Note: If you haven't read Paris: Days 1 and 2, try to scroll down and read that one first. It would be odd to start right here.
Tuesday.
I didn't sleep well on Monday night. Perhaps it was the wine at Val's, the dry air in the room, or the just the lingering effects of jet lag, but I wasn't the happiest camper on Tuesday morning. Thankfully, Juli slept well so she playfully yanked me out of bed and got me going. We walked up to the Seine where I got a baguette, Juli laughed and took pictures as I ate.
Montmartre and breakfast at the diner in Amelie: I had more bread, plus freshly squeezed orange juice, while Juli had coffee and a pastry. The experience was less than anticipated, mainly due to the un-Amelie looking interior, although I guess that was a predictable outcome. Darn movies, always tricking you.
Sacre Coeur, as always, was beautiful.
On the way there, I had some difficulty explaining directions to this old French guy because I couldn't remember the word for 'straight'. Juli got harassed by some middle aged guy at the artists square in Montmartre. On one hand, it was funny seeing her run away, but on the other hand, it was sad to see that the guy looked about 20 years old than he probably was.
I really wanted to go to my favorite sandwich shop in Paris, Linis. Last time I was there I ordered a pastrami on rye and ate it Parc Monceau on a lovely early September afternoon. Regrettably, this was more of a typical chilly fall day, although the blue sky and slightly warming sun made an appearance now and then. We never found Linis, but the walk was nice enough.
The 8th is one of my favorite arrondissements. I encouraged Juli to shop at the most luxurious of stores. During our walk, she finally gave in and stopped in at Anne Fontaine. Much to my unsurprise, the visit went well, the clothes were amazing. Anne Fontaine is a Brazilian designer who's clothes are mainly in white - very elegant, yet stylish and flowing, in fact, quite graceful. Here's one of my favorite pieces.
The sun still had a few things to illuminate in the early afternoon.... like the stately buildings on the edge of the right bank.
But the clouds soon gathered. This is looking eastward down the Seine from Pont des Arts.
The wind kicked up and it grew chilly. We decided to head to the L'Orangerie to see Monet's "Lillies", but it was closed for a special event. I saw some interesting words on a wall that made me think about perspectives... solitary ones, shifting ones, antiquity and modernity.
Since Juli had never been to the Musee d'Orsay, we opted for that beautiful, although sometimes familiar, collection of art. I was particularly inspired by the works by Pierre Bonnard, some of which reminded me of the recent exhibit at the Philips Collection here in Washington, an exhibit which sparked my attraction to Bonnard.
It grew late in the day. The sense of familiarity overcame me, and while we roamed through Paris, I felt I was standing still, seeing things again. I needed something new, images I hadn't yet absorbed, a new stimulation.
A brisk walk through the 6th into the 14th and Montparnasse brought us to the Fondation Henri-Cartier Bresson. I had first discovered Cartier-Bresson during a trip to Chicago in late summer 2005. He is a classic, famous, yet if increasingly forgotten French photographer from the mid-20th century.
"Il n'y rien en ce monde qui n'ait moment decisive." - Henri Cartier-Bresson
The collection was breathtaking. Named "Sketchbooks", the collected works and photographs were from his earlier years in Mexico, Spain, the US, and post-liberation France. The photo series of the street-based identification, trial, verdict, and punishment of a French informant was stimulating. So often the idea of justice can be expressed quickly, hastily, then forgotten, the phases expressed in momentary succession, an immediacy which is the function of an oppressed people now transformed into a liberated mass. Those who resisted now found themselves, their actions, their desires, re-stratified in the structure of the state, its power, its will.
As I gazed at the photos of the young Mexican girl from 1932, time seemed to slow down. Her youth, capturedin an instant. A moment infinitely transposed upon a fleeting time that was.
After the Fondation, we had a memorable dinner at La Rotunde in the 14th. We both chose the menu... I started with goat cheese, basil, and tomato wrapped in a thin, transparent crust, the main course was sea bass with potatoes, simply amazingly prepared. The flavors flowed like a waterfall upon our unsuspecting tastebuds. The wine was soothing. Some time passed.
We thought about the moments:
of suffering
of liberation
of understanding
... And remembered Apollinaire, how the future will bring a more perfect beauty than ever made from symmetry.
The night finally brought us a sound sleep, although I still woke at 5 am. We left early to catch a flight to Nice. In all, Paris was more than anticipated, more than I remembered, and absolutely amazing... in the pensive, honest way that autumn usually present things.
