Dutch pedophiles go political

Ah bener-bener dah. Ngga puas hati dengan « coffeehuis » mereka yang profit taking-nya bukan berasal dari jualan espresso ^^, kini sang eks-penguasa East Indies merangsak ke daerah abu-abu kelam.

Kalau AUS masih bergulat dengan issue (1) injection room (ruang legal disediakan Govt untuk junkies untuk menyuntik heroin dll, plus dokter jaga, argumen: daripada mereka tewas di jalanan), (2) euthanasia (masih ilegal di sini), dan baru-baru ini (3) revamp on the obsolete Communication Acts eg. annoying telemarketer.

Kalau di RI masih anget kontroversi, kontradiksi, (1) RUU PornofeckenAksi dan PornofeckenGrafi, masih ribut dengan seorang (2) gadis Indonesia tampil di cover Playboy Spanyol, masih geger dan penuh protes diakhiri dengan vandalisme properti (3) akan peluncuran sebuah majalah yang serta merta dianggap ikon empirisme dan pornografi Amrik hanya karena ia memasung brand bertitel Playboy.

Beh ... suku Nederlander telah jauh meninggalkan yang lainnya!

Tapi, dua usul terakhirnya boleh juga: legalkan berjalan telanjang di publik dan free travel via kereta. ^^ Viva la libertà !

Tapi kalo pornografi kanak-kanak, saya tak setuju. Sedangkan bestiality, err ... what's wrong with just human (???) Ada-ada aja ah Negeri Tanah Rendah ini.

Ratu Beatrix ... bagaimana tanggapanmu?

Shock as Dutch pedophiles go political

June 1, 2006

AMSTERDAM: Dutch pedophiles are launching a political party to push for a cut in the legal age for sexual relations to 12 from 16 and the legalisation of child pornography and sex with animals, sparking widespread outrage.

The Charity, Freedom and Diversity party said on its website it would be registered yesterday.

"A ban just makes children curious," Ad van den Berg, a party founder, told a newspaper. "We want to make pedophilia the subject of discussion. We want to… have a voice. Other politicians only talk about us in a negative sense, as if we were criminals."

The Netherlands, which already has liberal policies on soft drugs, prostitution and gay marriage, was shocked by the plan.

An opinion poll published on Tuesday showed that 82 per cent wanted the Government to do something to stop the new party.

"They make out as if they want more rights for children. But their position that children should be allowed sexual contact from age 12 is of course just in their own interest," said anti-pedophile campaigner Ireen van Engelen.

Right-wing MP Geert Wilders said he had asked the Government to investigate whether a party with such "sick ideas" could really be established.

Kees van der Staaij, of the Christian SGP party, also demanded action: "Pedophilia and child pornography should be taboo… Breaking that will just create more victims."
The party wants private possession of child pornography to be allowed, although it supports the ban on the trade of such materials.

It supports allowing pornography to be broadcast on daytime television, with only violent pornography limited to late evenings.

The party also said people should be allowed to go naked in public and promotes legalising all drugs and free train travel for all.

Nella Fantasia

Russel Watson's sung it.

Sarah Brightman's chanted it.

Il Divo's followed suit.

Ennio Morricone composed it.

Soundtrack of Cinema Paradiso.

Nella fantasia io vedo un mondo giusto,
Li tutti vivono in pace e in onestà.
In my fantasy I see a world of justice,
where everyone lives in peace and honesty.

Io sogno d'anime che sono sempre libere,
Come le nuvole che volano,
Pien' d'umanità in fondo all'anima.
I dream of souls that are always free,
as the flying clouds,
full of profound humanity.

Nella fantasia io vedo un mondo chiaro,
Li anche la notte è meno oscura.
In my fantasy I see a world of light,
where the nights are less obscured.

Io sogno d'anime che sono sempre libere,
Come le nuvole che volano.

Nella fantasia esiste un vento caldo,
Che soffia sulle città, come amico.
In my fantasy there's a warm breeze,
that blows over the towns like a friend.

Io sogno d'anime che sono sempre libere,
Come le nuvole che volano,
Pien' d'umanità in fondo all'anima.

+++

Maniérisme asiatique c'est quoi?

Sebenernya protokol meja (table manner) à la Asia itu benar adakah? Atau hanya desas desus di balik tirai keeksotisan Oriental saja? Atau, barangkali, hanya negeri Japon yang dapat diakui ber-manner tinggi, karena mereka rata-rata sangat sopan dan terpelajar.

Dan tadi saat makan siang, di food court padat dipenuhi pengunjung kelaparan, seorang bapa-bapa Asia usia 30-an duduk diagonal dari meja saya.

Dan ia sangat menikmati makan siangnya, nasi dengan lauk. Mungkin saking nikmatnya, ia pun membuat suara.

^^

Srurrp sruupp …

Kalo santapannya mi atau sup yah maklum, tapi ini nasi dengan lauk dan daging. Di benak saya berpikir, kalau seorang lokal Anglosakson yang menyaksikan peristiwa ini, tak layak stereotyping-nya pun akan semakin solid: orang Asia semuanya ngga kenal table manner. Apalagi kalau dilengkapi dengan Tour de Chinatown.

Balik enam tahun lalu, saya baru masuk ke sharehouse dan pertama kalinya punya housemates bule anglosakson. Dan tiga bulan pertama ... atrocity.

Memalukan tapi mau gimana lagi. Itu terjadi. Nasi udah jadi bubur ayam.

Housemates seringkali bilang, Stop making noise. Saat saya tengah asik makan. hehe

^^

Lalu, Try to be a bit quiet when you munch and less clattery with the plate too.

Beh !

Oaah ... tapi sejak itu saya pun lebih sadar saat tengah makan atau mengunyah.

Ah, siapa bilang suku Barat sempurna dalam segala hal. Satu hal yang saya ngga mengerti, menyemprot hidung baik bersin maupun mengeluarkan cairan ingus, bisa-bisanya dengan kasualnya dianggap normal, selama kita bilang, Excuse me, semuanya kembali indah.

Kalo bersin, hemat saya, iyalah emang ngga bisa ditahan. Tapi kalo lagi di tempat umum, eg. di kafe, terutama di kereta, tau-tau bule di samping, ngga wanita ngga pria, ngeluarin sapu tangan dan sroooot, srottt.

Dan saya cuma bisa melongo loh. Ini kan dianggap salah satu yang paling tidak sopan di RI.

Dan soal tangan SINISTRA. Perkara tangan kiri yang ngga bersih, ngga sopan, ngga layak dipakai. Maka, gunakanlah tangan kanan selalu, nasihat kepada semua bocah dan kanak di RI.

Seringkali classmates Anglo tanpa jengah berujar, So the left hand is considered impolite for Indonesians yeah?

Saya : Err yea, and in many parts of Asia as well.

+Why

Saya : Err ...

Boh!

Sampai di sini saya pun berusaha diplomatik, kadang jawab saya, Have you travelled a bit in Asia. Or the Middle East. Atau kadang response yang lebih gamblang kalo itu teman yang cukup baik, .... Well, the left hand side, in Indonesia, err you know, like ... when you go to the toilet ... what happens is ...

Hihihi ....

Tapi kadang kalo situasinya ngga layak ngebincangin hal-hal penuh intrik budaya dan kultur, paling saya tunda sambil beli waktu (buying time) ... Err, I'll tell you in a while orighty.

Sigap dan gegas bak Pramuka siaga kan saya??? ^^

Perugia, Sotto la Neve

Dio Mio! It snows in this Etruscan city.


+++


Pigeon, anyone?

Pak RT-nya Mayangsari ternyata innocent euy!

Woaaah ... beginilah wajah industri hiburan di RI.

Mau nyalahin siapa coba? Halimah yang melabrak Mayangsari? Mayangsari yang memampas suami orang (dan membuahkan bibit)?

Beh, saya bilang sih Bambang ajah yang mata keranjang duren tiga euy. Mari salahkan dia dan nafsu liarnya. What a dickhead (no pun intended) !

Tapi yang lebih lucu adalah saat jurnalis gosip kehabisan berita, mereka menjadi gerombolan desperado, maka angle paling tak biasa pun harus diburu.

Pak RT-nya Mayangsari pun diwawancarai dan akhirnya terseret ke kubangan skandal nasional RI. ^^

Dan err ... urusan semprot-menyemprot nyamuk pun dibawa-bawa. Haruskah kita sekarang berasumsi bahwa ternyata kediaman Mayangsari mengandung banyak nyamuk?

Ah ... pokoke E! Hollywood kalah saucy euy.

Ketua RT Tak Tahu Mayang Tinggal di Wilayahnya
http://www.kompas.com/gayahidup/news/0605/23/194618.htm

Ketua RT 02/RW 08 Grogol Selatan, Kebayoran Lama, Jakarta Selatan, tidak tahu menahu soal keributan yang terjadi di salah satu rumah warganya yang terletak di Simprug
Golf XV/36, rumah yang selama ini didiami penyanyi Mayangsari.

Kepada wartawan, Pak RT yang bernama Abdul Hak itu mengatakan, pihaknya tidak pernah menerima laporan tentang keributan yang terjadi pada Minggu malam (21/5).

"Saya tidak tahu, tidak ada laporan soal itu kepada saya. Kalau saja polisi datang kepada saya, saya bisa bersikap," kata Abdul.

Saat ditanya, apakah Mayangsari pernah meminta perlindungan kepadanya saat peristiwa keributan itu. Abdul Hak justru menimpali begini, "Kenal saja nggak, lapor saja nggak, bagaimana bisa melindungi."

Abdul Hak mengaku, dirinya pernah beberapa kali mencoba bertemu dengan Mayang. Salah satunya, adalah untuk program penyemprotan nyamuk, namun tidak mendapatkan izin. "Untuk masuk menyemprot, saya tidak diizinkan," tutur Abdul.

Bahkan, kata Abdul, dirinya juga tidak pernah tahu bahwa Bambang Trihatmodjo yang putra mantan presiden Soeharto itu kerap menginap di rumah warganya.

Jawaban senada juga terlontar saat Abdul ditanya perihal status Mayangsari yang artis itu. "Saya tidak tahu dia artis atau bukan."

Disinggung soal kepemilikan rumah, Abdul Hak menganjurkan kepada wartawan untuk menanyakan langsung kepada pihak kelurahan. Untuk urusan pembayaran pajak bumi dan bangunan (PBB), Abdul mengaku tidak pernah melalui dirinya selaku ketua RT.

"Bisa jadi, petugas PBB-nya yang langsung ke rumah Mayang."

