18. 2(Xen)

That title, there, is a mathy play on words. See, I've got the quantity of Xen multiplied by two, which you can also say as Xen times two.  And, see, it's part two of the Xen Times blog, so...get it?

Hmp. Anyway, we pick up where I left off. 

Saturday Megan had to work again. I suppose it is the reason we came here, but I was coming to realize just how it much sucks not speaking French. I've thought my French, while not good, wasn't terrible. But what little French I have gets scant practice. If Megan's with me, she does the talking, so I pretty much just buy croissants in the morning, beer at Villa Borghese, and brief interactions at the grocery store (“No, I don't have a fidelity card,” “I'm using American Express,” etc). And I can read signs sort of okay, but usually I have her there to double check with.

But in this instance it worked out to our advantage. Xen and I went to the Musee Branly, which was having an exhibition of Samurai armor and weapons from the way way back times up until the late 1800s when wearing swords and, effectively, samurai in general were outlawed. We got there okay, but once inside we were uncertain how to deal with the ticket machine. It was the first place to buy tickets that I've been to that was completely automated. And right there, on the screen, were easy instructions on how to get free tickets. If you're a student and member of the EU between 18-24, tickets are free. Xen punched up two of those just for the heck of it, expecting that at some point we'd need to insert our IDs or prove ourselves in some way.

Nope. They just printed right out. Then things unfolded like this:

     “Hunh,” Nat said, eyeing the tickets dubiously, “I bet we'll have to show them to somebody at some point, and then the gig'll be up.” Xen shrugged.

     “Well, let's just go see. Here's a line.” But as they approached, there appeared to be two lines. One was full of people and wasn't moving. In the other one, people walked up and then passed inside. Xen and Nat meandered up the walkway, not in either line. “We'll just see what's happening, see if there's a guy taking tickets,” They said to each other.

     At the door stood a man in a suit. “Ah,” Nat said, “That'll be the guy that will want us to prove we're EU students.” But as they watched, he stopped a small group of people coming up the empty line and spoke with them. As he spoke, two more people came up behind the group, made their way around, and went inside. No one challenged them. Then it happened again. Nat and Xen edged a bit closer to see what happened inside. Another couple people went in, tickets in hand.

     “Why don't we just, like, follow those people in?” Xen said.

     “Okay. Just look confused.” Nat replied, and the two of them wandered forward, getting closer to the door (and the man in the suit) but not looking like they were going to actually go in until they...just...did. Through the doors they went. Inside was a guy checking bags as people went through a metal detector, but he didn't care a whit for the tickets in the two lads' hands. And with that, they were in the museum.

     “Did we just cheat France out of 17 euros?” Xen whispered.

     “I...I think so,” Nat whispered back, looking around, expecting someone to come up and take them by the scruffs.

     But as they approached the walkway leading up to the samurai exhibit, they found they had one more dragon to vanquish, and this one seemed insurmountable. A pretty young lady stood by the entrance to the spiraling walkway, with a laser scanner in hand. The brothers, having gone too far by now to just quit, glanced at each other, shrugged, and approached.
     Xen offered her his ticket. She shot it with the laser, said, “Merci, monsieur,” and he was through. Nat offered his.
     She took the ticket, the one implying he was a citizen-student of the European Union between the ages of 18 and 24, shot it with the laser gun, looked right into his eyes- the ones framed by crow's feet and a beard with lots of grey in it- smiled, and said, “Merci, monsieur.”

Arnie and Carl are the ticket takers. Xen and I are the Predator sneaking by.
 Can't see us? Exactly. 

That girl totally knew. I saw it in her eyes. But she didn't care. So, ladies and gentlemen. By acting confused and uncertain, by not asking any questions but just sort of wandering in, we got into the samurai exhibit free. And it was pretty swank. Lots of old sets of armor, swords, bows (those things are tall, like, taller than a person), masks, puppets....cool stuff.

Xen approves this armor.

See what I did there?

Sometimes your mustache is so awesome you can't leave it covered
on the battlefield. But you can't leave your face uncovered, either, so...

The use of combat throwing fish is a little-known and
oft-overlooked aspect of Japan's martial history

Arrow heads. Huge freaking arrow heads.

Even the horsies get cool masks.

