I love Monet's Water Lilies, but little did I realize as I sat among them that in a few more months, I would have a beautiful baby granddaughter named Lily!
Monet's Water Lilies were incredible!
After breakfast, we were going back to the Tuileries Gardens on the Metro and tour the Orangerie Museum. Jay Campbell had told me how awesome it was, and I had seen some of its paintings when they were at the Kimbell in Fort Worth, so I was really looking forward to this.
The Orangerie was built to house the orange trees from the Tuileries Palace back in 1852. The building survived the burning of the Palace by the Paris Commune and later became a museum. In the early 1920's, Monet painted Les Nymphéas to honor the dead of World War I, and they were to be housed in the Orangerie. After he finished the pictures, Monet was so attached to them that he could not relinquish possession till he died, in 1927.
At that time, the French government received the paintings and remodeled the museum. The Water Lilies went on display the following year. During a major expansion and remodeling in 2000, much of it underground, many of the paintings went on tour, and one of the stops was the Kimbell Museum. At the time, we had gone to see them and were very impressed. I found Chaim Soutine's work particularly memorable.
In a conversation with Jay, I told him we'd done this as he was praising the Orangerie. He was quick to remind me that whatever we saw, it couldn't have been the huge and amazing Monet panels. They would have been way too large to transport. He was right, but at the time, I wasn't really sure what he was talking about. Today took care of that!
Warmly dressed and with breakfast in our tummies, we returned to Rouilly-Diderot and took the same Metro route we'd used yesterday morning to get to the Tuileries Gardens. After a similar long walk, we stopped next to the Seine at the Orangerie. Some Rodin sculptures occupied the yard in front of the museum, so I shot a few pictures of them before we went inside. They recalled the Rodin statues I'd seen yesterday, but they were in an entirely different location.
We approach the Orangerie on a cold, cloudy Friday morning. It's across from the Place de la Concorde. Getting there early was a very good thing. That way, we had Monet's Nymphéas almost to ourselves, and that experience was divine.
View of the Place de la Concorde from the Musée de l'Orangerie on a cold, wet morning
Le Musée de l'Orangerie
Looking outside through the wonderful glass walls of the Orangerie
View of the Luxor Obelisk from the Orangerie
The basement expansion was done during the 1999-2006 remodeling. Those orange trees used to have a good winter home.
Soon, Jenny and Thomas led us through the entrance, and we passed through the glass-walled lobby for a showing of the first of two enormous, oval, interior rooms with a set of Monet's huge panels of water lilies surrounding us. Jenny proceeded to explain details of each panel, and a female docent remained standing by the wall the entire time. Picture-taking was strictly verboten. To the French, these paintings are a national treasure beyond measure. Everything Jay had said was true. These "took the cake," and this was only the first room.
Two oval rooms lighted by perfectly-engineered, skylight ceilings provide one of the most awesome artistic experiences I have ever had! Here our group sat in the middle of the ovals and drank Monet to the dregs.
Our unrushed time in these two rooms was sublime!
Then we exited the first room and moved to the second. Here we repeated the same process with four additional water-lily panels. They showed the lilies in the water through fronds of weeping willow and were so beautiful and meditative we were again transfixed. Both rooms were designed so that one could sit in the middle of the oval and meditate on the paintings which surrounded it. Light came through the roof and seemed to change almost by the minute.
A few people walked into the room while we were there, but it was early, and we had it almost to ourselves. Seeing this was deeply soul-satisfying to me. It was bloody wonderful, and I will never forget it as long as I live!
It' almost profane to include this shot from Midnight in Paris, but I will be making another connection with that movie at the end of this day. During this visit, Gil famously contradicts his pedantic rival's take on a Picasso painting by quoting from a conversation the night before between Picasso and Gertrude Stein--when he had been right there in the room with them!
Then we left to view the basement addition done during the six-year remodeling. Jenny held forth on painting after painting, room after room. It was a virtuoso performance, and looking back, I wish I could name the paintings, but for now, pictures alone will have to do.
We listen as Jenny explains it all to us.
This morning, Jenny outdid herself!
Now we entered the Soutine Room.
I admire Chaim Soutine's work, and this room was filled to overflowing with it. I had seen many of these paintings at the Kimbell in Fort Worth when they were on tour, but it was great to see them again--here at home. Of course, Monet's Water Lilies were far too large to send anywhere, so seeing them was the thrill of the day. I love this place!!
Au revoir au Renoir et au Musée de l'Orangerie! Je l'adore!
Exiting the Orangerie, we followed Thomas and Jenny back to the Concorde Metro Station and journeyed to Monmartre on the subway. They proctored us through stations till we arrived at Abbesses and then went up in the giant elevator car to the famous Art Nouveau entrance the Schullers and I had used last week.
Once more, I exit the Abbesses Metro Station.
Who's that guy in the red jacket?
