Get lost in Paris

Going to Paris, which is undoubtedly, "It is mesca", I allowed myself carefully refer to the tempting slogan travel agencies "Paris – always Paris". I want to make a reservation that the delights of nightlife in the Pigal area, Kankan in Music Hall and Cabaret, such as "Moulin rouge" and even "cool" "Crazy Horse", I was not attracted, and traveling did not allow to dine at least once in the famous "Maxim" or "Fuka", where he was sitting at Hemingway table.

There was a planned sightseeing tour, "Putting" In one approach, all the main attractions of the capital of France with Versaille, which was little imposed, scaring a clear programming. Consequently, it was necessary to choose his way of dating with Paris. I remembered my native Leningrad, where he studied at the school near Anichkova Bridge with the horses famous for the whole world, and the University went past the Winter Palace, through the Palace Bridge, constantly saw the Golden Dome of Isaacia, similar to the Paris House of Disabled, and, what is funny, not really noticed all these masterpieces. I just lived in St. Petersburg, as in his house: I was equally close and passing yards on the street of Rossi Russia, and Alexandrinsky Theater with Catherine Sadik.

That would be so I would like to get closer to Paris, getting his streets and residents, get lost among them, even swim on the Seine, as I once traveled to the boat on the Neva, admiring the bottom of the palaces and the granite walls of Petropavlovka. And the first thing I did on arrival in Paris – went to the Embankment of the Seine.

To the island of Sita – the cradle of Paris

Of course to this "Paris’s cradle" You can quietly get to the subway, but still tempting to swim on the waves of the Seine on a small boat.

It is here, on the island, the local Gallic tribe of Parisians (from his name, naturally, and the name of the French capital) laid the first quarters of the future Paris. True, not without the help of Romans.

According to the Roman tradition, the island of Sita (which means just "town") It was reinforced and tied to the shores of the bridges, the port is deepened, and, if you start, by expressing archaeologists, shoot one by one, then we will find the ruins of the term, arena, forums, which can be admired on the left bank of the Seine.

So, ahead, to the island of Sita. I chose an evening flight. On the oscillating bridges moved to the deck of the river tram, which here is called, that is . I was told that at the end of the last century in Lyon tested a similar steamer – a bus for walking a worthy public. And, it seems that the name was stuck not because of the miniature of the vessel, but comes from the name of a deft entrepreneur who managed to succeed his walking boats on Seine.

Here on one of these "Bato-Mush" I found myself in the middle of the snow. The waves swayed the boat, and even went to the dispute rain. Water flows, pouring on the windows, did not give anything to see. I went to the deck, raising the hood jacket. Although the wind gave the face of the ruins of the rain, but all poured the fantastic spectacle of night Paris, dissected by Seine. Behind the rainfall rain vaguely appeared the outlines of the squares and palaces, bordered by lights. But the main thing – bridges. When we rushed under them, it was a feeling that there was still a little bit – and the head will hit their low vaults. Seine bridges – a special topic, and I only remembered the Mary Bridge, under which you can close your eyes, make a desire, and it will surely come true.

But in the distance, in the middle of the river, the island appeared. More precisely – to meet us is not the island, and the big dreadnought, addressed feed to the east, and the nose to the West. He cut the wave with a sharp nose, towering over the water of the stone boards of embankments. I saw the swarm deck add-ons – the roofs of the houses over which, behind the walls of the Palace of Justice, the lead roof of the ancient Gothic chapel of St. Chapel, who shot the heaven with sharp spire.

It is said that the image of the vessel on the ancient emblem of Paris appeared precisely because of the similarity of the island of the Sieve with the ship.

Among the numerous bells, it is not clear how the Ghostly Giant Lady, known from us as the Cathedral of the Paris,.

In the morning of the next day I stood on the square in front of the cathedral. Describe it better than Viktor Hugo in the novel "Cathedral of the Parisian Mother of God", – impossible. The area was surrounded by ancient houses, on the south side it was closed, perhaps the oldest French hospital hotel-Die.

