Finance Minister's estate?

Alright, so I’m going to try to post this video on my blog, which I hope you’ll all enjoy, but it may not work.

To give you a bit of background, the finance minister under Louis XIV was an accomplished fellow by the name of Fouquet, who had made himself the most wealthy man in all of France through his prudent and wide ranging investments. Accordingly, he was made the minister of finance, and helped the king put things in order.

Fouquet was sitting pretty as the minister of finance, and still the most wealthy man in France, so he decided to upgrade his home, and hired three architects whose names have currently escaped me to help him design and build up his luxurious new home at Veux Le Vicante.

As an important side note, Louis XIV, the great Sun-king of France, became king at age 5, and so he had a babysitter/regent helping him. For much of Louis’ youth it was another bloke by the name of Cardinal Mazarin—I pity the French for having the Catholics rule over them, and yes, I did just say that I pitied the French. You can put that one in the bank—who died when Louis was 22. Well, Louis appeared to the court and decided that he would be his own advisor (thus abolishing the position of prime minister, as had developed in France and continued to develop in England as the premier minister and advisor to the king, ending constitutional development, declaring himself monarch by divine right and sowing seeds for mischief in the future). The year was 1661.

Fouquet wanted to impress everyone with his new home, and Louis had been insisting to come see it for some time, so he held a grand ball to inaugurate it. Now, the black tie affairs you go to these days don’t hold a candle to this shindig. We’re talking about a serious party. Every man went home with a horse and every woman with a diamond set tiara as a party favor. You don’t have to invite many people for that to add up pretty quickly… It was August 17^th, 1661. Well, Louis came and was duly impressed. So impressed, in fact, that he felt a big shunted, and was terribly jealous of Fouquet. On September 4^th, he called his court and at court he imprisoned his finance minister and charged him with fraud and embezzlement. Well, it not being true, the judge had a tough time convicting him, so he was released after a lengthy trial.

Now we come full circle. Louis, being the terrible friend he was and desiring to show forth his strength and prove to his subjects that he was absolute despite being only 22, arrested Fouquet again. This time he was charged with a political crime (being possessed of state secrets from his stint as the finance minister), and was put in a prison in the Alps in the south of France. He was to remain in that prison until 1680, when he died. Talk about a raw deal; you give the king an inferiority complex about his house so he throws you in the slammer till you die. Incidentally, there was another political prisoner in the same prison who was there for roughly the same time period who wore an iron mask. Was it Leonardo de Caprio? No, sorry (although maybe we’d have been better off if he was left with the iron mask on after they were done), but it might have been Fouquet. Given that the man in the iron mask wore an iron mask all the time, it was tough to tell who it really was, but I think that was the point of the whole exercise.

Also, Louis hired the same three architects to design him his own country home which was to not be outdone—Versailles. It was this encounter with Fouquet that encouraged the construction of Versailles to prove that the King was still first in the land. First in extravagance, first in vengeance, and first to push his country into war. That was the way of Louis XIV. Poor Fouquet just got in his way.

Well, although Fouquet never really got the chance to enjoy his country mansion, luckily I did. We rented golf carts and tore around the beautifully (and oh-so-austerely) laid out French gardens (I prefer the English gardens, but that should hardly come as a surprise to any of you). I have tried to post the video of us in the golf cart…. I think I’ll let it speak for itself. J There was another part where there was an unfortunate accident that ought not to be talked about in a public forum, but if you want the story I’ll tell you sometime later. I’ll just say that it involves hairpin turns, broken wood and pushing the golf cart…

And speaking of England vs France, guess who was at the France/England football match last Wednesday? Yes, yes, Beckham was there, thanks for asking. That wasn’t who I was talking about, though. Come on, I scored as many goals as he did! In fact, I scored as many goals as his whole team combined, times five. Give me a break. Peh-shaw! That’s what I think of their football. Who plays football with their feet after all? American football is where it’s at. Anyway, I’m sorry to report that France did win, and that I have France’s only goal on video on my camera. I won’t post it, because I’d hate to bring shame to the English like that. There was a lot of cheering, a lot of hollering, and much rejoicing. I doubt that the four guys dressed up as English knights with chain mail and red capes were celebrating, though.

