time and satisfaction up for game, and if you can afford it, then great, and if not, I highly reccomend taking care in what you want to do, but at the same time keepin some room for the things that aren't always going to be there.

KL