December 20, 1999 – Arc de Triomphe, Place de la Concorde, Tuileries, Louvre

After croissant and café au lait at a patisserie near our hotel we are off to the Arc de Triomphe. After his historic victory at the Battle of Austerlitz in 1805, Napoleon said to his men, “You shall march home under triumphant arches.” The Arch is also home to France’s Tomb of the Unknown Solider. It is located in the center of a roundabout with twelve streets radiating like spokes on a wheel out into the city. One of these streets is the famous Champs Elysees.

The Champs Elysees is Paris’ most fashionable avenue. A wide, straight boulevard lined with chestnut trees, it runs from the Arc de Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde. Once the home of presidents and statesmen, it is now famous for its designer shops. Today it is decorated for Christmas, but the chestnut trees are all wrapped to protect them from the cold.

We take the metro to the Place de la Concorde, a huge plaza dotted with imposing marble equestrian statues, which was the site of the guillotine during the French Revolution. We look up the long, straight Champs Elysees and can see the Arc de Triomphe in the hazy distance with the Eiffel Tower to the left of the arch. At Concorde is a replica of Rodin’s famous statue of The Kiss. There is also the 3,200-year-old Egyptian obelisk; part of a pair that stood at the entrance to Luxor Temple in ancient Egypt; its twin still there. Cleopatra’s Needle in London and the obelisk in New York City’s Central Park are also a pair from a different site in Egypt contemporary to Luxor.

Not to be outdone by England and their London Eye, the French millennial Ferris wheel, the Roule Paris, slowly spins in the background of the square. It is, in my opinion, an eyesore on the Paris skyline, but so too I think is the London Eye. What is it about marking the millennium that makes governments think they have to put up a Ferris wheel? Leave that for Cony Island, I say.

We walk through the Jardins de Tuileries (Tuileries Gardens). It is sunny, but cold; the ponds frozen, the fountains dormant, and the trees bare. We expect the Tuileries are nicer when they are in bloom.

Next is the Musee l’Orangerie, home to Monet’s famous water lily paintings. There are two large rooms containing eight of Monet’s masterpieces. Each painting spans the length of the room, one on each wall. The 6-foot-high murals gently curve around the slightly oval-shaped rooms. They are wonderful. Unlike the d’Orsay whose light glared on the paintings, Monet’s purple and pink lilies float on blue-green water bathed in natural light; their soft colors luminous.

The Orangerie was originally the winter home of the orange trees from the Tuilieries gardens. According to its website Claude Monet himself had a hand in designing the lilies’ installation:

…the eight compositions are divided into two oval rooms that follow each other. [The paintings] are arranged from west to east, according to the race of the sun… The two ovals evoke the sign of the infinite while the paintings unfold the cycle of light of a day. [Monet] wanted the visitor to be totally immersed in painting and forget the outside world. The end of the First World War in 1918 confirmed him in his desire to offer beauty to bruised souls.

I love the water lilies; up close they look like random dabs of paint on canvas but step back and the riot of colors mixes together to create the lovely watery scenes.

There are other impressionist and post-impressionist paintings here too, but we only give them a cursory look as our next stop is the Louvre.

The Louvre was originally a palace for 16th century French kings. A huge 70-foot-high glass pyramid that serves as the building’s entrance juxtaposes modern against classic architectural styles. Famously designed by architect I.M. Pei, the glass allows light to filter into the museum’s inside entrance lobby, but also gives underground visitors views of the palace outside.

The Louvre is unbelievably big, running for five city blocks. It is so big that Lisa and I are lost the whole time. From the start, we seem unable to get our bearings and never do. Room numbers are different than what is marked on the guide map and we never know what floor we are on. We wander in frustration until we stumble on the Winged Victory; a statue of Athena. It is one of the most famous Greek sculptures in the world dating from the 2^nd century BC.