Yesterday, Saturday, I had a lovely day. I went to the Musee d’Orsay again and saw every room in it. Afterward I went and sat on a bridge over the Seine and read accounting for about 4 hours. It was a really fun day. (See the picture looking over the Seine from the bridge—that was my view all day). I figure I ought to take advantage of being in Paris as much as I can. I have also posted a pretty picture of Notre Dame I think you’ll all appreciate. This was right after I went to mass (it was an interesting experience—I figure that after living almost two and a half years in catholic countries, I maybe ought to see what their most basic ceremony is like, eh?). Lastly, from the top of Notre Dame, there is my favorite gargoyle. I don’t think I need to explain. J

There was another happy occurrence this week; there was another red day. Turns out, though, they only have 20 a year they can dish out to us, and they’ve used up their last one. Ding dong the witch is dead! Hallelujah! I can’t tell you how much it stinks to use that little hose in the cold, no heat… Well, all I have to say is that if the old adage is true that the Germans invade France because they can’t get any good weather over there, they must be in a sorry state indeed, as I’ve only seen the sun for some three days over the last 75 days or so I’ve been here…

Today I went to Notre Dame and watched (or rather, heard) an organ concert with some friends. It was splendid. I’m not sure that I appreciate the organ as an artful instrument as much as the piano or the violin, per se, but it was a very enjoyable afternoon. And I stopped through the Louvre to see the Vermeers, the Mona Lisa, and Winged Victory. We’ll be meeting in a new museum from now on, so I’m not sure how many more times I’ll get to go to the Louvre. Gotta take advantage!

Oh, and there’s a picture of me in front of the Gates of Hell. I always knew it would be in Paris…. (I mean, after all, Rodin was a Frenchman. Where else would his art end up? What were you thinking of? Sinner….)

La vie est belle!

P.S. Looks like I can't post the video, so sorry!

From the Louvre to Disneyland... and back again

So, I started this writing last Wednesday. You have to understand that I access the internet about only three times a week, so I write on my computer before I use it so I can copy and paste my emails and the blog posts. Accordingly, I have parts written from several different days that were never uploaded as intended, with a note for which day each is from.

Wednesday: What a great day! I mean, let’s be honest, it wasn’t a red day, so I got to turn on the heater while I was showering. I’m living the high life, now. It makes quite a difference when you’re in the tub like we are… And that was all within the first ten minutes of waking up!

Then I went on down to the Louvre for my art class. I’ve heard from other people who have done the Paris study abroad that some folks get tired of being at the Louvre all the time, but I can’t really understand that. Granted, after a few hours of class, I was ready to be done with the class, but I was hardly done with art. Although I don’t really understand it all, I can appreciate it for its aesthetic beauty and some of its embedded ingenuity. We spend about three hours a week walking around, pointing out specific paintings and discussing them. We get to about 7-10 paintings each week. It’s all very interesting, but I guess what gets me is that we’re standing up the whole time, and it’s not very interactive. We each have a presentation on a specific artist that we have to do, but that only means that I’ve put in 10 minutes of talking to class time, and otherwise it’s mostly just the teacher talking. And we can all imagine how very well I do standing and listening to a long presentation in a room filled with dozens of priceless works of art…

So, class was over and I took off right at the end with some friends, and got kebabs. They were great. Most every kebab I get is great. I love them. After a brief stop in the institute building I went with Summer and Jacqueline to the Musee d’Orsay. It’s not clear to me how the different museums arise (for instance, the Musee d’Orsay versus the Louvre versus the Claude Monet Museum, versus… etc), nor am I familiar with the finances of the respective museums, but I imagine that they are subsidized by the government. If that’s the case, then one would hope (I know, a hope against hope, especially in a socialist state like France… and that’s when even America can’t get things all right) that there would be some central planner who would think the museum situation through and have one museum where they house the renaissance art and another where they house the impressionists and another with the post-modern art, etc, so as to reduce redundancy. If each museum had to be completely independent, then the incentive would be to have a wide variety of paintings to appeal to a wider audience and get more people to come so as to be able to finance the entire thing—which is what I generally see in private collections that have turned into museums. The pragmatist in me knows that my hope is a lie, but I do hope against hope. In any event, something similar might have happened, without a clear definition of where historical and where modern art mix, as the Louvre tends to hold more ancient things and the Musee d’Orsay tends to hold more modern things. There is a blurry line in between where both museums ended up with a lot of neoclassical statues and some nice paintings, but most of the Orsay’s collection is impressionism onward. I have decided that I really like some impressionism (the stuff that’s too impressionistic I don’t like—so really, I don’t like most of it, but what I do like I really like). Renoir has won a place in my heart through his beautiful yet clear impressionism. Granted, there are a few that you can’t really make out, which I’m not a fan of, but most of his paintings have very clear faces, which I appreciate.

