Paris, Day 4
Sunday, May 9
We managed to set both alarm clocks correctly for this morning, and were out the door right on time. As usual, we walked past Notre Dame to get to the RER station at St. Michel (Trip Theme No. 3: Notre Dame) for the one stop ride to the Musee D'Orsay. We had played with the idea of walking there (it was only one stop so I had assumed it wasn't so very far away...) but decided to just be lazy and take the train. Both of us were experiencing serious old lady pain in our legs from going up so many stairs the day before, so we figured it would be best to cut down on walking as much as possible for day 3. We hadn't been in any rush to get there, so we arrived slightly after opening time and stood in a relatively short line to get through security. We dumped our bags at the coat check (thank goodness for coat checks... we were also getting sore shoulders from lugging around our purses and purchases!).
We decided to skip the audio tours and instead rely on Rick's tour...which turned out to be a problem because the usual hangout of all of the Van Gogh, Renoir, and Cezanne was instead a temporary add-on exhibit called "Crime and Punishment" (we skipped it) and they were doing renovations - surprise! - (Theme 1: Scaffolds & Renovation) near the back of the museum so the Rodin pieces were not where they were supposed to be either. Never the less, we stood for a moment in the main gallery and scouted out what looked interested and just admired the place. The museum used to be a train station, and is basically one big long 3 story space that has been broken down into smaller galleries. It has a stunning half circle glass roof that lets a lot of natural light in and the whole place is very open, bright, and spacious. The central area is left open and is a long gallery for sculpture and the smaller galleries dividing "pre-modern" from "post modern" line either side.
When we were planning the trip, the only museum I had heard of or really cared about hitting in Paris was, of course, the Louvre. What a sad mistake that was (the Louvre will be in tomorrow's entry). Musee d'Orsay was one of my favorite museums of all time. We got there early enough to enjoy the majority of the exhibits without being completely crushed in a crowd. Krystal and I both immediately fell in love with Renoir and of course, Monet. d'Orsay is dedicated to European art from 1848-1914 including of course the impressionists, realism, pointillism, and the beginnings of cubism. All of these are big "blockbuster" kinds of art work that most people can enjoy at first site... including the two of us uneducated heathens, which is probably why we enjoyed it so much. I don't believe I've ever seen any Rodin before and was excited to see some of his sculpture, especially The Gates of Hell. They don't actually have the sculpture there, I think it was just one of the models that he worked on for much of his life. In fact, I don't think he ever even finished the piece.
Anyhow, the place was great. We loved it. The walking tour in the Rick book had good explanations of what to look for and showed us the highlights of the museum... once we figured out where everything had been relocated to thanks to the stupid temporary exhibit. The van Gogh was particularly disappointing because many of the works were not out thanks to reduced gallery space. No matter, we still saw some great stuff and our favorite artist, by far, was Renoir. Once we had spent about 2 hours wandering the museum we got to the serious stuff - the museum shop. Until now, the shops had been pretty disappointing but I had faith in the museums - everybody knows that museums have the best gift shops. This one was gigantic and had a huge collection of prints in lots of different sizes and formats. We went nuts, immediately grabbing up as many Renoir as we could find. I think we ended up putting half of them back after second thoughts set in (or at least I did... I can't speak for Krystal!). I could have easily spend a lot of money in that place but the thing stopping me was the fact that I am running out of wall space in the house. I did buy a large matted print of my favorite Renoir, (see here!) and a bunch of post cards plus a totally adorable flip book that is a "mini movie" of the building of the Eiffel Tower. Krystal bought... a lot. LoL. All I know is that when we left, we loaded up one of our souvenir-hauling bags to the brim and started to walk back toward Ille de la Cite where we had decided to grab something for lunch before headed to our next stop, Sainte-Chapelle. Back onto the RER to St. Michel for us. This time we somehow managed to come up at a different entrance/exit than usual and we were immediately drawn to one of the vendors right next to the exit. He had old postcards on racks for sale for a cheap price - 6 for 2 euro, I think. Some of the cards had things written on the back and some were just plain beautiful old black and white drawings, photographs, and watercolors or Paris landmarks. Krystal and I both sorted through the entire rack and bought 6 each. Then we were further distracted by the great photo op with Notre Dame as we crossed a new bridge onto the Ile de la Cite. (Trip Theme No. 3: Notre Dame) So we stopped and took some nice photos of us with Notre Dame in the background before making out way across the bridge onto the Island in search of lunch.
