This is my final post in this series. I hope you have enjoyed the journey!

October 8 – Auteuil

If I had once piece of advice to give to horse lovers traveling to Europe, it would be to make time to go to a steeplechase race. Racetracks, in general, really go out of their way to be attractive, so you can see some lovely architecture, landscaping, and flowers. Auteuil seemed to be going out of its way to brand the race day as a family affair, and there were lots of kids activities.

The innate pageantry of horse racing is on display with the starts that seem more like an agreement to start running than a blast off. Jockeys guide their mounts to and from the course in a companionable line, knowing that instead of two minutes, they will have portions of an hour to keep up a relationship with their mount.

I had signed up for the “heart of the racecourse” tour, and I was very pleased with the behind-the-scenes access it offered me. It was all in French, but I was (mostly) able to follow along enough to assure myself that the tour guide wasn’t saying anything I didn’t (basically) know. She discussed horse passports, the weight/handicap horses carry, and how jockeys are weighted in. When asked if the horses were “Thoroughbreds” the guide went into a description of the various stud books and how that affected the answer.

Disappointingly, my camera’s battery ran out after a few races, and the backup battery I had brought didn’t want to cooperate. As such, while I got some great photos, I didn’t get nearly as many as I hoped.

October 9 – Bois de Vincennes

While I was feeling better, my cold/sinus infection was still very much present. I went back to the Bois de Vincennes (it really is a large park) to discover the west side.

While in the park, I kept hearing a chain saw. I didn’t think anything of it, but while I was sketching on a bench, I heard a distinctive clompity-clomp. My head snapped up to discover the BEST thing in the whole world. Meet Baron the park pony!

It is my opinion that all we need to save the world is more park ponies. If I ever run for office, this is the first thing I am implementing. More park ponies.

October 10 – Musee Rodin

Tuesday I set out to see the Rodin Museum. Unlike other museums I have mentioned, this one is not owned by the French state; it is a private museum devoted to Auguste Rodin (bet you didn’t see that coming.) I did not go out to Monet’s house at Giverny or to any other “great artist” mecca. The crowds scare me. And if I had been feeling better, I might have skipped this museum in favor of something more strenuous. But the way I was feeling, this suited me just fine.

As I made my way home, I realized I only had one more day and I was missing two of my must-sees. Sacre Coeur and the Pompidou. I contemplated which would be cut from my list.

October 11 – Sacre Coeur & Pompidou

Sometimes Facebook really comes through. A friend suggested taking an Uber up to the top of Sacre Coeur and then making my way down. So, I did. This allowed me time to visit both Sacre Coeur and Pompidou!

Uber ride skyline on the way to Sacre Coeur

As long as I was splurging, I decided to Uber up to the top to watch the sunrise.

Sacre Coeur had real gargoyles!

With the sun up, I made my way down the park. I enjoyed watching the grounds maintenance team.

Isn’t this a rather perfect abstract?

I took the Metro back to the hotel and had breakfast, dropping off the big camera and a few other items I wouldn’t need for the Pompidou.

The most “modern” of the museums I visited, I found a lot to contemplate in this museum. I took part in an interesting event called “Toutes les copies“. The museum had a robust collection of Henri Matisse, and I fell hard for his painting, “Interieur, bocal de poissons rouges (printempts 1914)“. There were also quite a few Mondrians which offered me a chance to look at these attractive paintings closely. The Pompidou also looks at trends in furniture and other pop art, which is a great reminder than there is really nothing off limit to artists.

Making my way back to the Metro, I passed the stunning Tour Saint-Jacques.

Tour Saint-Jacques

I’m glad I pushed myself to tour both of these landmarks. I think I would have been disappointed to miss either one. As it is now, I know there were things I didn’t see, but I’m content with what I was able to access.

October 12 – Home

Paris is a nice place to visit, but I was more than ready to come home. The total travel time, door to door, is more than eighteen hours, and I really felt it, particularly as my start in the Paris airport commenced with the wrong terminal and about an hour of frantic searching for information about my flight. Once found, the French line system was in full force. Acerbating the issue, the Iceland Air computer system had gone down and EVERY SINGLE PERSON had to check in manually. I made it through the line, only to be told I was standby for the flight to Portland.

In the end, after an anxious period in Reykjavik, I made it home pretty seamlessly. My friends had done a WONERFUL job taking care of the fur kids, and Key’s greeting upon seeing me hit the spot. That night, I tumbled into my own bed, curled up with the dog and cats, and was just happy to be HOME.

Continued from Part 1.

September 30 – Musee D’Orsay

Saturday my big goal was the Musee D’Orsay. While I had expected the love the Louvre, the breadth of the Impressionists at the “MO” was pretty exciting too. But, after the Louvre the day before, my excitement was tempered with the expectation of an indifferent crowd.

The line here was one of the better lines, only three stages instead of five and I didn’t even try to get audio guides. I did my best to work away from the entrance and work my way back, figuring the biggest crowds would be around the entrance, food, and Impressionists. Indeed, the rooms devoted to the Impressionists were a mob scene. Everyone had to get a selfie with a Monet, Renoir, and Van Gogh. Look at a painting? Nope, just the selfie. Trying to step back and really look just felt impossible.

Away from the Impressionists, however, things were better. I enjoyed the robust sculpture collection, particularly “Ours blanc” by Francois Pompon and “Mediterranee dit aussi la pensee” by Aristide Maillot.

Even in the Impressionist wing, “Women at the Spring” (aka “The Danaids”) and “Le champ de ble d’or et de sarrasin” by Paul Serusier made me rethink yellow. Viewing “Danseuses montant un escalier” by Edgar Degas made me realize that all artists push color.

My favorite part, however, was Gallery 9 which was devoted to Orientalism.