Kisah Cinta Mayangsari-BT
http://www.kompas.com/gayahidup/news/0605/23/182325.htm

Tahun 1997: Bambang Trihatmodjo alias BT kabarnya mulai berkenalan dengan Mayangsari. Saat itu Mayang dikontrak untuk menghibur simpatisan Golkar saat kampanye Pemilu.

Orang yang mengenalkan Mayang kepada Bambang adalah Camelia Malik. Saat itu Bambang memang menjabat Bendahara DPP Partai Golkar. Sejak perkenalan itu, kabarnya, hubungan keduanya kian dekat. Ketika itu, Presiden Soeharto (ayahanda Bambang) masih kuat-kuatnya.

Tanggal 6 November 2000: Meski kenal dengan keluarga Cendana, Mayangsari ogah dibilang punya hubungan khusus dengan mereka, apalagi menyangkut kedekatannya dengan Bambang Trihatmodjo. "Kedekatan gue sebatas hubungan kerja. Ibaratnya kita penjual jasa dan mereka memanfaatkan kita, gitu aja. Habis itu kalau mau ingat ya syukur, nggak ingat ya udah. Yang penting selama mereka membutuhkan, kita tanggung jawab sebatas itu aja," ujar Mayang kepada Warta Kota di Hard Rock Cafe, 6 November 2000.

April 2002: Mayangsari digosipkan dilabrak istri Bambang Trihatmodjo, Ny Halimah, di rumah Mayang di Simprug Golf, setelah kepergok bermesraan di sebuah kafe di bilangan Senayan. Mayang menyangkal dan menyatakan bahwa dia telah difitnah. Dia malah menantang wartawan dan berani memberi uang Rp 1miliar kepada siapa saja yang bisa membuktikan kebenaran gosip itu.

November 2005: Di internet beredar foto-foto mesra orang yang mirip Mayangsari dan Bambang Trihatmodjo. Orang yang mirip Mayangsari hanya menggunakan pakaian dalam warna merah. Dalam foto lainnya, mereka berciuman mesra. Pengamat telematika Roy Suryo meyakini foto itu asli dan bukan hasil rekayasa. Namun ia tidak berani memastikan apakah orang dalam foto itu Mayangsari dan Bambang atau bukan.

Februari 2006: Mayangsari yang lahir di Purwokerto (Jateng) 23 Agustus 1971 ketahuan hamil. Ia pun langsung diburu para pencari berita. Rumahnya di Jalan Simprug Golf XV/36, Jakarta Selatan, setiap hari didatangi wartawan dan pekerja infotainment.

Tanggal 17 Februari 2006: Mayangsari mengaku bahwa ia memang tengah hamil. Lewat sebuah surat tulisan tangan Mayang yang diterima Warta Kota lewat faksimili, Mayang menyampaikan bahwa ia belum bisa bertemu wartawan karena kondisinya sedag tidak fit akibat sedang hamil. Ia minta agar tidak diganggu privasinya.

Tanggal 27 Februari 2006: Mayang akhirnya muncul dan mau buka suara, kendati masih merahasiakan siapa ayah jabang bayi yang dikandungnya. Soal gosip hubungannya dengan Bambang Tri, Mayang berjanji pada saatnya nanti ia akan berbicara soal itu. Sementara itu, setiap dua atau tiga hari sekali Bambang berkunjung ke rumah Mayang dan menginap di sana.

Tanggal 30 Maret 2006: Anak Mayang berjenis kelamin perempuan lahir di RS Internasional Bintaro. Bayi dengan berat 2,6 kg dan panjang 46 cm itu lahir pukul 05.46 lewat operasi cesar. Bambang Tri menunggui selama proses kelahiran anaknya itu.

Tanggal 2 April 2006: Tanpa sorotan kamera infotainment dan kerumunan wartawan, Mayangsari meninggalkan Rumah Sakit Internasional Bintaro, Minggu (2/4) pukul 11.30. Mayang dijemput Bambang Trihatmodjo, ibu (Ny Larasatun), adik (Gita), dan desainer Adjie Notonegoro. Mayang duduk di kursi roda sambil mendekap bayinya. Bambang yang berkacamata hitam berjalan di sampingnya. Wajah Mayang masih terlihat pucat, sementara Bambang tampak terlihat tenang, tanpa berusaha menutupi wajahnya. Inilah pertama kalinya publik melihat kebersamaan mereka berdua.

Tanggal 8 April 2006: Nama anak Mayang terbongkar juga. Bayi yang katanya mirip Bambang itu diberi nama Khirani Siti Hartina Trihatmodjo. Desainer Adjie Notonegoro membenarkan soal nama tersebut.

Tanggal 22 April 2006: Walau dikabarkan sudah hidup berpisah, Bambang Trihatmodjo dan Halimah, tampak bahagia saat mendampingi putri sulung mereka, Gendis Siti Hatmanti (23) dalam acara adat Jawa menjelang pernikahan, siraman, di Jalan Tanjung no 23, Menteng, Jakarta Pusat. Gendis menikah dengan Arif Putra Wicaksono (25), di Masjid At Tin TMII, Minggu (23/4). Wajah Bambang-Halimah sumringah saat menyuapi Gendis secara bergantian, begitu pula ketika secara berbarengan mencium pipi putri mereka.

Tanggal 23 April 2006: Mayangsari tidak tampak dalam acara pernikahan Gendis Siti Hatmanti, putri sulung Bambang Trihatmodjo, Minggu (23/4) di Padepokan Agung Sasono Langen Utomo, TMII. Mbak Tutut pun ogah berkomentar soal Mayang. Apalagi Halimah, istri Bambang Trihatmodjo.

Tanggal 27 April 2006: Mayangsari kembali menggelar acara selapanan buah hatinya, Khirani Siti Hartina Trihatmodjo. Selapanan adalah acara adat Jawa untuk menandai selapan hari (35 hari) usia bayi. Nama tengah bayi perempuan itu, yakni Siti Hartina, mengingatkan kita pada sosok mendiang Ibu Tien Soeharto, ibunda Bambang Trihatmodjo. Ibu Tien memiliki nama asli Siti Hartinah.

Tanggal 21 Mei 2006: Rumah Mayangsari di Jalan Simprug Golf XV/36 diserbu oleh Halimah, Gendis, Panji, dan empat pengawal mereka. Bambang yang berada di rumah Mayang saat itu bogem mentah anaknya sendiri, Panji. Sementara kaki Halimah terluka kena pecahan kaca. Kasus ini ditangani Polrestro Jakarta Selatan.

Peer pressure, a fecken curse

So I've spent years attempting to better myself, keep the poise to the point of perfect zen, to distinct myself out of the pack.

Naah .... just didn't work!

+++

Sebagai bagian generasi X-/-Y, saking membingungkannya, dan under 26's, sebagian besar para temans kini telah sibuk menyebar, memfokuskan diri ke hal yang mereka tekuni.

Setelah bertahun-tahun hidup saya berselimut solitude, saatnya bertemu dengan kawan lama dan, seramnya!, membandingkan catatan.

Jadi si KLM sekarang telah menjadi seorang CPA plus gelar MBA.

Sementara QQQ kini membanting tulang hingga jam 2 pagi di lawyer firm terkemuka di kota ini.

Kalau si C, ia baru saja menerima tawaran job paket USD 200 000 (bukan lagi pakai mata uang lokal!).

Dan si D ... o la la, ia baru saja meneken kontrak beli rumah pertamanya.

+++

Dan diri saya, jangankan pekerjaan berangka fantastis, gelar pendidikan pun hanya biasa-biasa saja. Master's Degree belum terpikirkan, postgrads cuma lihat di selebaran.

Harus melihat ke atas (mereka) atau ke bawah (mereka lain yang lebih biasa-biasa lagi). Ah bingung.

Atau ... pindah domisili ke Bhutan, di sebelah Nepal, di mana Gross National Happiness lebih penting dari nomor upah, ukuran dompet serta gelar akademis.

Atau mending cari bini aja, kawin, beranak pinak bak kelinci liar di padang savannah Afrika Utara.

Beh ... questo mi dà proprio fastidio. Che stronzo......

Bordel de merde ! Putain ...

Hey ... at least I'll get to see French and Italian films without having to struggle with subtitles and crap translation ─it is going to be the case in the next two years.

+++

Peer pressure is, in general, uncool in the manner it shits ya up, VILE!

Do not peer pressure yer mates -whenever possible.

Why Mona Lisa is actually NOT Mona Lisa ...

The 77x53 cm painting is dubbed the most viewed, an inscrutable feminin puzzle, most enigmatic smile on Earth.

And who's behind all the conundrum? Is it really a transvestite depiction of the most celebrated painter from the village of Vinci? Is it just a work that never got delivered to its proper client? Or, really, as millions would believe it, the enlightened man of the Renaissance era, Leonardo da Vinci, tried to convey a message of what he'd known all along however too wary of its shocking significance?


Leonardo 60 years old, self portrait.

+++

While I’m no Dan Brown, I can’t refer to any of his theories (which are surprisingly convincing enough to spark worldwide debate and controversies). Not unexpectedly, we’re not the first batch of admirers who find Mona Lisa stunningly enigmatic.

It all started with what's said to be the birth of an illegitimate son of Ser Piero, in 1452. The convention of the time in the region of the Medici (seat of power in Florence) was that you are given a first name and may adopt your father's last name ─if you belong to a wealthy or noble family, or later be recognised by your profession (the Medici had initially had a few medici, doctors in their family), your origin eg. as in Leonardo da Vinci (from the village of Vinci). Leonardo reputedly never bother with having a surname, signing his works by « Io, Leonardo » - (Italian) Me, Leonardo.

Don't bother discussing what multitasking really means with the genius from Vinci for he's widely known as the Jack of all trades nel Cinquecento (the sixteenth century). He excelled in decoration, architecture (Château d'Amboise), science (human anatomy, zoology, watch making, he even envisaged of a flying machine) and let's not forget... event organising (King of France and the Duc of Milan requested him to organise a few fêtes and royal events) albeit surprisingly he failed to get employment with the Roman Church in his early career days.

+++

I find it rather annoying why the most viewed painting on Earth is affectionately marketed by its alien name.

The woman model is said to be Lisa Gherardini, wife of Francesco del Giacondo of Florence. The wealthy silk merchant, having had a church built, now just moved to a new residence and wanting to have his young wife of 24 year olds painted. Leonardo, a man of 51 years of age, accepted the order.

The thing is, Francesco del Giacondo and his family never received what's theirs, the painting promised to be hung in their salotto, what's to become la Giaconda (Mona Lisa).