On Thursday I went on a walk past the stock market of France, and I explained to my friend how the stock market works, which was exciting. We were planning on going on a tour of La Bourse, as it is called, but apparently you have to make reservations beforehand, so we got a slip of paper with the phone number and we’re going to go back next week. I then capped off the day with a movie, Modern Love. No, it wasn’t in English (the title was a bit misleading; it was actually made in France. I guess it’s kind of like how when we put French on chocolates or a restaurant in the states it makes it more high class. Similarly, if they put English on their things it makes it more high class. It’s kinda funny how the grass is always greener on the other side…).

Friday: The coup de grace of the week was Disneyland. I know, I know, what a crazy thing to do while in Paris, but it was actually really fun. I went with several friends, and they really enjoyed it (and were really into it, which made it that much better). Apparently, contrary to popular belief, it is pretty busy. Luckily, even though it is Easter weekend, and our family here warned us against going because of the crowds, the inclimate (sp? Word tells me I’m spelling this wrong, but I can’t fathom how else it would be spelled) weather kept things tame. We had lines of 5 minutes or so, which was pretty decent. It rained in the morning, but was clear most of the day. We got to go on the Rockin’ Roller Coaster, the Tower of Terror, and Space Mountain (five times). It has mostly the same rides as the real Disneyland, only in Paris.

Saturday to Monday there was a young single adults conference here in Paris, and people came from England, Germany, and all parts of France. I heard that there were over two hundred people inscribed. Saturday afternoon there was speed dating (in French… I’m afraid my French isn’t that good, so rather than provide fodder for your enjoyment here on the blog I decided to opt out), and afterwards there was a presentation by Brother Welch, (still of Chiasmus in the Book of Mormon fame), about the Good Samaritan. Then there was a dance, where I cut a rug till I got too tired. Between Friday and Saturday, I was pretty tired. Sunday was more of the YSA conference (imagine your youth conference with slightly older and slightly more French people, and that’s kinda what it was like).

Monday! Monday, Monday. Today was great. We did a walk with the YSA’s along the Seine from the Hotel de Ville (town hall) to the Eiffel Tower, and went into the Louvre on our way. After seeing the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa (I’ve already seen them, but I figured I ought to go again to further engrain them into my memory) I went to the top of the Eiffel Tower, which was pretty cool. It’s really high up (you may or may not have noticed… I’d put my money on “had,” though), so there’s a great view from it. It snowed while we were up there, and it hardly ever snows in Paris. I love how it always snows wherever I go, from Palma (the first time it had snowed on that tropical island in the middle of the Mediterranean in 20 years was while I was there) to Andorra to Paris. I love it! I had some fun with pictures in sepia from the top. The pictures today (in no particular order… maybe you can have some fun guessing which is which?) are of: Jacqueline, Susie and I; Susie (in sepia); me tripping up the stairs in the Eiffel Tower; and a picture from the trip to Normandy where some of the girls wrote a note in the sand for me… see if you can make it out).

The only downer on the day was that because it’s a holiday, I had to… er… got to… walk to and from the train station, and all day in Paris, which probably makes about 6 hours on my feet. I was kind of tired by the end of it all, and am happy to be here writing on my Blog.

Well, I am happy to finally be up to date. It is a great feeling. I hope you all had a happy Easter, and that you’re excited for spring. J One month from today and I graduate from college… kind of crazy, huh?

En Fin!

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to write; things have been pretty hectic. Sorry about all the craziness (as you know I’ve been almost without internet connection for my entire time in France. I haven’t really gotten the chance to write since before I was in Ireland. Well, I’ll try to get us caught up so as to not fall any further behind.