August 15, 1534, which dedicated them to the service of the Church and resulted, six years later, in the approval and founding by Pope Paul III of the Jesuit Order (The Society of Jesus). The Crypt, established at the end of the 19th century, commemorates these two events.
The Crypt of the Martyrdom of St. Denis is open every Friday from 3:00-6:00 PM.
We ascend to the hilltop on the funicular.
Nothing showed the wisdom of paying more than one visit to famous places as yesterday and today would. The Schullers and I had come here on a wonderful, mild, sunny afternoon when we could enjoy the area in unrushed comfort. Sacré-Coeur had shone in all its sunlit splendor, and there's just no substitute for that! This afternoon would have definite benefits, but seeing Monmartre Hill in the sun would not be one of them.
On our way to the funicular, we headed up a street, and Jenny stopped us by a building with plaques on it and explained that in the third century Saint Denis and companions were beheaded by Romans on this very spot. Later, Ignatius Loyola vowed the form the Jesuit Order here. I found this very interesting and was impressed that Jenny did not just take us up this street toward the top of the hill but knew about it and took the trouble to point it out.
Finding the funicular, we went up to the top of Monmartre where the guides escorted us close to the Place du Tertre, showed us where to meet in an hour, and set us loose to find lunch on our own.
The Robinsons and I simply entered a convenient restaurant and settled in for a pleasant, restful meal. The name of the place escapes me, but I did shoot a few pics.
Lunch in Monmartre (Mme. Robinson regarde le menu.)
The Robinsons and I walked back to the Place du Tertre and waited till the entire group arrived. The weather was lousy compared to last week, but the artists were still busy drawing individual portraits of those who were willing to sit for them and peddling their wares. I shot a few pictures before we headed over to Sacré-Coeur.
A young man poses for his portrait.
Since the church did not show well on this cloudy afternoon, I took very few pictures of it--just a few shots of the statue of St. Michael atop the rear of the building and the bell tower, etc., but Charlie took more pics of Sacré-Coeur and even managed to sneak a few shots of the interior.
I return to the Basilica of the Sacred Heart.
Bell tower of Sacré-Coeur
St. Michael slays the dragon.
For just a moment, the sun came through the clouds.
Charlie managed a few shots of the interior while the guards weren't looking.
The mosaics on the ceiling of Sacré-Coeur are among the world's largest and beautiful beyond
description!
Once more, the view as one exits Sacré-Coeur was spectacular!
Now, we walked back to the Place du Tertre and began a slow, afternoon progress down the hill of Monmartre. Soon we approached a famous hangout of artists and writers, The Agile Rabbit (Le Lapin Agile). Jenny actually sang here in her youth when she moved to Paris to be with her French boyfriend, who was also a singer.
Then we started down the Rue Lépic. It's a famous street featured in many films about Paris. It goes most of the way down the hill. Interesting spots abounded. We soon came to the enormous windmill sign for the Moulin de la Galette. This marked the entrance to the walkway leading uphill to the gathering spot immortalized by Renoir in one of his most famous paintings, Le Moulin de la Galette, which I'd seen yesterday at the Musée d'Orsay. Quaint side streets went out in every direction and revealed wonderful, intimate little neighborhoods where the living looked fascinating.
The weather was cool, but the Place du Tertre was still lively.
Ce sont des petites douceurs, je crois.
The Agile Rabbit is a legendary watering hole for artists and writers.
As we came to a sunlit intersection, Jenny pointed out a building with a large window topped with a skylight that would furnish an artist plenty of light. She said this was the longtime studio of Pablo Picasso. Once he became established, this was where he worked. He would not have had a very long walk to the Lapin Agile, but it was uphill from here.
Picasso's studio
The Moulin de la Galette Restaurant was just across the street.
Besides the restaurant by the name, the park-like area of the painting scene was through this gate and at the top of this hill. We did not make the climb.
The scene Renoir was painting took place right above us and beyond the trees.
Now we continued down the hill and admired with great curiosity the charming areas that each side street revealed.
Living on the slant
The name of this wine bar recalls one of Edith Piaf's most memorable songs.
Now we came to a building where Vincent Van Gogh lived for a time with his brother Theo. Again, it was very interesting to be on the street where the artist had come and gone so many times. Theo was the brother who helped him and sometimes acted as an art dealer
54 Rue Lépic
Flowers mark the window of Van Gogh's apartment.
In this building, Vincent Van Gogh lived at the apartment of his brother Theo from 1886 to 1888.
We came upon the Café des Deux Moulins which seemed incredibly small for a well-known place.
Reflections from the Café des Deux Moulins
Chimney pots in Monmartre
We would soon arrive at the bottom of the hill and the Moulin Rouge. I was glad enough to see the famous red windmill that served as a sign, and Jenny was sure to point it out. It was a legendary site of Belle-Epoque entertainment and the birthplace of the Can-Can. Yet none of us showed very much interest, and it was not listed on the tour. Not one of us expressed a desire to see the show. Dinner was scheduled for us near the hotel later this evening, and everyone wanted to rest tonight for early trips to the airport in the morning.
