Coat of arms of Paris – a boat, fighting the waves. Motto – Fluctuat nec mergitur, translated from Latin – "Swim, but it does not sink."
But why the boat, because Paris is located far from the sea? The fact that it lies at the intersection of two ancient trade routes.
One – a land, from north to south. Other – water, on the Seine, from east to west to the Atlantic. Crossing over the Seine in the old guild of boatmen ran the "water vendors" and their incomes were an important source of wealth of the city. Here are Paris and still swims in the turbulent waters of history.
The city can not be understood without at least a little dip in its history. And the history of Paris has no children. The first reliable memories of him date back to the middle of the I century BC Then it was called Lutetia and was the main settlement of the Gallic tribe Parisi. Then there are justified by the Romans, and the city center is transferred to the Ile de la Cité to the slopes of the hill of St. Genevieve present, the patron saint of Paris, on the left bank of the Seine. From the Romans, as elsewhere, were the ruins of an amphitheater and baths. In the IV century, after the invasions of Germanic tribes, the city received the name of Paris. In 451 Attila at the head of Hun-ray hordes almost captures him, but the prayers of St. Genevieve scatter the heathen. Then the Paris becomes one of the centers of the Carolingian Empire, from the tenth century, he – the capital of the Capetian. Paris saw the days of prosperity and decline, riots and fires. He saw a great deal: the crowd of crusaders departing from here in Palestine, St. Bartholomew's night, the Revolution and the Terror, the brilliance of Napoleon and his defeat and the Commune, and much, much more. The history of this city – is the story of the world.
Spikes and stamens
But the city can not be understood without knowing its location. It is natural that the first settlers nestled on a small island, which later would be called Sita. It can be considered the historic city center: it was built the first castle here was built the main church, the Cathedral of Notre Dame.
Is a city in the valley, among which rise the limestone hills (top – five), and they are already in ancient times there were also settlements. As a result, Paris has never been a single city, it was a cluster of villages from time immemorial with a different way of life. It has no center, but if you ask a Parisian: "How do I get to the center?" – He looks at you puzzled.
Russian poet Maximilian Voloshin, who has lived here for several years, called Paris "a rose gray." This is a very precise definition. The city is beautiful, as lush rose, but its main color – gray. Most buildings built of local gray stone. In Paris, a strange light, it changes all the time, and this is a rose gray, like mother of pearl, turning it into yellow, then pink, then blue. Voloshinskii word, however, still valid and here's why: the administrative plan of the city, too, like a rose. Paris is divided into twenty arrondismanov – districts. The first lies in the Ile de la Cité, the rest follow in a spiral, unfolding like the petals, in a clockwise direction. Beginner's certainly surprising that the 3rd District is bordered by the 10 th and 15 th – 6 th. Easy to get rid of amazement, thinking about what the city looks like a flower. Then it will be easier to navigate.
At this rose has its thorns, and stamens. One arrondisman is different. Parisians can tell a lot about who you are, knowing your home or business address. Moreover, the pronunciation, or demeanor, he accurately determine the wealthy bourgeoisie of the 16th District, bohemian residents of the 11th, an intellectual from the 6th or high official of the 5th.
Left Coast, Right Coast
All of the city, located on the banks of major rivers, a little similar. In front of them surely there is a problem of right and left bank. The banks from time to time change roles. The Romans were the most important part of the left bank, rive gauche. In the Middle Ages, active life moved to the other side, on the rive droite. Here the kings began to build the Louvre, his residence. Here, to know its built magnificent palaces and mansions. But in the second half of XVII century "Sun King" Louis XIV justified in the country, at Versailles, and the right bank empties. By the beginning of the French Revolution, the Louvre and the Palais-Royal turned into fetid slums, populated by all sorts of riff-raff. And the surrounding neighborhoods lose luster and become an aristocratic stronghold small financiers, artisans and merchants. Until the 70s of this century, was once a luxury quarter of Marais ("marsh") remains true swamp: the palaces turned into human anthills, the former ballrooms settled fabrichki miserable. In our time on the right bank, near Santa, is a huge shopping center, where the latest French fashion hits the shelves of Russian stores.
But in the XVIII century, the left bank of blooms. Aristocrats and wealthy newcomers settles hotels prives, urban estates, in the suburb of Saint-Germain, on Rue de Grenelle, around the Odeon, near the Luxembourg Garden and the Field of Mars.
This goes on for quite some time. But in the reign of Napoleon III, Baron Haussmann revolutionary changes the view of Paris, and especially the right bank. In place of rotten houses and dark alleys he arranges a huge area, connected by trunk Grands Boulevards. Along these roads are being built apartment houses and mansions. We start at the left bank of hard times. By the early twentieth century neighborhoods Sorbonne, Saint-Germain and Montparnasse became the habitat of the middle bourgeoisie and the intellectual and bohemian audience. Some are dull counting proceeds, someone in the cafe La Rotonde, Deux Magots Coupole and developed plans for a revolutionary transformation of the world. In the small side streets in the cheap hotels were living, Henry Miller, Ernest Hemingway, Vladimir Mayakovsky-sky. In the former studio of the Eifel, a round building called La Ruche ("Beehive"), swarming in the great artists of the future. Thickened Russian speech: Serebryakov, Remizov, Goncharova, Berdyaev, Benoit lived in these parts.
