Yesterday, I had the grandest plan for this, my second full day in Paris.  I was going to get up early, go to the Richard Lenoir outdoor market, then make use of the free first Sunday in many of the cities museums.  Initially, I thought I would go to the Cluny, because I truly love the tapestries and other weird medieval stuff in there.  Then, I thought, well, I SHOULD go to the museum of modern art at the Pompidou, because I have never been there before.  But then it occurred to me that I could go to the Louvre, for FREE.  Well, I knew that I would probably not be able to do them all unless somehow I got up at 6 AM which was basically 200% impossible.  So I decided to figure it out later, which is what I did, kind of.

Unfortunately, I could not sleep last night at all.  I was watching that cheesy TNT production of the Mists of Avalon dubbed in French, and it appeared that they were going to play the entire gazillion hours of that mess, but at half past midnight I thought well if I am going to get up to go to that market I had better get some sleep.  Alas, there was some kind of drum and bass party going on in the ‘hood; the sounds so low that if I had been tired, I would have slept through it.  Kind of like a booming sound from time to time.  Then it started to rain.  I lived in San Diego too long I guess, we never check the weather report in those parts, there is no need to; so I guess I was kind of surprised it was raining after such a gorgeous sunny day.  (Why my last six weeks traversing the US didn’t correct me in this seriously lame way of thinking is a mystery to me.)  Anyway,  I like the sound of the rain, especially on the roof of an attic apartment in Paris, but that, the drum and bass party, and some truly bizarre, also unsettling, dreams kept me from getting any sleep until whatever time in the early morning, so I slept until 10:30.  Thereby, missing the market part of the day, because heck if I am ever going to get out of here right when I wake up.  It takes some hours.  Next time I am not going to fight it, I am going to watch all of the Mists of Avalon dubbed in French.  Lesson learned.

So over my coffee I thought, I will go to the Louvre, and then after that, I can go to the Pompidou.  If I can motor through them, then I will head on down to the Cluny.  HAHAHAHAHA.  That is pretty funny, huh?  Even I know myself, that this is a completely insane undertaking.   To make matters even more, uh, me, I had stashed all my cash somewhere in the apartment so well that I could not remember where I put it.  I actually had enough to go out (since I only can spend 25 euros a day, it is not that hard to find laying around the house) but I knew that if I did not find it I would just obsess about it for the rest of the day.  I finally remembered where it was and managed to get out of here at 12:30. I swear, I drive myself crazy sometimes.

So. Off to the Louvre on the metro which was easy and weirdo free, but then I got into that carrousel du Louvre shopping center and was hit full force with the assault of every other person on the planet being there at exactly the same time as me.  Well not really, but it sort of felt like that in that moment.  Add to that half of them texting while walking and the other half taking  photos of their kids in various unphotogenic settings…. then I saw the line to get into the Louvre.  Quel horror! Mi dio!  No freeking way.  There were hundreds if not thousands of people waiting to get in there.  Then I saw a Virgin megastore.  Je adore Virgin megastore, buh buy Louvre.  I went straight to the listening stations.  I wondered, if I buy something that I wanted to buy at home, and will eventually buy at home, does it count towards my budget?  But then I thought, well, that might be problematic, since it could get me into all kinds of snafus with wine, mustards, chocolates etc.  Because let’s face it I pretty much want to buy stuff.  So I decided to just listen to some records for future refererence.  But then after about 10 minutes of listening to the new Mogwai record I was like, are you out of your mind? It is free museum day!  Come back here when museums aren’t free. So I hung up my headphones reluctantly, but the cool thing is I can go back and listen for hours if I want to.  At least that is what I told myself.  I swear – I totally drive myself crazy sometimes.  I am starting to wonder if I drive other people crazy too.  It would not surprise me in the least.

I walked to the Georges Pompidou thinking if the line was long, I just would not go in.  It was a little rainy and very cloudy today but not really cold, so I figured all the museums would be crowded.  But when I got to the museum there was no line to get in.  I think that the universe wanted me to go in, because later in the day, there were lines, and plenty of them.  I am now wondering if there was some kind of trippy Mists of Avalon thing, where the goddess lowered the fog, and let me in, then put the fog back up. Whatever it was, I am so, so, SO glad the Louvre did not work out, and that I was able to get in with no fuss, because the Museum of Modern Art at the Pompidou is one of the most incredible museums I have ever been to.  EVER.

I love modern art especially from the first half of the 20th century, but for some reason I end up going to museums with medieval and Renaissance art.  This is why, I guess, I never went to the Pompidou before (except to have a drink on the terrace upstairs.)  Now I feel so lame.  I saw so much today – so much color, so much beauty, so much ugliness, so much weirdness.  It was… an assault on my senses, and a good one.  A great one in fact, though I did get quite dizzy and overwhelmed from it all.  Along with the Braques and the Kandinskys and the Picassos, there were some really crazy surrealist films shown in narrow corridors lined with paintings.  Not too many people went into watch them, or to look at the paintings, and there was a Dali in one of those corridors, with sand in the painting.  From his house in Cadaques, I guess.  I was intrigued by the little Man Ray black and white portraits of his friends/compatriots (hello, Alice B. Toklas.  What up?)  I spent hours staring at giant canvases full of little bits of color, those trippy films, plus the greatest hits of the above painters.  After a while I felt as though I was going to pass out, and not from hunger (though I had only had a banana and a chocolate croissant to eat all day.)  So I went downstairs to the cafe that overlooks the main floor and entrance of the museum.  I spent a happy hour there, drinking a little bottle of white wine and getting over my very real attack of Stendahl’s Syndrome.  There is an area where they show little kids how to do create art, and the people watching was awesome times infinity.  But outside, the line was getting not only long, but insanely long.  When I was done I wanted to go back up and look some more, but the lines were crazy up there, too.  So I walked around the top level with its fantastic views, then got out of there.

I started to walk home but of course, walked in the completely opposite direction and refused to get my map out because this is the way I roll.  (This, I know, can drive some people other than me crazy sometimes.)  It was only when some dude from Cherry Hill, New Jersey asked me for directions that I finally got my map out.  And I was walking, I dunno, somewhere totally wrong.  Which was OK until I hit the scuzzy Rue St. Denis, it brought all those weird dreams I had last night back… I think now maybe I was dreaming of the future last night.  Got my bearings finally and headed down the Rue Rosiers when I realized I was totally starving and also, thirsty and that it was 6:30 PM and all I had all day was a banana, a chocolate croissant, a little mandarin orange and a 1/4th bottle of white wine.   I totally wanted a falafel, the urge was intense, but the lines were long, and we all know I can’t fathom dinner without wine with it.  So I walked a bit more and spied a wine bar and was like I have to SIT DOWN, NOW so I went in.  I ordered a Sancerre Rouge and the waiter said, small, or medium?  Well, medium of course.  A medium was 8.40 euros, but it was pretty big and came with a plate of salami (bonus!) so I spent at least another happy hour there.  Maybe longer.  At the table next to me there were a group of youngsters who ordered giant crepes with boatloads of chocolate on top.  It took a great deal of willpower to not run my finger through one of those bad boys.  Seriously.

I think it was Ernest Hemingway who wrote, when one is hungry, the colors of the world are more vibrant, outlines sharper, beverages more tasty.  This is not exactly the way he said it, but this is the way I remembering it now.  I am not hungry, but I can truthfully say that traveling with constraints has sharpened the outlines of my days here so far.  I want more.

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 3rd, 2011 at 1:36 pm and is filed under The Paris Diet. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.