Day two in Paris we head to the Louvre to take in some more art. My companions are excited about b-lining to the Mona Lisa.
We start in one of the courtyards with the famous glass pyramid.
Descending into the pyramid we enter the gallery and look up and out to the sky.
We are in! The main staircase leads up and then
veers right for the Mona Lisa. (The Winged Victory of Samothrace pictured above)
And in through the Byzantine icons. I love this stuff. In fact my current favourite wing in the National Gallery in London is the
Sainsbury wing which is full of this stuff. It is highly decorative and flat,
pre-perspective and
pre-light source.
We arrive outside the room that holds the Mona Lisa. It is a zoo! You can see it at the top of the crowds in the photo above. You really have to push in to get remotely close to it. I have not seen it before in person, but know from descriptions what the room is like. I also know it is a relatively small piece and because it is the most photographed in the world being with it will not give you any new insight or epiphanies. It is still too far away and behind bullet-proof glass so there is no going up close to study brushwork. When I lived in Italy (the centre for training art restoration) I was told that it is cleaned every year and there is a union whose sole job it is to move it off the wall and then back onto the wall.
We slowly migrate with the crowds to the front and since everyone else is getting
their picture with the alter in this modern day
pilgrimage it seems fitting to join in the ritual.
But I am less interested in the Mona Lisa and more interested in the crowds, the crowd control, the frenzy, and the great viewing space off to the right of the piece. I stand there for a bit and take a picture of the crowd to which I am told off (in French) by one of the crowd control museum workers.
Hmmm. Not sure what that was about!
We wander to the rest of the museum which is less inhabited. Very nice. I suggest we see the entire 2
nd floor of the Louvre (after having dragged half of them around the entire first floor of paintings while the other half snoozed on a bench). Strangely, I was not met with enthusiasm. I think to myself how lucky I am to have my companions hitting a museum or gallery a day with already and decide since Paris is so close to London that I may return on my own on day.
We wander outside and down to the river.
We decide to walk through the gardens and down the Champs
Elysees all the way to the Arc
de Triomphe.
But it turns out to be WAY TOO FAR and we catch the metro there after we get burned out from walking.
There is a giant French flag that hangs and billows in the wind right in the centre of the arch. It is mesmerising the way the wind catches something so large and moves it, very unlike a small piece of cloth. I end up sitting and watching it for the good part of an hour.
In the meantime my companions ascend to the top of the arch with my camera and take some great pictures of the surrounding city of Paris.
We head over to the Eiffel Tower and some of us decide to climb it to the second platform while Nigel and I head off to wander the little winding streets.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the group we nip in to a corner shop and buy a box of ice cream and down it ourselves while sitting in a park nearby. The park is setting up with a giant stage for the festivities that start tonight for tomorrow's national holiday: Bastille Day.
Next we head over to
Montmartre, an area teaming with life and obvious a popular place to sit in cafes and hang out with friends if you live in Paris. I had really wanted to see two specific cinema landmarks and as we ascend from the metro we spy the
Moulin Rouge. Tickets are 100 Euros for a show so we decide it is just a great view from the outside and take some pictures.
Up a little side street I find Cafe
des 2
Moulin which is were Amelie, the French film, was made (where the character, Amelie, worked).
Montmartre is great. Set on a steep hill with the
Sacre Coeur perched at the top it is thriving and recommended as a great place to find all sorts of little eateries.
We find a restaurant recommended by the Rough Guide called Le
Ralais Gascon. As soon as we get close I can see that most people sitting outside are eating some sort of big salad with crispy potato things covering the top. I already know what I am ordering. I am impressed by my young companion who orders escargot and loves it.
The Rough Guide says, " Serving hearty, filling meals all day, this two-storey restaurant provides a welcome blast of straightforward
Gascon heartiness in this alternately trendy, run-down and touristy part of town." They even recommend the hot salads.
Mine arrives...vegetarian of course. It is one of the best salads I have ever had. Of course there it is not really a salad...with deep fried sliced potatoes on top (folks, this is France's new french fry), not corn and all sorts of great stuff underneath. YUM!
We wake up on the national holiday, Bastille Day, and head down to the parade that symbolises the storming of the Bastille during the French Revolution.
It is a parade of all the military and air vehicles. A display of power, I suppose.
I snap this picture of a police bus. Wouldn't that be fun to ride. What is it for? Troops?
We head over to the Latin Quarter just south of Notre Dame and find a whole street of little quaint French restaurants.
Of course, being our last day it is my chance to eat cheese fondue. YUM! Unfortunately one of my young companions thought it smelled horrible and sat as far away from me and my luxurious lunch as possible.
The fondue must be washed down with wine or a fizzy drink so as not to form a cheese lump in ones stomach. This thought makes Nigel nauseated. I have never heard of that before.
Notre Dame is large and spectacular from the outside.
And enchanting from the inside.
We are limited by what is open on Bastille Day so decide (since churches are about the only thing open) to head over to Sacre Coeur next.
We join the throngs heading up the narrow streets to the hill top.
It proudly sits on top with a huge circus of activity surrounding it all. In fact, the contrast from the outside to the inside is startling. There are all sorts of really agressive peddlars outside selling junk, dance groups, musicians, and even a ferris wheel. Once inside there is an austere and strict presence. No pictures. Be quiet. keep moving. We watch a man take a picture and be bawled out by a church member. It doesn't leave a nice impression at all.
But Paris itself is wonderful. I like the city and would come back, although, am with Nigel in our belief that there are so many new places to see that repeating doesn't always make sense. I take consolation that it is close to London...and who knows!
