Visiting museums in Paris
I have been visiting museums in Paris almost for a year now. Some visits are for research reasons. I am documenting facts for my new novel, which is still in its infant stage, mostly in my head in unorganized puzzles, waiting to be written. The other visits are for pure pleasure. My newest purchase is a Carte Blanche for the Musée d’Orsay. It is an annual pass and I have my own entrance – need I say more. Hello private entrance and goodbye queues!
I received it in a mail the other day and I slipped it in my wallet right by my Louvre pass and amongst my other membership cards, mostly to clothing stores. I stared at those two museum membership cards. I felt immediately more sophisticated. Instant elevation in self-esteem too.
A flick of my wrist, the flash of my magic card, bonjour wishes to the friendly guard and I was in heaven – in less than five minutes.
I love museums. I love everything about them. The buildings, the slightly dusty scent, the sound of scuffing feet on the floor, the museum gift shops and yes, I love what’s in them.
I know finally my way around the Louvre’s hallways and its multiple steps, which used to confuse me profoundly. I would turn right and never quite find what I was looking for. I never minded though, because there are so many other things to see in the Louvre, that though I missed that day the one special painting, I saw many others that took my breath away.
I have been lost in the Egyptian section, walking endlessly, trying to find my way out. I have ended up three times, unknowingly in Napoleon’s apartments. The gold still blinded me silly as I walked through the rooms. I thought since I was there anyway, might as well see it again. Gold is always nice to look at.
My favourite sculpture is the bust of Antinous, right on the way to see the Mona Lisa. I look at his gorgeously beautiful head full of curls, his sensuous lips, slightly parted and his perfect profile. It would not surprise me, if he would suddenly move. I see other women looking deep into his stone eyes, taking pictures. It was no wonder that Emperor Hadrian fell in love with him. I think most of the visitors in Louvre have.
Unfortunately I am unable to meditate. I have tried, but it just isn’t for me. I need visual stimulus to be able to relax. Therefore the museums are perfect meditation for me. I can look at the beautiful painting by Botticelli for a very long time, looking at the layers of paint and study the small changes in colour. My favourite details are the brushstrokes. They seem to make the painting become alive, because I can imagine the artist making that very brushstroke – perhaps he even stood right there, were I am now. I always try to see how did the painter achieve that perfect effect hundreds of years ago, giving us a metaphorical bridge into the history.
Another great thing about visiting museums is the lunch that follows afterwards. There are so many cafés and restaurants in Paris that choosing one is not a problem. I try to convince myself that even my lunches are sometimes research and when that doesn’t do the trick, I’ll put it all in the name of language training. I still learn by making mistakes – many, many mistakes. Not hearing the diminutive differences between vowel sounds is my specialty.
Last week I felt so proud of myself ordering my lunch in French. My pride was bursting from my chest, I felt almost like a local until the waiter asked, if I wanted a rabbit with my food.
‘Lapin?’ I looked at him, ‘No, just a goat cheese salad, please.’
The pitiful look he gave me was deep. He truly felt sorry for me and for my
non-existing ability to speak French. ‘Le pain.’ He repeated, this time very slowly, looking at me over his glasses.
‘Bread!’ I took a deep breath as the information finally reached my brain.
‘Yes, please.’ I said quickly and made a mental note to seriously practice the vowel sounds at home.
The goat cheese salad with bread was excellent.
