If Only My Feet Were Bionic Too…

Ouch! My RRBF warned me not to get new shoes for Europe, and he was, of course, right. Sore tootsies at the moment after spending the day trooping around Paris. I got up bright and early this morning, and headed out the door with my fabulous pain au chocolat, an apple, some trail mix and a nectarine. Ha! You’d think there was no food in Paris. Annnywaaay, my first stop was the Louvre. Every single person I spoke to (and including my Lonely Planet guide) told me that it’s a totally overwhelming experience, too much to see, and too little time to do everything. “Pick a section and go from there.”

I went first into the Denon wing, with one singular purpose: to see the Mona Lisa. You know, it’s a wonderful painting, but with the throngs of tourists all flashing their cameras and shoving people aside so they can capture themselves beside her, it’s a bit silly. When does art become a tourist attraction in and of itself so much so that it completely and entirely detracts from the natural beauty of the object? I stood there for a couple minutes and got jostled around before I gave up and went into the Richelieu area, my section of choice. Instead of even attempting to see everything, I decided to spend some quality time with the paintings, the highlight of which (for me) was Jan Vermeer’s The Lacemaker.

From there I travelled via the Metro to Montmartre, where I had lunch at a wonderful vegetarian restaurant called Au Grain de Folie before climbing up many, many, many stairs to see the Sacre Coeur. It’s beautiful, and I really wanted to take the 234 stairs to the basilica, but while my hip might be super-duper, my muscles are most certainly not. Instead, I walked around the neighbourhood for a while, looked at all the crazy tourists getting their pictures drawn, and then decided to visit Espace Salvidor Dali.

Now, I’ve already admitted I’m not a fan of dale’s canvas work, but his illustrations, the majority of what this exhibit, are marvelous. A visionary, to say the least, dale’s interpretation of classic stories from Alice in Wonderland and the Bible, to Tristan and Isolde to Milton, are incredible. Most were ink on paper lithographs, but a lot of the biblical scenes were done in watercolour. Just wonderful. The sculptures? Eh.

I walked down the hill to Pignalle Metro station, explored a couple of stores forgetting each time to say, “Bonjour” much to the chagrin of the sales associates who are now convinced I’m the rudest girl on Earth, and am now about to eat some French potato chips and read a book. Ah, vacation!

But, ouch! I wish I had bionic toes that weren’t so very sore.

…T-two days to Ireland!