We passed by a few take out eateries that had the usual baguettes in the window, hoping to find a nice cafe with outdoor seating instead. The weather was pretty nice - relatively warm and leaning toward sunshine, so we wanted to take advantage of that. We walked down the Boulevard du Palais, passing the entrance to Sainte-Chapelle along the way and a few more cafes that looked ok, but we weren't ready to settle yet. We turned a corner in front of the Palais de Justice and before we knew it we had stumbled upon an amazing flower and bird market. I recalled having read about the market when doing research about the flea markets in Paris, but had no idea that it was on the Ile de la Cite... and what a spectacular market it was! The flowers were amazing - huge hydrangea in every color you could imagine, roses, geraniums, flowering vines - everything! There were small animal vendors that had everything from love birds, canaries, parakeets, and parrots to chickens, geese, various rodents, and even bunnies.The sounds and smells and colors of the place were just intoxicating. We both whipped out our cameras we wandered around, taking everything in. I stopped to take a photo of a yellow canary in his cage and the vendor started telling me how much he was and I said, "I can't take him on the plane!" and the vendor laughed and said, "Not in your suitcase?"
I particularly loved a vendor set up on the end of the row that had all of the various farm animals - geese, ducks, chickens, all variety of birds, and my favorite thing, the baby bunnies! Of course there was a crowd around the bunnies and everybody wanted to pet one so I patiently waited my turn, about to explode with anticipation to get my hands on a bunny. There was a particular one that I especially loved - it was a white bunny with blue eyes that had tiny rings of black around them, almost like the perfect application of bunny-eyeliner. I kept squealing at Krystal to take a pic of the adorable bunny with the eyeliner while I waited for a gap in the group of kids that was flocking to the enclosure. Finally I got my chance and I scooped up the adorable little bunny for a quick snuggle before we moved on to the flower vendors... where we soon also found scented soaps, perfumes, bath oils, and the like. Needless to say, we spent lots of time smelling perfume and debating over what to get before I settled on a "variety pack" of 5 scents of perfume as a gift for my mother (what mom wouldn't want some real French perfume?) and Krystal picked up some perfume, bath salts, and lavender soap for various female family members.
After the flower market diversion, we really were starting to get hungry and decided to just go to one of the cafes right across from Sainte-Chapelle. We sat outside and watched the line for the cathedral, trying to gauge how long we were going to have to wait. We both opted for the oh-so-Parisian lunch of ham and cheese on a baguette, a carafe of water (consumed out of wine glasses of course) and of course our now-traditional lunch item: french fries. We took our good old time eating and people watching. The line wasn't too terribly long and seemed to be moving at a decent pace plus our legs hurt, so we were in no rush. So off we went. Turns out that Sainte-Chapelle is inside of the Palais de Justice, so you have to go through a TON of security, so the line took a little longer than we expected.
When compared to Notre-Dame, from the outside Sainte-Chapelle seems almost quaint. It is jammed into the courtyard of the Palais de Justice, so it doesn't have the pretty gardens and river view that Notre-Dame enjoys. It was built originally to house a relic - the supposed Crown of Thorns - in record time. Notre-Dame took more than 200 years to build, SC took a much shorter amount of time (which I can't remember right now... I'm not a tour guide, after all). As usual, we used the self guided tour in Rick to let us know what to look for. The lower chapel of the building is where you enter, and is now where the gift shop is which kind of ruins the mood. But it's still pretty beautiful with a blue ceiling sprinkled all over with gold fleur-de-lis, mosaics of Saints, and a statue of Louis IX, who commissioned the place. When we got inside I took a minute, as usual, to find the nearest bench and get my camera out, get Rick out, take my jacket off, etc etc. (walking around a city like a pack mule during temperate weather requires lots of costume changes and time to get organized). This is when I almost lost my Rick book. It was bound to happen at some point with all the shuffling that was going on. I left the book sitting on the little stone bench when I got up, but luckily remembered within probably a minute when I went to turn to the self-guided tour. Whew!
