British Isles- day 5- Paris

Sunday, July 17, 2011- La Havre, France.

We were up by 5:45 A.M. We had lost an hour crossing a time zone and the English Channel. The Horizons cafe’ summoned us. It was awash to the gunnels with early breakfasters. There were slews of tours headed for Paris, the Normandy Beaches and all points in between. We sat with a personable Chinese couple for breakfast. These accidental meetings, for meals on a cruise, are among the most interesting features of the voyage.

The Explorer’s lounge, on deck number seven, was the rally point for four separate tours that morning. It was sro. Outside, it was rainy, breezy and 58 degrees.

A crew member led our tour group to the gangway, as we walked ashore to board our huge double-decker bus for the three hour run into Paris. It was a little claustrophobic on the top deck, but we had a great view of the wet and green French countryside. Pascal was our driver and Karin our guide . She had an uncharacteristically well developed sense of humor for a French woman. She admonished us to “be French” for the day and assume an arrogant posture to gypsies and other vagrants who approcahed us bent on mischief. We laughed at her humor. She also said that if we wanted to see all of the art work that the French had stolen during military conquests over the centuries, we should head for the Louvre. That kind of humor, from the French, is endearing.

Karin gave us a warning about miscreants which we saw played out several times during the next few hours. Young gypsy women would approach you with a clip board and motion you to sign for some cause. The object was to get close enough to pick your pockets. Sure enough, when we first got off the bus at the Place De la Concorde, two of these miscreants approached us. Acting French, we dismissed them with an arrogant wave. The other scam, which we saw later in the day, involved a young girl finding a golden ring on the ground and asking tourists if it was theirs. The same objective was involved, gettingclose enough to pick your pockets.

The ride in was pleasant enough. Karin dropped us all off on the Coeur De La Reine, a few hundred yards from the Place de la Concorde. Mary and I had stayed near here some twenty years back. There were scores of huge French tricolors decorating the Champs Elysee. Bastille day had just taken place a few days back.

We made it across the busy Place De La Concorde, headed for a museum that hadn’t been here twenty years ago, L’Orangerie. It is studded with glass windows and has a small domed area at its center. Its original purpose had been to grow oranges and fruit for the French Royals, hence its name.

A small line led us into the newly made over building. E 7.5 each for tickets to the main collection. All transactions and instructions transpired in French, which we dredged up from our memory banks. All signs were in French only.

The main hallway of the small Museum offered a series of beautiful Renoir's that we had not yet enjoyed. The characteristic deep blue velvet and blacks were absent in these red tinted portraits of young women and a very young Renoir. They are exquisite. Several intriguing and colorful works by Gaugin and Cezanne were also of interest. There were even several intruiging Picassos from his more sane blue period. Whacky or not, the man could paint.

Ascending to the domed tower, we were treated to two rooms sporting enormous murals by Monet. The soft pastels were eye catching and attractive. Out side a brief rainstorm crashed upon the domed roof as we walked the halls. We had fortuitous timing all day. In Normandy, it rained all day as it did in Paris several small showers, each of which we missed.

It was breezy and warm out as we wandered down the Tulleries to that most famous of museums, The Louvre. I smiled remembering Karin’s comments' about the origins of much of the art there. We could see I.M.
Pei’s famous glass Pyramids framed through a much older stone arch as we approached this “u shaped” French palace, built in the French Empire style.You would think that the glass pyramids would contrast with the dark stone of the Palace’s style, but they odlly enough compliment the entire structure.

We had spent several hours inside the Louvre on a previous trip. We well remembered the fantastic array of Charlamagne’s sword, the French Royal jewels, the headless statue of Samonthrace and many other iconic objects’ d’art. The Mona Lisa had then been as enigmatic for us as she is for everyone. Throngs of tourist wandered the Tulleries and around the two glass pyramids in the courtyard of the Louvre palace. We sat for a time there and watched the ebb and flow of people visiting from all across the globe. From the Louvre, we walked up the Rue D’Rivoli along the Seine and crossed over to the Isle de la Cite' at the Pont Neuf. This Isle had been the founding site of Paris some two thousand years ago.