The mystery shrouding this piece however commenced by great Italian artists of Leonardo’s era who found themselves intrigued by Leonardo’s sfumato style (sfumato = fumed, smoked).

Leonardo remains the unsurpassed grandmaster of the technique applying layer after layer of paint, creating a fuzzy graphic and vapourish illusion of “liveliness” ─eg. Mona Lisa’s eyes appear to follow the viewer, and her smile slightly changes over a different angle and (lighting) shade.


François I de France

+++

The hush hush rumour was fuelled by the word the painting never left the artist’s side, that it stayed with Leonardo wherever he travelled, and eventually taken to France in meeting with François Premier, king of France, a keen enthusiast of Renaissance art, who's powerful enough to invite numerous Italian artists to undertake a variety of works in his châteaux all over France. And when you're King of France, you simply can't be outdone by other royal personalities, so François I started to build a collection of paintings notably those of Raphaël, Titian, and Michaelangelo.


François was smitten by the old man. The King absolutely respected and adored the old painter from Vinci that he would call him «mon père» - my father. Leonardo went back to Florence and Rome completing a few more projects before returning to France and eventually passed away in his adopted home. His tomb todate remained in the Chapelle St. Hubert, a private section dedicated in the Château d'Amboise (see photo).

Nevertheless later Leonardo presented the painting as a cadeau (gift) to François Premier. It then moved home to Château Fontainebleau, then Versailles, the Tuileries (the Louvre). 1911 saw a theft that enraged the world, committed by a tradesman Vincenzo Perrugia, having worked for a while for the museum.

And the theory he’s a Priori de Sion grandmaster exarcebated all the mystery buried beneath the canvas. Voilà, the grand master himself completed all the mystery against his persona.


La Joconde alias Mona Lisa

+++

Quite recently, with the advance of technology, a few prominent scientists and curators have come up with no less than a suggestion that the “Lady” is to be exhumed via laser, x-ray, whatever the latest technology is. Hotly disputed by not a bad number of experts and art lovers pronouncing: Just leave it alone, let our grand kids enjoy the most enigmatic smile …

For generations to come.

Le Louvre and its Code

« The Da Vinci Code the movie » has gone to a mad frenzy. Worse, the blatant mugs of Tom Hanks, Tautou and Jean Reno are literally in yer face as you walk in and out most public places in Sydney at the moment. The critique has been less favourable, some call the movie "stodgy", "too long and unconvincing".

I understand the public’s hysterical interest in this movie. But it’s just way excessively unrequired. I enjoy the storyline, the hush hush business, the stylish methodical page-turning approach Dan Brown applied in recounting his larger than the Vatican conspiracy theory.

But what I find tantalising to my «voyage buds» is Angels and Demons, this is a superb work where Langdon takes you all around Rome, revisiting all the historic corners and monuments, infiltrating the Vatican Secret Archive (as if they would grant access to just anyone!) and guiding you through the most significant legacy of the Renaissance artists.

So the Da Vinci Code saga commences with Prof Langdon's finding a curator of The Louvre dead in a very comprimising position. The location is exotic enough, but it goes beyond the hype. Not only is Le Musée du Louvre one of the most popular Parisian edifices, it’s also the largest, the most visited, the one with the most artefacts and objet d’arts institution in the world. It is the grandest home to les beaux arts ─the beautiful arts, as the French simplified it!

If you’re an art buff and had to choose one museum to visit [mamma mia … what an excrutiating choice one has to take!] this is pretty much it. This is the place.

Now, I admit I'm bursting to check out Gli Uffici in Florence (or Firenze, for the purists out there! ^^) the epicentre for all Renaissance arts. But whilst it still has to wait just a wee longer, Le Louvre does it for me. Hey, it’s even an ultra chic haunt to be about (o how I wish I could go and cover every corner of it everytime I want to!) and the café is even relaxing enough to take a breath momentarily before embarking onto another assault mission into a different part of the museum.


Le Musée du Louvre (Les Tuileries)

Officially named Le Musée du Louvre, it’s now as lovable an iconic symbol of the city of Paris as Gustave Eiffel's Tower. But even more significant than the younger welded mishmash of tawny metal further up North, Les Tuileries housing the Louvre was once the very centre of the French Kingdomship, Empire, and Republique ─effectively evidencing a great example of a melange of architecture originating from the Middle Ages, Rennaisance, Classicism, and even post-modernism.

The foundation was laid just over eight hundred years ago, Philippe Auguste ordered its construction in the year 1200, serving as a fortress for the French royal family. Rebuilt, reconstructed, enlarged, renovated and gentrified, it’s what we now contest as one of the most fantastic edifices of the Renaissance time. It has been home to a fair share of grands hommes: King François Premier, Louis Quatorze (the king of the Sun), Louis Seize (decapitated by his own people), and Napoleon Bonaparte himself. Even so, there was a period of nearly a century when it fell into a disuse following Louix XIV’s decree to move his government seat to the Palace of Versailles.

So we all love statistics, so let’s crunch a couple of figures. If you are to spend one day admiring just one art object in the Louvre, you’ll need more than a life time (eg. average life span of 80 years) to get to see all objets d’art of the Museum. There are over 300 000 works of art housed here of which any 35 000 are exhibited at one time in rotation. Stretching over 700 metres over the Right Bank (La Rive Droit) of the Seine, the once château-cum-fotress surface expanded from 31 260 m2 to 58 470 m2 in 2002, and to have been 60 620 m2 by last year. Its main building is housed in what's called Les Tuileries, a residential complex fit for no less than a King of France. One end of the Jardin des Tuileries is where Napoleon built a miniature of L'Arc de Triomphe (perfect for those who can't be hassled with going to the real thing at Place de L'Etoile and dodge deadly traffic circulating a 12-way roundabout).


It’s frequented by over five million visitors before the third millenium, and now effectively boosted by up to an extra two million, owing to the popularity of the Da Vinci Code tome. Two thirds of its revellers come from out of France, one third from European countries, followed by the Americans by 18.5% and Asians (7%). Every second guest is a Louvre-virgin rendering visit for the first time.

Visit hours are between 9am and 6pm with an admission price of EUR 8.50, reduced to half for visitors arriving after 3pm, or EUR 6.00 on Sundays. Visit is free for European citizens under 18, French university students, and people with concessions. First Sunday of the month is free to public, and only twice a year it puts up the "FERME" ─close─ sign: Nov 1 (All Saints Day, le Toussaint) and Dec 25. It shuts forty percents of its galleries at any time following a rotation. What I reckon they are trying to say is it’s way too big to cover for the average visitor, yea, that’s you and me.


Of its four entrances, two are open to the general public whereas the other two are reserved for visitors with pre-booked ticket and handicapped visitors. The underground access connected to the métro while the alfresco glassy Pyramid entrance in the La Court Napoleon (see photo) which, not unexpectedly, sparked a few controversies following its proposal in the 70s. Former President François Mitterand was an Egyptophile, he had a knack for everything Egyptian. Effectively his idea was to incorporate something he’s fond of as part of the most loved museum. IM Pei, a Chinese-American architect, submitted a design for a glass pyramid. And for quite some time, no self-respected Parisian failed to snort at the contemporary addition as what they called a subversion to our patrimoine (heritage) legacy.

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These are typical weekdays on the courtyard of the Louvre:






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One indispensable advice any visitor should consider: when “doing” the Louvre, you should focus on one section, one wing, one part, one particular branch of art of the entire collection on offer, it’s just simply too enormous a place, of which these are most prominent:

Antiquités égyptiennes - Egyptian antiques
Antiquités étrusques et romaines - Etruscan and Roman antiques
Antiquités grecques - Greek antiques
Antiquités orientales - Oriental antiques
Antiquités orientales - Arts d'Islam : Oriental antiques, Art of Islam
Peinture anglaise - English painting
Peinture espagnole - Spanish
Peinture européenne - European
Peinture flamande - Flemish
Peinture française - French
Peinture italienne - Italian
Sculpture européenne - European Sculptures
Sculptures françaises - French
Sculptures italiennes - Italian

Scary enough, the Louvre catalogue lists collection of objet d'arts, in its Egypt Department, dating four thousand years (4 000) B.C. That's a mind-numbing figure, I reckon. A massive thanks to Napoleon and his plundering mission in the early 1800s upon conquering Egpyt.

Everyone has favourites collections of the Louvre, and mine are :
1. La Chambre de Napoleon - The Napoleon's chambre, for a quick glimpse what life was like for the grand man of small stature two hundred years ago following his self proclaiming to the French throne.

2. A couple of corridors-cum-display rooms where the frescoes depicted on the ceiling, I must say, are exquisitely unreal. They may even be en par with those at the Sistine Chapel. What can I say, it's grandmaster Botticelli himself.

Frescoes by Botticelli

2. The Italian Renaissance Wing, it's luxuriously arty. Every single piece of the painting literally drew breath out of me, every second one outdoes the previous.

Italian Renaissance Paintings Wing

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I must confess I found I was attracted to the superb works of Raffael (Raffello Santi, 1483-1520), the grand painter buried in the Pantheon in Rome, in particular his grand tableau, St Michael downing the Dragon (Dragon symbolises Evil)

Saint Michel terrassant le dragon

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Admittedly, I'm one of those curious visitors, flocking to this museum de grandeur to absorb the enigmatic smile and perhaps dig out what all the fuss is about.

What can I say, it may be embarrassingly daunting ─what with the ordeal to see the masterpiece─ one has to follow what seems to be a rite, a pilgrimage. The queue was long, choreographed by a band of security personnel, and lingering in front of her was cut short.

+ Messieurs, Dames, s'il vous plait ... circulez!
Roughly, what the security guads trying to tell you is, Please move your arse Ladies and Gentlemen!

And no photo allowed, strictly speaking. In reality, the hordes of tourists can't be arsed with that protocol having come halfway the world to check the painting out. Snap snap, blitz blitz, merci bien!


La Joconde aka Monalisa

My first time meeting "Lady Lisa" was a brisk business. She's a 500-year old woman, understandably being so delicate and high maintenance. Housing hear requires the latest technology minimising carbon presence in the room (from visitors' expiration), providing her a care 24/7 via the most advanced vacuum boxy frame thicker than an austronaut's helmet and given the history she was once abruptly nicked from the Louvre nearly 100 years ago, the toughest known security system has to be in place to protect her.

Sadly enough, what's happened is, Mona Lisa is not listed in the Louvre cataloguing under her international moniker « Mona Lisa » but « La Joconde ».

Mona Lisa was a contraction of:
Monna, short for Madonna (Italian for "My Lady")
Lisa (The lady posing, said to be Lisa Gherardine, wife of Francesco del Giacondo)

The painting was called La Giaconda in Italian.

