Museums and not quite Midnight in Paris
When I woke up early on
Sunday morning, a gray haze had descended upon Paris, a light, misty
rain falling softly. I could only think of two things: Gil's line
in Woody Allens' film Midnight in Paris, “Isn't Paris beautiful in
the rain?” and to myself, “What a perfect day for a museum!”
I checked out of the hotel
and made my way to the second which was luckily on the same Metro
line. I had booked this hotel online for its price and ratings.
Even though everything had checked out on the internet, I couldn't
help silently hoping that the place wasn't a dump.
The neighborhood that arose
as I exited the Metro station was charming enough and just a block
up, nestled in all of its classic, old Parisian glory was the Hotel
Innova. It all looked nice from the outside, but as it was too early
to check in and opening time for the museum was fast approaching, I
dropped off my suitcase and set off on my way.
Before getting back on the
Metro, I stopped by a small bakery across from the hotel, ordering an
apple turnover and what I thought was a coffee. But when the girl
behind the counter presented me with the turnover and a baguette, I
realized I needed to speak more clearly. I corrected my mistake and
with breakfast in hand (costing only €2,40!), I set off for the
Musee d'Orsay.
Some may wonder why the
Louvre wasn't my first choice for museums. The Musee d'Orsay is home
to such artists as Van Gough, Monet, Lautrec, and Degas. All of
which interested me considerably more than seeing the Mona Lisa. As
most museums are free the first Sunday of the month, people were
already lined up as I got there. Already 30 minutes before the
museum even opened! Still, I took my place in line and waited,
taking in the various people and languages around me. Most
interestingly, a rather nerdy looking French boy trying out his
rather impressive japanese with a tall, pretty, and fashionable
Japanese girl. Also amusing were an old couple from New Zealand who
screamed Tourist louder than the Korean family in front of me, as
they loudly misunderstood everything security attempted to say to
them in keeping the line in order.
The rain, which had held up
during the time we were in line, began again as we were let inside.
As I entered, I noticed with amusement how long the line had become.
Breezing past the ticket
counters (such a wonderful thing, this Sunday rule!) I got myself a
map and paid the 5€ for the audio guide. Where to go first? I
began on the first floor, admiring the sculptures and making my way
to the section on Toulouse-Lautrec and could also cover the works of
Monet and the ballerinas of Degas. The paintings of the Moulin Rouge
were fascinating, but in my wanderings on this floor, two paintings
stood out to me:
Fernand Khnopff's L'Encens,
for the enigmatic expression on the model's face, and Lucien
Lévy-Dhurmer's La Sorciére for the strange and mystical feel to it.
Ascending to the second
floor, I made my way slowly, finding all sorts of treasures:
Le rêve by Edouard Detaille
depicting sleeping soldiers dreaming of the battle ahead.
La Muse d'André-Chenier by
Denys Puech, the sculpure of a young woman cradling the head of her
beloved in her long hair.
The interesting drawings and
paintings of architect Garas, constructing stunning, fantastical
temples, some plans even with lines of music accompanying them like
the one dedicated to Beethoven. (Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to
take pictures and I couldn't find a copy of that particular drawing
online.)
Of course Van Gough's La
nuit etoilée in its less tumultuous version.
And two interesting
sculptures: La main aux algues et aux coquillages by Emila Gallé and
a great polar bear sculpted by François Pompon who apparently had a
special relationship with his subject, circling each other and the
bear eventually posing for the artist, a light smile on the animal's
lips.
(Please don't sue me,
Musee d'Orsay!)
But the most stunning
exhibit for me was the temporary Misia exhibit on the fifth floor.
Misia was a society woman during that golden time in Paris. She new
Cocteau, Ravel, Poulenc, Coco Chanel, just to name a few. Ravel had
written a piece for her, in the exhibit, the score presented and on
earphones, the piece played with Poulenc on the piano. Next to it, a
note from Poulenc to Misia, and her notes back. The moment nearly
brought tears to my eyes. Further, photos and letters of and about
Stravinsky, Nijinski, and the Ballet Russes. Picasso's costumes for
Poulenc's ballet Les Biches. The combination of all these artists
who held such meaning for me, brought to life with these artifacts
was truly something and I was extremely moved. I want to read up mor
eon Misia and her experiences. All she saw and all she knew.
All of this had made me work
up an appetite and I settled on lunch in the fifth floor cafe in one
of the enormous clock towers.
To my great pride, I
succeeded in ordering a great Croque Monsieur and a wonderful glass
of rosé from Provence all in French.
After lunch, I walked out
onto the terrace which overlooked the city of Paris settled under
some slowly sun filled skies.
To my disappointment, the
other floors of the museum appeared to be closed, but after hearing a
bit about Monet and his lilies from the audioguide and on
recommendation from a friend, I made my way to the other side of the
Seine to the l'Orangerie Museum. As I crossed the bridge filled with
the padlocks of lovers wanting to make their bond eternal, everything
from the museum, to the sun, to the river, to probably the wine, made
me full to bursting with a happiness so strong, I felt it eminating
from every fibre of my being. As I passed an old couple, I heard the
man turn to his wife and say “Well, I've never looked that happy.”
A short walk through the
Tuleries Garden, and I placed myself into the rapidly moving line
into the l'Orangerie. As it turned out, this museum was also free on
the first Sunday of the month.
