Every once in a while, you fall for it. The big kahuna sale. The big deal. The "promise-this-will-be-our-last-last-last-discount" sale. The last drink for the road. The last goodbye. We get trapped in the melodrama of something that will never be encountered, and if it's something that our heart yearns, we are hit by the sinking feeling that it will never return and, seriously, that empty space - needs filling up, or can it be done?
I'm sure some of you know what I'm talking about when you have to throw those old runners into the bin.
This entry is not going to wax about the "never-to-be-encountered" again anywhere else (do I sound like a travel brochure now?) on the places shown in these photographs. Easily recognisable, you can gather a lot of information from the Web. So, I'll share with you on my own minuscule perspective of how finally getting to these places really overwhelmed my senses in these ways:
(1) Musee D'Orsay was not huge in size (still big but relatively speaking to the rest) but it held an iconic status to the overall "visit a gallery" day. Getting there was easy, almost nonchalant. Getting inside and around without an audio guide was something else. The gallery wasn't even opened yet the queue was snaking around the promenade in this lazy python style. Oh well, when in Rome...
The collection was simply astounding. Not having an audio guide allowed (or enforced) you the freedom to truly appreciate the art pieces by connecting with its emotional factor. How? Ask. You ask yourself, you put yourself in the shoes of the sculptor, the painter, the thinker, the master. Why? Why not that? Who? The gallery was an entire expression box of bygone years containing pain, beauty, rebellious streaks, audacity, grandeur, only to name a few. You deny yourself the luxury of spoken language, you begin to understand better from the heart - because you seek out its deeper meaning.
(2) You will best do yourself a treat to wander alone. Tune out from the crowd, ditch whoever took you there. Yes, it's a bit of a place to walk around for a couple of hours (and this is the short version) with your own company, but I promise you, you will find something that grabs your eye and you just want to stand in a corner, sit down, ponder unobstructed. So, do yourself a favour and agree you will meet in so many hours time outside in one of those cafe lines.
(3) You know what, forget the last sentence. You don't really know how long you will take. And those cafe lines charge an exorbitant fee for a plat de jour. Bring a banana instead (although you have to leave it in the cloak room!).
(4) Take some time to stop over and admire the local art students, young and old. Some of the greater expressions come from the sketches in their note pads, or even their own faces. Very interesting study.
(5) This gallery is grand. Tres grande!
With the Louvre, it's a completely different animal. Its size will overwhelm you if you try to aspire for a quick 10km dash across the collections under an hour. We bypassed the lines because Pierre (our Chef de jardin) had organised us tickets earlier - bless him! Getting inside to this maze was like entering a spiral stair cocoon, if you could just humour me for a minute and pretend the hoards of people and excited (can't stop talking) school kids asking each other questions on which wing they should visit first, and oh, on which floor? Kind of like one of those crazy supermarket shopping shows you occasionally find on the tube... The security is much tighter but nothing that fazes you. Just leave the tripod alone at home - seriously, you don't need it.
(1) Lift the nose above the pages of your Dan Brown. The Louvre is and is not what you read. This grand dame has to be coaxed first to open up her chambers, and then you negotiate what is the best, gentlest method for both of you to get acquainted. I was so glad we got a day allocated for this - this place spelled HUGE.
(2) Under no circumstances you will miss the Egyptian and Persian collections. I will personally deduct two points for this.
(3) Forget about the pillaging history from the Napoleonic era. If you start to look at these treasures are loots, you kill the joy. In a strange way, I do think sometimes, that some artifacts stood a better chance of being preserved properly here.
(4) Enjoy the courtyards. Those legs do get tired and it's a nice way to people watch. Keep those ears sharp too!
(5) The Mona Lisa was not as big a painting as you may have thought. Verified the gnawing question with Pierre (who personally could take one to the backroom tour) and yes, this is the real Mona Lisa. No copies.
(6) Come back at night. You can't get inside but just enjoying a post-heave meal sit-down on its palatial spread of compound on a cool night brings some kind of a wonderful to your senses. The place, being so quiet for a change, becomes appreciated in a new found way.
See? You are becoming arty too!
(7) Yes, you can stop over for lunch inside. You don't have to pay two arms for it, but do be prepared for unpredictable French waiter behaviour. The group of American tourists in front of us left in a huff after making a lot of noise about being made to wait for too long. Our friend the waiter? Not affected. Still kept bringing one glass per tray to one table, while you and the rest of the hungry wolves snapping behind your heels wait. We somehow, were lucky that day - got ushered to a table of prime location. I think not showing your desperation counts. Don't they teach that when you court goodwill?
Note: All photography were done without flash.