You get to and leave from the exhibition by a long spiral walkway which itself has some art on it. From the ceiling is a projection of over 15,000 words, animated so that they act like a river.

They're in lots of different languages, and a few of them are red and a very few of them are black, but the English translation of the description of the piece doesn't explain the significance of why the artist chose the words he did. And I kind of like that, because then you can try to figure it out yourself.

The courtyard outside had these glass-looking poles, which I assumed on the way in to be part of the evening lights to help people find their way out. But no, it was art, too.

The ferny, feathery plants made these things look
 like a Dark Crystal set piece.

I like how the tree got lit up, too.

Ultimately, I think I'm just a sucker for pretty lights.

The next day was Sunday, so what should we do on Sunday? Go to the Museum of Erotic Art! Yes, Paris has a museum dedicated to erotic art, just a hundred meters from the Moulin Rouge and flanked on either side by naughty-toy supply shops.

In fact, I wouldn't say that the place was a museum dedicated to showing the history of eroticism down through the ages so much as the history of people making things that make one say, “Wow, that's a big wang you made out of wood there” or “Heh heh, boobies” or “Yyyeeepp, that's a cootchie.” This place didn't care if I took pictures, used a flash, or made a movie (although I didn't), so here're some pictures of the eroticness.

Sometimes we all need a little help bearing our burdens.

I...think this is a pipe.

This is just a thing for your coffee table. yep. Nothing special,
 just a blue glass satyr with a giant wang.

I didn't take a picture of the actual piece, because it was rather  unimpressive.
 Well, it was a two-foot giant wooden wang, which I suppose is noteworthy,
but the important part was that it was to help you with your prayers. 

This is a dildo sandal. That's all.

Sometimes, ladies, it's really hard being a guy and having to
 deal with things like this.

I think if this is the diorama I made for my 2nd grade book report,
 there would be quite the parent/teacher conference.

Somebody got tired of not being able to undress
 his action figures and just made his own.

Heh heh, boobies.

Satanism is the least of parents' worries in this game of D&D.

I think this robot is supposed to represent the future of vibrator technology.
 That joke about not needing a man because you've got your vibrator seems disturbingly prophetic.

Perhaps the most interesting thing was the pornos from the early 20^th century. Seems like as soon as people figured out how to make pictures move someone said, “Dude, let's do that, but with people having sex.” Without getting too graphic, the medium has come (haha) a long way with regards to portraying, um, effective sexy times on film.

On Monday, Megan went to work, and Xen and I went shopping for souvenirs. In this we were failures. See, Xen shops in a way similar and yet opposite to me. Once, for Christmas, I felt the perfect gift for a friend of mine would be a book called, “Jewelry and Accessories for Combat and Cocktails “ showing the history or giving ideas for the best way to make a hat pin that is also a throwing dagger or a necklace with baubles that are also smoke bombs or rings that hold poison, etc etc. Now, to my knowledge this book doesn't exist. But that's what I wanted to get this person. So I went looking for it, or the nearest approximation. Needless to say, that person did not get the perfect gift from me that year.

It's a cocktail for combat, but not what I was looking for.

Xen, goes shopping with no idea what he's looking for, but hoping to stumble across the right thing. We wound up in a big, full-on department store, on the floor with the toys and the electronics. It also had the free public restroom, a genuine rarity in Paris. I walked right in to the men's room, but the ladies' had a line that stretched way out into the store proper. Long story short, though, we found nothing worthy of purchase, although there was this thing that, if only I were not chronically broke here, would have been mine.

The next day, Tuesday, Xen took the train to Lyon to see the sister of a friend of his who was there doing the whole semester abroad thing. I don't come into it anywhere, so I'm not going to talk about it. Nyah.

On Wednesday, Xen's last day in Paris (he left relatively early on Thursday), we knew we had to do something good, something to feather that vacation-in-Paris cap. So we decided to visit the house that Leroy built, the palace wherein resided the Sun King during his reign on earth, the home of the longest reigning monarch in European history. I give you Versailles, abode of Louis XIV.

If someone had, for some reason, a bunch of money to blow on making a video that would only appeal to very niche audience, they should totally do a version of MTV's “Cribs” but do a period-correct version of Louis XIV as he lived at Versailles. So, it's gosh-dang huge, full of big rooms with names like the Hall of Mirrors or the Peace Room. It's just...big. And the public is only allowed to see a very small part of it. Here, have some:

First thing to do when building a god-awful huge display of
 extravagance is to give it gold trim. 

