Louvre the Arts

I suppose I should take a break from my busy night of shirking homework to draw pictures of people having sex to shirking homework and writing another entry on my Paris trip, which was densely-packed with shit many people will die without ever doing. I think I'll skip the third day, or a least expedite the mention of it. After all, I'm in Copenhagen now and that's what the blog's about, right?

What did I even do? Oh god, maybe I should give it an entry on it's own. I went to the Louvre. This was a big deal for me. Before going to Paris I had no idea how much it would cost to get in, but I set my price limit at 50 dollars. I had to see it, no matter how big of a tourist trap rip-off it would be. My mom had a set of books detailing all the great museums of the world, so I've had a lot of time to ponder over the works of the Louvre that regularly appear in textbooks, TV shows, and shitty Tom Hanks movies (OK, maybe just one).

I keep bringing up the tourists in each of these entries, but seriously: there were A LOT of them at the Louvre, especially outside. What's most notable about these ones, though, is that they draw many scammers who grew to be a fixture at most of the Parisian tourist traps I visited. I took advantage of the beautiful sun I never got to know in Denmark to walk around the vast courtyard outside the famous museum where I encountered people trying to con me out of money in ways I only thought existed in comedy sketches.

Baby Arch

Walking through the wide sculpture garden that stretched to a small replica of the Arch de Triumph I always thought was the fo-real Arc, I was confident that I looked like a native Frenchy. I avoided bringing my backpack and even a water bottle for my day trip to as to avoid the tourist prototype I assumed the natives had in their minds. As it turned out, the scammers I mentioned could spot me from a mile away, apparently. I didn't get a hundred yard before a tanned adolescent boy walked up to me and shoved a clipboard under my chin. It was a poorly photo-copied petition with around twenty names written in the same ink and handwriting next to boxes filled in next donations that didn't go less than 20 euro. At the top of the sheet, a fragmented UNICEF logo gave the gypsy an air of authority.

"You like to sign sheet? It's for UNICEF."

"Um, what do you want me to do after I sign it?" Obviously, "Give a donation?" he pleaded.

Trying my best to be rude I mustered, "I hate UNICEF." and started walking away. The kid began to follow me, attempting to convince me how important his cause was. In an equally weak tone I trailed off, "Leave me... alone..." Shit, I need to take a page out of Chris Brown's book of rage.

The next one was even more gypsy-looking. She was an old woman, maybe just middle-aged, but she was wearing a billowy dress and had a sari over her head that gave her a prophetic sort of look. At first I though she was going to ask for directions, which I was happily prepared to give her with the map and compass I had handy.

"Do you speak English?" she moaned. Why yes, certainly! She flipped over a note card she had in her hand, on the side she showed me was a note she apparently couldn't bother to read herself. It iterated a story reminiscent of a Craigslist real estate con. "I have been living in Paris for three months... blah blah blah, 4 kids... more bullshit... need money."

"Sorry, all I have is plastic." I pantomimed a rectangle with my hands and tried to make an apologetic expression.

"Just a few coins." she begged. I flashed the rectangle at her again as I turned away. "Sorry!'

The next one was my favorite, especially since I saw it coming. I walked up a flight of stairs to gain a better view and maybe catch a couple artful photos. As soon as I reached the last step, an Eastern European sitting on a bench stood up and began walking towards the sidewalk. The timing was too perfect. After ten steps I heard a voice behind me. "Excuse me!" Louder, "Excuse me!"

I felt like I was in the right ignoring him, even if he wasn't up to no good. I mean, that "excuse me" could have been for anyone. I got a few more steps in before the guy jogged up to me.

"Hey, did you drop this ring?" He showed me a ring in his hand. It looked like something you could get out of one of those quarter machines they keep by the doors at roller skating rink or a Chinese restaurant: all gold, sharp edges, one hundred percent grade A painted plastic. He was tempting my greed with a toy ring.

"Nope, it's not mine." He made an impressive attempt at convincing me that it was, in fact, my ring.

"But it has a chip in it, see?" He showed me a small indent in the ring. What did he want me to say? "Oh yes, now that I think of it, I recognize that ring." Right. I spent a good minute avoiding his sales pitch. By the end of it, I had to walk away. There was no way he was going to give up on me. I know what you're thinking, "But Sam, how would giving you a fake ring benefit a con-artist?"

Well, I thought that if I did take the ring, a previously unseen accomplice of the ring-bearer would come up to me and accuse me of stealing the ring. he would mention the marking and I would have to admit that there indeed was a blemish on the POS ring. After this point, I can only imagine that the accomplice would try to extort money from me, possibly by threatening to call the police. But I can't be sure! Use your imagination! Or maybe I just messed up and missed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get a free toy ring. Who knows?

Yeah, I could talk about the Louvre, but not a lot happened there. There were some paintings, sculptures; a cute girl eyed me in the Egypt gallery despite my facial disfigurement. You can find the rest online. But I'll include some pictures, in the spirit of a blog that can be read or glossed over.

Turkish Baths = Sexy

Most of the paintings are HUGE

Mona Lisa Crowd

"Hercules Being a Badass"