And when transferred to France, to the salon of François Premier, King of France, she's known by the Gauls as La Joconde.

Whatever you call it, Mona Lisa, La Joconde, or La Giaconda, she may be the wife of the wealthy businessman Giocondo of Florence over five hundred years ago.

But whatever the deal is, you really should find la Joconde next time you pop in the Louvre!

A la prochaine!

Why the world needs more Amélies ...

There I was, shifting my fat arse like a hippo scrunching over a massive boil, Sunday night, bored shitless, hyped from the caffeine charge during the day.

Seemingly banal enough and unwillingly needing distraction, I decided to run through the last half part of Amélie. Audrey Tautou's signature movie that rocketed her to international stardom never failed to amuse me over and over again.

Largely unknown to non-francophone audience, it was originally titled «Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulin» - The fabulous destiny of Amélie Poulin, too tongue-twisty for the general public, eh? And for me, it's a fabulous destiny. The 2001 Jeunet's pièce de resistance now overshadows the rest of his movies for the rest of his life, and who's to blame?

Now, I have seen Amélie numerous times I no longer remember how many times I've followed the young Parisienne's life albeit its imaginary status. It feels intimate. This is going to be, in half a century's time, what Roman Holiday and La Dolce Vita are now to us: a cult movie, a regard of the past, the belle epoque of the early 21st century.

What I adore about this French cinematography is, amongst other things, it unabashedly defies all Hollywood formulas à la fairy tale-cum-fuckwit. Apparently Amelie does not wake up one morning and dumbfoundedly finds out her mum had a fling with a bloke who turned out to be the sole heir of a tiny kingdom in East Europe and father just died in an accident so the hardest thing to do now is breaking the news to the classmates whilst keeping a straight face; Nupe, Amelie decides she is to help a few persons close to her life, Amelie chooses to pursue the boy of her dream, Nino, in the most unusual way. Boy meets girl. Nino, a quirky Parisian who collects strangers' instant photos off the photomats around Paris, was lured into a wild goose chase spanning from Gare de l'Est till the hoisty steps of Montmarte.

The rest of the cast is equally brilliant : the woman behind the tabac counter claiming her life is about to end any minute due to complication of ailments quickly forgets she's a hypocondriac for a minute whilst getting the shag of her life in the toilet of café Deux Moulins; Madame Susanne, the ever wise café owner; Monsieur Dufayel, the artisanal retiree anxious to apply the last stroke on the canvas however unsure the little girl on the Monet's he's reproducing; the obnoxious grocer down the road getting his comeuppance is unpredictably hilarious.

And the incredible little details: Amelie’s devious plan returning the lost album; the incredulous rendez-vous in the fantôme (ghost) ride at the foire de Thrône; the close shave revelation of the girl in love behind the menu partition glass; the cheeky travelling gnome sending her father into the travelling he’s ever wanted to do …

And the banter between Nino and the Toulousain brute in the photo sitting on the bedside table:

- Mais je la connais pas.
+Mais, si!
- Où je l’ai rencontré ?
+ …
+ Dans tes rêves

- But I don’t know her.
+ But, yes!
- Where have I met her?
+ …
+ In all your dreams.

Voilà.

Australia Demystified: Your Idiot’s Guide

Beberapa mitos, persepsi, miskonsepsi tentang negeri-benua Kangguru ini :

It’s hot.
Aturan pertama, jangan men-generalisasi. Musim panas memang bisa terik perih tak nyaman. Terutama menjelang akhir dan pergantian tahun – ingat, iklim di sini terbalik dengan Eropa. Pun perlu dicamkan, negeri ini bergeografis dramatik: laut hangat, laut dingin, pantai dan gunung, salju, sungai, gurun, gugus pasir (sand dune), hutan bakau, hutan tropis, hutan subtropis, hingga tundra (Australia punya teritori Antartika, hasil klaim eksplorasi Britania Raya dulu kala). Di sini pun kita bisa ber-ski, ada dua resort terkemuka : Perisher Blue dan Thredbo, kira kira terletak pertengahan Sydney – Melbourne (lebih dekat ke Melbourne). Walau tak setenar, sedramatik Mont Blanc atau se-chic resort ski Eropa, bisa dibilang fasilitasnya memadai bagi locals.

It’s cold.
Mengejutkan mungkin, tapi hampir seluruh bagian negeri ini tak bersalju. Kecuali di pegunungan (Kocziusco, namanya) seperti disebut di atas plus ski resorts-nya. Dibilang tak dingin pun euh … kalau kamu tinggal di daerah gurun di Central Australia, variasi suhu sangat temperamental, siang bisa >30ºC malam hari tau-tau jebrol sub 0º.

It’s cheap.
Buat turis asal Japon dan Skandinavia, mungkin iya. ^^

It’s expensive.
Tidak lebih mahal dari negara industrialis lainnya. Rahasianya adalah harus tau di mana cari resto yang reasonable dan lezat; share-accommodation untuk menekan ongkos papan; cari specials di superkampret untuk urusan pangan grocery mingguan. Dan tiket dari Asia pun tergolong tidak terlalu mencekik leher.

The toilet flushes the other way around (vs the Northern Hemisphere toilets).
Holy cow, it cannot be more true! LOL
Dan pertanyaannya: adalah di bumi belahan Utara atau Selatan yang searah jarum jam (clockwise)? Dan apa yang terjadi bila kita membangun kakus tepat di garis ekuator, flush-nya gimana dong? Ngga berputar? Mandek? Turun horizontal karena si air kebingungan? ^^

They’re all racist bules.
Tidak lebih rasist dari suku bangsa lain, ada selalu apel busuk di pohon apel yang paling baikpun. Australia sangat multikultural, suku bangsa di sini berasal dari seluruh dunia. Sedangkan RI lebih multietnik dengan provinsi-provinsi dan daerah di luar pulau Jawa-nya.

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ps. Kamu tidak serta merta seorang idiot hanya karena membaca tulisan Idiot di atas.

Manège

Un manège sur Florence.

C'est beau, non?


+++

Saya ngga mengerti mengapa sebuah manège (Fr) bisa disebut "a carousel", "merry-go-round" di sisi lain selat Chunnel, tapi yang pasti komidi putar adalah sebuah atraksi menakjubkan bagi seorang anak kecil.

Untuk komidi putar, saya tidak punya Madeleine de Proust (memory trigger) khusus, tapi untuk bom-bom car (dodge cart) bak flashback yang memberi vertigo instan.

Dan ketika saya kecil, mamma, kala Sabtu sore, bepergian ke daerah Kota, Toko Tiga, Pecinan Glodok, untuk membeli beberapa barang, perkakas, dll - dan saya yang merengek, Ma ikut Ma ikut, pun akhirnya ditarik serta.

Tubuh kecil saya mengikuti langkah mamma di antara kerumunan massa yang menjulang.

Dan highlight hidup kanak saya pun terkulminasi saat mia mamma memberi uang, Gih beli tiketnya dulu, sembari mengajar prinsip ekonomis sedari dini kepada putranya, jarinya menunjuk loket tiket.

Lantai Tiga pertokoan Glodok Lama, mid 80's. Terlalu banyak souvenirs masa kecil.

Faccio un giro, wooooaaaaah .... Mamma, mamma, ho una bella macchina, grazie Mamma.

Hari ini adalah Mother's Day - Terra Australis Incognita 2006.

There ya go : I reckon McCrap serves crap shit and Italian&French films are superior!

jakartadailyphoto
to comment, hit here

McDonald's ought to use this as their ad campaign! Cause this picture says that junk food is for everyone, not just the younger generation as shown on the wall. Do you think that gentleman in a batik shirt just finished his Big Mac? Wrong. He just had a McDonald's fried chicken! I bet Jakarta's McDonald's are the only ones in the world that serve rice with fried chicken, am I right??

As much as I'd prefer a bowl of wonderful salad, I do eat Mc Donald's occasionally :) And my daughter goes there just because they have slides!

Cuisine Amerika, err ...

Resmi sudah, ini pastilah «Bash a Yankee» week.

Bagaimanakah status kepopuleran American cuisine -LOL- di mata dunia saat ini?

Dan apakah mereka benar-benar punya sebuah err... cuisine, beh, atau mungkin menanyakan hal tersebut setara dengan bergerangan "Menepuk dengan satu tangan, mungkinkah?"

So American cuisine, eh? Saya bukan mau memojokkan mereka, sebagian orang Amerika cukup "normal"; seorang ex-housemate saya Kari-Ann ia pun tidak gemar junkfood dan kebiasaanya membuat apple pie disambut tangan terbuka oleh kami sang housemates. Selain itu, yah normal-normal saja konsumsi Kari-Ann sehari-hari.

Tapi benarkah mereka punya sebuah cuisine. Australian Cuisine, tradisionalnya ia berbasis English cooking, namun ia mengalami renaissance relatif baru; diintroduksi semenjak influks imigran Mediteranea dan Asia mengambil alih khasanah dapur Austraiiyaans. Australian Cuisine didefinisikan sedikit di wikipedia di sini. Bristish cooking pun seringkali diberi a raised eyebrow dari orang-orang, what ... three veggies and mash? Might as well go for chicken masala tonight, mate!

Namun, anehnya, ekspor kulinari dunia justru didominasi oleh Amerika Serikat. Dengan makanan cepat saji mereka. Fast bloody food. Pizza Hut, Domino's, Burger King, McDonald's, Boston, KFC ....

Salah satu icon-nya, si ambisius Arch Raksasa-M yang agaknya sekarang tengah mandek. Mampet. Syukurlah. Di negeri boomerang ini, Paman Ronald si pembagi mainan dengan Happy Meal dua tahun terakhir ini sibuk meng-reorganisasi dan mencitrakan diri lebih ramah, semakin family friendly, plus a meal to share between mates, dilengkapi dengan healty menu pula.

Tapi jangan salah, dibalik simpatiknya program komunitas dan charitas, ia pun punya agenda tersembunyi. Untuk mengubah image-nya dari merah menjadi merah jambu mungkin (???) Pun inisiatifnya menginformasikan kadar fat dan komposisi lain per 100 gram di wrapper-nya juga atas desakan Badan Kesehatan dan organisasi swadaya masyarakat setelah hasil penelitian membuktikan obesitas kanak-kanak dan dewasa diattribusikan kepada konsumsi McMeals. Dan McJunk pun kini berujar, try our Tasty New Salad menu today, It's good and it's healthy. Well, that must be it, then. Padahal, kunjungi outlet mereka dan menu utama yah tetap saja burger-burger sapi itu.