Ireland was incredible. It would seem that I’ve misplaced my pictures from there. I took quite a few—nearly 400, I believe—but they are not to be found on my computer. Luckily I copied them all to my dad’s computer, too, so I think we’re all set. My dad is in a different country, though, so it looks like there won’t be any pictures for this entry. You can use your imaginations, though. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from movies, it’s that I’ve got a better imagination than 99.9% of directors and cinematographers. Accordingly, you are free to imagine whatever you please along with the following.

Well, we went to Shannon, Ireland. It’s on the far western coast, toward the center but a bit to the south. If you’ve seen Far and Away, you’ll have something to stimulate your overactive imaginations. If not, picture someplace that’s all green. No, that’s not right. It’s not quite all green, (I mean, let’s be honest, this isn’t modern art—there are tree trunks and stone walls interspersed with the rolling green fields). Beautiful countryside, isn’t it? The hills don’t get too high, either, so you could see for miles and miles if it weren’t so foggy. That’s a shame. In fact, it’s raining now, so you consider yourself lucky you brought an umbrella. That’s the landscape. All I really wanted to see in Ireland were castles and green fields, so I got my wishes.

We next went to Bunratty Castle, a castle that was about 2 kilometers from where we stayed (the Jamaica—pronounced “ja-my-ka”—inn, where we had our own bedroom to ourselves even though we were in a 12 person room in a youth hostel). The castle was awesome. We could go in and wander about as we pleased, so we scurried about and saw all the little nooks and crannies. We even found the dungeon and the murder hole (I’m not kidding, it was above the main door, and they used it to pour hot oil on the people they didn’t want to come in).

Then we went to the cliffs of Moher (which are better known as the “Cliffs of Insanity” from the Princess Bride. Good times). It was incredible. We watched the ocean pound against the rocks for hours and hours. It was really windy. I leaned into the wind, and it would hold me up even when I was at like a 70 degree angle. I jumped as straight as I could, and it carried me forward a full foot and a half. It was insanely windy. There were some good wind pictures (see the picture… oh, wait, I lost the pictures). Well, to top off a nearly perfect day, we had Italian food in a sketchy Indian Restaurant in Ireland. (That’s a lot of I’s for one sentence, isn’t it?). It wasn’t great, but we tried to find about five Irish Pubs and get boiled potatoes, or anything, for that matter, but the pubs we found only wanted served alcohol. Kinda crazy…

Well, I came back to several self-reproducing packets of lemon cake sitting on my desk. I took a few off and put them in my backpack, but when I came back, there were two more. I let them be, and when I woke up, another one had come. I took them to school and ate them, only to find another two on my desk the following day. It was a little disconcerting, seeing as I could have sworn that I had taken them off the desk, and you would think that they would put them on my desk all in one go (or at least tell me about it) if they had wanted to make a gift out of it for me. Well, I decided I’d had enough with the self multiplying lemon cakes, so I took them all to Venice with me, and ate them all there, and I’ve seen nothing of lemon cakes since. I’m glad that’s done with. J

As a quick interruption, before I go on to that marvelous trip to Venice, there have been a lot of red days lately, and every day has been a day that we have been at home. Indeed, there have not been any red days save we have been present for them. For instance, I took off on Tuesday last week and didn’t get back until Saturday, so of course, Monday and Tuesday were both red days but there wasn’t another one all week... it’s just uncanny…

While I’m a filmophile, I’m not sure I can compete with my brother, Seth. Nevertheless, I felt like I had to go see a movie, so I went to “Into the Wild” (which, having seen it, may have been rated R due to about thirty seconds of completely unnecessary footage. For better or worse, there are no ratings here, so I don’t know what it was actually rated. Everything is pornographic, from the magazines to the advertisements to the people, so you just learn to shield your eyes when needed). Anyway, I’ve strayed far from where intended

I have written here a note to write about getting kebabs with Susie and Serena, two of the girls who I’ve gotten to be good friends with. I don’t remember anything out of the ordinary about the excursion to get the kebabs, but it’s sure worth remembering. I love kebabs. Let’s be honest, how much better can it get, good food, good friends, and a great view? We went on a walk for our class, then got kebab and sat in a park with flowers that looks at Notre Dame. It was great fun.

