Wednesday, May 7
By 8:00 that morning, we were dressed and went for a pastry and coffee at a different patisserie called Le Boulangerie du Maine. It was named after the private estate of Henrietta Maria located in the French province of Maine; the U.S. state of Maine was named after the chateau. Again, the weather was overcast and cold at 42º F. We returned to the apartment, as there were still two hours before our scheduled entry at the first site of the day.
At 10:30, we left and took the Metro to the north end of town for an exhibition at the Pompidou Museum. The last time one of us was at the Pompidou was in 2018. Now, the entire building was about to be rebuilt, and this was to be one of its last exhibitions. What we wanted to see was on the sixth level, so we had to go up six successive escalators that are on the outside of the building. Looking through the see-through plexiglass tube surrounding the escalator, the sky was mostly overcast, but the sun came through occasionally, allowing key monuments across the city to be seen.
The exhibit we wanted to see was the artwork of Suzanne Valadon (9/23/1865 – 4/7/1938). Suzanne was actually the painter’s pseudonym, as she was born Marie Clémentine Valadon. She began working first as a painter’s model, posing for Renoir and Toulouse-Lautrec, among others. Then she became a painter, and has been known for her works of male and female nudity, portraits, and self-portraits. She knew Degas, Satie, Picasso, and many other painters of her time. Her works have received acclaim, as she was the first female to paint full-frontal nudes of men. Her works were first shown in 1894. See her work here:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suzanne_Valadon
Afterward, we crossed the large plaza in front of the museum, and had an early lunch at Bistrot Charbon (charcoal bistro). We both had croques (open-faced sandwiches, which means “crunch” as they are filled and fried). Vere had the Croque Crème Truf with cheese, ham, and truffle, and I had the Croque Provençal with tomato and cheese. We took our time, as our next visit did not open until 1:30. Then we just had to walk two blocks away to the Tour Jean-sans-Peur (John the Fearless Tower).
The Tour Jean-sans-Peur is a medieval tower which is the last vestige of the Hôtel des Ducs de Bourgogne (Hotel of the Dukes of Burgundy) built during the Hundred Years’ War, and the only intact example of civil and fortified architecture from the Middle Ages in Paris.
From 1409-1411, it was the tallest civil tower in northern Paris, and was finally declared a historic monument in 1884. We had been there before, but now it was offering an exhibit on Hygiene in the Middle Ages. Every year since 2003, the tower has focused on a different aspect of that period of history. This exhibit on hygiene focused on domestic and personal hygiene, beginning with how they used the water from the Seine River to wash themselves and their clothes, to going to the baths, dealing with waste and latrines, house cleaning, using water with various herbs to wash and clean with, and medicines. Beautifully rendered color pages from an old book were framed with these different aspects. Vere also climbed the tower to see parts of past exhibits that featured costuming of the Middle Ages.
Afterward, we slowly strolled toward the next site. The sun had come out and it had warmed to 66º F. On the way, we stepped into the Church of Saint-Leu-Saint-Gilles de Paris. It is a Roman Catholic parish church, dedicated to Louis IX of France and Saint Giles, the patron saint of people with disabilities. The church touts the possession of relics of the Empress Saint Helena, mother of Constantine.
The church began as a small chapel in the twelfth century, where only a monk occupied the site, but in 1235, a larger church was built on the site. It had multiple renovations and modifications, was closed when it was damaged during the French Revolution, and was then turned into a storehouse for food. In 1780, the Knights of the Order of the Holy Sepulcher established their headquarters in the church, venerating Saint Helena, and her bones are supposedly in the crypt, which is closed but can be seen below through two windows. In 2003, the church held its first Eastern Orthodox liturgy there, and now the Trinitarian Order manages the church. The church was large, rather plain, and it was empty of people.
Then we continued on our way to Madame Canet’s photography shop Galerie Au Bonheur du Jour (Gallery of the Happiness of the Day). Over the years, Vere has purchased many of Madame’s books, which feature photographs she finds from around the world. They are of adult female and male nudes, and she publishes collections in books. We arrived only five minutes before she opened. At 3:00, she opened her door and Vere went to greet her. She was surprised to learn that her website still says that she is open to the public, as now her gallery is only open by special appointment. Since Vere had bought her books, she let us in, but then closed the door behind us. She was expecting a buyer who had flown in from Florida with an appointment. But she agreed to show Vere photos of Oriental subjects, matted in plastic, which she kept in large file drawers. The Madame was very talkative and showed him many photographs, until the man finally arrived and we had to leave.