The apotheosis of the left coast in this century have been the 60th. Saint-Germain was too concentrated and explosive dangerous place. Sartre and Camus was quite a step to step from his own door to the Saint-Sulpice to the publisher there. In the basement club twittered and croaked in the saxophone "The Bird" Charlie Parker. He was listening to Cortázar, and learned from him how to remake the chanson in its opposite, Serge Gensbur. In May '68 a crash. And after the May Revolution, the left coast again dozed off.
President Pompidou in the 70s started the reconstruction of the right bank. It began with the construction of a futuristic cultural center Beaubourg, then went to the restoration of rancid "Swamp" and the surrounding neighborhoods. First place (real estate was cheap) rushed to free artists and other persons without certain professions. Then – the boutiques, galleries and simply entrepreneurs. The energy was so powerful that it affected the already quite a proletarian district of Saint-Antoine and the Bastille. There were two hundred years of furniture. Ligne Rosset and Ikea have destroyed them completely, they were replaced by the rising stars of contemporary art and show business.
But now the hand of left-right staggered re Compass of the Seine. Rive gauche wakes up. And you can see Paris, but without confusing the end of the right and left hands.
Do not spare the soles!
This city, which should be walking. Not only because Paris "inside the walls", that is, within its official boundaries, ringed Peripheral Boulevard, not much more inside the Garden Ring in Moscow. The fact is that to afford to travel to this city by car or subway can be only one who has lived in it for a long time. He already knows it's beauty. But if you come here – to go. It is desirable to perceived "theory Rose" and guided by a plan of the city. Otherwise you get lost in its maze.
Routes – a lot. If I have a day or two, then … Can be run on the axis of the Louvre – Rivoli – Champs Elysees? It's sad. On the "Shanzelize" doing nothing at all – the same thing as walking on the New Arbat Street. You can sit on a bench in the garden of the Tuileries and the Luxembourg. You can spend all the time at a museum or the famous stores. You can latch on well-trodden tourist routes: Place des Vosges (she is wonderful, especially when the chestnuts are in bloom) – Notre Dame – Latin Quarter – Disabled – Large boulevards.
I'll tell you about myself. If I – a hater of Paris, but for some reason there was, immediately go to the western suburbs, the area of La Defense, "Defense": here the French, to fall into an inferiority complex, we decided to show the world that they were not born yesterday, and built, Fortunately, a small but very ugly, "Manhattan." With the same objectives can go north to the 19th District in La Villette rayonchik. If I am no stranger to Paris, and seen enough of French cinema 70, then go to the quays of the Canal Saint-Martin in the harbor of the Bastille. There, looking at the yachts and boats with flags of various countries, so nice to think that you're not in Paris, and somewhere on the coast.
But I, having got to Paris the first time, start with the hills. First of all, climbed up, I feel relieved at the bottom of the city, efforts are in vain. Secondly, no wonder the Parisians are so proud of their heights. Thereof, as already mentioned, five, and the Parisians were not called by hills and buttes. It is the feminine form of the word but, "objective" and even "Buttes" in the dialect of Paris called the female breast.
The most famous of the purposes, of course, butte Montmartre, rising above the left bank. On the origin of its name is still debated. Some argue that it comes from the Latin word martirus, "martyr", others insist that there was a pagan sanctuary of the god Mars. Should start climbing down the street of St. Dionysius (rue St. Denis). Malicious Romans beheaded him on the Ile de la Cité, after which the Holy One, took her under his arm, went north on this same street. Now Rue Saint-Denis, especially in increasingly popular among tourists because of its on every second meter stand displaying their charms, prostitutes of different skin color. It seems that the wages they pay are not customers, and management of tourist Paris. They were photographed, but in contact with the girls do not come. Anyway, I never ever see it.
Rising above uprus in the area of Pigalle. There are many sex shops, restaurants with bad food, Japanese, Americans and our fellow citizens. Further, the rise becomes steeper. And what was the St. Dionysius, then after all, no cable car, or the famous staircase was not? Not surprisingly, at the top Buttes Montmartre, he decided to take a break and put his head on the ground. In the place where a few drops of blood spilled, and then built tortoobrazny Sacré-Coeur. Now around an eerie travel market place, and stay there long, I will not. Take rest, and all. Because I do not want to quickly come to hate your favorite Edith Piaf in La Vie en Rose, rushing out of a hundred speakers at once, to be racist because pristavuchih Africans selling souvenirs, and regret that once again in Paris. But if the weather is clear, the suffering are justified: the city is visible at a glance.
