Subject: how to capture a unicorn for dummies

Date: Wed, 4 Oct 2006

In case you ever need to capture a unicorn:
Take a pure, virginal young damsel and give her a mirror. Place her in the path of the desired unicorn (or, licorn en francais). Unicorns being very vain will look at themselves in the mirror, at which point you may capture them. Beware, however! If the girl is not pure and virginal, the unicorn will skewer her on his horn.

I would like to leave you all there to contemplate the profound statement above, but I suppose you would like to hear about another week or so gone by in my life. If you insist...

That above was something I learned in my art history class today. Don't worry, the class is not a flaky as uncooked, instant mashed potatoes. The unicorn lesson was in reference to a set of tapestries.

In other news... This weekend I went with the group to Normandy. We visited the Bayeux Tapestry – it’s long, old (circa 1066) and details the story of this one guy who tried to steal the throne from this other guy and the ensuing war. (A: “It’s my throne!” B: “NO! It’s mine!” A: “Is not!” B: “Is too!”) I enjoyed my audio guide as it described the "realistic and amazing depiction" of the horses falling down while crossing something-or-other type of difficult terrain. To me it sure looked like horses standing on their heads in an amazing feat of gymnastics, but call me crass.

Next we visited the American cemetery (from WWII) and Omaha beach. Not exactly uplifting stuff, though the beach is no longer in Saving Private Ryan opening scene condition, thank goodness.

Then we went to the area where all the German bunkers were/are. The ground was more than dappled with craters - residual from bombs - like skin after a bad case of the chicken pocks. We walked around inside what was left of the bunkers in the fittingly, gray, drizzly weather.

After this was off to the hotel - a mignon building covered in ivy that seems to have been house some time long ago. We had dinner there, a yummy meal of several courses and some local, pleasing wines. Afterwards, I went out with a group of friends. We walked around the miniscule town carnival briefly and then found a bar/brasserie where we split two bottles of cider, the regional specialty.

Next day, at the crack of dawn, or close enough to it, we set out for Mount Saint Michel, an ancient Abbey atop a hill. Impressive that they could build it so long ago. “How on earth,” one wonders, could they get such heavy block of massive stone atop a hill and how, provided they succeeded in the aforesaid feat, how could they get them one on top of another into the shape of a competent building?” We toured that with audio guides and then back on ye ole bus. Lunch break at St-Malo where some friends and myself found a cozy little creperie. I had a specialty of Bretagne - a galette (aka a buckwheat crepe). The restaurant was covered in notes that patrons had written complimenting the food.

For Yom Kippur, I trekked the eight blocks from my house to Paris’s largest synogogue on Rue de la Victoire. It was unlike US synagogues, full of grandeur (as it was old) in a way that you'd typically expect of a cathedral, but… but it was a synagogue you see. It's that whole being built during a time when they made things ornate ordeal. Most synagogues in the US are newer.

Anyhow, my fast was really quite easy. In part a cause of the train the night before and its lack of electricity and arriving one hour late causing me to start fasting late (something I don't want to get into as it's quite aggravating). I slept two hours during the middle of the day, which helped my cold (I have a cold ) immensely. I painted for a bit, then back to synagogue for a bit before having to leave early to make it to break the fast at cousin Danielle's on time. Nice family meal this with many scrumptious Moroccan specialties and apple strudel. apple struuuuudel. Note how strudel is something mentioned in the song "A few of my favorite things" (Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels...). That must mean apple strudel is good.

I met a really cool shop owner last week. I was looking at her store display, and she commented on my skirt. We began talking and she flitted around trying all the fantastical hats in her store on my head and having me look in the mirror. She has a personality warmer than the Carribean sun, and I think I will go visit her again soon. I also plan on meeting with a friend, Jeanne-Faustin, who I met randomly at the Louvre.

Today I ate lunch in the gardens of the Palais Royal. Inside the courtyard, enclosed by the Palais, the hustle and bustle of the street and the drone of automobiles is magically erased. The walls block out such sounds leaving you to her the splash of the fountain and the chirping of birds. (The Palais Royal, fyi, is where royals lived during the time of I-forget-which-king-who-lived-in-the-Louvre so that they could be close to him). I ate my lovely sandwich of fresh demi-baguette, smoked salmon, Boursin cheese and crudites (veggies) (which I prepared not too long ago), and I basked in the glory of the afternoon sun.

After lounging, I decided to try to see the Balenciaga exhibit at the museum of decorative arts, but the line was long, so I decided to go back another day. It's only ten minutes from my apartment. Instead, I did my favorite thing - walked around the city and saw what I could find.

Today turned up the gallery streets of Paris filled with countless works of art. My host mom also gave me a scarf today. Something that I think she might have been taking to sell at one of her sales (she had a sale yesterday and another tomorrow and is selling suits like there is no tomorrow folks, no tomorrow. Maybe I exaggerate a bit, but she is doing really well with these sales.. yay for her!) Anyhow, it gave me warm fuzzies and not just cause the material is 50% wool.

Enough for now! I'm going to mange mon dîner before class at the Louvre.

Hannah