Tuesday.
I didn't sleep well on Monday night. Perhaps it was the wine at Val's, the dry air in the room, or the just the lingering effects of jet lag, but I wasn't the happiest camper on Tuesday morning. Thankfully, Juli slept well so she playfully yanked me out of bed and got me going. We walked up to the Seine where I got a baguette, Juli laughed and took pictures as I ate.
Montmartre and breakfast at the diner in Amelie: I had more bread, plus freshly squeezed orange juice, while Juli had coffee and a pastry. The experience was less than anticipated, mainly due to the un-Amelie looking interior, although I guess that was a predictable outcome. Darn movies, always tricking you.
Sacre Coeur, as always, was beautiful.
On the way there, I had some difficulty explaining directions to this old French guy because I couldn't remember the word for 'straight'. Juli got harassed by some middle aged guy at the artists square in Montmartre. On one hand, it was funny seeing her run away, but on the other hand, it was sad to see that the guy looked about 20 years old than he probably was.
I really wanted to go to my favorite sandwich shop in Paris, Linis. Last time I was there I ordered a pastrami on rye and ate it Parc Monceau on a lovely early September afternoon. Regrettably, this was more of a typical chilly fall day, although the blue sky and slightly warming sun made an appearance now and then. We never found Linis, but the walk was nice enough.
The 8th is one of my favorite arrondissements. I encouraged Juli to shop at the most luxurious of stores. During our walk, she finally gave in and stopped in at Anne Fontaine. Much to my unsurprise, the visit went well, the clothes were amazing. Anne Fontaine is a Brazilian designer who's clothes are mainly in white - very elegant, yet stylish and flowing, in fact, quite graceful. Here's one of my favorite pieces.
The sun still had a few things to illuminate in the early afternoon.... like the stately buildings on the edge of the right bank.
But the clouds soon gathered. This is looking eastward down the Seine from Pont des Arts.
The wind kicked up and it grew chilly. We decided to head to the L'Orangerie to see Monet's "Lillies", but it was closed for a special event. I saw some interesting words on a wall that made me think about perspectives... solitary ones, shifting ones, antiquity and modernity.
Since Juli had never been to the Musee d'Orsay, we opted for that beautiful, although sometimes familiar, collection of art. I was particularly inspired by the works by Pierre Bonnard, some of which reminded me of the recent exhibit at the Philips Collection here in Washington, an exhibit which sparked my attraction to Bonnard.
It grew late in the day. The sense of familiarity overcame me, and while we roamed through Paris, I felt I was standing still, seeing things again. I needed something new, images I hadn't yet absorbed, a new stimulation.
A brisk walk through the 6th into the 14th and Montparnasse brought us to the Fondation Henri-Cartier Bresson. I had first discovered Cartier-Bresson during a trip to Chicago in late summer 2005. He is a classic, famous, yet if increasingly forgotten French photographer from the mid-20th century.
"Il n'y rien en ce monde qui n'ait moment decisive." - Henri Cartier-Bresson
The collection was breathtaking. Named "Sketchbooks", the collected works and photographs were from his earlier years in Mexico, Spain, the US, and post-liberation France. The photo series of the street-based identification, trial, verdict, and punishment of a French informant was stimulating. So often the idea of justice can be expressed quickly, hastily, then forgotten, the phases expressed in momentary succession, an immediacy which is the function of an oppressed people now transformed into a liberated mass. Those who resisted now found themselves, their actions, their desires, re-stratified in the structure of the state, its power, its will.
As I gazed at the photos of the young Mexican girl from 1932, time seemed to slow down. Her youth, capturedin an instant. A moment infinitely transposed upon a fleeting time that was.
After the Fondation, we had a memorable dinner at La Rotunde in the 14th. We both chose the menu... I started with goat cheese, basil, and tomato wrapped in a thin, transparent crust, the main course was sea bass with potatoes, simply amazingly prepared. The flavors flowed like a waterfall upon our unsuspecting tastebuds. The wine was soothing. Some time passed.
We thought about the moments:
of suffering
of liberation
of understanding
... And remembered Apollinaire, how the future will bring a more perfect beauty than ever made from symmetry.
The night finally brought us a sound sleep, although I still woke at 5 am. We left early to catch a flight to Nice. In all, Paris was more than anticipated, more than I remembered, and absolutely amazing... in the pensive, honest way that autumn usually present things.
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