That is of course, just distracting from the trip last weekend to Venice. We went out on a poorly named sleeper car. It might better have been called a “keep you up all night so you can’t sleep car.” We did overnight trains both directions, and I slept horribly both directions. It doesn’t help that I’m a lighter sleeper than… well, I’m a really light sleeper. I wake up to almost anything. Believe me; I remember almost every instant of the night. I went to bed after watching a good chunk of “Casino Royale” (I figured it was appropriate since I was going to Venice) and tried to fall asleep about 1:30 am. I laid in bed for a while, when I decided to start listening to my ipod. I made it through what seemed like half my two day long playlist, fell asleep a dozen times or so, but just turned over and fell back asleep. Finally I woke up. I stretched my legs, feeling a lot better and a lot more rested. It was almost 3:15 am. That was when I knew I was in for a long night….

Venice was wonderful, despite the adventures on the train. We saw Saint Mark’s Plaza and Basilica (where the first scene in the Italian Job was filmed, with all of the pigeons. One actually came over and landed on my head, even though I had no food for it. After photographing the moment, I promptly knocked it off). It was incredible. It was built in the 11^th century, between 900 and 1000 years ago. That’s ridonkulously old. It’s a pity the Italians didn’t figure out the whole nation-state thing before the 19^th century, or they might have been able to make a more indelible impact on European History. I hold the Pope partly to blame for it, since he had his own army and fought his own wars (and I speak about him as if it was just one him, but really there was a good number of popes that made war on their neighbors. Even more importantly, though, is the question about the word indelible. Can you make a delible impact on something? Perhaps this reading will be a delible experience for you… well, I hope not!).

I bought an old fashioned pen, like the ones they used for centuries with inkwells and steel tips. What a crazy way to write. It would have been tough for Alexander Hamilton to write his 40,000 word treatises in just 3 months if he was writing with a pen like this one (I’m holding it in my hands right now). I suppose he had more practice, but it’s impressive nevertheless. Almost as impressive as that, though is that I ran into my mom and dad while I was outside that same store where I bought the pen. I was outside talking and waiting for some friends when I heard my dad say “I thought I recognized that voice!” I saw him and my mom out of the corner of my eye, and thought nothing of it for a split second, but then was shocked as it registered for me. Wow! What a crazy occurrence! It was a great time, all in all. It was fun to see the city, experience it a bit, and see the quaint little waterways.

Most recently, however, was our 5 day trip to Normandy and the Chateaux of the Loire Valley. Let me tell you what, I’ve never seen so many castles/chateaux in such a short period of time. We saw like 9 in 5 days, as well as beaches and cemeteries.

Speaking of which, we started out in Normandy at Omaha Beach. We went to the memorial the United States graciously built to commemorate the many soldiers that were sent to save freedom across the world (goodness only knows why we had to build it; you’d think that the French might have thought of it). All joking aside, though, it was a moving experience. As far as I am aware, I didn’t have any relatives there those fateful days in June of 1944, but I thought of Grandma in the supply depot in Ogden and Grandpa cutting hair in the Pacific and all the families who gave up their sons and brothers and fathers and husbands for a good cause. I thought of the senselessness of war, and of the love we must have to answer the call of duty to help out others. The great wars we have fought have not ever been for money or fame or dominion, but to secure freedom, first for ourselves and then for others across the world.

In the memorial, we watched a film that was prepared involving some veterans talking as well as some Frenchmen speaking about how they felt when the Americans came. It showed little children going up to old men and kissing them on the cheeks for what they had done. It was a powerful film. I meandered through the rest of the museum, looking at the mementos of the soldiers and whatnot, when I came to the hallway to the last room before the exit to the cemetery. In the hallway was projected an American woman’s voice deliberately reading the names of the 10,500+ people buried there, one by one. Then in the room were several of the stories of valor from the battles, along with names and gravesite locations. It was the reading of the names that really did me in. My eyes watered up and I had to leave to keep from crying. I love my country with all my heart. I don’t really know what it is that drives me, but I love America. I love it for the opportunity it has given my family and me. I love it for the opportunity and hope it gives to everyone, to so many people who are there and who are not. I love it for being the homeland of the restored gospel, prepared and brought to us by the hand of God. I love it for the Founding Fathers who gave their lives for it, not because it would make them famous, but because it was the right thing to do. I love it because we as a people are willing to sacrifice to help others, to die that men may live.

