Omens and Burnout
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in a blue mood-
looked up and saw green |
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dis-connected? |
The trouble with omens is that by the time you realize them as omens
it's too late to use them. In our case, the cell phone snafu
(reported in an earlier post) was an omen indicating that travel
burnout was imminent. I define the phenomenon of travel burnout as
the point in a journey when things seem to go wrong and when
everything begins to look the same—a kind of déja
vu.
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one of many plaques marking
the line of the Paris Meridian |
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two musicians playing in the street
in front of our apartment one morning |
The nadir of total burnout hit yesterday on a calamitous trip to
Versailles. Everything seemed to go wrong. The bus wasn't able to go
all the way to the palace gate because of the 37th
Paris-Versailles Race event that blocked traffic on the broad
approach road three kilometers from the palace. We had to walk all
those three kilometers! On finally arriving within sight of the
palace I found that I had forgotten to put the SDHC media card into
my camera and couldn't take any pictures. (For me there's no point in
traveling if I can't take photos.)
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pig and chickens roasting in the
window of a restaurant in the Latin Quarter |
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seen in a tailor shop
window down the street |
Versailles itself is beyond impressive, it is overwhelming—far too
extensive for exploring on foot—excessive is not too exaggerated an
expression for the impression Versailles gives. Given such excess,
the French Revolution is understandable. It makes the 1% of our own
time seem like paupers and Buckingham Palace in London a hovel in
comparison. But, no camera, no photos.
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scrap metal barge on the Seine |
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dining al fresco |
After roaming around the palace grounds, around 5pm we decided to
call it a day and return to Paris. It seemed that the
Paris-Versailles race was over, so we waited for the bus for about an
hour and then discovered that there still was no bus and we would
have had to walk the three kilometers back or take a nearby train for
extra cost. Unwilling to walk anymore, we went to the railroad
station and waited in line to buy a ticket from a machine only to
discover that it takes only coins of which we had none. We had to
move to another long line to buy tickets from a human being . . .
finally got tickets and got back, hungry, to Paris. A restaurant
across the street advertised hamburgers for 7 Euro, but, once seated,
the menu said 17 Euro so we left and eventually bought Falafel take
out across the street (after an extra large daiquiri in the
apartment) and ate it in our apartment.
Images
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Eiffel Tower at night |
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street musician in a Montmartre park |
Today
is our last day in Paris; using up unused Metro tickets (from
yesterday's Versailles fiasco) and strolling the
Champs-Élysées.
Had my first encounter with a pickpocket at the Arch of Triumph—a
real amateur, amusingly transparent. I shooed her off and noticed her
accosting another mark with the same gambit. She got close enough to
get a hand in his bag, but he caught her in the act and a struggle
followed—I fortunately had my SDHC card this time.
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dusk on the Seine with Notre Dame |
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smoke break in the Latin Quarter |
I've been noticing that I've been adding more and more people in many of my
photographic images. I'm not really sure why. Perhaps they only serve
as foreground to increase the depth of the image. Yet that
explanation, although part of the process, seems specious at best.
Perhaps they add an emotional impact that brings the image to life
that an otherwise ordinary image might lack. Or, maybe, I'm seeing
the image through the eyes of the people in my images. It's like you
and I are here at this time, experiencing the same place, and I'm
wondering if you see it like I do or in a very different way.
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F1 racer in a Renault showroom on
the Champs Elysee |
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roses on Edit Piaf's tomb
in Pere Lachaise Cemetery |
Most likely, it makes no difference. Ultimately, we see the world
through our own eyes and try to make sense of something that makes no
sense. An old cliché
states that the world is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to
be lived. I live my mystery and try to interpret it through
photographic imagery. Here, then, are my favorite images from our
short stay in Paris. They don't define Paris, since Paris (or
anywhere for that matter) is ultimately undefinable. But, definition
is not the issue...only what it is for me.
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street conversation |
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on the banks of the Seine |
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caught redhanded pickpocket
and the mark who caught her |
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probably a PR photo for Nespresso |
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living La Boheme |
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La Pyramid du Louvre |
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