We woke up a little late and in casual Parisienne style, walked to the corner Boulangerie and bought pastries for breakfast. I had a brioche. It looked like a croissant shaped as a tornado. And it was delicious, unsurprisingly.
A few steps from our local Boulangerie (fun word, still don't know what it means), the Musee D'Orsay trembles from across the river from the Louvre as the less famous, less pompous, less enormous museum of art in Paris.
After walking through D'Orsay I was not tired, I was not overwhelmed, and I was very impressed by impressionism. Still, I never want to see a naked sculpture again. Ever.
Next, I ran around the 6th and 7th arrondisements with Tourguide Ari Fishman. After taking obscenely touristy photos with views of the Eiffel Tower yet again, we made it to, Les Invalides aka Napoleon's (Tomb and Military) Complex. For a tiny man in an arreligious country that hated him, Napoleon got buried well, surrounded by golden paintings of Jesus. While the casket/tomb could easily hold thirty Napoleons, the best fun fact is that he was cremated. They could really just replace that thing with an urn.
An absurd man, Napoleon lays inside a gilded domed edifice with a giant statue of himself with his hand in his jacket (itching?) outside and Alice in Wonderland style gardens in front. In many ways, I am like Napoleon in many ways. I like sparkly paintings, I wish I were a little taller, and I plan on taking over the world one day. His tomb affirmed that we are kindred souls, surely.
You can't walk on manicured grass in Paris. This is incredibly disappointing to get yelled at by foreign guards for, because between two museums and cobblestone streets, my feet were very interested in spending more time with the grass than permitted.
Afterwards, I took a picture of a nun buying flowers and wandered around, feeling Frenchly fly. Ari took me to eat suave tartines, fancy open-faced sandwiches. My mom has been making them as quick breakfast for years and I had no idea they were not just cheesy toast but actually, a hoighty-toity French delicacy. Then, we picked up apple tarts and macarons because it wouldn't be Paris if you didn't eat your way through it, right?
We walked in and out of yet another cathedral and I continued to be numbed to Catholic architectural stun effects. We sat in a pretty park and ate all of our pastries for a good subsequent chunk of the afternoon before leaving to go get more macarons and some cheese.
The cheese shop was so cool I tried to take a picture, since all I eat is cheese in Europe anyway. I figured it would be a good profile picture. I was immediately shut down by a little cheese-selling gnome and Ari and I scuttled out with some very stinky Brie.
My hands still smell from that cheese.
After, we stopped by a Pompeii exhibit in Musee Maillol, an unfamous museum among the thousands in the artsy city. Like most museums, this art was not even from France. Still, I think Pompei is interesting and I learned a whole bunch about that culture - it's like I went to Italy now too. Two for one trip. Always good.
The day ended with a shabbat dinner at Judith Chetrit's wonderful family's home. It was so good, I will try to do it justice in its own blog post.
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