Day 3

Since it's the first Sunday of the month, almost all of the museums are free. First stop was an Eric Kaysor boulangerie for breakfast on the go. Then, the market at St. Ouen. At first, we were at the really cheap sections, until we reoriented and got to Port Clignancourt. Then we wandered through rows of the same cheap jeans, sneakers, and tshirts that you find in any bargain market. Then, we stumbled upon the antiques area! Lots of old records, magazines, photos, as well as old French estate furniture. Ended up getting some chandelier crystals to make into another necklace, like the one I so admired last time I was in the city of lights.

Stopped for some crepes, then on to L'Orangerie. Took in Monet's waterlilies for a bit, especially reveling in the deep blues and greens. Lots of tourists and chatter. And a self-important woman who periodically kept calling for quiet. Per Alex, who recently watched a BBC documentary on Impressionism. Monet was painting what he actually saw, as his eyesight deteriorated. I remember joking with Jana and Ryan at UCI, about how gorgeous the sunsets were when we took off our eyeglasses. Part of this was due to the southern California smog, which makes up for assault on our lungs, by refracting the light so that the sunsets are magnificent. But part of it is also being able have all those colors and textures melt into one another. However, given the choice, I'd rather have perfect vision, with the option of donning glasses to distort my vision, as opposed to the other way around.

A quick stop at the toilets turned into a half hour delay, as the line for the women's facilities snaked down the hallway. Alex wandered through the Debussy and Impressionism exhibit while I patiently waited for my turn to sit on the throne. Shall I say that I was unpleasantly surprised at the lack of hand driers or paper towels? The only device to aid in drying hands after washing, was one of those rolling cloth towels. Heebee Jeebees. I did spend a small amount of time seeing the Debussy exhibit, but wasn't really taken in. I can understand the connection between his music, and the romanticism and free-spiritedness of Impressionism, but the exhibit didn't take me in. I would rather listen to an excellent version of Claire de Lune or Reverie. Someday, I may just play through the former as well as I have the latter.

Over to the Pompidou to see the general collection. I'm not generally a fan of modern art, but it's always interesting to see what's on display. One rather interesting exhibit of steel boxes lit from above with lamps. Apparently each box was filled with remembrance documents ... Photos, contracts, journals, etc. There was also a running film of a naked man, chained like a dog, and acting like a ravening wolf. Bizarre. Provided it's not too hot of a day, the Pompidou is a great place to get a panoramic view of Paris.

Back to the apartment for a quick nap, then to dinner with some of Alex's friend visiting from London. They had rented a barge on the outskirts of the city, to come and watch the French Open. It would never have occurred to me to rent a boat to stay on, but it was quite roomy and lovely. Zinta, Justin, Emma, Louise, Morgan, and Miriam (who rents a room aboard the barge, is French, and answered loads of questions about Paris in general, and her job in particular ... She teaches English at a prison!).

Got to talking a lot with Louise, until Alex noted the time, and we rushed back to the metro stop, just in time to hear the last train of the night pull in to the station! We laughed and marveled at our good luck!

At some point the subject got around to the Diamond Jubilee going on in England, to celebrate Queen Elizabeth's 60 year reign. Alex asked if I would have liked to be queen. I replied no. Most little girls dream of being princesses, but the reality is that most modern day princesses don't seem to be very happy. No one actually seems to care about their individual happiness, as long as the princess does the right things, and looks like a princess should. Given the choice, I would rather be like George Sand. Born with a title, she made her own life. She wore pants, smoked, took many lovers, had a few children, and was an amazing writer. At the very least, I wear a lot of pants ...