God, because the Tsygana Esmeralda was once danced with the goat, from here, from the Parity of the Cathedral, followed by the brother of Frollo, the quasimodo’s chimers worked on the Cathedral, and the Kings and Queen of France were marching along the square to be proclaimed under his Gothic by the emperor.

This, of course, the most ancient place in the capital. On this area of ​​the cathedral once stood an ancient Roman temple, then Christian Basilica, and "only" In 1163, the construction of a notre lady began. Here it is, aughing time of time! And when I entered a small circle, drawn in the center of the square – from here it begins a counting distance on all the roads of France, – I felt the worstness of space.

At that moment I simply need awareness of the eternity of life, because I was heading to the dishonorable castle of Concierger. If Notre Dame – a constancy symbol frozen in stone, then this castle is a mirror of disturbing times in the life of the state, the times of conspiracies and reges.

Erected at the time of the reign of Philip Beautiful, Conciergeri knew and funny trimmed days when in an extensive royal dining room (now wearing name "Hall of gendarmerie") Skilled cooks were served – from the huge kitchens hidden behind the walls – Countlessly series of dishes for thousands of spawned nobles.

Replaced times, and from the XVI century the building was a state prison1. Now any mention of concierge causes the times of the French revolution. The fact is that in those hot days of the castle cameras were filled with hundreds of citizens who spent their last hours here before climbing the platform with guillotine.

In the vaulted hall, fascinated to small rooms, today you can experience yourself to witness those events. What? Epitts flashed in the head: "historical", "Great", "tragic", After all, as a result, only thousands of people were guillotined – on the walls of their names.

And nearby the portraits of the leaders of the revolution – Saint-Just, Danton, Marat, – they sound the speeches, break down on the half-word, hears the hum, and maybe the crowd.

And here is an incorruptible profile – Robespierre. It seems to me that I hear his creaky bar, throwing words: "slaves", "Tirana", "terror" And finally, there is a call for "Mind".

But who knew then what these wonderful, sometimes loud, sometimes terrible in their explosive essence of the word? It is now we know: lists of executed on the wall floating on the Seine corpses. And as a real sign of such slogans is a ridiculous structure with a heavy triangular knife hanging on a simple rope (so far the guillotine for some reason is considered the most humane execution of execution).

"Self-stirring" The property of the revolution (and other historical cataclysms) has long been observed by historians: at the beginning of the Eshafot, the events pushed the leaders of the revolution, friends – Demolen and Danton, and then the guillotine knife gone through their opponent’s head – unreleased Robespierre. By the way, in Conciergeri there is his corner with a memorable board and bust, where he spent the last moments before execution.

Passing along the lower floor of the castle, past the cameras, we seem to follow the deaths of people doomed to death. But here there is no equality. Here is a room with the infamous name (Paris Street), where three young people are sitting on an abandoned straw bedding (doubling, of course): long hair, neck scarves, standing jugs – camera for common. Nearby – the prisoner lies on the bed, and there is also a single chamber with a table, followed by a decent view of Mr. reads a book.

But they all equalized the close meeting with the executioner, who did not know the condescension and to the kings.

I descend over the erased steps to the basement, where I once went to the cracks proud "Austriachka" Mary Antoinette. Here, behind the doors locked on a wrought castle, she stayed long enough after the execution of her husband, Louis XVI. For the screen – her guard is two soldiers in uniforms with red abbreets, and she, in a black dress and in a black scarf, sitting on a low wheelchair with a prayerhouse in hand in front of black crucifix. It remains, it seems genuine only a porcelain pitcher with drawn bouquet on the side, from which she was given to get drunk. On the morning of October 16, 1793, the Queen itself covered his hair and villages in the cart to go to the scaffold.

I go through the courtyard of the gloomy castle – prison, I go out on the embankment and again I see a familiar silhouette of the Cathedral of the Paris Mother of God. But the proclaiming "Triumph of Rass", Jacobinians wanted to dream and him, only the dedication of the cathedral of the goddess of reason1, whose cult introduced Robespierre, saved the cathedral from destruction. Otherwise – the forces of heaven intervened, transfers the hot heads of converters.

