Paris

Paris

Photo courtesy of Google.  (It was rainy and cold... my photos are NOT this good.)

The members of the mish-mosh party arrived and departed at various intervals. The time at the Manoir was the only time the whole group was collected in the same spot.  Kristin and Kyle came in early and spent time in Paris before heading to Tours.  Lisa, Dan, Melissa and Noe did the same.  I checked out Paris just before returning to the states.

Melissa and Lisa checking out Paris' main attraction in the distance.

Can you imagine Renoir, Monet and Pissarro with their easels and paints standing along side this pond?

Noe was facinated with the architecture.  As an architect, who wouldn't be?

Noe's architecture photo.  It is truly ornate in Paris.

Cafe in Paris.

Cobblestone street in Paris

Kristin and Kyle indicated their favorite part was the river boat tour on the Seine from Pont Neuf. Kristin's photos of the Eiffel Tower and other buildings were magnificent.  (Please share them with us!) There were clouds, but the sun kept breaking through to cast a beautiful ethereal glow on everything.

Champs de elysee... blechy grey day.

House boats along the Seine

Musee d'Orsay

Melissa and Noe headed to an open air "flea" market.  I'm waiting to hear more about the haul they made from that and the wonderful things they saw. 

From the open air market.  Dogs of Paris series... (LOL)

Myself... I enjoyed Paris - but it was the extreme, Cliff Notes tour.  My original intention (taken from advise of experienced travelers) was to take the train, "pop out" at Notre Dame Cathedral then take the boot tour first from Pont Neuf, (an hour.)  Then head over to the Musee D'orsay to see the Impressionists exhibit in their permanent collection and have a late lunch at the clock cafe there. Yeah... it didn't happen quite like that.

Unknown to me (because all announcements were in French) there was a train strike - and the trains which normally took passengers south into the heart of the Seine tourist area - stopped far north at Gare du Nord. Pretty much grand central station.  So I poured out of our southbound train (along with a thousand others equally as perplexed as I was) to figure out what to do next.  I read signs, asked some directions, and four floors, three train platforms, and about 20 Euro later... I gave up finding the right train to take me to Pont Neuf and surfaced on to the street to look for a cab.

I was glad I did.  I wanted to be out in the air, in the hustle of Paris.  First impressions, it's like most large cities.  Crowded streets.  Glass store fronts unattractively adorned with poster advertisements for cell phones and hair gel. For the most part the architecture of the buildings looked a lot like we saw in Chinon, but on a grander scale.  Instead of a modest two story building the stucco buildings were eight stories high.  They had the same narrow iron balconies, round attic windows, and cubed, sapphire roofs reaching to the sky.  The taxi driver caught me a couple of times leaning prone in the back seat so I could peer wonderingly out the window from a vantage point that let me examine the buildings all the way to their top.

Imagine to live on top of the world in the city of lights? Reality is (I thought as we zig zagged our way through the crowds) it means you have to schlep your groceries up seven flights of stairs.  But c'est la vie - they probably had lovely lifts, that pull-close with a wrought iron gate and have sculpted, copper buttons labeling the elevator panel.  That's the thing about Paris - it does know how to accessorize.  The buildings, bridges, and sculptures are ordained with decorative cornices of mythical, heroic characters - sometimes covered in gold.  Their buildings have large windows framed with crisp black shutters and delicate scrolled ironwork. I'm really impressed by how both in their cuisine and their architecture they know how to turn something plain into something of beauty - and it's everywhere.


The driver let me out at the museum.  I stood in line outside and it began to rain.  I had prepared myself for Paris.  I wanted to show this beautiful city the respect it was due.  I'd cast aside my American jeans and wore a lovely tailored dress, tall boots (which were still comfortable for walking), black leather jacket and bright scarf twirled fashionably about my neck.  I'd dressed for Paris, but not for the weather.

Once inside the museum it was warm (thankfully), which made the experience the more wonderful. I breathed in museum smell. You know it. A combination of linseed oil, lemon, and canvas. It felt like home to me. You enter the exhibition area through a large atrium naturally lit by a roof of glass high above you. You're find yourself outnumbered by a hoard of white, marble statues which have an almost hospital like cleanliness about them. Unlike the sculpture you find in garden architecture (figures poised in playful poses, dirty with moss and pollution) - these figures were unrealistically clean and smooth - coiffed. They were unnatural and a little creepy in their perfection.
I did enjoy most of the museum, I deployed the strategy to begin my viewing by assenting first to the fifth floor to see my Impressionists - then wind my way down.  In that darkened room on the fifth floor I felt I was back home, in art school.  The creakiness of the floorboards were like the studio in school (just sans dirt and paint smatterings.)  As I stood in front of the canvases, I could easily imagine the painters themselves standing there, wiping away the pigmented oil from the tip of their brush with an old rag.  I wonder if they knew the impact their art would inspire? 

