One one things

Saturday began gloomily, but at least the rain had stayed away. I wanted to set out as early as possible to make the most of my free time but there really wasn’t much point leaving till around 9 bc it didn’t look pleasant at all outside. The plan really was quite simple, take the underground to the Champs-Élysées, walk up to L’Arc de Triomphe and then head east towards Le Louvre and take things from there, on foot as much as possible. After breakfast I headed out, it was chilly and I had my sweatshirt from uni to keep me warm. I got off at the FDR station on line 9 which I was told would place me at the centre of the Champs-Élysées. 15 mins later I was out of the station and a few steps to my left and I was stepping on to the Champs-Élysées and far away on my left was L’Arc de Triomphe. After the Eiffel Tower the Arc has been my most memorable image of France, and seeing it for the first time gave a sense of beginning and a surge of excitement ran through my body as I made towards it. The Champs-Élysées itself is a story, it’s the widest road in Paris and it just seemed to have acres of space. Unfortunately the sun hadn’t as yet made an appearance and it was quite early so the place was relatively empty. The street cafes had not as yet opened and the major stores were just preparing for a weekend of shoppers. What struck me about the Champs-Élysées is the buildings that line it. They all seem to be beautifully and classically designed, each with a great deal of attention paid to the architecture. The height of the buildings flanking the road nicely complement the size of the road, and the perfectly symmetrical trees decorating the pavements make the entire scene very neat. One of the “must do” things that I read in the lonely planet in the airport was to enjoy a crêpe at a cafe on the Champs-Élysées, watching the world go by. But as I said, Paris was just waking up, yawning lazily, eyes half open. I’d also imagine the Champs-Élysées to be a spectacle in the evening or on a busy summer day. Next time.

It took ages to reach L’Arc de Triomphe, I’m not sure if it was because I walked so slowly, stopping to admire the buildings and to look at the arc itself, or because the distance really was that great. As I got closer I kept crossing the road so that I can stop in the middle and have a look at the monument. What is really striking is its size. You can never really capture its scale through images bc you always see it relative to the Champs-Élysées and thereby automatically it looks smaller than it really is. Standing under it you get a better idea of its magnitude. Despite it being quite early there were plenty of tourists, lots of Americans and Japanese. I didn’t want to go to the top bc there were big queues and there was system of going in groups and it seemed a bit complex. The eternal flame looks uninspiring at first glance, the flame itself being quite small for something that has been alight since 1920 (except in 1998 when a sketchy Mexican football fan pissed on it - trust football fans). I probably hurt my neck after my 20 mins or so at the Arc, staring up at the sculptures and the several hundred names of soldiers etched into the walls. I felt pleased with myself after asking a policeman how to get to the Louvre, in French. The directions were quite simple - walk straight down the Champs-Élysées, towards Le Place de la Concorde with its Egyptian Obelisk de Luxor. The 2km walk down the Champs-Élysées went by like a breeze, continuing to admire the buildings and looking back at the Arc from time to time.

When I got to Le place de la Concorde I wasn’t too sure where I was. I didn’t know what the Obelisk nor its significance as a monument over 3000 years of age that stood outside the Luxor temple. I got too close to the ancient fountains flanking the obelisk and got wet. I knew that there was a garden complex that leads to Le Louvre so as soon as I saw an expanse of green I made my way towards it. And so I found myself in Le Jardin des Tuileries. More than one person had told me that there are better ways to spend a couple of hours in Paris than visiting the Louvre. Over the past few days I had turned over several plans in my head - Le Musée d’Orsay, Versailles, extra time in Montmartre and the Latin Quarter - but eventually I felt that I would probably regret it if I didn’t step in even for a little bit, even if it meant looking at a painting with 500 others staring over your shoulder. The building itself was a work of art, and I spent a few minutes walking around looking at the external views of the different wings. The pyramid at the entrance is somewhat out of place in that in contrasts with the older, more classical style of the surroundings. I had earmarked the Italian and Spanish art galleries in the Denon wing and the Egyptian artifacts gallery in the Sully wing. Unsurprisingly it was crowded, and it also seemed like most ppl were heading to Denon as well, again unsurprisingly as it was home to the Mona Lisa. There were also some rather uninspiring posters of the da Vinci code and references to the Mona Lisa, along with several arrows directing the eager tourist to the most famous resident of the museum - I began to worry that I had made the wrong call. I’m really not one who knows much about art, I find paintings aesthetically pleasing, I love paintings that depict real emotion and I am enthralled by the work of certain artists like Dali. But show me a painting and ask me to name the artist, period etc. and I’d really be making educated guesses. That said, as soon as I stepped into the Italian gallery I knew I had struck gold.