We got an Uber back to the apartment, and rested before going to dinner. Only a block away was the Félicie Bistrot (Happiness Bistro) on Avenue Du Maine. Vere had the foie gras with caramelized onions and toast, and then the Entrecote Française with béarnaise sauce, gratin dauphinois potatoes, and a salad with a glass of Alsace Riesling. Still full from lunch, I only had dessert, a tarte tatin of apple with caramel sauce and mint tea. Then after a brief stop at the grocer, we returned to the apartment to relax and do some reading and writing.
Thursday, May 8
I woke early to write, and at 8:00 we made our way to the patisserie. From there, we took two successive metros to the Victor Hugo Museum, located in a prestigious neighborhood on the Place des Vosges. This lovely park with a fountain, surrounded by six-story apartment buildings, was in sunshine when we arrived a few minutes before the museum opened. In the park, artists were at their easels, children were floating small boats at the edge of the fountain’s waters, and a tourist group was being led around the square. It was essentially a typical Parisian-park day. Then we were able to enter the museum on the second floor.
The museum is where Victor Hugo lived for sixteen years and did much of his writing. The rooms opened as a museum to celebrate his life in 2013. Victor-Marie Hugo (2/26/1802 – 5/22/1885) was a French Romantic author, poet, essayist, playwright, and politician. His most famous novels are The Hunchback of Notre-Dame (1831) and Les Misérables (1862). He also produced more than 4,000 drawings in his lifetime, and campaigned for social causes such as the abolition of capital punishment and slavery.
Each room of the apartment took on one aspect of his life, by means of the furniture, objects, and works of art that he created himself, owned, or are related to his writing. First was the antechamber with family portraits and one painting of his mistress, Juliette, and the red drawing room that evoked the Romantic Movement in his life. It showed the status to which he had risen as a member of the French Academie and then a Peer of France.
Next was the Chinese Room that represented his period of exile on the island of Guernsey (part of the Channel Islands in the English Channel). The room had Chinese porcelain dishware mounted across one wall against Chinese silk, with statuary, plaques, furniture, and Chinese lamps. It had Madame Hugo’s dressing table and chairs, and an unusual work table with four inkwells. The dining room was filled with Gothic furniture, a few old chests that Victor Hugo liked to refurbish and make into sideboards or benches, and a dining table that had once been a door. There were paintings and sculptures obtained during that time, including a bronze bust that Rodin had made of Hugo and gifted to him.
A small study known as the green room, lined in green silk, followed with drawings, photographs, engravings, manuscripts and prints. The room contained his writing desk, which was one of the first standing desks. Its surface was high, as he was a tall man. There was also a large painting of his grandchildren, George and Jeanne. Last was his bedroom, reproduced with his things as they were when he died, including his bed, decked all in red. The ceiling was painted, on his dresser were his favorite Sevres vase that the government had given him for his 79th birthday, and several portraits of him, done after his death, were also hung in the room.
It is notable that Victor Hugo’s religious beliefs differed through his life. As a child he was raised a Catholic, but later he ceased to practice, and became increasingly anti-Catholic. He studied spiritualism, enjoyed seances, became what he called a rationalist deist, and finally a freethinker.
We thoroughly enjoyed the museum and vowed to read more of his works. One of my favorites is his poem The Satyr. You can read it here: https://www.literarymatters.org/12-3-victor-hugo-the-satyr/ And if you want to read more about Victor Hugo, go here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_Hugo.
Next, we had tickets to the Pavilions de Bercy, a private museum of funfair and fairground objects. To get to it, we chose to walk through the Bercy Park, which is three gardens in one: the Romantic Garden with ponds, birds (we did see a large blue heron), a meadow, and various sculptures; the Parterres garden with the gardening house, vegetables, a vineyard, rose garden, and trimmed bushes with flowers; and the Prairies garden, made up of large lawns with large trees, and foot bridges connecting them.
While we were passing through the Romantic Garden, a long pond bordered on both sides by a shaded walkway, we saw a man photographing his East Indian daughter of maybe eight, beautifully dressed in a traditional Langa Davani dress with a silk scarf that she held out about her and moved with. Vere thought that the father was taking pictures of her to show prospective suitors. I was there for the ducks.
When we entered the Pavilions de Bercy, it was a 90-minute tour led by a comedian, who guided us through this incredible collection of enchanting funfair oddities. The creator, Jean Paul Favand, was a collector of fairground art in the latter 1800s. He located the grounds on which the spectacle rests, as it was once an ancient wine storage facility, and the train tracks by which the wine barrels were delivered are still embedded in the walkway. Many taverns were there that sold the wine, and even today the lane is bordered on both sides with restaurants and bars.