Carousel at the Statue of the Republic

Perhaps the most time I spent on the Square of the Republic: Rested in a reclining with Kloshara, French homeless, admiring the kids riding a carousel; watched the walking orders; I wondered in the evenings, looking into the bright shops of shops and studying a cheap cafe written from the hand; I tried not to interfere with the couple in love, although they are often motivated in my bench, where I led spiritual conversations with Clošar Pierre. Why this particularly ordinary capital square became so native? The reason is simple: I settled two steps away on the street Turboo in the allegedly two-star hotel, such a cheaper, that there it was possible to easily skip the only free feeder, the so-called breakfast consisting of liquid tea and a stalk bun. In addition, in this restless hotel, I barely cut four to five hours for sleep, since all the rest of the time noisy guests were dripped into it, sometimes for midnight, but two hours later disappeared in an unknown direction.

In my fantasies, I admitted that, perhaps, got into a secret house of dates, where rooms are surrendered for an hour (this type of hotels is well described in the novels of my beloved Maupassant), but I was sure that now such institutions, like prostitution, are prohibited in the capital although on Pigal Square. However, this is not my topic.

Here they tried to disrupt payment for all the slightest services (Parisians, I must say, if not greedy, then very economical), preventing different accounts every day, including for short city telephone calls, and for the provided separate tiny room, it was additionally soldered with me a thousand francs per week. But now I could afford freely, in the morning and in the evening to brew tea with a boiler in the brought from the house with a graved glass (the maid suggested only one-time transparent plastic cups, probably that the tenants do not beat the dishes).

Trying not to listen to the voices for thin walls, I enjoyed the evening, strong in Moscow, and after went to walk to the Republic Square.

With his bench, I could observe not only for the sparkling round of the carousel, behind the respanted ladies and cavaliers who were quietly sitting on the horses, having bought drinks in small buffetics before that, back – through fancy curved metal vaults (I would like to say that they are made in the Rococo style), as well as to contemplate the majestic monument in the center of the square.

Here I lived a lot of Baek, including the origin of the area, which Parisians were interpreted in its own way, having a very foggy idea of ​​its true story. So, the senior spouses were confident that there was a guillotine here, which, at the request of the inhabitants, were transported to another place. And they are not alone confused the area of ​​the republic with the area of ​​revolution, maybe because it existed only three years.

It happened so. An area that arose somewhere in the middle of the XVIII century was dedicated to Louis XV, the equestrian statue of which rose in her center and was overthrown during the French revolution. This is where the people rebelled and installed in the place of the statue of the guillotine, giving the square the name of the revolution. It was here that Louis XVI were executed (the brutal game of fate: to die on the square, called the name of his predecessor) and Maria-Antoinette, and then the guillotine knife gone over the heads of the leaders of the revolution. And only after that the area of ​​the revolution was renamed the consent area (perhaps this title was emphasized that people were horrified by spilled blood and came to reconciliation); Now it is the beautiful and most important square of Paris – Place de la Concorde.

And on the Republic Square, where I spend time, there was no special historical events, and it was created after all revolutions, however, with its rectangular form resembles educational places for military units designed to suppress folk unrest.

I consider the statue of the Republic – an amorrant female figure in a laurel wreath with a olive branch of the world in a raised hand, at the foot of which, around the pedestal, are located like close friends, female figures with torches and banners in their hands, symbolizing freedom, equality and fraternity, and below – Bronze, completely green from old-age lion, surrounded by bas-reliefs, reflecting events from the history of France.

Meanwhile, today’s story goes to the square in the literal sense of the word: the loud drum battle is heard, Klakson cars are heard, and the column of demonstrators appear on the side of the Voltaire Boulevard, the banners are flying, the slogans are flying about freedom, equality and social rights.