Taukah kamu?
Saya ngga tau ini bener atau tidak. Tapi dua minggu lalu, di sebuah radio talkback show, dikisahkan ada seseorang yang tengah mendisplay cheeseburger mumi, yang di-mumifikasikan tepat satu tahun lalu, dan ternyata 12 purnama kemudian kondisi si whooper with cheddar tersebut masih relatively okay. Dagingnya tak berbelatung. Dua belas bulan disimpan di ruangan normal. Kejunya masih kenyal. Dan taburan sesame di rotinya pun masih segar! Hehe, healthy eating for their CEOs, maybe, tapi itu mengindikasikan betapa heavyweight-nya daging proses yang digunakan McShoot. So would you like fries with that?

Belum lagi, di CNN beberapa minggu lalu, dikupas «The American Dilemma» di mana sebagian kecil Americans mulai menyadari pentingnya makanan sehat dan jadi rada choosy dalam perkara menyumpal mulut dan mengganjal perut.

Lupakan those loud-mouthed Americans, (aah di luar Amerika, di tempat keramaian, yang paling gaduh biasanya turis Amrik, percaya tidak percaya! Ngga di Paris ngga di Nagoya, kebanyakan mereka begitu).

Maka, kebanyakan diners di reportase CNN tersebut adalah your average American family. Dan mereka ribut, mengadu mulut ─aduh mau mesen aja pake berantem dulu─ untuk menentukan menu tersehat bagi mereka. Meal yang paling low fat. Dan tebak di resto mana mereka berada ...? TGI Friday's. Hardly a place one would associate with "healthy" let alone "excellent" dining. Welcome to America, my friend!

Anyhooo, rupanya si resto chain ini (apa saya bilang, kalo belum jadi resto franchise serasa bukan kompani amrik!) baru memperkenalkan some Atkin's Nutritional menu. Saya ngga tau apa dan siapa itu Atkin. Apakah dia semacam Weight Watchers, atau apalah. Pastinya, dengan menu Atkin's kamu bisa menentukan jumlah fat yang akan kamu konsumsi, apakah sesuai dengan Recommended Daily Intake (RDI). Regime diet à la Amerique?

Namun, menurut investigasi si reporter, masalah bukan cuma hingga di situ. Lemak yang dijanjikan ternyata tidak konsisten, kadang masih melebihi jumlah yang "dijanjikan" - setiap fat contents Atkin's meal telah dijabar jelas di menu laminasi mereka. Problem kedua, lemaknya memang bisa dikontrol, tapi untuk menutupi lack of taste, hambar rasa, si koki terpaksa menambahkan banyak komponen lain, terutama sodium, dalam skala besar yang tiga kali lipat dari RDI ideal. Dan ini tidak dianjurkan, bahkan bisa berbahaya bagi beberapa diners yang tidak menyadarinya, kata sang nutrisionis. TGI Friday's pun meng-update karton menu laminasi mereka!

Konklusi, sang expert menyarankan jangan terlalu terpengaruh dan percaya begitu saja akan diet-diet yang ditawarkan resto (di Amerika!). Jumlah lemak bukan ukuran jaminan a healthy meal. Dan bagaimana saran Anda untuk keluarga Amrik yang ingin makan sehat, tanya si reporter.

Well, I would probably recommend home cooking, it's definitely heathlier, you know what you cook and eat. But if you are to go out, don't worry about calculating how much fat you cannot consume, it's a treat, dining out should be a treat. Don't over do it, enjoy the meal whatever it is, and you'll be fine.

Voilà, double whammy bagi keluarga Amrik yang semakin kebingungan, kelimpungan mencari makanan sehat ideal versi mereka. Masak di rumah ogah, makan di luar sok-sokan cari yang super sehat, hingga perlu bawa kalkulator penghitung fat contents ke resto yang menggaransi diet kami yang paling pas bagi Anda, tapi ternyata bahaya lain lurking dan mengancam : sodium berlebihan.

Hehe, lucu ngga sih. Americans and their pathetic healthy living attempt.

Atau malah patut dikasinin? Err... beh.

Mending cuisine RI deh. Lezat-lezat. Lihat sayur asem dan gado-gado, berapa banyak sih lemaknya, isinya sayuran semua - euh, walopun di sini banyak yang alergi dengan kacang. Resto pun harus hati-hati!

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Saya pun menyadari, hidup zaman modern ini craving junkfood adalah lumrah dan normal. Bagi saya, McCrap dan konglomerasinya menyeramkan. Di CBD Sydney, mereka ada di setiap sudut, fastfood bak serebu tiga, kata pedagang Tanah Abang, ubiquitous. Bahkan di setiap suburb pun, pasti ada warung makan lisensi Amerika. Untuk membeli burger saya ngga pernah memaksakan diri, ini adalah once in a while meal, meal on the go, kalo tengah kepepet waktu.

Beberapa tahun lalu, saya dan housemates tengah di mobil dan karena waktu adalah esensial, kami putuskan mencari McBurger via drive-thru mereka. Dan waktu itu baru diiklankan McToast with cheese and tomato, di layar tv ia begitu appealing, tampak normal bak home-made toast. Housemate memesan satu, dua menit kemudian selesai transaksi, saya menikmati Fillet- o- fish sambil sedikit bertanya, So how is it, what's your toast like?

Wrapper dikupas dan tampak di depan mata kami seonggok toast gosong kerempeng, tak lebih dari 3mm tebalnya. Euh, kemana perginya itu cheddar dan irisan tomat menggoda selera. Di pojokan. Keduanya tampak loyo, tak lagi segar. Bubar semua image iklan McDonald's.

Housemate, I swear I'll never buy from them again. Ever. Those f...... c....

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Kultur Café

Ada yang bisa menjustifikasi mengapa kafe korporat Amerika begitu populer di RI?

Satu fenomena mencengangkan di Asia yang hingga kini tak dapat saya selami.

Kegemaran dan keterpukauan Asia akan kultur kafe Amerika.

Bleeh ...

Ok, saya tak akan buang enerji menyerang chain café korporat Amerika utara, setiap orang punya selera masing-masing. Dan tentu tak ada yang bisa melarang kamu sukarela menyerahkan Rp 30rb (atau lebih) untuk secangkir bizarre looking fluidish beverage with a whimsical made-up moniker of « Frappé » and its stupefyingly dumb variants «Frappuccino» in a large takeaway glass dotted with an equally stupid straw, yang jikalau ditanyakan kepada sang "barista", err ... no I take that back, Starbucks doesn't employ baristas, kepada sang "kasir" di balik gerai: Mas, Mbak frappé artinya apaan sih; saya tak yakin jawabannya akan langsung meluncur, malah mungkin dibalas pertanyaan lagi, Mau pesan yang Small, Regular, atau Grande??? ^^

Dan horror ini tak hanya sampai di situ: mengikuti trend di Amerika, hari kini apapun makanan dan minumannya haruslah dapat di-sized up : maka Starbucks bisa dipastikan punya size SUPER DUPER DOUBLE GRANDE. Whoaaa...

Tapi sejujurnya, apa sih yang dicari di kafe amerika tersebut. Dugaan saya, hanya atmosfir relaks dan menyenangkan, tempat rendezvous dengan kawan dan partner bisnis. Atau hanya untuk gaya-gayaan sekaligus menambah koleksi smuggy mug di rumah?

Tak heran, baik di Surabaya atau Shanghai, Beijing atau Bangkok, Jakarta atau Hiroshima, setiap kedai kopi Amrik bisa dipastikan selalu penuh 24/7. Semudah itukah warga Asia termakan stratagem marketing korporat Paman Bush? Mengapa Asia memilih untuk ter-Amerikanisasi tanpa resistensi?

Mencengangkan!

Beverages mereka semuanya beurrkk ... yukkish, espresso bak dishwashing water (tak ada essensi real espresso-nya sama sekali), macchiato berubah menjadi minuman frothy dengan fanciful flavour yang bisa membuat seorang cafetier (cafe owner) sejati pucat pasi lari tunggang-langgang ke wc, sedangkan cappuccino-nya ah entahlah saya tak lagi bernyali berspekulasi.

Lalu apa sih enaknya nongkrong, kongkow di Starbucks (???) Why o why?

Dugaan saya, bagi sebagian besar masyarakat di Asia, terutama kaum muda, yuppie, dan mereka yang berduit: adalah penting untuk memiliki simbol status strata ekonomi, dianggap trendi, fashionable, get the latest, mengkopi kultur kafe "luar", mengikuti refleksi tayangan impor dari Hollywood (I'm soooo Californian, dude!) ... ah mamma mia!

Maka, harga sebuah minuman yang lebih besar dari upah harian seorang buruh di Jakarta pun tak jadi soal, yang penting bisa nongkrong di atas sofa empuk di balik etalase gelas dengan low light temaram tapi masih cukup terang untuk "to see and be seen", plus sibuk menggenggam dan membolak-balik membaca buku, euhhh ... agar terlihat "fit in" dan bergaya "Soho" (???)

Milliers de tonneres de Brest &^%#@!!!, umpat kapten Haddock kawan seperjuangan Tintin.

+++

Sayapun tak akan berdalih saya seorang coffee connaisseur atau apalah; kalaupun sekarang saya bisa membedakan antara doppio espresso dan affogato, atau Italian "macchiato" ternyata tak beda dengan French "noisette", itu semua berkat kelas yang saya ambil dan kunjungan independen ke berbagai kafe serta mencari tahu karakteristik setiap minuman. Bukan hal mudah.

Lalu, pikir saya, di RI, jikalau kita memang hendak memeluk (embrace) kultur kopi/kafe à la Barat, bukankah ide yang lebih tepat kita berefleksi terhadap dua bangsa di mana:

1. kopi adalah national pastime & the nation's passion.
   Di Italia, kafeine adalah viagra quotidian mereka. Sebuah kafe menyajikan real coffee, yang umumnya dikonsumsi di bar counter dalam sekejap. Layanan table pun, akibatnya, memiliki surcharge.
   
2. konsep kafe itu dicetuskan.
   Suku Gaul mengintroduksi kafe modern kepada dunia. Ibukota mereka, Paris, adalah kota sejuta kafe di mana kafe adalah sebuah icon hidup, bagian dari living pulse mereka, tak ada satu sudut arrondissement (distrik) di kota cahaya yang tak punya kafe historik. Entah Victor Hugo sempat menyendiri di pojokan sebelum ia diasingkan, entah Proust sibuk merenung memikirkan esensi waktu yang hilang (à la recherce du temps perdu) - semuanya berlangsung di sudut sebuah kafe. Yang pasti kafe Parisian adalah institusi semi-religious di mana ide cemerlang terlahir, lovers bertemu dan bertautan, ex-lovers bertukar pandang dan kata penyesalan serta "comment ça va toi", dan sahabat duduk berhadapan bertukar kisah enam bulan terakhir sambil menikmati orang lalu-lalang - unadulterated people watching, in short.
   