The massive Roman paintings, almost alive in their detail, quite simply transport you to that era - men playing musical instruments, exuberant banquets, elaborate clothes and the main characters taking centre stage, each telling their own story. I walked from one to the other in an almost trance-like state, trying to capture as much of it as possible, trying to imagine what the artist is trying to tell me from all those years ago. Most of the paintings were of a religious nature, commissioned by churches of the time. It was a quite magnificent gallery - and one I would return to at the drop of a hat. After spending a long time ambling through the main corridor of the wing I made the pilgrimage to see the Mona Lisa. As soon as I walked into the room housing the famous painting I saw a huge crowd of ppl crowding around a relatively small painting, alone on the wall of the far end. I was in no rush so I looked around and was far more struck by the massive painting adorning the opposite wall. I was admiring this painting when a French guy tapped my shoulder and nodded towards the Mona Lisa and said, “La Prima Donna” I looked at it, smiled and nodded and went back to the other painting, when he tapped me again and repeated what he said, and as I motioned to turn back again he said something that implied it was either bad luck or disrespectful to turn your back directly to the Mona Lisa. Somewhat confused I moved away. The Mona Lisa itself is unimpressive; small and insignificant in its vast background, not helped by the throng of ppl queueing up to take pictures. I was surprised they allowed photography in almost all the galleries, and after taking a handful of pictures of some of the paintings I liked I felt uncomfortable and stopped. The main reason I went to the Spanish gallery was in the hope of seeing some original Dalis, but unfortunately I didn’t see any. I didn’t much care for the few pictures in the French gallery I passed through, and since more than an hour and half had passed I decided to move to the Sully wing.

By this time I was thoroughly satisfied - the Italian section did everything for me, so I wasn’t expecting to spend too much time in the Egyptian gallery, but since I had made a note of it I felt I should have a look. And pretty soon I was again caught in a spell and taken back several centuries to a different place, a different era. It was a fascinating gallery - from the large, detailed sculptures of the sphinx and pharaohs, an amazing mummy, wonderfully preserved hieroglyphics and seemingly insignificant yet insightful artifacts retrieved from tombs - providing an amazing capsule of their culture and beliefs. For instance, I always knew that cats had a significant role in Egyptian culture, but there were numerous statues and depictions of monkeys, in particular baboon like creatures. This is odd given there are no baboons in modern Egypt, but some quick reading suggests that baboons may have had a religious role in that this was one form that was frequently taken by gods (possibly helped by the resemblance to humans) and monkeys may have been kept in temples and even as pets in some wealthier households. It was all very fascinating. But I was fast running out of time, it was almost 2, I was getting hungry and I had so many things left to do. It was time to leave Le Louvre, but there was so much left to do, it was the kind of place I could happily spend several days going through. unfortunately all this would have to wait for another time. On the way out I passed through the Persian and Babylonian sections. It was sad to think of the state these once great societies find themselves in now, specially Iraq. As I was leaving Le Louvre I was thrilled that I had followed my gut instinct and decided to spend a couple of hours there. I was well and truly immersed in Paris, I smiled to myself with that tingling feeling of knowing you’re falling in love with something.