Day 11 - 9/25/2012
It is gray, cold, rainy. I sit under a heater in a cafe outside Denfert station. The warmth is inviting. I want to linger but have had a double espresso and can't sit still any more. Today's agenda is to see Sainte-Chapelle, Roman artifacts, and gift shopping.
There are two lines at Sainte-Chapelle, one for individuals and the other for groups. I watch a young American woman lead her group through and wonder what her job is like. A huge line forms. We snake slowly through the security screen and eventually are allowed in.
I buy my ticket and enter the lower chapel. The decoration is splendid: golds, blues, reds, vaults, stained glass, every surface decorated. I stand, jaw agape. When I ascend to the upper chapel, I cannot speak. I am inside a jewel. I try to take pictures but it is not possible to capture the enormous majesty of the place. I can only stay for a few minutes before being overwhelmed. It is the greatest handiwork of humankind I have ever seen.
Stunned, I walk across the Seine, sit abreast the Fontaine Saint-Michel at a cafe, and try and absorb the impossible experience. Time passes.
When I come to my senses, I enter Gibert Jeune, bookseller, to look for fishing books. There are many, new and in French. Not what I was hoping to see. I want old books in English. Since the other English bookstores are not in this neighborhood I press on with my gift shopping. While in Peter Roger's chocolate store, I was given a sample made of Guinness beer. It was tasty.
My goal of seeing the Roman baths at the Musée National du Moyen Âge is put on hold. They are closed today. Instead I shall tour the Musée Carnavalet in the Marais.
Today is my day of exceptional experiences! The Carnavalet is the best curated museum I have ever been in. The first gallery contains two full rooms of signs and other artifacts saved from old Paris. I take picture upon picture, none can compare with the real thing. Next a set of rooms decorated in period furniture and decoration. Following are a series of rooms that describe important Parisian events, like the Siege of 1871, or the Revolution, using only paintings and other artifacts. It is fantastic storytelling. On the lower floors, prehistoric and Roman artifacts are displayed.
Some of the highlights: dead rats sold for food during the Siege of 1871, the windmills on the hill where Sacre-Coeur now stands, the first viewing of microfilm, which was carried via homing pigeons.
I buy a book on Paris history in the gift shop as I leave and stop at Le Marché for dinner. The restaurant is on a square surrounded by cafes. Young people come and go continuously. They lounge on the park benches and in the other cafes. I have rabbit with potatoes and rosemary and a glass of white wine.
Across the street, a man is freshening the black paint on his restaurant's sign. He spies a splotch of spilled paint on the sidewalk, cleans it with a paper towel, then throws the towel in the street.
The service here is very casual. I am served quickly but when it comes time to leave, the owner ignores me. They are conditioned to people lingering for hours.
From dinner, home. I am physically tired but mentally alert. I start reading the history of Paris, slowly drift into the past, and eventually into sleep.
There are two lines at Sainte-Chapelle, one for individuals and the other for groups. I watch a young American woman lead her group through and wonder what her job is like. A huge line forms. We snake slowly through the security screen and eventually are allowed in.
I buy my ticket and enter the lower chapel. The decoration is splendid: golds, blues, reds, vaults, stained glass, every surface decorated. I stand, jaw agape. When I ascend to the upper chapel, I cannot speak. I am inside a jewel. I try to take pictures but it is not possible to capture the enormous majesty of the place. I can only stay for a few minutes before being overwhelmed. It is the greatest handiwork of humankind I have ever seen.
Stunned, I walk across the Seine, sit abreast the Fontaine Saint-Michel at a cafe, and try and absorb the impossible experience. Time passes.
When I come to my senses, I enter Gibert Jeune, bookseller, to look for fishing books. There are many, new and in French. Not what I was hoping to see. I want old books in English. Since the other English bookstores are not in this neighborhood I press on with my gift shopping. While in Peter Roger's chocolate store, I was given a sample made of Guinness beer. It was tasty.
My goal of seeing the Roman baths at the Musée National du Moyen Âge is put on hold. They are closed today. Instead I shall tour the Musée Carnavalet in the Marais.
Today is my day of exceptional experiences! The Carnavalet is the best curated museum I have ever been in. The first gallery contains two full rooms of signs and other artifacts saved from old Paris. I take picture upon picture, none can compare with the real thing. Next a set of rooms decorated in period furniture and decoration. Following are a series of rooms that describe important Parisian events, like the Siege of 1871, or the Revolution, using only paintings and other artifacts. It is fantastic storytelling. On the lower floors, prehistoric and Roman artifacts are displayed.
Some of the highlights: dead rats sold for food during the Siege of 1871, the windmills on the hill where Sacre-Coeur now stands, the first viewing of microfilm, which was carried via homing pigeons.
I buy a book on Paris history in the gift shop as I leave and stop at Le Marché for dinner. The restaurant is on a square surrounded by cafes. Young people come and go continuously. They lounge on the park benches and in the other cafes. I have rabbit with potatoes and rosemary and a glass of white wine.
Across the street, a man is freshening the black paint on his restaurant's sign. He spies a splotch of spilled paint on the sidewalk, cleans it with a paper towel, then throws the towel in the street.
The service here is very casual. I am served quickly but when it comes time to leave, the owner ignores me. They are conditioned to people lingering for hours.
From dinner, home. I am physically tired but mentally alert. I start reading the history of Paris, slowly drift into the past, and eventually into sleep.
Column in Sainte-Chapelle
Stained Glass in Sainte-Chapelle
The Lower Chapel in Sainte-Chapelle
A Tea Urn
A Vet Sign
A Period Room
The Gardens Outside
La Boutique Le Bijoutier Georges Fouquet - A complete store in Art Nouveau - Stunning!
Scenes of Guillotine Executions Carved in Ivory
The Restaurant's Van