Some people wandered in and photobombed while
 I was trying to take more pics of the gold trim.

When building that god-awful huge display of extravagance (GAHDOE)
 make sure to have long hallways, preferably out of marble.

Any good GAHDOE needs its own chapel with a giant organ. 

It's not so much that you have marvelously painted ceilings, but that people know
that you paid someone to lie on their back and paint the thing. That, my friend, is real power.

So here we've got some trompe l'oeil, painting
designed to create the illusion of depth.

More trompe l'oeil action.

That's Mars, there, being all badass and triumphant.

Louis XIV, premier GAHDOE builder. The caption beneath reads,
 "My milkshake shall bring all the boys to the yard. Because I command it to."

Your GAHDOE should have some signature room, with a
self-explanatory title like Hall of Mirrors.

They don't necessarily have to be good mirrors.

This guy seems a little too proud of himself, considering.
  And what do you think made his hand fall off?

Megan likes opulence.

Here's me, taking a picture of me listening to the audio tour telling me about how
 Marie Antoinette escaped Versaille through a secret door in her bedroom,
 while standing in her bedroom. If only she had been able to stay ahead of them.

After we'd sampled the interior, but before we headed out into the gardens, we stopped for a fortifying beverage, for it was cold outside, and maybe a bit rainy. The in-Versailles cafe was of course quite pricey, so we got no food but we all wound up ordering the hot chocolate.

Oh.

My.

God.

It's like sweet warm velvet took your taste buds' pants off and...well, I'm told that there are younger readers to this blog, so I'll not get graphic. But it was gooood. After we'd recovered from the chocolate's ravishing, we proceeded to the gardens.

Garden-ey bits.

Actually, since it was winter, all the fountains were turned off
and the statues were covered up in sacks. Well, not the fountain statues.
 They're used to being cold and wet.

There's the GAHDOE in the background. Not finding a nearby fellow-tourist
 to take our picture, I set my camera on the ground on the timer.

Xen on the Dragon fountain: Shouldn't they spray fire and not water?
Unimpressed, is he.

I mean, if you can't even intimidate seagulls,
 what kind of a dragon are you?

The statue of Poseidon in the Poseidon fountain was situated so that you can
 only see it from the far side, where certain cameras with poor zoom
 capabilities struggle.

Heading away from Versailles the GAHDOE and towards Versailles the town. 

That night we had our final meal together, not at the Frenchiest of French dineries we knew of, but at Hippopotamus, which is to American steakhouses in France what the Olive Garden is to Italian food in the US. We never forgot we were in France, but:

1: You're given a choice of sides.

2:You're given a choice of dipping sauces. Let me spend a moment explaining the amazingness of this.

   A: France doesn't have dipping sauces. I mean, there's mayonnaise and ketchup, yes, but they don't come in little cups.  

   B: The flavors: poivre (meaning pepper, and it's just gravy), cheese, ranch, and barbecue. None of these “flavors” exist in France. There's gravy, but no one would ever give it to you in a cup just to dip your steak in. I got the poivre (because I love gravy) and Xen got the barbecue, which was very much like a good barbecue sauce you'd buy in a jar in the US. I wonder what their take on cheese sauce is, and on Ranch dressing. Although I don't like Ranch.

3: Midway through the meal, the server comes and asks you how you're doing and if you need anything else. Again, this does not happen in France. In any other restaurant, if you finish your drink and would like another, you have to flag down a server to bring you one. And it might take a while. Hell, when you're done eating and want to go home you need to flag down a server to let them know to bring you the check. And it will take a while.

We had an inappropriately good time. There was a lot of laughing. We got eyes from other tables. Xen got a bacon burger for dessert as well as a chocolate lava cake. Our server didn't think we were nearly as funny as we did.
This place was cool. Not the best, but the tinges of American dining style felt warm and safe.  I was so glad that one of my brothers got to come visit while Megan and I were living here. I don't get to see any of my family as much as I'd like (we live on opposite sides of ye olde Les Etats Unis), so this made it even better. and an evening spent with the three of us laughing hysterically was the perfect way to end it. 

The next day I took Xen to the airport. He got to fly business class back to the US. Jerk.