   Both showcase the pinnacle of what a real café should be presented.

Plus hemat saya, seorang cafetier di Republik Indonesia setidaknya harus memikul tanggung jawab untuk memberi edukasi dan re-edukasi kultur kafe yang tepat dan jelas, bukan sekedar mempropagasi chain coffee, tak henti membeli lisensi franchise dan menyebarkannya ke penjuru tanah air untuk mendulang laba tak terbatas dari anak-anak muda RI yang impressionable, terutama oleh glamour layar Holywood. Biarkan kafe rantai Amerika berevolusi dengan sendirinya tanpa perlu kita latah dan membabi buta menyaru mereka.

Maka, izinkan saya mengajukan pertanyaan terakhir. Dua foto sederhana di bawah ini. Yang satu adalah tipikal kafe Eropa (di foto tersebut, sebuah kafe Parisian) -perhatikan betapa kuat karakteristik individu décor-nya (bukan sekedar souless wallpaper), perhatikan papan menu kapur yang digores oleh tangan manusia (bukan mesin), perhatikan betapa elegannya keseluruhan ambience antara kafe and pengunjung- dan yang satu lagi kafe korporat amerika dengan sejarah menyeduh kopi kurang dari 20 tahun dan slogan mereka "Come and try our Frappuccino Caramel Blended Coffee today!" ... dan di outlet Starbucks dan kafe korporat Amerika lainnya (Coffee beans, Gloria Jean's, Hudson, dll) dari New York hingga Nairobi, papan menu mereka sangat "dingin" dan impersonal, selalu cetakan mesin serupa!

Saya tak tahu dengan kamu, tapi saya tahu mana yang akan saya pilih. Dan tak akan segan menjatuhkan pilihan.

les jours

Satu hal menarik mempelajari keluarga Romance languages adalah kesempatan mengintip gaya hidup zaman kuno. Zaman antik yang tak banyak diketahui masyarakat modern di luar peradaban Eropa.

Contoh, Roma dan provinsi-nya semua memberi nama hari via referensi perbintangan (kecuali suku Portugis di semenanjung Iberia! Entah mengapa ...) Sedangkan bahasa Inggris, justru saya malah ngga terlalu paham asal usulnya, mungkin harus ngerti Germania dulu.

French || Italian
lundi || lunedì = day of the moon (luna)
mardi || martedì = day of Mars
mercredi || mercoledì = day of Mercury
jeudi || giovedì = day of Jupiter
vendredi || venerdì = day of Venus
samedi || sabbato = day of sabbath
*dimanche || domenica = (day of our Lord, dominus)

*dimanche = domenica = dominus - aduh, benarkah? Mana nih yang jago bahasa Latinnya? Di sini bahasa mati Latin masih ada kursusnya loh, di sekolah Katolik elit tertentu, dan Sydney Uni misalnya. Lorem ipsum bleh .... ^^

+++

Senin, Selasa, Rabu, Kamis, Jumat, Sabtu, Minggu.
Nama-nama hari bahasa RI diadopsi dari bahasa Arab yah? Ada yang bisa menjelaskankah?

+++

Bon Week-end à tous !
Grosses bises ...

Venez & Allez

Dan mereka bilang, selalu ada dua sisi di atas sebuah kisah (two sides to a story).

Tampaknya akhir-akhir ini issue imigrasi jadi buah bibir -dan pemanis bibir juga?- di banyak bagian dunia.

+++

Amerika.

Renyah dengan problematika imigran hispanik mereka. Senator di Washington akan segera memvoting untuk reformasi radikal UU imigrasi yang intinya diramalkan akan mengakibatkan pendeportasian unprecedented berskala besar para imigran ilegal kembali ke kampungnya masing-masing.

CNN pun santer dengan gambar protes dan demonstrasi para Hispaniks, keluarga, dan simpatisan for the cause. Tujuan demo mereka two-folds, bukan saja menentang reformasi dan new Immigration bill, mereka juga menuntut pemutihan status ilegal mereka. Jadilah kebanyakan dari mereka yang bekerja di sektor informal mengambil hari libur untuk ikut berdemo. Argumen prinsipal mereka « America will cripple without us! » Dan harus diakui pengaruh pekerja ilegal ini memang luar biasa besarnya, kalau tidak salah ada 10 juta imigran gelap yang “terdata” sedangkan angka realistisnya bisa hingga 40 juta.

Argumen seorang ibu-ibu hispanik di CNN, dengan mata berlinang, We’re not criminals, we work hard; we like America, we want to stay here.

Senator Republikan membalas, We need to look at the fundamental issue. They have committed a criminal act based on our law. And we need to look at what’s best for the American people.

Mari kita tunggu babak final Bush&co menentukan kebijakan imgrasi US. Kayanya sih bakal ada perombakan massif. Bush dengan serta merta memutuskan Amerika pergi ke Irak tanpa konsensus dunia, akankah ia menyerah kepada desakan imigran ilegal?

+++

Perancis.

Menteri Interior (interal affairs) Nicolas Sarkozy sibuk melobi dan merancang draft hukum imigrasi Perancis yang rencananya akan segera berlaku. Ini disebut sebagai salah satu perombakan revolusional di mana La Republique française –beraspirasi seperti negara industrialis lainnya- ingin dapat menentukan siapa yang boleh “masuk”, siapa yang layak menetap, bukan sekedar menampung, mengayomi dan menghidupi imigran yang tiba en masse hingga menciptakan problem sosial tambahan.

Saya ngga terlalu jelas ide mendetilnya bagaimana, tetapi di kelas minggu lalu disentil sedikit issue "besar" ini. Pada pokoknya, seorang calon imigran (non-EU citizens) yang hendak meng-apply izin tinggal permanen (carte d'identité) harus mengantongi diploma «connaissance de la langue française» yang melingkupi beberapa pengetahuan dasar untuk hidup di sana, serta menjalani hal quotidian Perancis eg. ke dokter, pasar, toko, resto.

Saat ini seorang calon imigran tak perlu tahu satu kata pun bahasa Perancis, ia masih bisa menjadi residen. Tapi ini di-propose untuk segera berubah. No diploma no stay!

+++

Australia.

Di sini adalah sulit menjadi residen. Australia, seperti halnya Kanada, mengadopsi sistem imigrasi intake dengan sistem poin, jadi bukan sekedar undian kartu hijau (saya pernah loh sekali ikut! ^^ Dan anda kurang beruntung - LOL), yang sayangnya cukup panjang, rumit dan kompleks untuk dibincangkan kali ini (mungkin lain kali, jika ada yang tertarik ?).

Ada dua strata : pertama menjadi seorang residen. Seperti halnya saya yang dengan susah payah menempuh bahaya dan bencana demi secarik label untuk ditempelkan di paspor saya ini: permanent residency visa. Salah satu syarat yang "dapat" diminta oleh Departemen Imigrasi Australia adalah : proof of proficiency of the English language. Ini harus berupa sertifikat IELTS dengan skala entah berapa (6, kalau tidak salah). Bisa dimaklumi, sepanjang boom imigran Asia tahun 70/80an, kemampuan berbahasa Inggris baik bukanlah prasyarat dan Chinatown di sini pun dianggap sarang penyamun, kebanyakan hanya bisa bilang harga dan daftar menu.

Kini, seorang calon residen diminta bisa membuktikan dirinya mampu membawa dirinya, mampu berasimilasi, mampu mengerti komunitas lokal di sini. Sedangkan untuk aplikasi saya 2 tahun lalu, untungnya sertifikat IELTS tidak diminta (padahal udah deg-degan); tergantung juga sih, kabarnya kadang seorang graduate uni lokal di sini pun dianggap kemampuan Inggrisnya meragukan, pas-pasan, atau apalah, walaupun ia telah lulus major yang ditempuhnya.

Strata kedua : seorang residen asing mengambil kewarganegaraan kangguru. Saat ini prasyaratnya masih relatif ringan. Seorang residen harus telah tinggal dua (per lima tahun) di mana ia tak menetap di luar Australia 12 bulan teraktir menjelang aplikasinya.

Dan yang jadi debat hangat di parlemen, apakah seorang calon citizen harus melalui tahapan tes (bahasa dan pengetahuan lokal, sejarah). Hingga kini tak ada kejelasannya, hingga reformasi itu berlaku seorang newly-inaugurated Australian citizen tetap berpeluang tak bisa berbahasa lokal dengan baik!

Lalu issue lainnya adalah menaikkan masa residensinya, dari dua per lima tahun menjadi tiga.

Plus pengaruh terorisme global, Austraiiyaans pun menginginkan pengetatan cek catatan kriminal.

+++

Indonesia.

Negeri unik di mana hukum imigrasinya sangat tidak jelas.

Jangankan bicara tentang imigrasi intake berapa jumlahnya, bikin paspor untuk warga lokalnya saja susah. Di depan loket imgrasi: Pak, Bu, mau yang cepat jadi atau normal? Lalu, KITAS untuk orang asing yang menetap di RI pun setiap tahunnya harus diperbaharui. Saya ngga tau biayanya berapa, tapi ini bisa jadi "ladang basah" untuk memeras expats asing yang dianggap tajir bak sapi perahan bercap $$$.

Pun baru-baru ini juga santer rumour bahwa seorang asing harus bayar bond Rp. 500 jt untuk menikahi seorang wanita Indonesia.

Oaaa... kalo itu benar, malu-maluin banget sih, celah paling kecilpun dimanfaatkan mencari duit tambahan!

Dan wanita RI dihargai 500 jt per kepala ............ hmmmm?

Oui, c'est la!

Just for fun's sake, let's play a charade.

My interpretation of what she uttered
« Look ... I see the light! »

Yours (???)





and you can't really say she lacked enthusiasm eh. ^^

When in Rome... but, when in Paris ...?

Banyak yang bilang London, New York, dan Roma adalah metro/mega/politan yang satu liga dengan Paris. Suku Gaulish akan bilang « chacun a son goût » - each to its own taste. Masing-masing tentu punya aura dan allure sendiri, tapi soal seduksi dan keanggunan, bagi saya Paris adalah kota paling exquisitely grandiose sepanjang masa. Binar dan pendar lamppost art-nouveau warisan abad 19-nya tetap sejati mengerling setiap pelalu-lalang, Parisian maupun turis. Tak pernah ambience-nya tak mempesona.

