jour no. 21 - Zazie dans le Métro

This was on television the other night. It was such an odd movie - I won't even get into it - but I of course was quite thrilled to be sitting in Paris, watching Zazie and the others clown around every major landmark in the city. I did end up with some serious car envy, however: all those great 1950s Citroëns and Fiats and Peugeots... Even the epic traffic jam looked glamorous to me.

And Catherine Demongeot was pretty irresistible in the title role, causing chaos wherever she went, driving all the adults to distraction, and throwing temper tantrums at not being able to fulfill her dream during her weekend in Paris: all she wants to do is ride the Métro, and the Métro is shut down due to a strike.

Classic.

jour no. 21 - Châtelet

On the strong recommendation of several friends, I made a point of going to a performance at Châtelet. My choice was the Orchestre symphonique de Navarre, with a program that included Stravinsky's Firebird - I'm a huge fan of Stravinsky's ballet music.

Also, it was a perfect choice, location-wise, as Ballets Russes performed for the first time at Châtelet, in 1909.



Châtelet is definitely less wacky than Garnier - it's smaller, more restrained, more serious. But it's still gorgeous, and feels very Parisian.

Firebird was of course my fave, but it was also a treat to hear two pieces by Manuel de Falla (1876-1946), including yet another Diaghilev connection, "El Sombrero de tres picos," or "Le Tricorne." Both Falla pieces included lots of traditional Spanish bits; you could hear some flamenco, a call to the bulls, lots of folk music.

A highlight, for me, was watching the two free agents on the percussion team race from instrument to instrument, clearly having the time of their lives: to the snare drums! grab the castanets! where's the triangle? slide over to the cymbals! then over to the xylophone! back to the snares! bust out the tambourine!

I've put Percussionist on the list of possible future careers.

jour no. 21 - possible souvenir

I just feel, at this point in my life, that this t-shirt sums it up, in the way only a t-shirt can.

jour no. 21 - courtyard at the Louvre

Loved spotting these guys amidst the crowds of tourists and pigeons.

jour no. 21 - The Louvre, part deux: the bad, the ugly

Anyone opposed to snobbery and misanthropy, please skip this post.

OK, now the rest of you (which I gather is everyone, but especially Jonathan), let me tell you about the Dark Side of the Louvre: the crowds and crowds of lemming-like tourists running from one Must-See to another.

Despite being from just about every country on the planet, these people all seemed exactly alike (to me). It was like, "Tracksuits of the World, Unite!"

If you wish to join their club, here's how it works: Find a Major Work of Art (Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, statue of Ramses II), stand with your back to it, have your picture taken, check to make sure you got the photo, and rush off to the next item on the list. Rinse, repeat.



The frenzy around the Venus de Milo reminded me of a red carpet scene, and standing behind her, you get this view of a wall of cameras and cameraphones and camcorders.

It was horrid. Luckily, as with the Met, the place is big enough that most of your experience can be relatively calm. But do not count on having a serene moment of contemplation of this lovely statue.

jour no. 21 - The Louvre.

Well, I did the Louvre, and have the blister to prove it (I'll spare you a photo of that).


I wanted to post images of the works that I most enjoyed, amidst the sheer overwhelming mass of ART in this place, but the Louvre website is a disaster, and despite mad searching, I couldn't find the Caravaggio I loved, or the Titian, or the Parmigiano, or any of the dozens and dozens of "Interieure d'Eglise" in the Flemish section (I love those interiors - you can see how ecstatic those painters were to have discovered perspective).

So just so you know: I started in Sully, checked out the Egyptian section, which was impressive, if only for the amount of lugging Napoleon's guys must have done to get all this stuff up to Paris. And I loved the intimidating statues of the gods.



Then I went up to the Flemish / Dutch / German / etc. section, which involved walking through lots of 17th- and 18th-century French paintings. Let's just say it was a relief to get to the Richelieu wing and see trillions of austere, relatively muted Dutch paintings. I don't think trillions is an exaggeration: some rooms (like the one I've got here) had the paintings hung one on top of another, and there are 40 rooms in the section. One of the two Vermeers was in Tokyo, but the other, The Astrologer, was a highlight for me. And the aforementioned church interiors.



The Rubens room was a kick. Marie de Médicis, widow of Henri IV, regent for her son, Louis XIII, commissioned Rubens to paint a series of works depicting the big events in her life. They don't make vanity like this any more; there she is, being educated by the muses, and there's Jupiter and Juno, smiling as Henri IV swoons at his first sight of Marie's portrait, and then there's Marie and Henri's wedding, where they've become Jupiter and Juno, etc. Basically, the gods and angels are rejoicing left and right, as Marie quashes Envy, Ignorance, and Want.



Then it was off to the Italian paintings, over in the Denon wing. The grand hall of Italian paintings starts in the 15th century and works its way down to the 18th, and, well, when you first enter, you think, "No. Way." You can't even see the end of it all.

It was worth battling the crowd to get a glimpse of Mona Lisa, smiling serenely (and maybe a bit ironically) behind her bullet-proof casing. But it's even better to stand along in front of one of the other Leonardos, like the beautiful "La Vierge aux rochers." Or the Raphaels. Or the Titians. Or the Boticellis and Fra Angelicos and Caravaggios...

I love looking at the early Italian religious paintings, each one about half paint, half gold leaf. I've always liked them, but more since 9/11; one of the first things I did in the week after that day was meet Nicole at the Met so we could look at really beautiful things that had been around a really long time. It helped a bit.

I went up to a terrace cafe after that, which looked like a great option (outside on a lovely day, not a bad menu) and turned out to be the first dreadful food experience of my trip (pre-packaged sandwich brought to my table in its packaging, awful bread that reminded me of Wonder, the world's most aggressive pigeons who couldn't take their beady eyes off of all the bread I couldn't eat, and an Italian guy smoking stinky brown cigarettes). I fled.

and speaking of shopping...

...picked these babies up yesterday. Walked out of Poîlane, spied them in the window of a shop across the street, went in, tried them on, et voilà!

Total time invested: maybe four minutes.