Losing Rick would have been tragic.
The real show in SC is the upper chapel, where the king and nobles go to worship. Had I lived in 1300 I most certainly would have been a peasant and would've never seen the amazing 360 degree stained glass of the upper chapel, so I suppose I am kind of glad for the revolutions and such. The actual size of the chapel is relatively small, with a soaring roof and stained glass literally all around. Unfortunately for us, the alter area and just to the left of the alter area were being - you guessed it - RENOVATED (Trip Theme No. 1: scaffolding and renovations). This really dampened the effect of the stained glass and was disappointing, but it was still an amazing place.
Two long rows of chairs were sat down the sides of the cathedral, facing the center (the idea being that you could sit and look up at the stained glass). Krystal and I hurried to find two seats together and just sat in awe for a while. The mood in this place was, luckily, pretty quiet and toned down - not the zoo-like atmosphere we'd experienced at most of the other landmarks we'd visited thus far. We sat, reading Rick quietly and taking photos of the amazing stained glass. I think it was probably so quiet and reserved in SC because the lighting created by all of that stained glass is almost other-worldly and creates this serene, calming effect. I loved it.
Eventually, a group of Americans ended up sitting in the chairs on either side of Krystal and I, and we got to talking with one of the husbands. They were all obviously retirees and explained to us that they'd been in France for weeks, touring the countryside and doing the B&B thing. Then the man I was talking to related to us his story about how they left their cars unlocked at a B&B in some little French town and (duh!) it broken into and all of their luggage was stolen. That really sucks, but really, some people and their inability to use their brains just amazes me. B&B's are obviously going to be targets no matter where you are, and you certainly can't trust that when somebody walks by and sees what they know is a tourist's car chock full of suitcases that they will leave it alone. Duh. Anyway, the guys were pretty nice and volunteered to take a photo of Krystal and I inside of the chapel. After dawdling for a while longer inside, we decided to head out - next stop being the Concierge.
One word for the Concierge - creepy. Even though there was no line it took a few minutes to get in because the people in front of us decided to argue with the clerk about whether or not they deserved to have the student discount (final verdict: clerk wins; no discount for your now pay your effing euro and move on please!). The whole place is now pretty empty, with a few exhibits (boards with writing on them... all in French...woo) about the building's role and the most famous prisoners. Cells and offices were recreated, complete with really creepy dummies. The section in Rick, although not a full out self guided tour, was much more informative than the guides in French. Some of the stuff was interesting - the room where people made their last stop before being taken to the guillotine, for instance. Interesting... but creepy. Also, the door that the poor souls left out of to get onto the cart for their ride to the guillotine. Also included was a room whose walls were nothing but a long list of all of the people who were guillotined during the French Revolution, including of course Louis XVI, Madame Elisabeth (his sister), and Marie Antoinette. Next up were recreations of the cells and finally - what I'm sure everyone goes to the Concierge for - the cell of Marie Antoinette (also recreated, as the original was turned into a small chapel/shrine to the slain royal family). Complete with creepy dummy, for me it was poignant, sad, and I'll say it again, creepy. So sad to have seen the grandeur of Versailles and the beauty of the Petit Trainon and Hameau, then see where the Queen spent her last days on Earth - a small sparse cell with 2 soldiers watching her every move. It was strange to have read about all of this before and to finally be standing there in the place where it all happened. As we left through the tiny courtyard where the prisoners were allowed to get their "exercise," I wondered just how haunted that place must be.
