The End -- Impressions Of Paris

One of the two museums I visited in Paris was the Musee Marmottan Monet, a small, private museum set in a former hunting lodge of palatial proportions.  It houses a modest collection of Impressionists, including Claude Monet and Berthe Morisot, plus a glorious display of medieval illuminations.  (More information HERE)

Under the watchful eye of tight-lipped "hosts," the visitor is able to view these works without the crush of other tourists, as at the larger and more popular Musee D'Orsay.  If hopelessly myopic, you can even press your nose to the paintings  -- which I did.  Even though I have a Monet print hung in my home, it wasn't until I was eye-to-canvas with these originals that I realized the scope of his complexity and genius.  I didn't see one brushstroke -- not one -- that was composed of a single, discrete color;  each was glazed with hue upon hue, blended and melded to create the impression he sought to portray.

...Which is exactly my impression of Paris -- singular experiences, views, visions, sounds, smells, motion, weather, people --  multi-sensory strokes applied again and again to create my portrait of the City.

(Caveat:  A flurry of adjectives to follow)

I've been home a couple of weeks and the immediacy of the journey has faded to its own niche in the past, and when I now think of "Paris" I remember...

• The Quai de Tournelle, barely two blocks from my apartment, from which I can feel the flow of the Seine and watch the sweep of light and shadow over Notre Dame, particularly striking at dusk...
• Omnipresent, bold and sassy pigeons outnumbering Parisians by three to one...and churchyard sparrows tame enough to perch on your hand for a crumb...
• Seductive pheromones of bread, croissant and pastry calories wafting from bakeries, at least one on every block...
• The heart-stopping evocation of Notre Dame's great bourdon bell, "Emmanuel" which tolls the hours and services...
• Traffic chaos, the voice of Paris -- that after awhile becomes white noise, absent only in sleep...
• Swaying buses sucking in their sides to squeeze through minuscule chinks in traffic jams (Dramamine should accompany each ticket)...
• Stairs, stairs, stairs, stairs, stairs EVERYWHERE and barely a lift, escaltor or ramp in sight..."Dear Monsieur Bertrand Delanoe, Mayor of Paris:  Your City's stairs make it almost too difficult to enjoy its attractions.  Love, Cyn."...
• Splendid parks, designed and landscaped with precision, exhibiting an abundance of both blooms and Parisians enjoying their City... 
• Insouciant monuments preening and posing for photographers, especially that old courtesan, La Tour Eiffel, who sparkled aplenty before a full moon.
• Musicians, rollerskaters, mimes and clowns of many colors playing for coins...begging cups at every tourist venue for old men on tattered blankets cuddling irresistible puppies...blind grandmas clutching babies in blankets (or -- was that only a big doll?)...broken cripples who break your own heart until you can't resist...and the sly young gypsy girls, aggressive with their silly cons...
• The inimitable chic of Paris...alluring shop windows with shoes, shoes, shoes, captivating, extravagant  baby clothes, designer labels you only read about... each Parisian of every age dressed with such style it makes your eyes water... I don't think they even SELL mediocre clothes in France -- the casual and banal are seen only on (American) tourists...yes, including moi...
• A perfect day spent with Ann in the relaxed and cheerful atmosphere of Montmartre, culminating in a madman's taxi...
• Forty thousand restaurants in Paris and all but two percent with sidewalk service...the variety of whimsical, unique chairs that would make a delightful coffee table book...(you read it here first...)...
• "Bonne Maman" (Grandmother) -- the Sara Lee of France, only far, far better... I'm haunted by her coconut cookies and profiteroles... and, God help me, I just discovered her items on mail order....
• The controlled bedlam of Paris' many train stations fading from my mind once the journeys begin through the charming (there's just no other word for it) French countryside, dappled with red-topped houses, each built to identical proportions and surrounded by gardens heaped with flowers...
• According to Wiki, Paris' title as The City Of Light originated..."first to its fame as a centre of education and ideas during the Age of Enlightenment, and later to its early adoption of street lighting."  To me, the "light" will ever be the brightest white of clouds against a pure blue sky, somehow clearer and more brilliant than any sky I've ever seen, and unique to France (in my opinion)...
• To all those who warned me of these particular dangers in France, be advised.  If there were a way to have this next sentence notarized online, I would do so:  "I swear by sweet French butter that in all the miles I walked, bused, trained and taxied through France, I came across only one fragrant French man, saw no untoward body hair and had to avoid only six (6) piles of dog poop on the sidewalks." 
• And never believe the slander that the French are rude...Except for the "Information" employees of the railway, I encountered only one grumpy person in 30 days.  Everyone else was unfailingly courteous and friendly, anxious to assist however they were able.. and always with great humor.  Vive tous les Francais!...
• The tired adjective "awesome" is the only appropriate one to describe the Gothic Cathedrals I visited...standing in the naves where a thousand years of prayer overlay the massive stone foundations, piers and columns, illuminated above by brilliant stained glass... these exalted monuments of the Age of Faith are alive yet with souls of peasants, priests, bishops, kings and queens, saints and martyrs, knights, maidens, courtiers, artisans, brilliant architects and guild members... the rich and poor who conceived, funded and formed these astonishing churches to God's glory...
• Un-sentimental me, touched to the bone by the devotion shown by French Catholics during Masses at Notre Dame de Paris...and the quality of the Gregorian chant and other music there...
• Finally living a dream only imagined for years, and then greeting each realized detail like an old friend...

Obviously, I could write all day.  It was an experience that will linger in my memory until I finally lie beneath my tombstone:  "Cyn:  She worked, she loved her twins and their families, and she spent a fabulous month in France!"


A very sincere "thank you" to all of you who accompanied me on this once-in-a-lifetime adventure.  Writing about the events of each day helped me to focus them, make them more tangible, more fun...and your sharing the postings made it all even greater fun.  I hope you enjoyed seeing France through my eyes...I so appreciated your company and loved all the emails and comments I received.  

This is the final posting on this blog, but when I finish editing all 2500+ photos Ann and I took, I will send a link to the Shutterfly album, which, I promise, will include only the best pictures.  

The photos below are Ann's, who visited many places on her own, including Monet's home (Giverny), Versailles, the champagne caves in Reims, and the tip-top of the Eiffel.