I first headed to Monet's
lily rooms. Two large rooms, perfectly round, with enormous murals
of lilies surrounding the viewer in the center. It really was as the
audio guide had said. Monet wanted the viewer to feel surrounded by
them. Monet's style had always impressed me. The way upclose, the
canvas seemed full of unorderly, swirling blots of color, but as one
moved away, the pond, the lilies, the trees, the shadows, all start
to take shape. I took a moment to admire the parts where I
particularly enjoyed the color schemes and then went downstairs to
the additional galleries below.
It was an interesting
collection. All from one man. How wonderful to fill one's home with
beautiful (and original) works of art! A couple paintings stood out
in particular and I bought postcards of both.
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| L'Etreinte by Picasso |
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| Gabrielle et Jean by Renoir |
I left the l'Orangerie and
decided to have a look at the tree lined Champs-Elyseés. The stairs
leading down in its direction lead out onto the vast, enormous
roundabout of the Concorde.
The sheer intricacy of the
ornaments on every lamp post, fountain, and the obelisk in the middle
were simply stunning. I nearly burst out laughing for joy. Near one
of the fountains, an asian girl started to run around the circle,
arms outstretched like the wings of a bird. I shared her sentiment
and would have followed suit if I didn't think she'd probably feel
more embarrassed than I would.
Then, spotting the lines of
trees, I went over to confirm my suspicions. There at the very end
of the treelined road was the Arc d'Triomphe. Certain things, even
when you're certain you're seeing them, still don't register as real.
Elation seeming to have
given my exhausted legs their second wind, I decided that walking
back to the hotel wouldn't be such a bad idea. I crossed the Pont de
la Concorde and continued along the path to the vast Hôtel des
Invalides.
The way my map showed it, I
need simply to follow the grassy Avenue de Breteuill to the end,
follow the street a bit further, and would end up at the hotel in no
time. Well, I did want to see the neighborhood and not just a grassy
park, so I followed what I thought was a parallel street, noting
where I would have to turn. For awhile, I enjoyed the sun on my
face, taking in the neighborhood, the shops and cafes, and the grand
cathedrals that really seemed to pop out of nowhere.
But soon it seemed that I
had been walking an awfully long time and still nothing I recognized
from the morning. Upon consulting both my map, the maps at the bus
stations, and the compass on my phone, I realized that I had made a
wrong turn somewhere and had ended up in the complete other
direction! After much more map and compass consultation, as well as
being convinced my legs would fall off with my body still moving
forward, I made it back to the hotel. Again, I prayed that my room
was not a dump. But as I opened the door to my fifth floor room, I
was pleasantly surprised by a small, simple room that smelled normal,
perhaps had been around for some time, but was charming in its
simplicity. The crowning jewel of it being the genuine black metal
twisted balcony that I had been longing after. Just a pair of
rickety wood shutters and I would have declared it the perfect hotel.
Inspiried, I dragged the desk chair and ottoman from the room out
onto the balcony, propped my feet up, and planned my next move in the
cooling afternoon air.
After a quick nap, I decided
to find some dinner and looked up a place from my tour book. An
award winning restaurant boasting reasonable prices on the Left Bank
(Rive Gauche) near the Notre Dame Cathedral caught my eye, and I was
off on my way again.
The restaurant was easy to
find and the neighborhood was wonderfully charming. I was among the
first there for dinner and took a seat outside on the terrace. My
french failed with the waiter, but he started a lively conversation
with me in english. On my inquiry for a wine recommendation, he
brought out a bottle of Bordeaux.
“But you sell it by the
glass, right?” I asked, afraid of shelling out thirty euro for a
bottle of wine I'd only drink half of at most.
“No, you have to have the
whole bottle.” he grinned.
“Then you'll have to help
me drink it.” I answered, still unsure if it was a joke or not.
He laughed. “Maybe
later!”
“Or else you'll have to
carry me out of here.” I said in mock warning.
“Where are you living?”
he asked.
“Montparnasse. It's kind
of far from here.”
“Yes it is.”
“So you'd better only
give me the glass.”
He laughed again. “Don't
worry! It's just the glass!”
To accompany the wine, I
ordered a filet of duck with vegetables and potatoes. Delicious.
I learned my waiter was the
son of the restaurant's owner and that he originated from Provence.
In turn, I told him what I did and he asked to hear an example, so I
played him one of the new Estampie songs. Unfortunately after that,
the place got busy, so I paid my bill and left.
On this trip, I had been
meaning to find the church from Midnight in Paris where Gil was
picked up and whisked away to the 20s. I knew it was in the area and
after a little hunting around, I found the street. It lead me up a
steep hill full of cute little bars and cafes. Finally at the top of
the hill, I saw it! It really did look just like in the movie and I
couldn't help taking some silly photos.
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| Is it time? |
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| Is it coming? |
Of course no car came to
take me to the 1920s (it wasn't midnight after all) but I did see a
stunning sunset over the Mairie du 5e.
Dinner digested, I went off
in search of a good glass of wine. But nothing seemed to strike my
fancy and I let myself wander around until I came to the Notre Dame
itself.
Backtracking along the left
bank, I finally settled on a corner cafe with an extensive wine list.
I ordered a Côte du Rhone red which had an intense, fruity tang. I
wasn't quite sure if I liked it. But then the waiter brought out a
plate with slices of delicious looking salami. Pairing the two
together was perfect and it brought out the subtler flavors of the
wine.
Satisfied and happy, I
returned to the hotel to get a good night's sleep in order to tackle
the next adventure: The Louvre.
