Saturday, July 10, 2010

Seeing Paris, one step at a time.

I miscalculated this morning. I assumed that Antonia or Darien would shop for our breakfast, but six flights of stairs evidently was too high a barrier.

We went out. It was too late for croissants, so we were given baguettes with butter and jam to have with our cafe au lait. Metroing over to Notre Dame via the Bastille transfer point was easy now that we had already done it successfully. We looked around the plaza a bit, but the line to get in was too long, so we walked to La Sainte Chapelle. The line was also long there, but Antonia and Darien insisted. I was afraid they would run out of time before they had to be at rehearsal, but it worked out.

All the major sites have intensive security. I sent my bag through, but forgot about my belt, passport, coins, camera -- I kept lighting up the wand. Antonia and Darien had to hurry off, but I stayed to enjoy the light from the stained glass a bit longer. It was a pity the panels and elevated altar at the front were covered for renovations.

I walked across the Seine to the Musee de Cluny, which has a marvelous collection of medieval art. There were samples of various types of gardens in the front (medicinal, pleasure, practical), but the blooming season was largely past. Part of the structure were Roman ruins. The most famous holdings in the collection are the lady and the unicorn series of six tapestries, to which an entire room is devoted. There were also headless bodies, and bodiless heads, from statues at Notre Dame. The revolutionaries mistook the statues for the kings of France, when they were in actuality intended to represent the kings of Israel. Oops.

I hooked back up with my women and we walked over to La Rue des Barres to a restaurant that a friend of Antonia's had recommended, L'Ebouillante. We sat outside under an umbrella that was not doing a good enough job at protecting us from the light rain that had begun to fall, so we moved inside and took a table upstairs next to a window. Even with the rain, it remained stuffy with no breeze. We shared a bottle of wine to prepare for the climb up the cathedral's tower. I had a crepe that was made from semolina flour; the other two shared a dish. We were all quite satisfied.

Sainte Gervais church was right next door. It was quite a contrast to the mad carousel that is Notre Dame. A contemplative service was in progress. Instinctively, everyone who entered the church knew to remain quiet and still. The order that uses Sainte Gervais has a mission of living in the city, to support art, to help the poor, to exist in quiet. In many ways, it was the most impressive church we visited. One wall was clear glass panes; the only decoration was the ivy climbing along it outside.

We stood in line at Notre Dame, waiting our turn to ascend the towers. Across the way, an elderly woman of about 85, with long flowing white hair and a red negligee, stepped out on her balcony. Before I could take a picture, she went back inside. Her's were the only pink sheer drapes in the building.

There are 400 steps to the top of Notre Dame. Two-thirds of the way up we meet the chimera and gargoyles, and had a chance to look out over the city in each direction. We entered the belfry for one of the largest bells. Originally it took eight men to ring. The interior is all wood, built to absorb the shock of ringing so the stone would not crack. I cajoled Antonia inside, but the height and ability to see far below disconcerted her and she had to go outside to settle her nerves. Oddly, standing on the exposed walkways did not bother her. We made the final ascent and then came down in one long spiral.

We walked back towards our apartment, passing the Pompidou and going into the Marais. It is late enough we decided to eat before going up and stop at a corner cafe near our place. They remembered us from the previous night when we stopped to ask directions. They know very little English, so they induced a man sitting at the bar drinking coffee to come translate. He is very good humored about it, and very helpful. Later, we ask the waiter if we can buy our translator a drink, but he has no clue what we are asking, so before we could stop him he retrieves the young man again to help. He politely declines because we have already made him late to meet his girlfriend. Or maybe he just wants to get away from us.

We watch World Cup and enjoy a quite decent meal. When it is time for dessert, the waiter enlists the assistance of the couple sitting next to us. Darien and Antonia try the ile flottante -- a floating island of whipped egg whites, cream, and who knows what else.

When we are almost done, a car stops next to us in the street. A wallet is tossed down from a window above us out onto the street. The man gets out of his car, retrieves the wallet, and drives off. No words are spoken, and we construct our own story about the man.

There are 91 steps up to our apartment.

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