waits for a train at the D'Orsay.
waits for the next one.
along the Seine.
likes Notre Dame because it makes her look more petite.
now you can guess what time deJean and deCol stumbled
into the daylight to begin their day at the Musee D'Orsay.
They decided to walk over to the museum, taking in the
feel of the city on the last day, rather than wizzing
through it in a cab. Plus it looked pretty close to
the hotel, according to the map.
The map was wrong. It was
a very long walk, or they were both getting more lazy
with time. They had already both agreed, the way the
two of them ate and drank, they'd both die of gout if
they stayed there much longer.
The Musee D'Orsay certainly
housed many beautiful works, if you could see
them. deCol and deJean were a little puzzled by
some of the displays. Almost every Lautrec, Degas,
and Gauguin were in tiny rooms off of the main
hall, and were trapped behind glass walls. The
lighting in those tiny rooms was probably only
a little better than it had been when it was some
railroad clerk's office. The lighting was from
the ceiling, and it pointed onto the glass.
This allowed the viewer
a lovely image of his or her own reflection, but left
viewing the actual painting almost impossible. Which
is why they spotted so many greasy nose, chin and forehead
prints all over the glass. People were obviously trying
to get past the glare to see the painting behind it.
deCol found that if you got down on your haunches, you
could see them ok. Or if deJean stood behind her and
blocked out the ceiling light.
While suffering under these
circumstances, deCol and deJean noticed that the same
group of people seemed to be following their same path
through the little, winding rooms. Including one odd
couple, a man and a woman. The woman insisted on reading
aloud every possible word printed in the guide book.
And she was loud, as though she were onstage and needed
to project to the person in the last row. The man she
was with just stood there, head slightly tilted down,
slowly nodding. When she was finished bellowing the
information, she'd shut up long enough for him to go
have a look. Then onto the next piece, and she was back
at it again. deJean suggested that they skip a few rooms
and escape from them.
ENNUI! deCol had had all
she could take of beauty. It was all too much. Too much
culture, too much talent, too many gorgeous and amazing
things. Her senses were dulled and she could take no
more. "France has too much damn art" she was
often heard saying.
deJean was just saying
"Pas de flash!" to anyone who looked American
and was holding a camera. "Pas de flash!"
he would admonish them while shaking his head in disgust.
This amused deCol very much.
They escaped from the Musee
D'Orsay and headed back towards the Ile St. Louis for
some shopping. It was a beautiful day, and they took
their time wandering through the streets, exploring
and taking pictures.
deCol bought her
weight in supplies from L'Occitane, a gorgeous
little shop positively filled to the brim with
thousands of essentials. She was bummed out later,
when she returned to the states, and realized
that that very shop sells one of the most remarkable
hair treatments. Oh well, another reason to rush
deJean had to buy jelly
and jam. He knew of a place that sold a kind he especially
liked, and that added to the incredible weight of all
of their shopping bags. Naturally, they had to stop
in little cafes during this trip to take a rest every
now and again. They tried to remember to keep track
of the time, since they wanted to get back to the hotel
to freshen up and go to their favorite restaurant before
their trip ended.
Once back at the hotel,
they started to sort out all of their purchases, and
started packing a few things. deCol had purchased another
suitcase while there, so she shoved all her dirty laundry
into that. Both deCol and deJean had been collecting
little trinkets for some of this kids back home. Candies
and souvenirs, money and free shampoos from the hotel,
all that kind of silly stuff. deCol remembers her grandmother
coming back from trips with stuff like that for her
and her sisters.
They dressed for dinner,
having already asked the folks down at the front
desk to make their dinner reservations for them,
and off they went. deColette is very sad that
this will be her last, fabulous meal. deJean promises
her three lemon tarts in the morning, just to
try to cheer her up.
Everyone at La Rotisserie
d'en Face is friendly when you have a reservation. deCol
and deJean chatted with the waiters and waitresses and
the whole restaurant has a festive atmosphere. What
the heck, it's Friday night, after all. One of the waitresses
from the other night remembered us, and came over to
make sure that we were both going to order the chocolate
cake. We assured her that we were.
The meal was superb, and
they both tried to make it last as long as possible,
but eventually they had to leave. They went back to
the hotel and decided that it was entirely too early
to go to bed. So they went back out to les Deux Maggots
for a nightcap. The place was really jumping. They found
a great table outside, directly across the street from
le Saint Germain des Pres church, and ended up closing
the place with a nice American couple who ended up sitting
next to them.
Neither of them felt like
ending the night, but les Deux Maggots was closing and
it was now 2am and they had a 7am wake up call. And
there is still all that packing to do, so reluctantly,
our pair walks back to the hotel. Very, very slowly.