Go and white, and colored, and at the end of the column – Kurds, requiring to free their fellows from Turkish prisons. In general, this is such a mixed protest demonstration, whose movement is clearly sent by police regulators. It means that the demonstration is allowed. And around the area there are sealed bins so that the terrorists do not put a bomb.

Demonstrators go, and the area begins to live their usual life. From the shop 1 falls out a whole crowd of black customers. Immigrants from African and Asian countries live in the center of the capital a little, they will settle in "Self" Quarters.

So there are whole neighborhoods where the Chinese live – there everything reflects their lifestyle: hieroglyphs on the walls, Chinese restaurants, and so on; National holidays and customs are complied with. In Belville (Belleville) – the former work district, where Edith Piaf and Maurice Chevalier once sang in Zucchini, now settle immigrants from Central and North Africa, Asia, and even from the Antille Islands. When I wandered around the quarters, where shops and collapse of cheap, worn things are intended for new inhabitants, I almost did not meet the indigenous Parisians. Once flashed the old woman, published with a white poodle. Parisians are not here: some are afraid to appear in such places, others did not even hear about them or do not want to talk. Nature from the French is delicate, they are not always inclined to openly express the truth about their lives, although it is obvious to everyone that the increasing influx of immigrants complicates the already difficult problems of Paris.

– However, these problems are not only with us, but also in Berlin, and in London, crime is growing due to the influx of immigrants, "said a tall old man who worked in a speech student. – Well, things before that no one, so the youth is pushing to le foam.

He’s hopelessly waved his hand and went to the nearest cafe, where he drank his tea, and the dog was lying at his feet.

Late in the evening Square calms, shops closed, from the cheap cafe is the company Rockers, they recalculate the remaining francs – are going to go on their motorcycles to the nearest disco.

And here on the edge of my bench is sitting on Pierre. He is not from those French, about which one long-time traveler wrote that . Yesterday, we met yesterday, when on a turn with the Square, a whitish car knocked down a woman, and around immediately, as on any Moscow street, a crowd of a crowd. Only a man with a liquid espanolka and dark hair, having fallen from under hat on a light raincoat, stood on the sidelines and looked forward to the store . There was a policeman with a radiotephone, and from there I had a red car similar to the fire.

– Who is this? – I asked a man with the Espanyol, when the shock guys in blue overalls jumped out of the car.

– "Popier Saper", They provide first medical care, "he answered. And introduced himself, lifting a hat: – Pierre Laval.

So, it turns out that I look, about which I was already heard. We did not have time to say two words, as Sanitars dragged a plastic bag, laid the victim, introduced into the car and picked up by carrying out howl of the sirens.

– Quickly! Yes? – Said Pierre. – They saved my uncle Albert, when he did not want to live on the manual and rushed under the car.

I could not determine if Pierre was a real closhar or simply vagrant, but that he did not leave the gourmet gourmet in his restless life – that’s for sure. As and yesterday, laying out neatly on the bench (of course, laying first cellophane package and paper napkins) Slices of sausages and cheese, he enlightened me what and how to serve in Parisian restaurants.

– You know that in the most expensive of them, in "Silver Tower" Near Notre Dama Submit Number Duck? No? – He was delighted by my ignorance, and continued: – since the founding of this restaurant, that is, for several centuries, the numbering of corporate dishes is being conducted – stuffed duck. You’re flashing duck bones, of course, unusually tasty and, moreover, take a memorable with you with the number of eaten birds. Well, ready, – said Pierre who liked him yesterday Russian word.

I took out a flask from the bag with "Moscow" and filled plastic cups grabbed by me from the hotel.

– Cheers! – I raised my own "wineglass".

– Santa! – replied Pierre.

We drank, cluttered with pleasure and here they found that another company was located in the reclise. Two men treated a woman. They drank not in French at all, but "From the throat", How are we expressed. Pierre with a grimace disgust looked at it, not responding with his fine nature, then could not stand it and spat.

And we went for a walk in Paris in the direction of the sprayed Charming Fields, and the quiet charming melody rushed and the carousel was still in Golden Sparkling.

