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!

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!