Lundi le 13 Septembre
Holy moly the rest of Sunday was jam-packed!
We ended up not quite getting to the Opéra Garnier on time for the guided tour; it was already full by the time we arrived. At any rate the tickets we had were for une visite libre, turns out the guided visits are more expensive and it doesn’t seem like those can be booked online. Not to worry however, as the place gives plenty to look at even if you don’t get the full story behind everything.
The Garnier is so over the top that I don’t even know where to begin. The only surfaces that escape gilding are the marble and the mirrors and the chandeliers have a minimum size of massive. There were a number of boxes that had been left open so that visitors could peer into the performance hall. We walked through the doors to find a cavernous space and a rehearsal in progress for the opening production of the season. The modern stage set of bed and rope hanging from the ceiling juxtaposed itself from the intricately carved and gilded wood figures that wrapped themselves around the boxes. The soft light from the chandelier in the centre of the Chagall-painted mural on the ceiling illuminated the sumptuously upholstered rows of seats on the main level, and the interiors of the boxes that climbed up the sides and back of the space.
I imagined gowned and feather-bedecked ladies leaning over, greeting friends with kisses and whispering behind hand-painted fans. It was easy to conjure this image in my mind as the atmosphere was truly of another era, despite the ultra-modern and spare set on the stage.
Leaving the box we wandered through the remainder of the second level, discovering the long gallery behind the balcony. A truly impressive space with another dozen or so exquisite chandeliers and beautifully proportioned to be used as a dining area or even a ballroom should the need arise. Sunshine streaming through the French doors to the balcony beckoned us outside to look out over Place de l’Opéra. Below us stretched av de l’Opéra where we had strolled the day before, and nearer to us were the front steps of the Palais Garnier, tooreests sitting and picnicking, feeding the pigeons, taking pictures, and soaking in the atmosphere.
We descended the famous staircase and made our way outside and around the building to the gift shop. I had received an email from the boutique prior to leaving on our trip that the DVD of the Paris Opéra ballet documentary was now on sale, so I hoped to pick it up as a souvenir of our visit, but alas upon questioning the madame at the counter the DVD was not for our region. Dommage! We made do instead with an opera DVD of Fidelio by Beethoven. There were any number of books and posters on offer but either option posed a similar packing dilemma. Also, with the foray into Normandy coming up we had decided to forego most souvenir purchases so that we wouldn’t have to lug them around France.
We hopped on the métro to get to Ile St Louis.
I honestly can say that this was one place in Paris I could have lived without seeing. First of all, it was absolutely jam-packed with tooreests. Secondly, it was more like the Disneyland version of Paris than any other area I had been in previously. We strolled around a bit looking for a place to have some lunch and ended up sitting next to an English-speaking party whose conversation we couldn’t help but overhear. The man in the group was complaining vociferously about how he had been treated by a Canadian barmaid when he complained that his beer glass had not been adequately filled. Apparently she responded with “the typical Canadian attitude”. Now let me tell you that from this man’s demeanour I could tell that he probably had very little patience for serving wenches and he likely deserved every bit of "Canadian attitude" that he got. At any rate, it spoiled my salad and wine to the extent that only something sweet could take away the bad taste in my mouth. We hatched a plan to get some ice cream at Berthillon and then go back to the room, pick up more money and then get to Ste Chappelle for the 19:00 concert there. We stood in line for a few minutes but then decided to get a pastry instead, as the line was not moving an inch.
So we meandered along and went into a charming little pâtisserie, made our purchase and experienced another example of how the French take such pride in the little artful things one can have in everyday life. The young man who served me was trying to wrap our two sweeties when a woman came to him and began to scold gently. She took over and with the utmost care, reverence almost, crafted an origami masterpiece out of the wrapping paper – a perfect pyramid – without using any tape. She took such care in creasing the paper just so, and I was enchanted and delighted with the result. At home, you have to put your crappy, mass-produced, ‘whipped-topping’-filled éclair into a clear plastic baggie that inevitably gets crushed in the grocery bag. Here, someone lovingly wraps your precious pastry in a gentle hug and sends you on your way with a cheerful, "Et voila." Paradise, non? This is civilization.
Hopped back on to the métro and went back to the hotel briefly to pick up some additional €. Back on to the métro to Cité where we emerged behind the bird market, which was still apparently in full wing as we could hear various songs being sung. We quickly strolled to the Palais de Justice complex and were guided inside to purchase the tickets for the concert. Unlike last year, for whatever reason, tickets were not sold outside the gates on the sidewalk. At any rate, we decided to upgrade our tickets by €5 each to be able to sit nearer the musicians. It was money well spent. We sat and took in the glorious surroundings of the Ste Chappelle, stained glass glowing as the early evening sunlight streamed through the panels. The restoration work continues there and I would love to return one day to see everything completed.
The Soloistes Francais were as wonderful as I remembered them, and we listened to Albinoni, Pachelbel and Vivaldi. Nothing crazy or avant-garde, just lovely music in a stunning setting. Magical. With music like this and architecture like this, how can there be war in the world?
Afterward we debated what to do as it was still relatively early in the evening. Ultimately we decided to walk along the Seine to the Quai St Bernard.
The sun sank rapidly and the wind picked up as walked. We had learned last year that couples danced along the banks of the Seine some evenings and I had researched that topic further in advance of this latest trip. It turns out that most evenings, when the weather is good, people gather along various spots and dance all manner of styles. What we were seeking this night however, were the tango dancers. We began to despair that no one was out in the chilly windy evening when Reyn at last spotted some dancers. As we neared we could hear the music playing.
There were actually two groups that night, and after watching the first for a bit, we moved on to the second group which was larger and seemed to be more adept.
Particularly captivating was a couple who were dressed very nondescriptly, he in regular pants and shirt, she in jeans, loose shirt and Converse sneakers. But they danced divinely with a lovely posture, she on demi-pointe the whole time, such grace. To look at them, they could have been on their way to or from almost anywhere in the city, but there they were, doing the tango on the riverbank. Seulement dans Paris!
After getting thoroughly chilled to the bone we made our way to some out of the way dog-forsaken métro stop on the Ile St Louis and headed home. Me to a hot shower, Reyn to the US Open on the telly.
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