Intelligent Engineer Engineer Eiffel

When I contemplated an openwork tower, standing at her foot, I did not occur to something to criticize something, although I felt some kind of awkwardness, suppressing an unwittingly mental thought: "Why is this Iron construction erected in the center of Paris?"

Of course, the Tower, named by his creator of the Eiffel, is an undoubted miracle of engineering thought1, a decent decoration of the World Exhibition 1889. However, around this very highly at the time of the construction of the world (320 meters) broke out, as is known, a real scandal. I can not resist not to quote one document.

"We protest against this column, the lubricated iron on the bolts, against this ridiculous and causing the dizziness of the factory pipe installed in the glory of vandalism of industrial enterprises. The structure in the very center of Paris of this useless and monstrous tower of the Eifel is nothing but a profanation. "

This protest signed the composer Charles Guno, writers Alexander Duma, Gi de Maupassan and many other outstanding people. Among them – Charles Garnier.

Perhaps if I once in the afternoon, appointing a date to one person, did not spend about an hour on the steps leading to the central entrance of the Grand Opera, then reading the letter protest, would not pay attention to the name Garnier. But when I missed so much time along the lush facade of the opera theater, I was simply impossible to remember the name of his architect. Garnier built the Grand Opera building under Napoleon III, fully observing the aesthetics accepted. Hence the rich decor, and columns, and statues, and bas-reliefs. And the Eiffel Tower was created during the years of the industrial revolution, when engineering thought invaded art, trying to transform him in the spirit of time when glass and steel opened new opportunities. Yes, new times – new songs.

Did not come true the prediction of the poet is ridic "This skeletal calane does not like long", Although Eiffel Tower was constructed as temporary, and she was going to demolish it more than once. And now this symbol of Paris is multiplied in millions of icons and postcards, and more than five million tourists are rising annually on its elevators.

I stand at the foot of the tower and watching the souvenir sellers around the sellers of souvenirs, as crowds of foreigners crave to play on her background – this is prospectively ordinary mortals, if the great, kings, Shahi, emperors and presidents, rose to the tower and took pictures there.

The tower turned into some kind of giant magnet attracting people. Some argue that under its supports it is possible to become strong and healthy; Weaker spirit was chosen to the tower of suicide sites: from the three level platforms (57, 115 and 274 meters) rushed down their heads; Third on the same platforms are sitting in bars and restaurants and enjoy the evening pops, when the rays of spotlights are moving, the music threatens and the fireworks garlands take off.

Of course, my heart is more close to Paris of antiquity, imprinted in the novels of famous writers, from Dumas and Balzac to Hemingway, and on the canvases of French impressionists; Therefore, I really understand Viktor Hugo, a singer of medieval Paris, who unmatched his appearance in his – 1, warned contemporaries that with such a rapid destruction of monuments .

What to do, now in a literally every decade in Paris there are buildings that, undoubtedly, violate the former architectural ensemble of the city.

Go to a new area, intended for business life, – Defensa, this little New York in the French capital, and you will be amazed by the creation of ultra-modern buildings of geometric shapes sticking out as the edge of an unprecedented crystal, which rises above the giant emplant, steps descending to hay.

If you go to the big arch of the defense, the rectangle whose sparkles with glass and carrage marble (notre-lades would fit under it), then you will find yourself in a kind of gate, closing the central axis of Paris. Fantastic appearance opens from their foot: Music Triumphal Arch at the end of the Champs Elysees, which seems toy at a distance, and glittering glass pyramid. This extension to the Louvru, designed by the American architect of Chinese origin, is also historical landscape of Paris. And when the transparent elevator Arki Defensa is dominated for a few seconds to the observation deck, you will see in the center of the capital Bobur, gone outside with multi-colored pipelines. Bobur was also met in the bayonets by public opinion, and now he became a cultural center named after Pompidida.

Near this "urban car", Fun Fountain "Tinghelli" The sculptor-kinetics will frolic children who will undoubtedly see Paris even more changed. What to do is life.