The entire block originally was at the edge of the town of Bercy, and at one point the city was going to tear down the entire area for development, but the townspeople protested and the area was saved and bought by Favand, where he set up his huge collection of items that re-created a magical time from the 19th century. His business was designing over fifty interactive exhibits and creating themed bistros. Only 20% of his collection is on display, but it is enough to engage and entertain the visitor.
We were led through room after room to discover the collection. Visitors can play with small balls that they roll into holes that move horses in a horse race. We attended an opera performance with mechanical figures that sang from balconies and moved while singing, all within a large operatic chamber. We sat four to round seats on a large platform that moved around like a cup and saucer ride. And we discovered the history of the wooden horses used on carousels. There was a time when only the wealthy could afford horses, mostly because they were in the military. Then horses were seen in parades. Only in circuses and fairs, was the common person able to sit on a real horse. So eventually the idea of making a wooden horse that ordinary people could sit on was created, and thus the carousel.
Each room was its own circus theater with light, music, and imaginary figures, and each pavilion showed curiosities and make-believe tableaus. There were unicorns playing the piano, a magical fountain, and the first organ to be played like a player piano (which worked with tumblers falling over a perforated card, much like a computer punch card for early data processing). There was an elephant-shaped hot air balloon, a room decorated with Venetian themes and manikins in costumes with Venetian masks, and a baroque palace, all in a dream-like world of wonder. We thoroughly enjoyed the active and theatrical presenter, who held our interest for nearly two hours.
By then it was 2:00 and we were hungry and thirsty. We walked down the lane full of restaurants and chose The Frog. It had a limited menu but it was less crowded than the others. Vere had a burger and fries, and I had a veggie burger made with peas and other legumes, and a salad.
We got an Uber back to the apartment to rest up for the evening event. At 6:30 we took an Uber to the Grand Palais, where the Taste of Paris event was being held. We had prepaid for the “Discovery” ticket which included 36 euros each for food and drink. A huge crowd was gathered out front of this monumental building. When we entered, they scanned our tickets and then handed each of us a card. On it was the amount we had purchased to obtain small plates of food. Booths were lined up on the main floor in several rows. Each one posted the three food items that they offered. Usually an appetizer, a main, and a dessert. We would hand them our card, they would scan it for what the plate cost, and hand us a plate with their food. There were lots of booths offering food, soda, wine, beer, and a lot of champagne. Long ropes held by stanchions kept the lines organized, so people could watch the chefs at work.
Our first taste was a Portuguese dessert, a small round custard tart called Pasteis de Nata (custard tarts) which melted in the mouth. At another booth Vere had ravioli with duck and truffles, and I had a pretty dish of sliced blue lobster with creamy lobster sauce, and on top were three drops of 100-year-old balsamic. It came with a deep-fried round of pressed shrimp, and three steamed bulblet shallot cups, one filled with a sweet tomato sauce, and the other two held a green veggie puree.
Then we got in line for some Turkish food. Vere had foie gras in a pita topped with half a cooked quail egg, and my pita had a spicy tuna mixture topped with seasoned sour cream. Then I saw caviar, and I had to have some. The small tins were opened and set within a block of ice with a tiny mother of pearl spoon. It was only 15 euros and I treasured every little tiny black pearl. They asked us to return the ice block and spoon. For our last plates, Vere had a bowl of wide-noodle pasta with dry Vermouth and pepper cream sauce, and we both had a millefeuille layered pastry with vanilla and caramel cream, topped with caramel, shards of brittle caramel and a flake of gold leaf. Vere topped his off with a soda cocktail and I had lemon water. By then we still had seven euros left to spend on our cards, but we were full. We later got those euros refunded.
Sitting down finally at a table with our last plates, after having to eat standing up for the previous ones, gave us time to rest, digest, and people-watch. The place had gotten crowded, and over the four days more than 30,000 people would attend. Looking up, we could not help but be impressed with the soaring structure of the building, built in 1897. The grand room is an oblong dome, held up by soaring vermeil green iron, Beaux-Arts style beams that flute up into giant arches. Open metal flourishes around them with sprays like floral waves joined each iron arch, and then the metal bands met in a squared grill at the top. The structure reached almost 150 feet high, where glass exposed the still blue sky outside. Revolving light filled each arch, from pink to peach, rose to lavender. A black wrought-iron balcony surrounded the middle of the building’s internal sides, stretching around like a belt, with gold ornamentation like stylized butterflies that met like a fancy buckle. It is a truly beautiful interior.
Now sated and tired, we took an Uber back to the apartment. Vere worked at his laptop, while I wrote about another fantastic day.
Friday, May 9
We slept in a little, but by 9:30 we were at the corner patisserie having almond croissants, hot chocolate, and café au lait.