Personally, I would not mind going to the Moulin Rouge. I have seen and enjoyed the Nicole Kidman movie, and I realize the former importance of the place. Nevertheless, my priorities lay elsewhere. Modern Parisians have little interest in the Moulin Rouge, and all the performers are from countries other than France. The venue caters almost exclusively to foreign tourists.
When we reached the Red Mill, a blonde performer was talking to tourists on the street, and Charlie and I took a few pictures, but we were exhausted from a long, active day and wanted nothing more than to return to the hotel and freshen up for dinner.
Moulin Rouge means Red Mill in English.
One of the dancers came out to talk to the tourists.
Laron and I take a pass on this. You can tell we're pushing 70.
Soon, we bade Jenny Burdon a fond farewell, and Thomas Randall led us to a convenient Metro Station, and we were off to the Patio St. Antoine. Our route was different this time, but it offered many fascinating views of crowded Paris intersections, bridges, and canals as we worked our way back around to the Nation Station, the huge, multi-modal hub a few blocks down from the hotel.
When we arrived and made our way up to street level, I could readily see why Thomas had avoided this interchange before now. It was not only gigantic, it was topped with a large, complicated traffic circle that radiated out in all directions. We had to cross several streets to get over to Faubourg St. Antoine, but once we were there, the hotel was only a few blocks away.
We returned by way of one of the largest train and metro stations.
We conclude our last ride on the Metro at the Nation Station, only a few blocks away from our hotel.
Finally, we were back, so Thomas told us when to meet for dinner and sent us to our rooms to relax and get ready for the evening. We were only too glad to go. I still had some last-minute packing to do, and I was more than ready to rest and clean up.
Later, we met Thomas Randall in the hall at the appointed time, and we were soon headed up Faubourg St. Antoine, and this time farther than usual. Two blocks up, and we turned right and headed over to the parallel street behind the hotel. There we found a restaurant where we had not eaten called L'Aumonière de Bacchus (Bacchus's [Grocery] Bag). It was on the facing corner, so we walked across the street and went in.
L'Aumonière de Bacchus
Soon, the Robinsons and I took a table deep inside the restaurant at the back corner. We faced a window looking out onto the street, and another couple from the tour sat opposite us. The wine was good, the food was tasty, and the conversation suited us, but one distraction arrested my attention.
Directly across the street and up a flight was a large window with curtain open showing a lighted studio with a high ceiling. On the wall facing us was the mounted head of a RHINOCEROS! I could not help thinking of that scene from Midnight in Paris when Salvador Dali keeps referring to his own obsession with "un rhinocéros." It was almost uncanny how things relating to that film had punctuated most of my time in Paris--even now on the last evening.
With dinner over, we returned to the hotel, and Laron, Jana, and I discussed the time to bring bags to the hall and to be ready for our van early in the morning. We would not have time to eat breakfast, so we would have to provide for ourselves the best we could.
Back in the room, I decided to put most stained-glass souvenirs into a carry-on. That way, I would reduce the weight of my checked bag and hopefully avoid a surcharge. In hindsight, I would have gladly paid it.
The month had been incredible, but it was not over yet. The return trip would be challenging, and I prayed it would go well. Large, international airports are not my thing, and I hoped all would go smoothly tomorrow morning.
Fin
Hors d'Oeuvres:
1. What we saw and experienced today was wonderful, but this afternoon in Monmartre drove home the same lesson that I had already received from my second trek through the Left Bank. If one has the time and the opportunity to visit a place more than once, one should do it. The afternoon the Schullers and I came to Monmartre on our own last week was priceless. We were not rushed, the weather was superb, and we could stay at the Place du Tertre and Sacré-Coeur just as long as we pleased. Even if one is alone, one can follow a Rick Steves walking-tour at a leisurely pace and see a great many things.
However, being there with an expert guide such as Jenny Burdon was good, too. We may have been rushed and packed a great deal into the afternoon, yet she knew so many things to point out to us that we would surely have missed without her. I am very grateful for the chance to go through Monmartre and the Left Bank twice--once on our own and later with a guide. One time would not have been enough.
2. What I just said applies to museums as well. Now that I have been to the Louvre three times, I realize I still haven't covered it all by a long shot. Visiting the Musée d'Orsay only once--yesterday morning--had not been adequate. Most Americans can hardly imagine the size, richness, and complexity of European museums. Once is not enough, and good art demands time, concentration, and contemplation.
3. In discussing Parisian museums that are not overwhelming and which tourists can say grace over in a morning or an afternoon, the Orangerie and the Marmottan were the only ones like that I visited , and I think the Robinsons felt the same way about the Picasso Museum. All the others required a great deal of time, and one visit was hardly adequate.
