Paris Trip - Sat 12 Dec 2003
Dec. 19th, 2003 07:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
memelainaWe had hotel breakfast in the cellar. If the tiny furniture we saw at the Carnavalet was really for people to use, then they would have fit fine in the cellar. We were too big. But we had orange juice, and tea, and croissants and butter and jam anyway. Then we went out to the Louvre. We walked to Sully Morland and took the Metro to Musee de Louvre-Palais Royale and went up and in via the Pyramide so that Kent could see it. Not a line - 4 or 5 people waiting to have bags x-rayed. We checked our coats at the Denon coatcheck which was a good thing because it was very, very warm. We went into the Etruscan exhibits but most of them were closed for renovation. We saw some gold jewelry and some pots and a couple of sarcophagi. I was looking for a nice traditional Etruscan funerary sculpture with reclining figures smiling jovially and eating grapes. I've decided this is what I want on my tombstone, but Kent says I'll have to get it done myself as it's too much work for him.
There were bits of Greek statues and quite a few Roman statues in much better repair - mostly emperors and their families and hangers on. Odd isn't it how many statues are missing body parts? A head here, a couple of arms there. And the more they are missing, the more valuable they seem. We spent some time sitting on the benches in the middle of the rooms and looking UP at the painted and gilded ceilings. The museum had sensibly put their Roman statues in a hall with Roman emperors all across the ceiling.
When we tired of Roman bits we went down two levels in the Sully and found the medieval foundations of the Louvre palace. These are much more extensively exposed than when I was there ten years ago and are very impressive. By then it was time for lunch. We went to the cafeteria on the first floor of the Richelieu wing and had poulet roti and pommes frites. The server dropped kent's plate and then we had to wait while they did more frites. There were lots of people but it wasn't near full and finding a seat wasn't difficult.
After lunch we went in search of Leonardo. They've moved things since my last visit. They now have la Gioconda in her own niche way down at the end of a long, long gallery and out of chronological synch with all the paintings around her. We followed the Mona Lisa signs thinking to find the other DaVinci's and found ourselves mired instead in 17th and 18th century Spanish passions and cruxifictions and other sundry horrors. They have a whole close little room packed full of horrific views of hell. The Renaissance bits that we wanted to see were all the way back down the length of the museum at the far end of the gallery. They have that gallery divided by stanchions in the middle to control the people flow in busy times so that everyone gets to walk down one side - see the mona lisa (and hell and the other bits) and walk back the other side. We did eventually get to see what we wanted and viewed Leonardo's madonna of the rocks and the portrait of a young patrician girl - somehow I kept thinking she had a ferret with her, but she didn't. Also saw a portrait of Castiglione, and Kent was very impressed by that.
By this time our sore feet had exceeded our artistic zeal and we headed back out. We did a little shopping before leaving. I bought a French copy of Madeline for my newest great-niece, Madeline Rose, and Kent bought me a lovely pair of 16th century reproduction gold earrings with deep red cloisonne bits. We reclaimed our coats and went back to the hotel.
Napped for a couple of hours and then headed out to look for dinner. It was raining. We had brought only one umbrella. No where we stopped was what Kent wanted. We went one direction, then another, then back. We ended up finally at Soprano in a little street of the Rue St. Antoine near the Place de Vogues. There seem to be more Italian restaurants than French in the Marais. We were soaking and bickering as the nice server took our wet coats and seated us in a tiny tight space at a tiny tight table. But it was warm and dry and I had a very nice glass of Chianti. We ordered a brushetta, which turned out to be a square of cheese pizza, and then I had an asparagus risotto and Kent had fried calamari which looked perfectly ordinary, big battered rings, but Kent said was fresh and perfectly cooked and possibly the best he'd ever had. For dessert he had pistachio gelato and I wanted the profiteroles, but they were "fini" so I let them talk me into the house specialty - gelato al fourno. This ended up being a cappochino cup full of warm, melted gelato. I don't think that was the intention, but that's how it ended up. The rain had mostly stopped so we trudged back in the damp and mist and puddles and hung up our wet things and went to sleep in our very dark, very quiet room.
There were bits of Greek statues and quite a few Roman statues in much better repair - mostly emperors and their families and hangers on. Odd isn't it how many statues are missing body parts? A head here, a couple of arms there. And the more they are missing, the more valuable they seem. We spent some time sitting on the benches in the middle of the rooms and looking UP at the painted and gilded ceilings. The museum had sensibly put their Roman statues in a hall with Roman emperors all across the ceiling.
When we tired of Roman bits we went down two levels in the Sully and found the medieval foundations of the Louvre palace. These are much more extensively exposed than when I was there ten years ago and are very impressive. By then it was time for lunch. We went to the cafeteria on the first floor of the Richelieu wing and had poulet roti and pommes frites. The server dropped kent's plate and then we had to wait while they did more frites. There were lots of people but it wasn't near full and finding a seat wasn't difficult.
After lunch we went in search of Leonardo. They've moved things since my last visit. They now have la Gioconda in her own niche way down at the end of a long, long gallery and out of chronological synch with all the paintings around her. We followed the Mona Lisa signs thinking to find the other DaVinci's and found ourselves mired instead in 17th and 18th century Spanish passions and cruxifictions and other sundry horrors. They have a whole close little room packed full of horrific views of hell. The Renaissance bits that we wanted to see were all the way back down the length of the museum at the far end of the gallery. They have that gallery divided by stanchions in the middle to control the people flow in busy times so that everyone gets to walk down one side - see the mona lisa (and hell and the other bits) and walk back the other side. We did eventually get to see what we wanted and viewed Leonardo's madonna of the rocks and the portrait of a young patrician girl - somehow I kept thinking she had a ferret with her, but she didn't. Also saw a portrait of Castiglione, and Kent was very impressed by that.
By this time our sore feet had exceeded our artistic zeal and we headed back out. We did a little shopping before leaving. I bought a French copy of Madeline for my newest great-niece, Madeline Rose, and Kent bought me a lovely pair of 16th century reproduction gold earrings with deep red cloisonne bits. We reclaimed our coats and went back to the hotel.
Napped for a couple of hours and then headed out to look for dinner. It was raining. We had brought only one umbrella. No where we stopped was what Kent wanted. We went one direction, then another, then back. We ended up finally at Soprano in a little street of the Rue St. Antoine near the Place de Vogues. There seem to be more Italian restaurants than French in the Marais. We were soaking and bickering as the nice server took our wet coats and seated us in a tiny tight space at a tiny tight table. But it was warm and dry and I had a very nice glass of Chianti. We ordered a brushetta, which turned out to be a square of cheese pizza, and then I had an asparagus risotto and Kent had fried calamari which looked perfectly ordinary, big battered rings, but Kent said was fresh and perfectly cooked and possibly the best he'd ever had. For dessert he had pistachio gelato and I wanted the profiteroles, but they were "fini" so I let them talk me into the house specialty - gelato al fourno. This ended up being a cappochino cup full of warm, melted gelato. I don't think that was the intention, but that's how it ended up. The rain had mostly stopped so we trudged back in the damp and mist and puddles and hung up our wet things and went to sleep in our very dark, very quiet room.