We got an Uber from there and headed to the Musee d’Orsay for our 10:30 entry ticket. There still was a line, even with everyone having pre-bought their tickets, but we entered fairly quickly. This is one of our favorite museums, as it is so beautiful inside. We have been several times over the years, enjoying its sculptures, and its fine art from the primitive to the orientalist.
Our visit this time was to see an exhibition called “Art is in the Street,” a collection of nearly 230 works of illustrated poster art that were displayed on the Paris streets between 1850-1900s. We were able to see original works that had somehow survived, with art created by Bonnard, Chéret, Grasset, Mucha, Steinlen, and Toulouse-Lautrec, among others. Their works traced the golden age of the artistic poster and offered a visual analysis of the social and cultural changes that favored Paris’ development, in a truly unique collection never shown before. It was then modern art of the avant-garde.
Many have seen these “Belle Époque” classics selling different alcohols, such as absinthe, Cointreau, and champagne with flamboyant women in fancy dresses. Posters of JOB cigarette rolling papers, the cabarets of the Moulin Rouge and the Chat Noir, opera presentations, especially Sarah Bernhardt’s theatrical performances, and advertising for many festivals such as the Fete des Fleurs (Festival of Flowers), and expositions that Paris held, such as the ones for the Beaux-arts (fine arts), as well as its casinos; and commentaries on books, religion, politics, and just about every other product and production one can think of. The walls of Paris at that time, along with the light posts and billboards, were a veritable flash of advertising everywhere one looked. It was an amazing collection, which took over an hour to see.
Afterward, we took an Uber to the Rodin Museum. Auguste Rodin (1840–1917) was the top sculptor of his day, adding his impressions of modern art to the period, and producing art that combined romanticism and impressionism. The museum is in a beautiful building with wonderful gardens in back.
Most people are familiar with his bronzes The Thinker and The Kiss. But there are hundreds of other works that he created during his lifetime. He’s also known for his headless The Walking Man and The Age of Bronze, showing a man with his right hand over his head. Also, his white marble sculpture of two hands lovingly touching, called The Cathedral, his Eternal Springtime depiction of a pair of lovers, and his Messenger of the Gods with spread legs.
One of his largest works are the immense bronze doors called The Gates of Hell. Most don’t realize it, but The Thinker was used in the center of the structure between life and death, perhaps wondering if he will be descending or rising.
We stayed on the grounds and went to the Rodin Café alongside the lovely gardens, which are part of the property. I had a salad with strawberries, avocado, and carrots, and Vere had wide noodles with cream sauce topped with smoked salmon. Then we walked the gardens as it was in full rose-blooming season. The sun was mostly out, which made the aroma of the roses waft to our noses.
We had planned to possibly go back to the Maillol Museum, Paris’ second most well-known sculptor, next to Rodin; but instead, since the sun was now out, we took an Uber to the far side of Montparnasse Cemetery to walk its grounds. The most well-known people buried there are Simone De Beauvoir, the French writer and existentialist philosopher; Jean-Paul Sartre, the French philosopher, playwright, novelist, and political activist; Charles Baudelaire, the French poet, art critic, and translator of Edgar Allan Poe; Serge Gainsbourg, the French singer, songwriter, pianist, actor, and director; André Citroën, the French industrialist whose name was given to the Citroen car; Susan Sontag, the American writer, filmmaker, philosopher, and political activist; Frederic Bartholdi, who designed the Statue of Liberty, and many others.
We crossed to the far side of the cemetery, briefly stopped at the grocer and boulangerie to purchase lunch items for our journey on the train tomorrow to Bordeaux, and then went back to the apartment.
At 7:15 we walked to our restaurant for the evening, L’Empreite, just around the corner. We were served an amuse-bouche (“mouth amuser” – an appetizer), a tasty palette opener of beet-reddened fish with cream cheese on a bellini round. We ordered two glasses of rosé. I had escargot in creamy tarragon sauce, with a puff pastry roll, and Vere had sweetbreads, lightly grilled, also with a creamy sauce, mashed potatoes, and some girolles mushrooms. For dessert, Vere had crepes with caramel sauce, and I had the tarte tatin with salted caramel gelato.
Then it was a stroll back to the apartment, where we made our sandwiches for the next day, packed our suitcases, and relaxed on our last night in Paris until we return at the end of our trip.
The next installment of this travelog will continue to the Bordeaux and Dordogne regions. Stay tuned!
The official website of Lita-Luise Chappell, writer on sex, magic, food, distant lands, and everyday life with articles, poetry, novels, travelogues, rituals, cookbooks, and short-stories.