We had decided while sitting in Sainte-Chapelle that we would be making a trip back to the apartment after the Concierge to drop off all of the crap that we'd been carrying throughout the day before heading back out to the Pompidou center and dinner. As we left the building and headed toward the nearest bridge back to the right bank, we were confronted by policemen - lots of them - getting geared up into riot wear, complete with the big plexiglass shields and what appeared to be launchers for tear gas, and lots of support vehicles lined up like a battle front. Krystal and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and kept walking past them and across the bridge, where we discovered what the fuss was about. Apparently we were walking into a political protest of some sort - we found ourselves in a crowd of people wearing all black with dashes of red and waiving signs. We couldn't exactly tell what their cause was - I think we were able to decipher something about fascism or socialism. Anyhow, we tried to hurry our way through the protesters, who were all gathering on the right bank side of the bridge. Krystal found this all very interesting and wanted to hang around to see what happened in the face off between the police and the protesters. I didn't really like this idea. It could go a few ways: either they were just going to stand on either side of the bridge and yell at the cops for a while with no real action, or it could become crazy and violent with the police launching gas into the crowd and beating up people. I managed to drag Krystal to a good distance away, where we leaned over the wall along the Seine to observe the action. Luckily (?) there wasn't any and I convinced Krystal that we should just head back to the apartment before something serious erupted.
After climbing the 110 steps to the top, which seemed more challenging than usual since we were hauling along what seemed like 50 lbs of purchases each, we collapsed into the apartment. We both decided that we would carry as little as possible for the remainder of the day, so we dumped 90% of what we had been carrying around, freshened up, then headed back out. Pompidou Center was located in our neighborhood, probably about 1.5 miles away from the apartment. The plan was to hit up the museum then grab falafel in the Jewish district for dinner. We strolled through the neighborhood at a leisurely pace, noting the shops that we wanted to stop at and their hours. Surprisingly, while most of Paris is dead on Sunday's, the Marais is very busy because it's the Jewish neighborhood. The cafes and the shops that were open were hopping and there were tons of people around the Hotel de Ville. When we arrived at the Pompidou, there was a huge crowd just laying around and relaxing on shallow steps that led down to the building. Lots of artists and street performers were entertaining the crowds and it just seemed so... Parisian. Except for the Pomidou itself, of course, which is a contemporary art center. The building is "inside out" with all of the pipes, elevators, and other "innards" on the outside of the building. While an interesting concept and perfectly fitting for a modern art center, I admit that I much prefer the traditional buildings of Paris.
What a stick in the mud, right?
We got inside and were immediately confused. The "maps" were not helpful at all (that should be another theme of this trip - completely unhelpful museum and attraction guides!). Rick had a guided tour in it, but it was a general tour because, as he noted, the museum is constantly changing up so it would be pointless to do a landmark-oriented tour (aka go to the 3rd floor and find the Picasso X). After ditching our coats at the coat check, we finally figured out that the main exhibits were on floors above us, so we hopped onto the escalators, which were in giant plastic tubes on the outside of the building (think hamster cage tubes minus the bright colors). We still weren't quite sure where to go, so we went up until we saw the familiar word "gallerie." Making it to the permanent collection didn't really help matters because - you guessed it! - there was a special exhibition and I'm pretty sure that 80% of the usual art work (the Warhol, the Pollack, the Picasso) was not on display. Instead it was a focus on female artists.
Now, I don't think of myself as a completely adventurous art person, but I am also open to modern art and thinking outside of the box. However, I did not enjoy the Pompidou. Maybe it's because I had no idea what the intent was behind what I was looking at. Maybe it's because I was annoyed that I wasn't going to see the Warhols. Maybe it's because the map sucked and that was frustrating. Maybe it's because my legs hurt and I was tired. Maybe it's because I was getting hungry. Or a combination of all of the above. I felt rather dumb and un-artsy though, because I wasn't really enjoying it. /sigh
At any rate, Krystal and I tried to make the most of it and wandered in and out of the galleries. I did see DuChamp's Urinal and some Pollack, along with some interesting installation pieces and sculpture... but overall I was disappointed. At the least we can say we'd "been there, done that" and check it off the list. After a relatively short wander through the galleries, we headed to the gift shop of course, where I picked up some post cards and an adorable present for Allison.
