laissez le bon temps rouler
We had some guided sightseeing this morning, including the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame, among other obligatory tourist stops. Many from the group will be visiting Versailles this afternoon, but I've opted out, suspecting that it will cross my threshold for gaud and excess and just piss me off. Besides, I've really wanted to visit the Louvre more than anything else in the city, and that's where I'm going, now that I've finished my lunch. Here's hoping the line isn't prohibitive by the time I get there.
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The queue was long, but it moved swiftly enough, and I got inside in time to wait in line to buy a ticket and then stand in yet another line to use the lavatory before spending an hour inside the museum itself. During this whole first standing-in-lines phase, there were emergency alarms going off, which were completely ignored by everyone. Fortunately, there did not seem to be an actual problem.
I was overwhelmed by the size of the museum and the volume of work in the permanent collection. It was immediately apparent that I would never see it all without planning a visit of many days especially for that purpose. So, I followed the signs to the Mona Lisa, which is apparently exactly what everyone else had come there to do. An immense gallery of Italian paintings was sparsely populated(relatively speaking), except for a small branch, where a packed corral of eager onlookers pushed and shoved to take selfies with the famous lady. Many raised their phones as high as they could reach, recording segments of video as through they expected her to move. Her mysterious smile, with its hint of a smirk, never seemed more appropriate. You'd imagine that either she or da Vinci knew exactly what would be happening in 2017.
I'd like to see it all someday, but between the vastness of the Louvre, my time limitations, and the nerve wracking density of the crowd, I was convinced that someday was not today, and I left to get ice cream like a proper tourist. On the way, I detoured through the Tuileries garden, amused by a flock of crows who seemed to be at war with the local pigeons. Who knows what drama unfolds in the bird world, unnoticed by human eyes?
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Our farewell dinner was a warm gathering, with boeuf bourguignon, frog legs, assorted aged cheeses, and too much red wine. We were entertained by a guitarist and singer who must have been an actual clown at some point in his career, and he managed to keep me laughing for most of the evening. The sole exception was the five minute period when he noticed me singing along with La Vie En Rose and compelled me to get up and sing it with him in front of everyone. This would have been fine except that I only know 80% of the lyrics and my pronunciation is atrocious. At least it added to the comedy for everyone else, I suppose.
We ended the evening on the Trocadero platform watching the lights on the Eiffel Tower. While I am of a mind with Guy de Maupassant, who often ate in the restaurant at the Eiffel Tower's base so that he might avoid having to look at it, it is fun to watch other people and their reactions as they view the tower and the light show. The excitement it evokes is inexplicable and almost magical, and people from every corner of the globe fall under its spell. Sometimes being in a crowd is beautiful, if I can just carve out enough room to breathe and stand very still.