Well, I walked from there to an outcropping where I could see the beach and then through the cemetery itself. It reminded me of Arlington. It is a beautiful resting place for those who are there.

After that, we went to many chateaux. I won’t try to tell you about them all, or even explain them to you, because I feel like I’ve been going on for long enough, and I’ve got to get some sleep tonight. If I can, I’ll put some things in next time (which won’t be too long from now, since I won’t be out of town for at least another three weeks—imagine that, three weeks in the same country! Who does that?).

It was a lot of fun. It was very interesting to see places that I’ve heard talked about in classes and in history, and to be able to see a glimpse into what the people who determined history saw, felt and thought. I also had a really great time with my group. They are a lot of fun. Let’s be honest, Paris is awesome.

Pictures are 1) Jacqueline, Rochelle, Emma and I spelling out Love in the Chambord (sp?) gardens 2) Me in front of Chartres Cathedral, 3) Me in the gardens at Villandry, a chateau we went to, and 4) Me with Cassandra and Susie at the monastary in Mont Saint Michel

Sleepy Jeff

Alright, so I apologize, I said I was going to post the Ireland thing the next day, but then I didn't have time. Turns out that I am really, really tired, so I will post these pictures, and go to bed. I just got back from Venice, on the poorly named sleeper train (since I didn't sleep hardly at all). The pictures are with the Eiffel Tower and an overly confident pigeon in St Mark's Plaza, right in front of the Basilica (which doesn't show up here, but can be seen in the introduction to The Italian Job).

Cultural thoughts...

Can you believe I’ve been here for over a month already? We’re going on a month and a week… And I know that you really just want to hear about Ireland, but I have discovered a few interesting tidbits I feel I ought to share with you. Plus, it will build suspense. I'm going to take some time and prepare a post, but I can't find my pictures and due to my internet situation I can't take too much time right now. On to my thoughts...

First, our host family puts aluminum foil (mistakenly called “tin foil” by many people, myself included on a day when I’m not minding myself, even though it is nothing of the sort. It’s aluminum through and through) over everything. Well, it’s not that much different than saran wrap (or whatever the non-brand name is), right? It turns out that if you leave it in the fridge for too long, it gets a nasty, green stain on it. Then it just gets worse as you reuse it. Well, my first few weeks here, I was a bit revolted by the idea of eating out of a container that had been sealed with the semi-rusting seaweed green aluminum foil, but I figured I could manage since it (usually) didn’t touch the food, and since everyone else was eating, I didn’t want to be the rude one out. Well, this goes on for about a month (until last Tuesday night) when I observed the son, Amoury, make a sandwich and pull out the fresh roll of aluminum foil. Not only does the piece he tears off have the green stain through the middle of it, but it seems that it’s a decorative feature of the foil, not mold after all. So, the moral of the story is that I feel a lot better about using it and eating the food, but it still creeps me out that they would intentionally make aluminum foil look like it was going to give you cancer if you ate out of it. I guess it’s one of those things… “Someday we’ll know.”

Another revelation I had was about the pink toilet paper. Oh, wait, I still haven’t figured that one out. I have, of course, seen pink toilet paper in the store, but never have I seen it used, much less in the seeming abandon they have propagated its spread throughout the country. That is to say, a lot of the private residences have pink toilet paper. I blew my nose with it; it’s even scented.

My final cultural... thought (I would hate to call it an insight, since I feel like an insight should make you a better person, and I’m not sure this is helping with that), is that while explaining why my roommate runs every night and I do not, I had to explain about when Laudie and I went skiing and I hurt my knee. Turns out that the word for “to hurt” or “to injure” is “blesser,” which you probably realize sounds a lot like “to bless” in English. In fact, to say “I hurt my knee” you say “Je blesse (pronounced ‘bless’) mon genou” (emphasis added). I pointed out this false cognate to my family, and they rejoined with a story about how some missionary had gone up and said a prayer over the pulpit asking the Lord to bless (a.k.a. “injure”) every one of the members present. Not a meeting I’d like to be a part of, but hey, you win some you lose some. Better luck next blessing. That's all for today, but I'll get some more in tomorrow.

La vida es bella!

La vie est belle!

Life is beautiful!

Jeff

P.S. Ireland was amazing. Yes, my life is an adventure. I wouldn't have it any other way ;-)