View from the Hugo apartment to the Square of Vogzov

Even before the trip to Paris, I solidically decided to visit the apartment of Viktor Hugo, whose novels read from childhood. My impatience to get into his museum-apartment was so great that I went to search for him on the very first day of arrival in Paris. And here I walk on the old streets of the quarter Marhe, no, of course, not, and carefully moving, reverently examining the ancient houses, which risen in Henrich IV in the XVII century. Quarter Marhe knew how, however, all Paris, and ups and downs. Initially, aristocrats were inhabited here, whose palaces competed with each other or richly decorated facades; Later, when the time of the palaces has passed and the expensive houses in the west of Paris have come into fashion, they forgot about Marhe, and here traders and artisans began to settle. Then, in 1832, on the side of the sputum area, the hoofs of horses transported in the wagon of the GUGO family.

Many Parisians consider the Square of Vogzov, which remains its original appearance for the century, is the most beautiful in the capital. After the noise and the bustle of the Paris streets here, the silence and peace, from the garden, occupying the entire central part of the square, comes the tweet of birds, the green foliage is noise behind the metal fence, and the roast air refresh the fountains jets.

I go under arcades (the lower floors of all thirty-eight houses on the square – continuous arcade) on the right corner and see – house 6 and plate: . I do not decide first to enter there, where every day the twelve years came the Hugo himself. Finally, push a heavy wooden door and immediately come across face to face with a writer – His bronze bust is installed against the entrance.

On the second floor of the apartment most attracted attention to numerous illustrations for the works of the Hugo, mainly to and . The world of the writer is precisely transferred in the figure where the Hugo himself is captured next to the chimers of the Notre Dame, and his heroes are circling in the sky. The world of the writer is what it is? In relation to the Hugo, the answer to this question gives his novels already mentioned here, and is still undoubtedly, since the French revolution has largely influenced his worldview. Hugo has a wonderful preface, ordered by him to the guide, and in it, the head, almost poems in prose, where he sneezes his city. It is called, but begins in the following rows:

"1789. Now soon the century, as this figure bothers the thought of mankind. In it – all the phenomena of modernity".

Hugo, of course, did not accidentally settled on the Vogzov Square. Every day, slightly moving away a heavy porter, he could admire his Paris from the window of the apartment.

He, of course, knew that at the site of the square was once located hotel de Tournel and that Heinrich II was killed here at the tournament. Smooth square square, framed by arcades, over which two floors come out with rows of windows and attic, crowned with high chickens, soothing the eye of the writer, especially since all the houses were painted in brick color. Indeed, the area looked as if he did not change since the times of Heinrich IV. By the way, the king made the only diversity in a clear rankwire of houses: from the south side, in the center, built for himself the richest pavilion of the king, and in front of him – Queen Pavilion. That’s just the equestrian statue of Louis Xiii, the kindergarten and lawns who admired the Hugo from the window of their apartment, appeared much later.

In the working office of the Hugo, the Order Pad (four tiny orders is probably for a surtuk) – tribute to the fame of the writer, a gun and a gun. I also noticed a funny bottle, on the label of which it was written: . Probably, intelligent merchants began to produce such inks to advertise their goods.

On the desktop – Writer Watch. Their arrows are shown 7 hours 15 minutes. At that moment, the time ended with the brilliant son of France for life, a great writer – for creativity.

I go out to the Square of Vogzov, which, like the Quarter Marhe, is considered to be one of the most expensive and prestigious districts. The former residences of aristocrats and palaces are restored, and very wealthy people and novels.

When walking under arcades, the eye involuntarily attracts fashionable salons with paintings and sculptures, antique shops, art galleries. Here they like to organize the exhibitions, and musicians play right on the square, collecting francs of listeners in violin cases. But to the restaurant rolled up a wedding procession: a snow-white bride spoiled in black skirts, and the groom in a tuxedo, deftly substituting her hand, led to the helpful doors.