Now, before I continue, please note that I understand that the Orientalism movement is fraught with imperialist and racist overtones. But I find the art, still in the Romantic period devoted to naturalism, very inspiring. Gustave Gillaumet’s work “L’Algerie” and “Le Sahara” take my breath away. I don’t remember Frank Brangwyn, but his piece “Un marche sur la plage” made me rethink color entirely. “Elephants d’Afrique” by Charles Emile de Tournemine  made every other elephant painting seem like a pale imitation. Paul Lazerges’s “Dromadaires a l’oued” was a masterwork in temperature.

Upon leaving MO, I decided to take the Batobus back to the hotel. This was an excellent decision due to great scenery and the chance to see Notre Dame relatively close.

October 1 – Braderie de Houilles

Sunday was probably my most unusual day. I decided to go out into the Paris suburbs to a large garage sale called Braderie de Houilles. I’m not sure what attracted me. I had a vague idea of picking up antique art supplies or discovering a fun piece of art. I wasn’t shocked, however, to find a town festival devoted to people trying to get rid of their junk to other people who probably didn’t need it either.

It was a fun trip, though not my most exciting adventure. But it felt good to know that French people’s stuff is just as junky as ours.

Upon returning to Paris, I decided to tour the Cluny. This Museum is famous for the Lady and the Unicorn tapesties, but it has a lot to offer in other beautiful things to look at.

I then walked back to the hotel, which was beautiful all by itself.

I adored the hotel I stayed in, but I will admit that the jet lag was pretty tough. I am not sure I understood that, and these first few days I really pushed myself. But by the end of Sunday, I was developing a sore throat. I hoped it was just allergies, but with the plane travel and all else, I was very afraid (and rightly so) that I was going to get a cold. I’m not a good patient, so the next post may be somewhat short on excitement!

I have returned from Paris, safe and sound (other than a lingering cold (NOT Covid)), full of thoughts and stories and photos and inspiration. Over the last couple of weeks, I have mentally written parts of this blog post over and over. I hope the story that unfolds lives up to my early drafts.

September 27 – Travel to Paris

With Covid and the general chaos of the last few years, it’s been a while since I’ve been in the jumble of the airport. Thousands of stories, but here are a few that I found interesting.

The first leg of the trip (technically, this “first leg” was the fourth (of six) with all the various legs to get to the airport and then hotel) was to Reykjavik (Iceland).

September 28 – Arrival in Paris, Hotel & Surrounds

After 18 hours of travel (door to door), I arrived at the Hotel du Jardin des Plants. I cannot praise this hotel enough; it was comfortable, safe, and EXQUISITELY placed.

View from my hotel room.

Across from the Jardin des Plants, it was just a couple blooks from a Metro stop. Also just blocks from the Sorbonne, the neighborhood was busy, but relatively quiet and residential. After checking in, I decided to go for a quick walk around the neighborhood before a nap.

That evening I went to a restaurant across the street, then strolled through the Jardin des Plants.

September 29 – Louvre

First thing first. On my first full day in Paris, I had booked myself into the Louvre. This was the thing I expected to enjoy the most and return to multiple times during the trip. I based this hope on my 2008 trip to England and my love of the National Gallery. There was one thing I hadn’t counted on: lines. The dysfunction of the French line system cannot be overstated. Over and over, process typically went like this:

1. Line up. You don’t really know what the line is for, or if you are in the correct line, or if the line is even for what you want. But join the line.
2. Go through the (long) line. Someone will ask for your ticket with the time of your booking. Go inside.
3. But you are NOT inside yet. Join another line. This line may (or may not) be to enter the museum.
4. Find out that this line was for the security check. Open your bag, go through metal detector, or whatever else. It would be easier just to make everyone get naked.
5. Join another line. Lose will to live.
6. You find out that this IS the line to enter the museum. But the ticket that you showed in step 2 is not the correct ticket. You now need to step aside and fight the internet to download the ACTUAL ticket.
7. Reenter line and show REAL ticket.
8. You are inside, right? Nope. You are just inside the museum. You need to find another line to get an audio guide.
9. Regardless of whether you have booked and paid for the audio guide, somehow you did not do it right. Leave line to resolve the situation. Reenter audio guide line. Get audio guide.
10. Surely now you can go see art, right? Nope. Enter line to go into the exhibits.

In all seriousness, the process to enter a museum typically took between 15 minutes to an hour. I took a selfie of myself at the Louvre (see below). As you will see, I look hot and sweaty (but happy). I was on step 4. By the time I was inside an exhibit, I had to sit down for thirty minutes to regain composure. My ticket for entry was at 9am and I did not even SEE art until after 10:30.

I cannot claim to see even a fraction of the art in the Louvre. I toured the early artifacts (Sully wing), the covered sculpture garden (Richelieu Wing), Winged Victory, and the Grande Galerie (Denon Wing, level 1). I didn’t stand in line to see the Mona Lisa. I didn’t see the Northern Europe, French, or Spanish paintings. I didn’t see a lot of what I hoped to see.

The one thing I did see enough of was “Winged Victory.” When I was taking French in high school, my teacher said this was her favorite piece, and I fell in love with it, too. I sat for about 20 minutes at her feet, soaking up her beauty. But it was hardly an intimate experience with all the people milling around and taking selfies.

In the end, the Louvre was the experience that most disappointed me about the trip. The lines, the heat, the crowding, the noise. It really felt more like being in a mall on Black Friday rather than a cathedral to art. There were sections that I was able to concentrate on the experience, but in general, I felt like I spent the day trying to regulate my body temperature and exasperation with other humans. Not an unfamiliar reaction, but one I hoped to have less of on vacation.

I’m going to end this post there. Three days of 15. But I have laundry and other chores to do before I can sit down again.