21 Dec Louvre

Posted on December 21, 2008

It’s cold and overcast today, the first official day of winter though the icy season has already set in here. The plan for the day is the Louvre, that site of sites - home to art and antiquity, a work of art itself. It’s close, only a short walk down the block and over the Seine. I’ve thought about it forever.

Despite that passion I slept in this morning, not intentionally but just because the cold saps so much of you and the travel catches up whether you want it to or not. I also missed breakfast, le petit dejuener…the little lunch so a short walk up to one of the local cafes is in order. Eating is such a different experience…the timing, the etiquette. My French is rough at best right now and that probably has everything to do with it. I’m trying and picking it up quickly. I like it but it takes some getting used to.

A quick Croquet Monsieur, a not so quick check (you really, really have to ask for it) and I’m out the door again and on my way. We drove by it in the taxi on the way in…it was funny. I was trying so hard to be the dopey American gawking at everything but in reality you’d have to live in another dimension not to stare at some of it.It’s as if they didn’t have words to describe something either so they just built it into a giant testament of what they meant. I walk briskly, head slightly down to watch where I’m stepping, learning to slip into the flow of people. Everything seems to be moving with a purpose, an organized chaos, a clockwork. It’s the Christmas season absolutely everywhere, on the walls, the streets, hanging from wires across the sky and everyone seems to be going somewhere to do something important. As I pass through the gardens I’m surrounded by art and I haven’t even set foot in the Louvre yet. Marble statues stand guard over small coffee stands, peddlers and the gardens themselves. I stop to take a cool breath and make a visual circle, turning 360 degrees to find a photograph I want to take. As I stand there it hits me (not for the first time and not for the last): I’m in Paris. In front of me the pyramids of the Louvre stand shining in the cloudy white light, behind me and to the right the Musee d’Orsay holds all the Impressionist wonders a man could want to see, on my left an Egyptian obelisk stands tall over Place Vendome, a gift from Egypt and as I turn and look directly behind me the Eiffel Tower stands taller still. It’s hard to photograph art when everything here is art so I photograph everything I can and head toward the glass pyramid entrance. The Louvre.

From the moment I walked in I finally understood the true meaning of the phrase God is in the details. Imagine a place where the only reason not to put something beautiful on a wall was if the wall itself was already a work of art - which almost every wall there is. I think I looked suspicious just standing there staring and smiling at the wonder of it all but I suspect the guards are used to it. Some of them eyed me for a moment then smiled. I think my awe was evident. Once collected and recharged with a Coke, I spent the day walking on marble floor after marble floor, absorbing all I saw, taking pictures of anything I could. They’re surprisingly lenient about that, guarding only some light-sensitive areas when necessary. It was troublesome to put away my camera so I made an obvious show of putting on the lens cap and pointing the camera down. It was noticed and no one made a fuss. I watched a few other tourists make a fuss about it but mostly everyone was respectful. It’s hard not to be when you’re standing on the floor Napoleon walked on, looking at his vanity and dining room. In a great hall, I was backing to take a photo of the hall itself when I felt the rope behind me. I turned and was standing in front of 3 DaVinci paintings. Right there on the wall, not 3 feet in front of me. I almost laughed though I don’t know why. I suppose I just didn’t know how else to react. Of course they were there, the Venus de Milo is over in that side room and the Mona Lisa is across the hall.

And so it went. Room after room, hall after hall, all breathtaking in their own right with fresco ceilings, guilded everything, lush carpets and paintings to spare…all housed in an extraordinary building in the most beautiful of cities. I managed to stay past closing time and had to be guided out because frankly, I was lost and couldn’t find my way to the exit. When I finally made my way out it was dark and clearer than it had been earlier. The lights that play over the facade, light up the grounds and illuminate the reflecting pools were as striking as the inside had been. I walked around taking photos of people and the scenery, taking it all in. Small blocks were set up where you could take a good still shot at night and everywhere people could be seen embracing, in love. I found that a little depressing at first, to be in Paris and alone. But it passed with the help of a little stranger. Standing outside near the gardens taking photos from the edge of the street I saw a little girl standing with her mother staring at the pyramids and all the people. She turned around and saw the Eiffel Tower glowing the surreal blue they’d lit it up in and she squealed with delight, proclaiming it the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. This child, undamaged by the world, without cynacism or bitterness saw the scene for everything it was. Simply beautiful. I smiled and forgot all about everything else. I was after all in the city of lights for Christmas.

I got back late, starving. I went to McDonald’s (McDo). It was packed and trendy, filled with lots of young people with loud French pop playing. I of course had the Royal Cheese. How could I not. It was as much a French experience as anything else had been. I lay awake for a long time that night, musing about all I’d seen and done in a single day. A lifetime’s dreams in between a missed breakfast and a Royal Cheese. It’s hard to beat.