Au revoir, Paris

It's been almost three weeks, so I guess it's time to say goodbye to Paris - until next time. Here's a picture of my souvenirs, all bought at the Monoprix.

 

The tuna, lentils and mustard were recommended in something I read somewhere. The Speculoos ditto. It's a Belgian "delicacy," a bit too sweet for me but might be good over ice cream. The soap was an inexpensive one we bought for the apartment and liked, and the toothpaste is an unknown but being flavored with ginger sounded good. The cheese knife is for all the French cheese I will be eating from now on.

Now that it's over, I can only wonder why I hadn't traveled to Paris more recently than 1967. There are so many places on the list, but I think most of them will accommodate a brief layover in Paris...

What we ate

pickled mackerel
galette with cheese and a soft-boiled egg
herring
duck confit
salade aux noix
apple compote with whipped cream

lamb shanks with zucchini and tomato

 

crepes Grand Marnier at Cafe le Nemours near the Louvre

 

hot chocolate from Angelina's

 

cheese, not just on the food walk, but with our wine before dinner every evening

 

deux coupes de champagne at Cafe Deux Magots

 

bone marrow at Poules au Pot

 

Croque Madame at a cafe in Montmartre

 

restorative cups of tea

 

beautiful composed salads, this one from Cafe Deux Magots

 

pistachio macarons

 

muesli, demi-creme (half-skim) and croissants for breakfast

Paris Walks: Montmartre

We've often taken the London Walks and enjoyed them, so we met on Sunday morning for a Paris Walk, the Montmartre Walk. Led by an Englishwoman who's lived in Paris for thirty years (who I just discovered is the co-owner of the enterprise), this was a nice combination of history, anecdote, and art.

We met at the Abbesse Metro stop

 

and soon Oriel was pointing out some street art, like this mask, one of several posted around the quartier.

 

This statue pays homage to a story by Marcel Ayme (and didn't Sendak illustrate one of his novels many years ago?). It's about a man who is given the ability to walk through walls. It works well for a while, but eventually fate intervenes and he gets stuck.

 

Oriel evoked a different era, 100 years ago or more, when this area was still rural, and the young Jean Renoir (son of Auguste Renoir and later a noted film director) could wander among the fields. All that's left of that now is the last remaining vineyard in Montmartre, one of just a few in Paris.

 

She pointed out studios or apartments once inhabited by the Renoir family, the poor Toulouse-Lautrec, van Gogh, and others.

Apart from artists, the area is known for its windmills, the Moulin Rouge being the most famous (or notorious). Here's a view of one that's now a restaurant.

 

Since Montmartre is built on a hill, the views are wonderful (and the steps are steep). Here's a view over the rooftops.

 

And here is Sacre Coeur, dominating the hilltop. We didn't have the strength to go in but admired it from afar.

 

After this, a nice lunch in a cafe not too far from the Metro.

Royalty

 

We decided to visit Fontainebleau instead of Versailles, reasoning that it would be less crowded, and I'm glad we did. Getting there was a good reminder that it's all about the journey, not the arriving: the Gare de Lyon was packed with people, we got differing opinions on whether our Metro tickets extended as far as Fontainebleau, and when we did find the right guichet and bought our train tickets, we had to wait until the train finally pulled into the station 45 minutes late (strike issues? not clear).

But it was all a part of the experience, giving me lots of opportunities to get tangled up in French and to spy on French fashion and manners.

The chateau was built in the 1200s and expanded over the centuries, with King Francois I leaving his mark on it everywhere. His symbol was the salamander, and just in case you weren't sure whose castle it was, he decorated almost every room with it.

 

 

Everyone who was anyone seems to have lived here, been born or died here, or said farewell here. Our old friend Henri IV is looking particularly dashing here:

 

Marie Antoinette lived here for a time, in this elegant white and gold apartment.

 

When Napoleon was banished to Elba, he said his farewells on the front steps of Fontainebleau.

 

We both liked the library and wished we could have walked along the hall and looked at the 14,000 books.

 

Despite all this royalty, the place seemed just a bit neglected. Most rooms were elaborately decorated,

 

but some of them seemed to have been forgotten.

 

The grounds were, of course, formal and extensive. Perfectly clipped rows of trees.

 

Topiary that made the place look like Alice in Wonderland.

 

And plenty of statuary.

 

The slightly melancholy mood was heightened by the gardener pulling out the annuals from the long, straight beds.

 

I asked him what he would be planting next and got a fast-paced explanation, of which the words "bulbes" and "tulipes" were among the few I could understand.

If we ever return, I'd love to walk in the Forest of Fontainebleau...someday.

Morning at the Cluny

Saturday morning dawned with a bit of drizzle, but it had stopped by the time we left the apartment. We hopped on the Metro, our new favorite thing, and found our way to the Cluny stop.

 

Not only is this the museum devoted to the Middle Ages, but it is located partly on top of old Roman baths and the sixteenth century abbey of Cluny.

 

Note the scallop shells on the wall. I know, from Frances Temple's The Ramsay Scallop, that this was a symbol of pilgrims. The hollyhock was just a lovely bonus.

 

This statue was from an exhibit of Slovakian medieval art on display, as was the illuminated manuscript below.

 

Of course, the Cluny is most famous for the Lady and the Unicorn set of tapestries. They are as wonderful as you might expect. We didn't take any pictures, but someone else did.


The museum also houses exquisite statues, altarpieces, vestments, armor, and pews. In the end, a surfeit of Jesus for the likes of me, but it's mixed with Roman elements that generously include a Celtic god here and there, to say nothing of astrological symbols. The Romans were nothing if not practical.