After retrieving our coats, out we went to make our way to the falafel place. I had read about this falafel place not only in Rick, but on the New York Times frugal traveler blog and in the otherwise useless fodor's guide to Paris. I usually navigated, but I didn't feel like it so Krystal took over. We wandered through tiny little streets that were so narrow that they basically were just pedestrian walkways, packed with lots of people. At one point a car tried to get through and it looked quite dangerous to the pedestrians and frustrating for the driver. The streets were lined with adorable shops - clothing boutiques, pet supply stores, jewelry stores, home stores - and bakeries, cafes, and take away joints.
Speaking of bakeries, we came across one with a very long and decided that it must be good, so we stopped by it to pick up a dessert pastry. This was probably the single most intimidating experience for me. This place wasn't an English speaking haven, and I had no clue how to pronounce the name of the pastry that I wanted. It was a tiny, narrow shop and the line was long, with 3 people working behind the counter. You shouted your order to the person, then paid once you finally got to the register. Krystal was smart and went with something that was easy to pronounce - Baklava! I would've done the same, except that I hate baklava and the pastry that was layers of cake, fruit, and topping was what had caught my eye. I stood in line trying to desperately to remember the name of the pastry. For a while I had been standing in front of it or near enough that I'd be able to point to it, but the line moved too quickly and by the time it was my turn to order I was far from my pastry. I tried to pronounce the name and apparently failed epically because the girl working the counter did not understand me, even though I said it three times at a progressively louder volume. I felt like a complete idiot. Like a stupid, loud, incompetent, mono-lingual American (which is precisely what I am). After three attempts at saying what I wanted, I gave up and pushed back to where the pastry was sitting in the case and pointed to it. Feeling quite defeated and pathetic, but in possession of a delicious looking pastry, we left the bakery and found the falafel shop quite easily.
This particular shop is the most "famous" one in Paris, mainly because Lenny Kravitz declared it his favorite falfel place in the city. As a result, the line for this shop is, in a word, INSANE. However, since they are used to being busy all the time they are also very efficient (and thankfully speak some English, for us poor stupid Americans). A man came along the line and took each of our orders and our money while we waited. Krystal got the real falafel while I opted for the chicken version. Mine was 6 euro, hers was 5 or so. When we finally got up to the window where they were making and handing over the falafel, Krystal got hers first and I got mine and then we had a problem ... they were HUGE and extremely messy and also very tempting. The plan was to walk back to our apartment before eating them, but they weren't wrapped and put into a bag or anything - they were basically cones of pita with all of the fixings shoved inside - think kinda like a big waffle cone. Luckily for us, the apartment was very close and we made it in a decently short amount of time, although neither of us could wait to start eating so we dove in with our forks while walking and balancing our bakery purchases.
Back at the apartment, we both ended up unloading our food onto plates and diving in that way. It was delicious and wholly satisfying after the long day that we had just had. I'm not sure if I remember what time it was by now, but I do know that it was probably pushing 9 pm. I'm not sure what it was about Paris, but not only was I surprisingly not tired, I was was also surprisingly not hungry and could go for hours with not eating and stayed up far past my usual bedtime. I guess it was because everything was so wonderful that I wanted to see as much as possible and it also just made me feel so... alive?
Cheesy but true, I think.
After our usual night time ritual of picture uploading, checking the weather, picking out clothes, and plotting the next day's activities, it was bed time. Day 4 was going to include an early morning pilgrimage to tour the inside of Notre Dame, followed by the Louvre and the Musee d'Orangerie, followed by shopping in the Marais. After carefully setting both alarm clocks, I don't think that either of us had any trouble falling asleep after our action packed day.