St. Dionysius, resting, went on for another twenty miles to the north, the town of Saint-Denis, where he rested. I still do not have to go there. It is necessary to turn off the tourist trail and walk through Montmartre, in its quiet streets. It is still alive the spirit of the century. No, Apollinaire, Picasso and Modigliani, I do not expect to meet. But the atmosphere is almost a village, a small bistro in the local streets near the Three Brothers, Durant and the area of Abbess regulars look at me askance when I was a "pastis", anisette, clap, not diluted with water. This, of course, wrong, but Jacques and Bernard realize that "russkoff" it can afford.
Montmartre have to descend from the east, go through very scenic areas around the streets of African Gold drops, bypass the North Station area, go to the boiling perpetual holiday "franarabsky" Belleville – and the Buttes Chaumont on the rise. How wonderful this route, hidden from the unfortunate victims of the tourist industry! Chaumont just below Montmartre, but no less interesting. Once there were stone quarries, and then arranged in their place is very beautiful and little-known visitor to Paris park. But the Parisians come to know it here. Types of wonderful, cool, fresh air. Quiet and very comfortable around the cafe. And for the truly curious visitor – a chance to see Paris 30s. Here, everyone knows, but with a polite hello stranger. And happy to advise how to get out on the subway. The local line is – in itself an attraction. Understand, even with a plan to circulate between the train stations, Buttes-Chaumont, Botzaris, Place des Fetes and the Danube, not by force, and an experienced tourist. Perhaps the Buttes Chaumont residents specifically is paved to his station, did not come to excess, and that there was more oxygen. Ask me where my heart leads to moments when Paris was necessary for me, like a breath of air? At the Butte Chaumont.
"Taking the" metro station, get in the Maubert-Mutualite and go up the slope of Mount St. Genevieve. Of all the buttes that very short and sloping, but none of the Parisian language does not rise up to call her "Buttes". No, it's Montagne Sainte Genevieve, a mountain – and that's it. On this very growth of Moscow Mountain, and is the Pantheon, and the ancient church of St. Stephen on the Mount (the church of St. Genevieve for some reason do not), and the wonderful building of the legal department at the Sorbonne, and dusty shop YMCA-Press, where Monsieur Nikita Struve Solzhenitsyn and trades thoughts on the future of Russia. And also there is the intersection of boulevard Saint-Germain and Saint Michel. This is slightly lower in the valley to the south-west. There, plunging into the thicket of the servants' quarters, I otdyshus of experiences. And the accumulation after drinking coffee or a glass of Calvados "Cotes du Rhone" force for the next ascent. Purpose – Montparnasse.
This Buttes, though high, but invisible. Of course, here schoolboys ran away from the Sorbonne once with lessons zapasshis pitcher or two of wine. Hiding in the bushes on the all-seeing eye of professors, reading obscene Latin poems of his own, dreaming of the glory of Virgil, Apuleius, or, at worst, and contemporary sramnika Bokatsiusa. Dreamed, drank wine, they are at the top of Mount Parnassus. Now Paris Parnassian mountain and hill-it is not looking. And the bushes there. All offset, built up, smoothed out. But zhovialnost students of former times breaks through the dense fabric of life. Just do not get up, pray to the top of "Montparnasse Tower" – from there through the gasoline fumes can see only the Eiffel Tower and Sacre Coeur. No, we must look Parnasskii hill from the bottom up. For example, perched on the terrace of one of the seedy bars, which many on the rue de la Gaiete, "Joy Street".
And finally, the ultimate goal of my "climbing" in Paris – a butte aux Cailles, "Quail Hill". From Montparnasse here go on foot (not to dive in the same metro station, not to shake the bus). Come down on the Port-Royal Avenue, slowly rising from the area of Italy, Obon smells of numerous Chinese eating-house. And – up the street with a stupid name Bobillo. I'm on the spot.
Quails are long extinct and no longer announce the vicinity of their awkward twittering and pohryukivaniem. But the most important place of this hill is called "area named Paul Verlaine," which is absolutely correct. Only here in Paris, you can finally understand what the French poetry. Around – silence. Sometimes mutter automotor sweep with a bang or a misguided rider. The area is framed by Verlaine spotted plane trees, the sky stretching from the Atlantic moist clouds, old men play in the little park in a "petanque": they just drive on clear rules of the metal balls. And then go to a place on the corner of Chez Joe. I also have to go there. Not because his throat was dry after the ascent, but you can not escape the museum of provincial life in Paris. A few years ago, his owner was the famous last heavyweight boxer of Polish descent Joseph Starzynsky. On the walls hang pictures of his famous fights, the ceiling dusty gloves, old men having washed his hands after the game, drink a pastis and discussing politics. And also those who died, who was born.
You have only one day in Paris? Take it, really, on Quail Hill. After that, the gray rose with the Louvre, Galeries Lafayette, Opera, Rue Saint-Honore, supermarkets, restaurants and recreational boats on the Seine will open for you as a gardener desired. Trust the experienced Russian Parisian, zasushivavshemu this flower blows the dust off it and always amazed, why did he ever alive?