Last Tango in Paris

 By Monday, our approaching leave-taking from Paris was weighing heavily upon us. Do we race around and try to experience everything that had eluded us thus far? Or do we sip and savour, visiting favourite haunts, hoping that the glory that is Paris might be more deeply imbedded in our memory, there to be tasted again and again. Looking back, it appears we did a bit of both.

Catherine had more gas left in the tank than I did, so on Monday morning she left me to finish up the blog and strutted down Rue de Rennes, in search of an elusive skirt, or shirt (I'm not entirely sure which) on the way to landing on the Ile de Cité where we had arranged to meet by late morning. This was somewhat daring, as Catherine's savoir de direction is also elusive, but rest assured, she did manage to land on the right island and met me under Charlemagne's equestrian statue at exactly the time agreed upon - wonders never cease. From there, we circumnavigated the downstream end of the island, stopping under a willow tree on the very point of the Ile to look out over the Seine and share a baguette before visiting the Conciergerie.

Like so many other historic buildings in Paris, la Conciergerie has a varied past. Originally, the site on the island was occupied by the Romans who built a wall around the island (and who called Paris Lutetia), and eventually a palace was constructed there by Hugh Capet (who sounds like an everyday kind of bloke, but is in fact the first Capetian king, although never referred to as King Hugh). Phillip II (who, by the way, was the first to call himself the King of France) went to town in sprucing it up and enlarging it, and started to use it for administrative functions, including the holding of Parlements where justice was done, or not, as the case may be.  Where you have justice, you have to have jails, and so the building eventually became known as one of the royal prisons (along with the Bastille and Chateau de Vincennes). There were three main areas of the building showcased: the great hall, where we were to imagine large medieval banquets (all male), the massive kitchen, with fireplaces bigger than most people's bathrooms, and the prison area.

Part of the Great Hall

It was the prison area that made for the most interesting historical perspectives, as this was where so many of the political prisoners were jailed during the revolution before facing la guillotine. The most famous of all the prisoners was the young Marie Antoinette, who despite her pampered life held up well during her imprisonment and execution (apparently she apologized to the executioner for stepping on his foot!). It was instructive to be reminded (in the detailed information provided) of the Revolution's progression: from the Declaration of the Rights of Man in August 1789 to the suspension of virtually all rights in  July 1793 to suppress 'enemies of the people.' Four short years from high ideals to the Reign of Terror.  

In the "women's courtyard" of the Conciergerie, where Marie Antoinette and others walked, talked, and washed their clothes.

The clock that adorns the northeastern corner 

The remainder of the day we spent at the Louvre, our fourth visit, seeing Dutch and Flemish art and the special exhibit on Cimabue. Cimabue has not left us a mass of paintings - only 12 or 13 are undisputed, of which the Louvre has three. His main claim to fame was his movement away from Italo-Byzantine art to create more lifelike and three dimensional figures; Giotto, his pupil, took it from there. The work shown below has been painstakingly restored and is worth the effort of fighting to get past the crowd in front of the Mona Lisa.

Maesta ('Majesty' - the Enthroned Virgin and Child). Note the realism: the scroll bends a little in Jesus' hand, and you can see his leg through the transparent folds of his robe

Here are a couple of final 'finds' in the Louvre that interested me enough to bother to take my cellphone out of my pocket:

Francois I, King of France, posing as John the Baptist (he should have lost his head for that) 

I wonder if Trump will follow suit?

Infanta Margarita Teresa of Spain - painted by the workshop of Velazquez, but looks exactly like her image in Velazquez's famous work, Las Meninas (which we saw in the Prado in Madrid)

Martin Luther's daughter, Magdalena (I didn't even know he had a daughter) 

who looks thrilled to have to sit for this 

For Catherine's father: Holbein's Erasmus

16th century equivalent of making bunny ears behind your brother's head during the family photo

Tuesday's agenda was driven by my mother mentioning that her favourite Paris park was Parc Monceau. It turned out to be good advice, as we loved the English feel to the park, and so needed time to just sit and relax on the grass along with scads of Parisiens. This was especially so, as we couldn't resist hitting every church on route, namely, Sainte Trinité and Saint Augustin. But the big surprise was a Paris museum dedicated to Asian artifacts and art pieces, the Musée Cernushi. Now, ordinarily, Asian art and artifacts are not my cup of tea, but as is so often the case in Paris, the house in which the art is displayed is a delight to behold. Moreover, the collection was just the right size to pique our interest without making us feel like we were seeing every surviving piece of crockery from every dynasty. And it`s free!

Saint Trinité - Organ 

Saint Trinité - Dome above the altar

Saint Augustin

Scenes from Parc Monceau

And so, we came to our last full day in Paris. We dragged ourselves around the apartment for the morning, packing and cleaning, in deep lament over our impending departure. But the afternoon put a smile on our face as we lingered over our usual lunch in the Jardin de Luxembourg for the better part of the afternoon. To close off the day, we dressed up and got a table at the Bouillon Chartier Montparnasse, a famed traditional restaurant in our neighbourhood, and enjoyed the art nouveau surroundings and busy atmosphere.

We stepped out of the restaurant and hopped on a bus to take us back to the Arc de Triomphe. My knees threatened to mutiny, so I stayed at the bottom, but Catherine, always one to ignore what her body is telling her, raced up the stairs to take our Last Photo in Paris (for Last Video in Paris click here).

And the next morning we bid farewell to the City of Light!