Posting berikutnya ... inside the Louvre - the single largest human made edifice dedicated to les beaux arts.

Dec 2003 - Jan 2004

There's a certain air of infidelity when I return to the city of light who's looking mellow in her winter hibernation. Though la belle capitale still looks seductively charming however this time the grand old lady won't get away so easily.

The atmosphere easily differs to last year's summer layover what with my now having to be content with the thickness of 3 pieces of garments to fight off the cold. Yet, there's a commonality on both occasions, I always find myself arrive at the very same spot: la gare du Nord. I feel I know the place quite reasonably well now silently acknowledging that the green-coloured payphones only accept les cartes téléphoniques (no coin please!), that the seemingly méchants (nasty) French men of African origin are only minding their business, that the guiche touristique (ticket window) only provides bookings to star-rated hotels.

I am having an abrupt déjà-vu. The pouring rain's just stopped, the earth is still damp, water excess flows down the gutter, and I can just smell the aroma of freshly brewed espresso at the nearby café - exactly the same as last year. The buildings around the gare appear quite as I remember last I saw them - as though the past 16 months this part of the world hasn't seen a manifestation of any sort. Le parking of la gare du Nord is even still dominated by motorbikes in any imaginable hues.

It's lunchtime and I'm to find myself a boulangerie. Any boulangerie that can supply decent sandwiches or croissants. Can't find one. They all seem to sell just soft desserts than solidified tucker. I guess it's taken over 200 years for Marie Antoinette's outrageous plan to feed Parisians with cakes and tarts to start working. Rien de grave, I'm not too hungry, I tell myself. I venture through the quiet (it's Sunday) back streets and little alleys in hope to kill a couple of hours before heading to a métro en route to Montreuil where I'll be staying.

A couple of days later, I need to restock the grocery. So in the morning my mates and I are off to a Carrefour. I know Carrefour is a gigantic hypermarket chain, but several years have passed since I last visited one. This Carrefour at the eastern phériphérique of Paris is enormous. The ground floor is whitegoods and clothing items, so we take the escalator down to the alimentation floor. I shamelessly admit that I'm totally impressed with the range of food here. One section is dedicated to meat and poultry (you can buy a sac of ham of 50 kgs), another is for cheese (it's a cheese lover heaven), I see a freezer containing snails both dead and alive sitting innocently surrendering their faith to the shopper's hand, and the most impressionnant of all is the liquor and wine corner. Shelf after shelf one can see all sorts of booze that might tickle one's fancy. And the much celebrated Beaujolais is in season demanding a pretty shelf all for itself. At the check out I see myself with two apéro: a grape fruit flavour and a French muscat, and chimay and leffe beer.

Bière belge. I've had both beer before, so I know they're superior quality Belgian amber liquid. Later that night, as I relinquish my 6.6% alcohol blonde leffe, I ponder why it has such a sublime taste, by far smoother than even the Australian and Asian premium beer. In the end, I am satisfied that it must be the secret recipe and techniques that`ve been perfected over 800 years experience - leffe was first produced in the 12th century by Belgian monks.

Several days have passed. I think I'm a couple of notches wiser about la vie profonde parisienne. I learn things the hard way. My first impression of le métro is still intact, that it`s only too practical to use it, everywhere you need to go the métro will deliver you within a stone`s throw to your destination. Guaranteed. My second impression is however less pleasant. I`m referring to the act of braving the many pee-scented métro corridors in order to change lines. You might need to acquire a second lung to survive this quotidient putrid if you happen to live and use the smaller métros, whereas some of the hubs are usually filled with "homeless" mothers and their babies with a cardboard that read like «J'ai 4 enfants s'il vous plait» - I have four kids please ..., and fruit vendors appear inanely bored attending their commerce about. The next wisdom endowed to me is by the experiences of being mucked about. I always stray alone, walking for hours, exploring parts of the city and suburbs in order to understand more of le vrai Paris. Usually in the quieter area there is one or two mecs (duds) taking the chance to make a mock out of me. I brush off this ridicule, of course. Their having fun by simulating gestures or animatedly voicing some supposedly ching-chang-chong words can only be construed as a result of their low class education. The last farce is even quite funny actually, I was just strolling along the footpath in the area of Gare de Lyon when one guy mouths moshi-moshi to me as he walks by. The last strand however is by far the most profound lesson. On the way back home from spending the New Year's Eve not far from the Eiffel tower the crowd gets stuck in a complete deadlock. A parisian newsstand I am amongst the herd --hundred of thousands of heads squeezed tight bottle-neck at all métro Passy entrances. Helplessly waiting our turn to elbow our way towards la voie, the platform, the lot is stunned in disbelief when a band of frenzied Arab youths barge through ransacking the equilibrium of the order. They don't say pardon whatsoever to the people ─mostly tourists. So much for manièrisme parisien.

January 1 sees me as I try to ring up my penpal Amandine whom I've never met vis-à-vis despite years of penpalling. She's just exhausted herself after le nouvel an party avec ses copains -with her mates. Tomorrow is more suitable, she agrees to meet up with me for coffee. I say, yeah that's cool, where can we meet? Several minutes later, attempting to find the perfect place has come to a nul, the word La Basilique du Sacré-Cœur Monmartre sprang to my mind. I thought this is a brilliant idea, unsuspecting to what comes ahead. I will pay dearly for this faux. In the mean time, I have fallen a victim of my own plan to meet at the Basilique at noon exactly 24 hours from now. What I should have proposed is somewhere around la Republique, it being so close and convenient for all the parties involved.

Clumsily, I rush off in the morning. I strategise if I spare about 45 minutes of time gap between Montreuil and Anvers I'll be safe. And I can't be any more callously wrong. Anvers -the nearest métro to the basilique- may be a 40 minute trip all right. That's pretty tight though given that a direct line exists between my departure and arrival métros. In reality there's no direct line for me, but 2 times swapping lignes. So, at quarter past noon I am pumping oxygen through my respiratory system as I clamber the hilly cobble-stoned streets of Monmartre. Fifteen minutes later, I am convinced she would have left. But maybe she's still waiting, hang on... there are hundreds of people roaming the basilique. I am effectively mortified, how I am supposed to find a person whose face I have not seen, and for her vice versa, in a pool of hundreds of faces. Monmartre, one of Paris premier tourist spots is brimming even in this damp weather. I should've had some facial reference, really.

Perhaps Sainte Geneviève, the patron Saint of Paris, has decided to lend her merciful hand in my despair [more of Ste. Geneviève later]. I look around and decide to attempt an educated guest. Yeah, just like back in highschool. Only this time I won't feel remorseful except maybe for hiding my embarrassement over one or two "Aah, excusez-moi ... désolé". I scan all early 20ish girls. There's one just before the lookout fence, next to a panoramic telescope, holding an umbrella in a hand one appear looking for someone. Quelle chance, it's Amandine.

Amandine says she doesn't know any particular café around the Basilique. She didn't frequent this area whilst living in the 18e last year. So we pick one just accross the main streets. It looks quite abuzz with patrons so maybe the coffee's decent. Half an hour and two cappuccinos later, I suggest we get some nosh. We head for le quartier chinois in the 13e arrondissement for it is a saviour for Parisians on budget, quite possibly the headquarters of inexpensive tucker in this dear city.

Whereas I'm a francophile, Amandine shows every sign of a sinophile. She loves this atmospherically different to the rest of Paris quartier, she loves shopping Oriental grocery and window shopping on petits antiques, she has quite several favourite Chinese and Vietnamese restaurants, she would even, oddly enough to me, love to move to this neighbourhood despite Chinese real estate agents are rumoured to give preference to Asian renters, she tells me.

Amandine and I lunch at Vieux Saigon, a respectable looking vietnamese restaurant. It's choc-a-bloc, every seat and table is occupied, except this window one next to the entry door. We'll take it, merci bien. The two ladies and one man at a table to our right are deeply engrossed in their meals. While we go about our business, half an hour later a middle-aged Oriental man arrives at our neighbour's table carrying some doughnouts on a tray. He pours some alcohol on the delicacy and ignites fire over it for over 30 seconds before wishing our neighbours to enjoy their dessert. Amandine tells me, yeah it's quite common to have a flambé at vietnamese restaurants, nothing of a spectacular sight. I nod as I make a mental note, "Learn, oh Young Grasshopper".


L'auberge de jeunesse Aloha. I have been carrying my backpack throughout the day. I need to find a hostel to spend the next few nights until my next hop to Nice. Amandine helps me to find one. The 3 ducks is full today but the Aloha still has a few vacancies and they're both situated in the 15e arrondissement. I want to experience a different lodgement than that of last year's. I say au revoir to Amandine and thank her for her hospitality. On the métro I can just nearly punch myself after remembering I've forgotten to take a photo with my nice penpal friend. Damn. Prochaine fois, peut-être! Perhaps next time, I console myself.

Aloha, [Métro Volontaire]
1 rue Boromée 75015 Paris
Tél : 01 42 73 03 03

There's a man in front of me waiting to talk with the receptionist behind the counter. His backpack is twice as large than mine. He's made a booking before and now just paying two nights for his bed. My turn. There's a New Year surcharge imposed by Aloha for a short period of time. I pay for my bed and a linen was handed over to me. Right, off to room 326 on the third floor. Settling down whilst inspecting the dodgy heater and shower (I soon discover one gets what one pays for!), I make acquaintance with the lad who stood before me downstairs. Dublin-based Liam is an Aussie who's been doing some teaching works in the UK in the last few months. He's now on his second leg of his European tour in search of knowledge, history, and beauty of European arts as he will return to his teaching work (music and history) in Brisbane in a few weeks' time. He's in Paris for three nights only before flying to Rome. Being a first timer in Paris, Liam poses several questions as to how to get to places and the transportation system. I'm more than happy to share my knowledge. Liam isn't sure if he'll use a whole carnet -a ten one way ticket strips- so he won't buy it.

I too need to devise where I'll be heading tomorrow morning. Using some guide magazines, I work out that this Sunday, in two days, is free day to visit most museums in Paris. Liam reckons this is brilliant. We vaguely make an ambitious plan to team up fully scouring Le Louvre. Someone just walks in to our dorm. Another roommate for the night. Quentin, a South African in his early 20s pulling pint at a London pub is also a Paris-city virgin. His travel agenda is laden with ransacking Parisian churches and museums.

