Day 10 - 9/24/2012
I wake up from a weird dream. The strangeness of it sets me on edge. That and the nasty weather that moved in overnight. It is windy and raining hard. It is a perfect day for the Louvre. I get soaked from the short walk to the museum but I arrived early and don't have to wait long.
From below, the pyramid in the courtyard of the Louvre makes sense. It opens into an airy lobby, the many glass panes illuminating the space, and leads you downward into the interior chambers. It works because you no longer see the incongruous juxtaposition against the Louvre.
I buy my ticket, stow my wet backpack, walk the galleries, and watch as people bypass whole rooms, centuries of art, to take pictures of the Mona Lisa. That is why they are here. I see the same thing for the other Da Vinci works, as well as Michelangelo's.
I soon tire of the obsessive christianity of European art. Moving from Europe and its long, bloody obsession with glorifying people to the spirit-inhabited world of African art is like moving to another dimension. No wonder Picasso and others were transformed by this new way of seeing.
After a ham and cheese sandwich, a welcome break, I tour the Islamic art exhibit, then the textiles and mosaics, ending with the ancient sculptures. After 3 hours I am completely exhausted and can't process anything I am seeing.
I nap at the apartment, then go to Île Saint-Louis to shop for gifts. I find 3 beautiful scarves at Bamyam. The chocolate store on my list is closed. As I haven't yet seen the Place des Vosges, which is just to the north, I amble my way there. On a nondescript street, I find the Union Nationale de l'Apiculture Française. Yay, bees!
I crisscross Le Marais. There are many fine boutiques and art galleries. Like in New York, much of the art I can see is crap.
In one of the corners of the Place des Vosges, I see people enter an open doorway. I follow them and enter the large, tranquil courtyard of the Hôtel de Sully.
I linger over dinner at Le Royal Turenne: a meal of French onion soup and snails.
The last thing I find before going home is a dead-end alley called Impasse de la Poissonnerie. It contains a fountain called La Fontaine de Jarente, or the Fish Fountain, used by long-gone fishmongers in the market
From below, the pyramid in the courtyard of the Louvre makes sense. It opens into an airy lobby, the many glass panes illuminating the space, and leads you downward into the interior chambers. It works because you no longer see the incongruous juxtaposition against the Louvre.
I buy my ticket, stow my wet backpack, walk the galleries, and watch as people bypass whole rooms, centuries of art, to take pictures of the Mona Lisa. That is why they are here. I see the same thing for the other Da Vinci works, as well as Michelangelo's.
I soon tire of the obsessive christianity of European art. Moving from Europe and its long, bloody obsession with glorifying people to the spirit-inhabited world of African art is like moving to another dimension. No wonder Picasso and others were transformed by this new way of seeing.
After a ham and cheese sandwich, a welcome break, I tour the Islamic art exhibit, then the textiles and mosaics, ending with the ancient sculptures. After 3 hours I am completely exhausted and can't process anything I am seeing.
I nap at the apartment, then go to Île Saint-Louis to shop for gifts. I find 3 beautiful scarves at Bamyam. The chocolate store on my list is closed. As I haven't yet seen the Place des Vosges, which is just to the north, I amble my way there. On a nondescript street, I find the Union Nationale de l'Apiculture Française. Yay, bees!
I crisscross Le Marais. There are many fine boutiques and art galleries. Like in New York, much of the art I can see is crap.
In one of the corners of the Place des Vosges, I see people enter an open doorway. I follow them and enter the large, tranquil courtyard of the Hôtel de Sully.
I linger over dinner at Le Royal Turenne: a meal of French onion soup and snails.
The last thing I find before going home is a dead-end alley called Impasse de la Poissonnerie. It contains a fountain called La Fontaine de Jarente, or the Fish Fountain, used by long-gone fishmongers in the market
Beekeepers in Paris
Hôtel de Sully
