We did start with the Musée d’Orsay. It is a truly amazing place. It is a former railroad station, although it did not stay that for long. It is directly across the river from the Louvre. Trains were smelly and dirty at the turn of the 19th century, and the Parisians didn’t want that in the center of the city. Add to that the fact that trains were longer than the station and caused huge traffic snarls, and it was quickly shut. It has housed everything from city records to a circus. But it is an incredible museum.
The natural light that comes through the glass ceiling is perfect for the artwork. Hayley and Abby quickly disappeared into the depths of the fifth floor, the Impressionist gallery. The rest of us followed, but without the edge of pure excitement that those two had.
We conducted ourselves through, so we weren’t always together. Those that were with me had to endure my tour guide speeches about different works. A third of my undergrad major was art history, so I know a lot about this stuff.
We saw Manet’s Déjeuner sur l’herbe, considered the first Impressionist painting. Beth considered it creepy, since it features a picnic with two clothed men and one nude woman. We saw seven of Monet’s Rouen Cathedral paintings. (Randy: “Why’d he paint the same thing over and over?”)
I particularly enjoyed Monet’s painting of a street scene of a patriotic celebration. You see the flags flying and the people crowded in the street. But when you look closely, the people are just a smear of black paint and a dab of white. The flags are swirls of blue, white and red. But it all comes together three paces back.
I really like Cézanne. His paintings really are ‘impressions.’ Beth and Kaitlin didn’t care for him so much. “His perspectives are weird. His work looks like it was done fast and half way,” Beth said. Indeed, Cézanne worked very quickly, often completing a work in as little as an hour.
To see all of these works that I studied so diligently in person really affected me. It made me understand why I studied them in such detail. And I really understood why they had such an impact on the French in particular and the world in general. There is really no way to describe the feeling it gives you. Suffice it to say that you are a different person in some way after you have experienced these works.
We had two and a half hours there, so there was time to also see the post-impressionists. These include Van Gogh, Gaughin and Rodin. We got to see the most famous self-portrait of all time. And even though we did not see the famous starry night painting, we saw a couple of works that pictured the stars in that way. And only Van Gogh could turn a red chair into an image so striking as to never be forgotten.
I love Rodin’s full-length marble portrayal of Balzac. Balzac famously loved to stay up late drinking and cavorting with women. Rodin started his work early in the morning. The only way Balzac agreed to be portrayed was if he could wear his dressing gown and drink a lot of coffee. He is in the gown, but we see no coffee. And it is truly an impression. We see the heavy brow and mustache, the prominent nose and the pointy chin, but they are all just hinted at. Our eyes put in the rest.
After the Orsay, we ventured to the Marais district for a walking tour while our California compatriots (now dubbed the ‘Santa Barbarians’) headed to Les Halles – to shop. Stella assured us we could last through our tour and then have lunch. We did, but barely.
We started in Place de la Bastille (named after some prison that used to be there), and proceeded along a path followed by Louis XIV to his coronation and ended in Places des Voges which features a queen’s residence at one end and a king’s at the other and a unique style of architecture. It was also Victor Hugo’s last home.
The Marais is also the Jewish quarter of Paris. The delis are all kosher and you see little boys wearing yamakis and men wearing long black cassocks and sporting long curls in front. Stella finished our tour in front of a former Jewish boys’ school. In 1941, 36 boys were taken from the school by the Nazis and sent to a concentration camp. The inscription N’oubliez pas (don’t forget) is written above the doors.
Abby and Hayley struck out on their own. Stella had to meet her director briefly and the rest of us looked for a place to eat. After a few block walk, Carrie said, “I see chairs. Let’s go.” It was a great choice. Chris has his croque monsieur as did Randy. The rest of us had quiches of various sorts (mine was salmon) with salad and a wonderful vegetable soup. Beth even had real French cheesecake. Afterwards, Carrie and Reid headed for a Monoprix and I headed for a bookstore. Stella had this amazing guidebook that has maps of Paris by arrondissment and lists sites, Métro stops, places to eat, things to do and most anything else one might want. I found one. I bought it.
We met back at Place des Voges, in front of the statue of Louis XIII. We decided to go to the Sainte Chapelle. It is a chapel that the king had built while the Notre Dame was under construction. It is now contained within the walls of the Palais de Justice. It features some of the most impressive stained glass windows ever created. Unfortunately, when we arrived, we found that there was a civil servant strike and it was closed. That seemed OK when you realized that in former times, Parisians made their grievances know by erecting burning barricades in the streets.
Stella lead us to Ile Ste. Louis for an ice cream to make up for the strike. It seemed like the perfect choice. After a relaxing ice cream in the warm Parisian sun, we made our way to the area around the Centre Pompidou, where we were to have dinner. On the way, Carrie took a spill outside the Notre Dame. With her sprained wrist and her outfit covered in Paris dust, she decided to go to the hotel to change. She promised to meet us at the restaurant.
Chris and I wanted to visit the collections, but decided 13€ was a bit much, since we only had about 40 minutes. Reid bought bread crumbs and terrorized the pigeons until a bum chased him and chastised him for teasing his babies. I wasn’t there, but some say Reid ran like a little girl.
Dinner was at a Moroccan restaurant. The food was very different. We learned the joys of hot and mild sausage over couscous covered in vegetable sauce and veggies. Carrie did join us and permitted herself to be plied with Moroccan wine. We enjoyed strange desserts. Stella stood and recited a poem she wrote for us all – quite a challenge since our two groups never actually melded.
At that point we parted. The Santa Barbarians ostensibly to the hotel because of their early flight, and our group to a special ending. We went to a Monoprix by the restaurant and got drinks and snacks. We headed for the park that is at the tip of Ile de la Cité. The custom there is to sit on the sidewalks and have a picnic/party at night. We had our own going-away party. I did photos of the group and of my students and we toasted Paris – and Stella. We love Stella.
As this part of the trip comes to a close, I reflect on the experiences of all of us and the effects it has had on us. I really appreciate the parents who came along. Carrie, the experienced traveler, lead when we needed her and soaked up Paris and French culture the whole time. Randy and Beth were open to any experience and never complained – no matter how many times Randy was told he couldn’t sit somewhere. Thank you so much for being such great traveling companions.
Kaitlin was really a trooper. She stuck with the program and tried to open her mind, if not her palette, to all things French. So what if she couldn’t make it a week without a hamburger. Chris realized that he remembered much more of his French than he thought he would. His calm, analytical demeanor was a very positive vibe throughout the trip. Reid did some real growing-up during this trip. I’m not sure he learned a lot of tolerance, but he learned that there a lot of people who view the world very differently than we do. The tolerance will come with age.
And I am so very proud of Paige. I think she learned a lot of self-confidence. She is really starting to become more of her own person. She lets her personality come out and she shares it with us. And she learned that people really do communicate in another completely different way, and she is learning to do it. She’ll be great to have along next year.
Hayley, Abby and I are about to start another chapter with our foray to Nice. But at this point, I know that in another life, Abby was British and Hayley was a post-impressionist painter. More will be known soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment