Paris - Day 3
Tuesday 2010-04-27
Well, I lost my pen. The Musée Rodin, while wonderful, is not the cheapest place to replenish one’s writing instrument.
Last night I got lost south of the Eiffel Tower, because some fool left the hostel without a map. It turns out I unwittingly passed three Métro stations (with increasing desperation) before I made a huge circle, and found my way back.
A French woman, almost as harried as I was, tried to ask me directions of some sort. As I tripped over my tongue she realized her error and click-clacked on her way. I wish I knew even a little elementary French.
I am eating lunch at Café du Musée, across the street from the gold-domed Les Invalides (Napoleon’s tomb, specifically). The poor waiter. I did finally get a croque monsieur, and now I shall devour the raspberry tart (Tarte Fraise) that caught my eye.
Oh my, it was divine. Trés bien! I took a picture :D
The Musée d’Orsay did not disappoint, though of course I wish photography was allowed (of the gallery’s interior, not the art). I despise those who take pictures of the art, often standing not three feet from a sign expressly forbidding it. It’s completely missing the point of the gallery experience, in my opinion, and their crappy point and shoots won’t record the art any better than their contemplative memories could.
The architecture of the museum is sublime, however (an old train station). It did get somewhat hot, as the place was packed (the Louvre was closed).
Rodin was amazing (I keep over-using that word), as expected. Lots of good photos, I hope. Jaw-dropping evocations of suffering and physicality.
Last night before I got lost, I hung around la Tour Eiffel through the golden hour and into dusk. The sight of the tower lit up after the sun set almost brought me to tears with its beauty. I felt at peace, especially since I had shed that black canvas albatross of a camera bag and brought only my 24mm.
I’ve brought only my 50mm and grip, which I am enjoying the lightness of.
I love the way the French eat. So… refined. The coffee is really good, too.
The gendarmes are out in force today. Navy blue jumpsuited, wearing what look like catcher’s kneeguards. Big blue vans all over. Must be some sort of dignitary visiting? Could just be the area. I’m not sure. (And certainly my French is nonexistent, or else I’d ask)
(Later, I would learn that it was related to a protest of milk farmers happening that day, which caused tractors to gum up traffic near the Place de la République)
I had the luck to be seated next to a pleasant older French couple, who are entertaining to listen to (despite not following a single word of the conversation). They have a great rapport with the waiter, almost as if they had been coming here for years.
