Day Fourteen Paris

We bought our breakfast at the bakery which will remain nameless for it was  forgettable and took it to picnic in the Tuilerie Gardens. The sun was out and everyone just seemed so relieved to have some time soaking up the rays. We noticed the Place de La Concorde, and the Obelisk whose twin is at the Temple of Luxor, Egypt. They claim the French stole it and the French claim it was a gift.



We braved the crowds at the Lovre and spent three hours looking at sculptors, French 18^th Century Painters and the Venus de Milo. Of her, one French author said “she is as broad as the sea” in an appreciative description. If all the images we saw of women looked like her, perhaps we would feel a little more content with our own body images. 

When we arrived in the room which housed the Mona Lisa we had to wait a long time for the camera laden crowd to disperse before we could really examine this painting.  It is lovely to contemplate that smile. While I appreciate that this museum houses some of the most influencial and important art in all the world, it is not my favorite mostly because it is so overwhelming and crowded. Stick to Monmarten or even Musee d'orsay if you want to really enjoy the art.

We arrived at the famous  Angelinas tea room famished and in need of their highly acclaimed hot chocolate africain which is sinfully good. I did have a lemon tart with this delicious drink but was disappointed with the hard crust and the five marshmallows that were passing for mergingue. At 8.50 euros for the tart I was expecting something a little more impressive. The hot chocolate more than made up for its inadequacies. They bring the steaming hot drink in a pitcher with little glasses of whipped cream to add into your cup before you pour.  Bitter, creamy, sweet, roasted – this drink has it all.



Fully satiated and given a new jolt from all that cocoa, we headed over to the Montmarte district where you climb over 100 stairs to get out of the metro station and then another bazillion stairs to get up to the church Sacre Coeur. African missionaries greeted us at the door reminding us to be reverent. How  interesting they are now the main protectors of the Catholic faith in France. The stained glass in this church is beautiful.

As we exited the church we nearly stepped over a gypsy woman begging with her outstretched hand. There are many beggars here in Paris mostly in the tourist area. Some have small dogs or children which feels like manipulation. Some play their accordions or clarinets on the metro which seems like enjoyable and festive entertainment. Their outstretched hand fills me with conflicted emotions. Are they professionals? Are they as desperate as they seem? Judging from their shanty town along the perifique, the answer is yes. “I cannot see another’s need and I not share....” We error on the side of generosity.

 On the street directly below the church an enterprising young Senegalese stripped down to his waist exposing his six pack entertains an appreciative crowd with his gymnastic ability juggling a soccer ball with his feet. His grins broadly as coins drop into his cup and to prove his donors haven’t been cheated, he climbs up the street lamp doing a cartwheel at the top. Coco and I decided to take the Fernicular down the hill where weintended to spend the rest of the day “lacher les vitrines” (window shopping) but could not resist  the hand bags nor the jewellery stores.



The other arc de triomphe in the Tuilerie Gardens

 I am impressed with Bob's good nature and his clear enjoyment of this holiday. Perhaps retirement isn't going to be so difficult after all.

The happy metro travellers