European Winter

”It’s just down the road,” said Didier, the hotelier. “You come to the Louvre, go past to the right and across the bridge, and Voila!” It was cold. I was properly bundled up for my first full day in Paris. I was on my way to the Orsay Museum to see the exhibit John Singer Sargent in Paris. Seeing this exhibit was the major reason i was in Europe, as i had missed it in Boston in the summer and was eager to see the collection. It might have been as simple as he said if i hadn’t turned left instead of right and crossed a bridge much further away from the museum. What might have been a 15 minute walk turned into a 30 minute walk in the snow slick streets. And then, of course, the wait in line to get in, and the walk through the galleries. I left my hotel at 8:15 and suddenly it was 3:00.

Parisians walk everywhere and they are very aggressive walkers. They will stride right into you if you are not paying attention. And on the weekend the streets were full. By 3:00, I was done. I had not prepared for this trip by walking more at home. Suddenly, here i was walking 4 miles in the snow. My Amsterdam hotel was far enough away from the sights i wanted to see (a story for another time) that I called an Uber each time i went to a special site. All i had to do was walk in it. What had seemed like work then felt like light exercise to me now. That was Saturday.

I planned to worship at the Cathedral of Notre Dame on Sunday morning and then visit the Sainte Chappell church before heading home. This time i took the right route. Sunday morning in Paris the whole world was out. Runners along the Seine, families with strollers on the Quay, couples strolling. It was just like the movies. Sadly, I was at the end of a long line to get into Mass, and the church filled up just before i got to the entrance. So i sat in the square for awhile for people-watching before deciding what to do next. Parisian fashion? It seems to be more about confidence that what you are wearing is what anyone would want to wear; how you look is what everyone would want to look like. Young men in sweat pants and hoodies; gentlemen in good leather shoes and cashmere overcoats; women’s hair tousled as if they just got out of bed (“my real hair, I don’t care!”).

Up the stairs to the chapel at Sainte Chappell, what an amazement! My art history photographs in person. I had to sit down for awhile to take it all in. How could those 13th Century builders imagine how to create walls of windows and create a building still thrilling in our age?

I was prepared to walk to the Tuileries at the Louvre on the way home. The Musee de l’Orangerie has a collection of Monets I wanted to see, and it is nearly on the way to my hotel. But my feet and legs said no. All the stairs, all the crowds, the 5 miles I’d already walked caught up with me. I just wanted to go home. I had passed a supermarket on the way to the church, and i was ready for a snack. I walked in the door to a display of strawberries, almost glowing in their redness. Yes. Perfect for a time to take off my shoes and recover. 11,829 steps!

Today is a day for recovery. It’s very cold, getting ready to snow, and there are brasseries all over the neighborhood. Although, now that i have some Parisian in my legs, maybe lunch and the short walk to the Tuileries might be fun.