The next morning, looking poised but promised myself not to be outdone by my enthused roommates, I plan to first excavate the neighbourhood by foot. Amandine has told me the 14e and 15e arrondissements are deemed quite poshey by the city standard. It seems true, most notably by the significant amount of «cracra de chien», that's dog poo for you and me ─and let's not forget their faux fur-coated Parisian mistresses looking mightily pompously─ littering the pavement compared to the other arrondissements. I drag my feet several blocks absorbing the morning pulse. Is this a typical Parisian morning? Effectively all boulangeries, poissoneries, charcuteries, patisseries, and every respectable shop that involves selling edible articles along rue Vaugirard have kicked off their business. Further down the road, tucked in a small junction, an enigmatic looking Chinese traiteur - a Chinese takeaway in actual, which goes by the trading name of FAST FOOD, GOURMET CHINESE FOOD - is about to commence the day trading. I can't help but admire how easy it is to dupe Parisians using the English language. Fast food is hardly associated with gourmet, in most Anglocountries I've been to.

I walk about for a good hour or so and take a few snap that interest me, notably the chic looking Parisian bistros and restaurants. These establishement know a thing or two about creating a façade and ambience that will attract people and get them to religiously dine at the same place. The specialty shops too do themselves up quite charmingly. I'm unaccustomed to this kind of novelty.

Unwittingly, I have been gazing at la tour Eiffel in a distance. I realise the tower is situated in the 15e, no wonder it looks so close. Mais voilà, I will just visit it in the afternoon. Reequipping myself at the hostel with the essential backpacker pack, a city map, and there you go: I now stand tall to navigate myself towards the tower. The sun is out although the temperature today seems have fallen several degrees than yesterday. Maybe it's just an unfounded feeling of mine.

Detouring L'école militaire and foxtrotting the stampede of newly arrived Asian tourists (yes, all the men uniformly wear a monocolour suit), I walk through Champs de Mars swiftly. The glassy art monuments for :: peace :: at L'école militaire seems pretty heroic, making it a must photographed site for any respectable tourists unwittingly led to this spot by their tour guide.

For several good minutes I toy with the idea of "doing" the Eiffel tower, seemingly a ritual for every tourist which I despise, truth be told. But I finally give in to the absurd notion simply owing to the fact that last year I couldn't bring myself into the endless queues at all four legs for the ascension de la tour. This time the circumstances are slightly different. Being in off peak season means a shorter lining up time to buy a ticket to go up the tower.

So now the couple conversing behind me is a French woman and a hispanic looking man. Interestingly, she confesses to him this is her first time to do the tower. A true blue Parisienne, then. The family with two kids from England before me are all for themselves bickering what they will do tomorrow in the city. As we inch our way towards the ticket office the afternoon sun warms us up a smidge, a small consolation towards our effort. Though our personal space is now massively reduced everyone seems quite happy ackowledging they'll be exercising their muscles during their climb par escalier (via stairs) in a matter a few minutes. A group of Italian lads is chanting most wickedly. They even guffaw with a woman in her 30s who's standing parralel with the Italian ragazzi.

"Eh, non è signora, è signorina!", shrieks the Italian woman. Everyone nods in agreement at what she's just said and throws in a polite smile. The boys congruously say «Ma scusa signorina... scusa!» for commiting a social crime by addresing her as a married woman, with an ample of apologetic airy hand gestures to the signorina. The art of European flirting well showcased.

My first time hovering at 300 metres above the Seine river is quite enchanting, if not breathtakingly educative. I rapidly skim through the factboards on my way up to the first and second level. I didn't know that: (1) Monsieur Gustave had a private apartment at the summit just after the tower was opened to the public. What must be a bon epoque to live at once the hottest property in this city, (2) in the early 1900s they used to perform a daily midi cannon -firing a cannon at noon at the second level of the Eiffel tower- just so that Parisians can synchronise their clock. There are mentions of visit by kings and queens from accross Europe on its inaugural opening, Hollywood legendary stars during 1930s-1950s, and numereous famous personalities.

Next site to visit is Les Champs Elisées in the 8e. It's such a cliché that one must visit the arguably world's most beautiful shopping boulevard during one's visit of la capitale. Although I have little desire to blow my travel budget at any of the shops I want to witness the glamour of the city riches. I pass all the luxury boutiques with half a glance at the immaculate shop attendants. And I skip the premium French restaurants with price tags that might just give the average backpacker a heart attack or two.

I admit I've been forced to take up a role of a junkie in Paris. I've had innumerable fast food takeaway in the last few days. My interim daily diet has been shamelessly consisting of:

Le pétit déjeuner ─ small baguettes with butter and jam, pétit noir or jus
d'orange « courtesy of the meany hostel staff, a sombre-faced over zealous
vigilante who constantly suspects anyone who claims s/he hasn't had their
breakfast so can I have it now please, a lying bastardo, whom thus deserves an
evil look from from the man himself ».

Le déjeuner ─ sandwich from La Brioche Dorée, a takeaway establishment. Usually
I pick le thon sandwich, a super succulent medium-sized tuna mayo boiled egg
lettuce sandwich. I am normally quite ashamed of entering -and purchasing from-
a fastfood chain, but La Brioche Dorée radiates a contemporary French café scene
that holds a 180° separation from les MacDo. Furthermore, it's frequented by
students of La Sorbonne in Latin Quarter. Let's face it, there's nothing like a
mingle with the locals, eh!

Snack ─ briochette chinoise, a regular item found at any respectable Chinese
delicatessen in Paris. I love this brouchette, satay-like grilled chicken /or
beef/ costing only 1.6 euros per skewer. Excellent value for a truly savoury,
though I am not too sure first when the Asian woman asks "Vous le voulez
chaufée", hmm... I don't understand what she means, "err... pardon?". She
repeats the same phrase while pointing her delicate finger at the micronde.
Yeah, I would like it heated in the microwave, please.

Dinner ─ normally I grab a frozen meal (the beef bourgignonne is all right
and value for money) from the supermarché on rue Volontaire. On one occassion
Liam and I decide to venture into something more exotic after we concede we
can't be bothered with frozen meals. We resort to our last option: anything that
is cheap-nasty-and-tasty. Alors il faut essayer le déli grec, we opt for a Greek
sandwich shop just around the corner. The verdict... it's pretty awful, really.

Not too long later, my nightmare of being squeezed into pulp by the peak hour commuter on the métro becomes reality. Embarking from métro George V, I have a rock-solid intention to change line at Concorde to get on the Mairie d'Issy line back to the auberge. The following scenes prove what a joke my simple plan is. Nearing Corcorde I start nudging my "relative position" on the métro towards the automatic door. Well, I can't do enough nudging, really, with fresh batch of passangers engorging in en masse at every interval station pushing everyone else (including my very important relative position) further into the abyss. In my defeat I manage to get off the train at Châtelet, signifying an extra line swap for me.

Back in the dorm we have a new face. An American Chinese female student who just arrived this afternoon on the Eurostar. She's much more enthused than us, having covered several sites already within a few hours time and by the end of tomorrow she will be a museum mistress, she claims. Majoring in architecture means she'd like to sharpen her ideas on classical and contemporary designs. And where else can she find a better place for this purpose that's a short stroll from London -for her semester abroad- and the possibility of a compacted study tour into a two-day time frame as she will fly to the U.S. soon.

Liam and I waste no time in getting up and ready the next morning. We're on a mission to crusade as many Paris museums today. The by-now-just-simply-not-working dodgy heater in our dorm provides little warmth after the cold shower at 6 a.m. - well, if and only if you stick your hands out within 10 cm from it. Ca fait rien. We simply have little time to catch the métro (Volontaire - Tuileries) to the Louvre. Slowly, the queueing is trailing halfway down the underpassage corridor by the time we get there. We find out later there's another line-up on the main pyramid entrance - for the polar bear types. The angst mixed with excitement is etched on most of the soon to-be visitors and so is ours as we're going to partake in a hands-on experience of the world's most enigmatic smile housed in once prison for Louis XVI and house for Napoleon.

We've now officially become Louvre's staggering statistic (it's patronised by over 5 million visitors anually, making it the world's most visited museum). There's a congregation of museum staff who explains there'll be several guided tours throughout the day if we'd like to join just sign up our name. The first one is at 10 a.m for the Greek arts. Although the staff speaks only French we've assumed the guide might be available in other languages or at least we can pose questions to the English-speaking tour leader. This is not the case. I can read the plaque for each exhibition item - albeit catching only a few words here and there off the tour guide. Liam on the other hand feels we're definitely in the wrong tour so we'd be better off as vagabonds.

The ensuing scenes involve dodgingly absorbing a gamut of astonishing collection of French, Italian, Greek, and Egyptian arts, artefacts, and precious articles (including jewellery, furniture, diningware, and numerous antiques) of the late French nobles and monarchs. For me personally it is the Italian Renaissance paintings that are real jaw-breaking. Largely depicting scenes from the Bible or a milestone event in the Christianity history these remarkable paintings are not only beautifully surreal but also grand in size; some even of ceiling size. On a separate page I will let the articles do the justice of their beauty.

Arguably, most of our museum-goer fellows probably wishes to see Monalisa and indeed so do we. The masterpiece is displayed at the furthest end of the Italian Renaissance wing. It's all a brisk business as the Monalisa queue is split into a u-shaped one way stampede carefully choreographed by a band of security personnels, no photographs allowed s'il vous plait, and no lingering before the Monalisa. Voilà ... I guess I just have to be quite content with being able to claim to have admired the beauty of la Joconde (as the French call the Monalisa) although in all honesty I can't see what's particularly extraordinary with it. Hey, I'm no art buff, I can't even tell who first painted cubism let alone deciphering the subtle meaning beneath it if I were shown one.

Many feel what makes Paris so splendid is the concentration of a high number of aesthetic edifices in one small area, rich historic monuments and sites, and their unique Roman way of life which leaves little room for unpleasant sights. The series of long, narrow building of Tuileries were first built in 1564 for royal residence before the Palace of Versailles superseded it. More popularly it was knows as a house prison for the infamous Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette during the first few years after the French Revolution before they were brought to the guillotine.

By the time we feel overwhelmed by the splendid objet d'art of the Louvre it's just after midday, perfect for a stroll in the île de la cité to enjoy the rest of the afternoon.

Île de la cité is indeed the birth place of the mainstream of French civilisation. Not only it being where the highly centralised government decreed all their laws for many centuries, but also the culture (and dialect) of its ancient inhabitants, the Parisii tribe, who occupied the tiny island expanded and dominated what is now modern France. The Romans once governed it before defeated by the King of the Franks, Clovis, who later made the island his capital. Thus it also regarded as "zero point" for marking all distances from other French local and overseas territory to Paris.

The Sainte Chapelle was built in 1245 as a private chapel for French King (François Premier) and his family.