Paris, new things and old friends

Sunday morning began overcast and windy and pretty much stayed that way for the rest of the day. The weather fit in nicely with my waking up to aches, a slight fever and a sore throat. Well, OK the aches were largely in my legs as a consequence of walking several hundred miles around Paris on Saturday. So Sunday was a very leisurely morning for us -- questions surfaced at one point about whether or not to go out at all. (photo: jeune femme en toilette de bal, 1879, by Berthe Morisot -- you can see her image by Manet below.)

But the huge food market at nearby Blvd. Richard-Lenoir called to me -- so off I went in search of fresh fruits and vegetables.

I walked down Avenue Parmentier toward Place Leon Blum, and turned right onto rue Sedaine, just behind the Mairie for the 11th arrondissement. A 10-minute stroll and I was smack in the middle of one of Paris' largest outdoor food markets.

This is the one market that people should see when they come to Paris, for you can quickly get a sense of not just how the Parisians shop but what they eat: the meats, and especially fish, and of course all the fresh produce being sold in the open air, as it has for centuries, makes one wonder why bother with Franprix or Monoprix or any of the other dozen or so supermarket chains. (OK, I'll tell you why we bother: for laundry detergent, coffee, wine, no scratch that you can get that at the scores of wine shops in every arrondissement, but you get the point.)

My objectives were simple: I picked up some roasted chicken and sausages for later that evening, and of course some apples, potatoes (from Bretegane) and cauliflower ("choux fleur blanc"). (photo above: Woman bitten by snake, by Auguste Clesinger.)

After I returned home Susie and I packed up our kit bag and headed off in search of another Clotilde treasure: Pain de Sucre. We walked to the Metro at St. Ambroise, where we bought our week-long Carte L'Orange metro pass, and boarded the no. 9 to Republique where we transferred to the no. 11 heading south toward the Seine. A few short stops later we got off at Rambuteau, just behind the Pompidou Centre -- one of the city's most imaginative structures housing some of the country's most incredibly useless and boring artwork (how about a car sitting in the middle of a room or maybe you like to stare at static on TV?)

But we weren't in search of quality art that morning (that would come later in the day). No. We were on the hunt for quality pastry. (photo above: Madame F., by Edouard Dubufe.)

We quickly found our objective, a small patisserie and boulangerie at no. 14 rue Rambuteau. Nathalie Robert and Didier Mathray, the owners of Pain de Sucre, produce wonderful pastries -- we bought several in fact along with a selection of macaroons. The line was short -- but hey the space is very small -- and we were soon strolling over to the Pompidou ("the Pomper") where we found a place to sit and eat our treats and watch people watching people.

Quite a morning so far.

After we finished "breakfast" we strolled down toward the Seine, passed the newly uncovered Tour St. Jacques and then turned right at the river and walked along the upper embankment to the Louvre where we crossed the river on ther small footbridge, bringing us face-to-face with the Beaux Arts institute. We turned right and strolled along the left bank toward the Musee d'Orsay. (photo above: main hall of the d'Orsay, this would have also been the main room of the train station; photo below: Susie and the impressionists.)

We had both been here a couple of times before, several times in fact for me, but it is probably one of our two or three favorite museums in all of Paris (the others are the Rodin and the Carnavalet). This being the first Sunday of the month all the state-run museums were free and this was at the top of our list. Marie had told us about an architectural museum located in one wing of the Trocadero and we hoped to get there today as well.

The line was long but moved at a brisk pace (it was even longer when we left). Once inside we dropped our pack at the left baggage counter and then strolled. We both wanted to see the daguerreotype exhibition -- in its final day as it turned out -- and were well-rewarded with seeing images of Paris taken in the 1840s. (photo below: Sacre Coeur from d'Orsay.)

Amazing! Among these rare views of old, pre-Haussmann Paris, there was a view of a street covered with barricades during the revolution of 1848! And the image of Notre Dame's front during the funeral of the Duc d'Orleans was equally fascinating: you could see all the buildings that were crowded right up on either side -- all gone now of course leaving just a huge open space for Charlemagne's enormous statue to keep the thousands of tourists in their place. (And he's not even buried in Paris but in Aachen.) If you look closely at the ground in front of Notre Dame, however, you can read the names of the original streets.

We then walked past one of Susie's favorite pieces, the huge model of the Opera Garnier and its neighborhood as it was originally built, all of which is under glass and under foot. Imaginative and informative at the same time -- a combination of traits I think the French have in spades.

From the first floor (OK "ground" floor) we took the escalators up to the top level to pay a visit to Renoir, Morisot and Manet (we would also stop in Manet's room back on the ground floor as well). We can never get enough Renoir it seems, and his colors and style just seem to touch us both somehow. Susie also paid her respects to Degas' little dancer. Van Gogh and Monet continues to leave us cold so we scooted out of the room past Toulouse-Latrec's huge piece showing Jane Avril and friend watching "La Gouloue" (Louise Weber) dance. Hints of interesting times in the Moulins of Montmartre. (photo of Berthe Morisot painted by her friend and brother-in-law, Edouard Manet.)

We walked passed the cafe and souvenir stand, down the several flights of stairs and then a stroll through the spaces containing Ingres' realism and Daumier's caricatures and on toward Manet's room.

After paying our respects to Olympia and the others we headed back the way we came, toward the entrance which was now an exit, with a quick browse through the bookstore. (photo below: the grand clock overlooking the main hall of d'Orsay.)

From the Orsay we hopped on the RER -- the station is located right beneath the museum in fact -- and several minutes later got off at Austerlitz, where we transferred to the no. 5 heading to the Bastille. From there we walked down de la Roquette toward Place Leon Blum and home for the rest of the day.

After all, I was sick.

Steve