A Day of Freedom: Church First
The lobby that morning filled and emptied regularly until about 8am, when every group had finally made it to Notre Dame. So far it's my favorite cathedral I've been in: the ceiling is some 140 feet, and full of jeweled purple glass. A service was happening; the clergyman spoke in low, melodic French that seemed to light the room. Just worship candles were lit, but the sun was coming up and setting the windows ablaze, gilding the chapels in gold. I sat in one of the pews for a long time, looking up at the modern lay altar and the gold choir altar, listening to the service and watching people cross themselves as they walked by. At our Lady's Chapel, I stood in a shaft of pink light and just soaked it all in. It was hard to imagine Napoleon coming in here to crown himself emperor, superimposing himself on every holy thing within.
We waited in line for over an hour to climb the steps. I sat next to an Australian couple who had been to Versailles the day we had, and we watched the sun rise over the little cafes and early-morning martini-drinkers. I sat behind Nikki and Amanda, with maybe 12 people ahead of us. A group of about eight other girls, however, flocked around Ben and Andrew, totally disregarding the line. Amanda started to get irritated, but I thought it was unnecessary until the guards put out a sign that said, "Only 20 people every 10 minutes". We couldn't yell up to them, and they just sort of absorbed into the line, leaving the Australian couple in the dust. I told them sorry, entirely embarassed.
The climb up was close to four hundred stairs, in a narrow spiral tower. The city of Paris looked quite as lovely in the daytime...much calmer, more peaceful. The sun was already burning off the wispy white clouds and the little Montmarte villas below shone innocently. We took lots of pictures from the top, leaning out to touch the gargoyles and squishing in as many people as would fit. The bell tower was a little better for this--it was wooden and creaky as the Disney movie, made of incredibly old wood scaffolding to cushion the bell's soundwaves. The bell itself was bigger than a Eurovan, and had indents from the hammer within. The doors leading to who knows how many exits were super short...which made us a little curious about the hunchback's existence...
Next on the list was Saint Chapelle, but not before we caught up with Annie and Carolyn (two of the cutters), who looked incredibly upset. Apparently Annie had realized what happened and tried to apologize to Amanda, who really let her have it for being inconsiderate. I did my best to explain things--the girls would be pissed for a brief time, so long as nothing lasting was exchanged. I don't think they believed me. So I changed the subject and we started the few blocks to our next church.
Saint Chapelle had a ton of construction on one side, but only a little chapel is open to the public. We entered to find half the wall glowing pink and purple and blue and red, just the most stunning stained glass we'd seen yet. And all the more impressive for being in such a small vicinity; the black and white floor had little prisms of light all over, and even our cameras were blinded by the color. The other wall had a building behind it, so no light got through. The contrast really looked like an old attic versus a new kitchen. There were so many people in the chapel, but we students were hushed some five or six times before I got fed up and went out into the lobby.
Museums, Old AND Huge
Modern art came after a lunch of bad paninis and pidgeon friends--called the Pompidou. I thought Dr. Tate was joking, but I saw it for myself; upon trying to enter the museum, swarms of Indian girls surrounded us, waving clipboards of petitions at us. I was particularly curt to them and fought the urge to yell NO rather than just say it, but I think we all were glad to get inside. The selection we needed to see was for Great War and Modernism--among all the cubists, ex-Dadaists, surrealists, and fauvreists, it was a little difficult to find a favorite AND analyze it. We're not exactly surrounded by modern art on a regular basis, and more than one girl mentioned how much she loves classical works. But I felt a lot more in my element than I expected; understanding the theatre and literature of the time period certainly helped me understand what these people were trying to do.
The Orsay came next, and so did massive sunshine. Carrying all our homework under that sun, Annie, Carolyn, Kim, Andrea and I struggled to keep up our enthusiasm for Paris. The first display in Orsay was a limited time Van Gogh, who used a lot more mediums than I thought; there were wood carvings of a man and woman, from courtship to his death. They were so beautiful, but easy to miss, as I discovered from everyone else. After all those attempted rape scenes in classical art, it was fantastic to see these two kissing mutually.
Exhausted and not interested in sitting on bench slabs with a million other tourist, I crawled into a corner by the stairs and promptly fell asleep. Some forty minutes later, I woke to a guard poking my knee. I managed a "Oui?" and crawled out to find some other place to sleep in peace. I passed the Decadence of Rome, some Reni, and more classical sculptures before I made it out. Everyone met up again, grumpy about their homework and how hot it was outside and how their feet ached. I suggested the Orangerie, then dinner. (Bit more cheerful from my nap.)
Love
The bridge across the Seine boasted some fake artists selling Paris, but the bridge itself had dozens of locks fastened around the steel netting, like yarn ties on a baby blanket. Each lock had things like Love and S+D written on them. I wondered how often the locks get cut off but was fascinated all the same. Who had started this such that vendors were selling old box locks?
The Orangerie was at the north of a French garden--all symmetry, all predictable, but lovely all the same. To our delight, a bronzed version of Rodin's The Kiss was placed right outside, next to the Bastille. It was like seeing the Van Gogh woodcuts again--this mutual affection and tenderness was just beautiful to see. I learned later that BYU had the opportunity to display all of Rodin, but declined The Kiss, likely for the can of worms attacking the school for pornography threatening being opened. Being the students we are, we were angry about it, but could understand the reasons for declining. Stupid too-righteous parents. We went inside.
Monet's waterlilies and weeping willows were on display. Naturally I expected the little framed ones we have in my house. We entered a white room that looked like the inside of an eggshell with four benches comprising a rectangle in the middle. On each "wall" was a painting that stretched thirty feet long, each wall a different time of day. I was amazed! Annie said that the benches were like sitting on a boat, each person looking out at different parts of the pond. The south was dusk and the pond was purple night. The north was midday, the west early morning, with pale pink clouds reflected in the water. Kim was utterly unimpressed. I asked her if she had ever had a waterlily pond, and she said no. I guess for impressionists, you have to have some idea what the original looked like to appreciate it. In this way, the artists are free to leave the "realistic" and make their own worlds altogether. We learned that these paintings were Monet's gift to France after WWI, to help them with their grief. In a time that might have been full of revenge, Monet present peace, calmness, and real tears in the weeping willows that wept with the nation. It was really moving to be there.
Kim navigated dinner plans. After one place was closed, we ended up in an open pub and did our best ordering in French menus. I didn't have any money, so I just ordered French onion soup and ate frenchbread. The other girls shared their steak and filet mignon, but we weren't super enthused until we got to dessert. All five of us ordered Creme Brulee and it was the greatest dessert I'd had on Study Abroad. We shouldn't have done it--no doubt we'll dream about it after dinner back at the Centre.
The Louvre was only open for another hour, so we sprinted through to see Venus, Winged Victory, and the Mona Lisa. Can I just say that the originals are so COOL? They just have this depth that grabs you and you keep looking and you understand why DaVinci was a genuis. Shame about the bulletproof glass. And the ropes. And guards. I ended up losing the group altogether, but ran into Mandy and Julie, who were off for more crepes. So, butter and sugar in one hand, I headed back to the hotel for the last uncomfortable night, and found out Jessica and Nicole ran into that New York couple two more times. Tourists attractions, basically. They didn't rob me, in case anyone was suspicious.
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