On visiting the Louvre

It’s taken three visits to Paris, but finally I’ve made it into the Louvre

My first impression is that it’s huge. The National Gallery seems rather small and paltry beside it. The next issue is how do you find your way around it? Thankfully, the plans and the directions are pretty good (though I do get lost at one point in early French painting).

I’m pleased that we don’t really have to queue for very long. Like so many others, we head for the Italian Renaissance, and the Mona Lisa, first, on the basis that it will only get busier as the day goes on.

On the stairs, we find the Winged Victory of Samothrace. In the galleries, crowds gather round the famous Leonardo’s, whilst other pictures have no one. In the Mona Lisa room, it’s all a little crazy. Hordes of tourists, all trying to get the best camera angle. You can’t get close, she’s behind both a barrier and glass. More of an icon than a painting these days.

I don’t linger. I prefer David’s Coronation of Napoleon. I also love the Botticelli’s, the Titian’s, Caravaggio’s and Canaletto’s. Generally, I realise, I prefer Italian art to French, though there is gallery after gallery of paintings by artists I’ve never heard of, practically deserted, because so many of the visitors do only the edited highlights (or, worse, the Da Vinci Code trail*).

There’s a whole room of paintings by Rubens telling the (fantasised) life story of Marie de Medici. I’m fascinated by this, as not only does is sum up the Ancien Regime, but the coronation picture is almost an exact fore-runner of the David picture from almost 200 years later.

Before we leave, I have to find the Venus de Milo. On my last visit, I climbed on a stone bench, and caught a glimpse of her through the window. It’s quite a trek, and we pass many antique sculptures, and also many of Napoleon as a Roman Emperor. He wasn’t a man who went in for modesty, I’m guessing.

Finally, we find her. Even incomplete, she’s impressive, and it’s quite incredible to think how ancient she is.

*Useless to me, as I’ve never read it, and am not likely to now, as I know the ending!

Conversation openers

Chatting to new people can be difficult. You remember the social group I joined back in February? Well, it’s probably best to say it’s been a slow burner, which is another way of saying that I haven’t really had the time to get that involved in their events.

What tends to put me off is the fact that you have to book and pay up front, so if for any reason you can’t go (or, *whisper*, something better comes up), you might lose money. As a result I haven’t really got to know people at anything beyond a superficial level. Making new friends is hard work. It’s about discovering things you have in common. I quickly realise that my experiences/interests and those of others differ widely.

In the course of one evening, I find I’m:

· Saying that I find Morris dancers who have been roaming the town with painted faces a bit freaky, and finding that others don’t agree
· Trying to explain how Twitter works, and why it’s interesting to find out what Philip Schofield is doing
· Defending Facebook as a method of communication – if you use it properly!
· Leaving the question ‘why did you join?’ hanging in the air.
· Trying to find an adequate response to the query ‘couldn’t you find anything closer to home?’ when I say that I work in Liverpool
· Discussing just how many of the pubs of York I haven’t visited (quite a few actually, believe it or not), and that whilst I haven’t been thrown out of any of them, I have been asked to leave quite a few*
· Defending the wondrous venue which is the Evil Eye against the shocking allegation that it’s a ‘den of iniquity’ as ‘they sell absinthe**!’

They are generally nice, and friendly, people. It’s just that at the moment it feels like quite hard work. I am going to try and persevere, particularly as Autumn is approaching, and at the very least it will get me out of the house.

*Because they wanted to close, I hasten to add.
**well, yes, they do, but I’ve never been brave enough to try it.

Three nights in Paris

We look at each other’s suitcases. There’s quite a difference in size. ‘I’ve been minimalist in my packing this time’, I say. V looks at me in amazement. ‘But it’s Val, ‘I sometimes change three times a day’, how have you got enough?’

I explain that I’d taken far too much to Provence, and had brought back things I hadn’t worn, so had gone for the minimal approach this time. What I don’t add is just how much of it is new stuff, for I have had a bit of a pre-Paris spending spree.

As it turns out, I have enough outfits, though I don’t have the hot weather outfits that I really need, as Paris turns out to be roasting hot. After my day of rain in Edinburgh, this turns out to be something of a shock. When you’ve travelled somewhere by train, it doesn’t feel that far away from home, yet even the air feels so much warmer. It’s the best weather I’ve ever known here.

We last went to Paris together 5 years ago. Every summer, we try and have a ‘culture’ break. For the last few years it’s been Edinburgh, so after two consecutive summers of pretty grim weather, this is a welcome change.

We’ve done most of the main tourist sights in the past, except the Louvre*, which is most definitely on the list this time, along with the Musee Rodin. We always go up to Montmartre, and walk by the river.

This time we’re staying just off the Champs Elysees, which turns out to be a perfect, if expensive, location.

My experiences of French food, after the struggles of Provence, are still a bit mixed. Breakfasts in the hotel are great – fabulous French bread, smoked salmon, ham, and preserves. Crepes make a great lunch, even though I have to avoid the ones with cream (I also have to avoid most of the squidgy cakes, as they almost all have cream). Dinner still proves more of a struggle, though I eat very well in Montmartre. A couple of other meals prove distinctly average, given the price of them. We do, however, find a fabulous little cocktail bar, so I make the most of the French wine and the Happy Hour cocktails.

We do find a fabulous little restaurant in the Palais Royale gardens for our last lunch. It’s full of Parisienne ‘ladies who lunch’, all immaculately groomed, rather than tourists. It suits us well.

*I once stood on a bench, and saw the Venus de Milo through a window. It’s not quite the same!

I used to do this for a living, sometimes I wish I still did

I’m trying to sort out costumes for the play. We have NO budget, which makes things difficult. I borrowed a few things for our photoshoot last week, some of which weren’t quite of the right period, but when you haven’t got a bunch of stick thin actresses in your cast, you take what they can get into.

Having taken the photos, I realise that we’re not quite right on the date. The play is mainly set in 1913. Some of the costumes are too early. We also have a 1950’s section, which brings its own challenges. I had another trip to costume hire on Saturday. P and I are good at this, having worked together for three years.

‘I need 1913 – and definitely need a wig, my hair is totally wrong for the period’. We agree that I have ‘first refusal’ on the mother’s wigs from The Railway Children when they come back in.

‘I also need to be 1950’s bar maid’. This starts us off. ‘She’s a bit blowsy. I’m thinking early 50’s, pencil skirt rather than full, blouse, heels…’ We start fishing around. There are a few blouses of the right period, but not many that I can get into (‘bl***y actresses, why don’t they eat!’) I fancy red heels. Some are far too nice. I need a belt, so two whole boxes of belts come out.

P finds a beautifully tacky red patent one. It doesn’t match the shoes.

‘Perfect, I think she’s the sort of person who will try, but won’t get things quite right’.

Later I hit the charity shops for a skirt, and buy one a size too small, so that it will be tight. I think it’s going to work.