Victory gives us our bearings and we then follow our map to the Mona Lisa—what we’ve come for! I am surprised by how small the painting is and how beautiful she is. She is roped off and glass-protected but enchanting; so much more so than in photographs. Along with a small crowd of people, I gaze at her for a long time. In a nearby hallway is another woman, La belle ferronnière, also painted by Leonardo Da Vinci whose features are remarkably similar to Mona Lisa. I wonder what it is about the Mona Lisa that makes her so famous, while the other woman was destined for obscurity.

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We take in more famous paintings; a Madonna and child by Botticelli and the famous self-crowning portrait of Napoleon by Jacques Louis David, which is massive. We see Raphaels, Titians, and others by Da Vinci.

We move on to the sculptures and admire the other famous Greek statue—the Venus de Milo. A Greek peasant farmer found her on the island of Milo in 1820. Sculpted at the end of the 2^nd century around 100 BC, she is supposed to portray the ideal of feminine beauty. We also see the famed Marly Horses, sculpted wild horses, replicas of which we saw earlier in the Place de la Concorde.

We stop for lunch at the huge museum café, which is a cafeteria-style buffet. The waitress behind the grill is rude and unhelpful. They are out of baguette. Imagine being out of baguette in a French restaurant? The tables are piled with dirty dishes from the previous diners. I take the time to complete the customer comment card and compare the Louvre poorly to yesterday’s d’Orsay.

Napoleon III’s opulent state rooms are gilded from top to bottom with mammoth chandeliers, red brocade walls, and period furniture. They are sumptuous beyond words, even more than Buckingham Palace or Blenhiem. We wander through the series of rooms with our mouths hanging open.

We cannot find our way out, even by following the “Sortie” signs. After several dead ends, we eventually manage to exit out into the pyramid courtyard and walk along Rue de Rivoli.

The woody smell of roasting chestnuts fills the air. Lisa wants to try them and asks a street vendor if she can buy just one. It is clear that man is throwing out a price as he has no idea what just one chestnut should cost. He says ½ franc. Lisa gives him one franc and he gives her two chestnuts, one of which she gives me. We peel off the skin and bite into the nutmeat inside. It is surprisingly good; warm, rich, and sweet.

We stop for coffee in a small café near our hotel. It is late afternoon and crowded with people, smoking, drinking, and talking. We feel very French.

We are both very tired and I think ready to leave Paris. With the constant struggle to understand signs, menus, and maps, and the many rude shopkeepers, two days is enough. A friend of Lisa’s emailed her while we were in London. He said, “You’ll like Paris, but you will always love London more.” I think he is right.

I can’t believe it but I agree when Lisa suggests Vietnamese food for dinner. I refused last night when we walked by this same Chinese/Vietnamese restaurant saying, “No, not Chinese. Why would anyone come all the way to Paris for Chinese?” (I am thinking we have yet to experience Julia Child’s roast chicken or sole meunière.) Lisa replies the French occupied Vietnam for a while, so it fits with our visit, but I am not convinced. Finally, I make her promise not to tell anyone that I came all the way to Paris and ate in a Chinese restaurant. Sole meunière is going to have to wait for another visit.

The restaurant is very small. On the menu I cannot tell what is Chinese and what is Vietnamese. Lisa orders the Bo Bun—the only dish that is identified as Vietnamese. It is a bed of salad greens topped with rice and stir-fried beef and a sweet, clear sauce (like Thai cucumber sauce) to pour over everything. The beef is topped with a spring roll. I try the beef; it is tender and delicious. I have basil shrimp, also tasty.

We walk back to our hotel looking for a patisserie. The bakery we want is closed so we go back to the rude shop from the first night (the one that claimed not to have a phone book) and the proprietor is just as insolent tonight. What about tourist revenues do these French shopkeepers not understand? I don’t really want to give him my custom, but I do want a pastry. I buy one almond custard tart and appease myself by thinking I would have bought more if he had been more pleasant. Lisa doesn’t buy anything but I don’t know if it is in protest or she is just not hungry.