We were headed for the splendor of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. The size of the crowds in the square in front of the church surprised us. True, it was Sunday and ordinary Frenchmen were attending services. But, a long line snaked out into the courtyard for tourists whose intent was to walk briefly through the church to see for themselves the wonderful architecture. We had visited here on another occasion and lit candles for a family member who had recently passed. This time, we sat in the courtyard and people watched. It was as interesting as it always is. And I just know that everyone was looking towards the beflry of the church and imagining Quasimoto swinging back and forth on the bells.laughing maniacally.

We recrossed the Seine and hiked down to the large statue of St. Michael that introduces you to the Blvd. Ste.. Michel. It is the entre' to the Latin Quarter, and the Sorbonne just don the boulevard. All of the cafe’s were sro with people having brunch or cappuccinos. We walked down the Blvd. St. Andre' Des Arts into the Latin Quarter. The area had been a hang out for college students in the 1800’s. At the time most of them were trained in and spoke classical Latin and Greek. That is where the name comes from. We found a vendor stand and ordered Mary a tasty hot dog with cheese on a baguette and a tuna on a baguette for me., With bottles of water, we walked about the quarter eating our sandwiches like the French do. We had discovered this lovely custom on a previous trek when wandering through the nearby Fleur Marche (Flower Market.)

The colorful cafes, with all manner of interesting people taking their ease on a Sunday morning in central Paris is always interesting. We browsed the windows and the art stores as we mad our way back toward the Seine and the Pont Alexander Trois. Our bus time was nearing. We could see most of the Eiffel Tower just down the Boulevard from the Pont Alexander and the stylized roof dome of Napoleon’s tomb just down another Blvd. We had visted there and the nearby Musee’ Rodin on our previous visit. We sat on the bridge enjoying the skyline for a time until noisy piccolo mostri (little monsters) chased us off.

Up ahead, lay the Petit and Grand Palais. We hadn’t yet been in either Structure. Time would preclude that for us today as well. We walked on to the Champs Elysee and again admired the waving French Tricolors hung along the storied Blvd. We could see the Arc d’Triomphe in the distance. It was picturesque and stately. Napoleon had ordered it built after viewing the Arch of Constatantine in Rome, when he carried off much of the loot in the Louvre. We had visited the Arc before as well.

We sat for a time outside the Petit Palace and watched the colorful panoply of tourists flow by us. Families as usual did not show off well in large groups. It was nearing 3:00 P.M. and we were due back on the bus. We had walked 5-6 miles through central Paris and were ready for a nap. The grand cruiser loaded us up and we set out back for Normandy. The rains came with a vengeance as we neared the coast. We were lucky in the timing of our travels. On a previous visit, we had stopped at Honfleur on the coast just across the seine from L’Havre. It is a replica of the Bergen waterfront in Norway. The viking visage had startled us when we visited. The origin of the name Normandy is of course Norse Men. They heralded from Scandinavia originally and had laid down this historic site on the French Coast. Much of L’Havre had been bombed and leveled by the allies during W.W.II. Honfleur had been spared.

The bus rolled into the ship’s dock area around 6:30 P.M. that night. We climbed the gangway, made it through the electronic security and stopped by our cabin to write up my notes and enjoy a martini. It had been a long but interesting day.

Dinner for us was the Davinci dining room on deck six. We snagged a table for two and enjoyed some wonderful escargot, pumpkin soup, pasta in lobster sauce and a sinful chocolate pudding. We really enjoyed our meal. We had noticed that however enjoyable good company is at dinner, you lose your attention to the wonderful food when you are gabbing away with others. It was an ironic attention-span dichotomy that Andy Warhol would love to have filmed.

We were tired with the day and returned to our room to read and chill out. The seas were rough in the Bay of Biscay as the great ship set sail for Edinburgh on the northeast coast of the U.K. Adieu Paris.!