Later I passed the Cafe adjacent to the large clock -  and noted it was packed (and overly hot)... and made the decision to forgo lunch and walk the west bank of the Seine instead.

Melissa and Noe's photo of the Seine... note the lovely blue skies.

Did you know its miles from the museum to the Eiffel Tower?  Yeah... and that auto traffic at intersections is such that you are taking your life into your hands trying to cross - even at the pedestrian light?  I confess I was a little overwhelmed and felt a little scared.  However, I mustered up what courage I had and wound my way along the river, walking at street level, and sometimes descending to the river walk below to look at boats other times along the route. 

The weather was not very accommodating.  It was getting more chilly by the hour, and sprinkling on and off.  Everywhere there were couples and groups walking leisurely, snapping photos of one another against the backdrop of the city's major sites - I was alone and beginning to feel quite lonely in the city of amour.

Padlocks called "Love Locks" on the bridges of Paris.  Symbolize a love everlasting.

Crossing over to the east bank at one of the many foot bridges that span the Seine - I saw the railings adorned with thousands of padlocks.  I'd read a story on another blog from an American living in Paris with her French husband - and she shared the story.  It's romantic in a way - but kind of a tourist gimmick now. Eh... I took a picture of it anyway.  It's all part of the Paris subtext.  Just as the artists are, who line up their sketches and paintings against the stone wall that runs the length of the river.  Images of the Eiffel Tower, boats along the Seine, and the obelisk in the traffic circle at the base of the Champs Elysees are yours for just 10 Euro.  We imagine these artists to be Monet and Renoir capturing the soul and life of Parisian life... but in reality they're art students selling sketches they made in their shared studio apartments - earning beer money (wine money) for the weekend.  (Hey... I went to art school, I know wherefore I speak.)

By the time I'd reached the museum again (this time on the east bank side) - I'd bought a sketch from one of the aforementioned artists, taken a dozen photos (which turned out dark and grey like the day), and was thoroughly wet and cold.  My American realism took over.  I grabbed a cab (again) and paid the driver (dare I say how much?) XX Euros to "take me on a tour of Paris - hit the best spots!"

He was a great tour guide.  We careened through traffic and he would point an indicate what the buildings were, as we traveled by them.  He took me around the oblelisk at the base of the Champs de elysee a couple of times.  I thought for sure we'd be side swiped by a bread truck - but we made it.  He took me around the Arc De Triomphe and showed me the modern La Grande Arche de La Defense. (He said the Parisians hated it, they think it's ugly.)  This arch represents the gateway to "modern" Paris.  

I was amazed by the bravery of French women.  I can't tell you among the scooters, double-decker buses, cabs, delivery trucks and vehicles - how many ladies on bicycles I saw.  They peddled along, wicker baskets filled with bread hanging daintily from the front of their vintage-style bikes.  They meandered between lanes of traffic, scarfs fashionable tied about their necks... completely oblivious (clearly unconcerned) to the fact that taxis were inches from their tires, revving their engines, waiting for a chance to wiz by at an intersection. Those ladies have resolve!

Just for fun.

One last thing... I just have to get this photo in here (again courtesy of Google) - On the plane to France I met a very nice Frenchman. He told me how he was an ammeter photographer (aren't we all?).  He preferred to photograph Paris in the rain, and in black and white.  He told me, "That is the only way you should view Paris." He went on to say she is a "sad" city, (I think he meant melancholy.) At the time I thought it was a very romantic statement.  Looking back at the end of this journey I had to reevaluate that comment.  I felt empathy for her before arriving.  She gets a lot of criticism from Americans for being rude and dirty.  She's seen many wars and and scourges.  Her history of Kings and Queens and their excesses well... it's embarrassing!   On impulse I had purchased a red umbrella before I left. I thought, if she's sad - red will cheer her up.  Apparently I'm not the only one to think so.  In the rain I saw more than one red umbrella covering a tourist, standing beneath the Eiffel Tower.  So Paris, know many of us stand with you - adieu mon ami, until we're ready to meet again.