Gay Paree!!

Surprisingly, the Paxlovid seemed to have an immediate effect on Cindy. Her energy returned (of course, 12 hours of sleep helped that a lot), and by the end of the day, the slight sore throat she had developed was gone. No real cough and certainly not the chesty cough I had for over a week. So we're here to testify to the efficacy of Paxlovid.

She looks pretty chipper for having just confirmed she had Covid.

Cindy's Covid notwithstanding, we had a full day of activities, and she wanted to press on. So, masked and mostly silent when inside to reduce possibly dangerous expirations as much as possible, we set off for the Rodin Museum, stopping along the way for le petit dejeuner, and still arriving before the appointed hour to wait outside the gates like eager supplicants. It was a very nice street to stand in. But before we got there, Cindy had an up-close-and-personal encounter with someone who wouldn't be able to catch her Covid:

This was at the Metro station for the Rodin Museum. A little aside: most of you already know this, but I was deeply impressed by the fact that a) every Metro station was practically spotless, and b) most of them had art reflecting the area they served. Really wonderful.

Almost the first thing we saw upon entering the museum was the acknowledgment of Iris and B. Gerald Cantor for their substantial support of this museum. Well, of course...we in the Bay Area are familiar with the Cantor Arts Center and the Cantor Rodin Sculpture Garden at Stanford University. The name Cantor is almost synonymous with Rodin--but it was still a bit of a shock to see their names so prominently displayed so far from home. Naturally, this museum's sculpture garden is laid out beautifully. It was particularly interesting to see the single individuals of, for instance, The Burghers of Calais and then to see the strength of the full piece.

It was a hot day, and the collection is so extensive (in an un-air-conditioned building) that we probably spent too much time there. But we couldn't leave without learning more about Rodin and his mindset. I had no idea his work had been so controversial at the time--seemingly, mostly because he insisted on honest representations as he saw them. That Balzac sculpture, for instance, was reviled at first because the subject was in fact not incredibly handsome or noble looking. Some things seem to be constant: we often want the people we admire to be beautiful in physique as well as in mind and spirit.

After lunch at the cafe there, we walked to the Musee d'Orsay, which was immediately overwhelming--just walking into that space can take your breath away. Ever since the initial decision was made to turn this former train station into a museum, I was fascinated by it and wanted to visit the place. But once there...well, it's just so much...

We were especially interested in seeing the Impressionists, so had to find our way to the top floor, which was way at the far end of this immense space. Cindy wasn't the only one flagging by then, but we defied our own bodies' and brains' warning signs and began the required trek, finding some wonderful sculptures along the way.

Love the framing here...

I was struck by the fact that I had just viewed Rodin's sculpture depicting Ugolino about to consume his dying sons, whereas Carpeaux's Ugolino is much more...I guess "romantic" is the word I might use. Again, Rodin has a more brutal take on his subject.

And another Carpeaux:

This reminds me of something Cindy and I have noticed in all of our wanderings and looking at buildings of various periods: It seems that it's always women who are holding up these buildings, or large objects, or the world. Is this because all the (primarily male) architects and designers recognize that women are in fact the stronger sex, or that those men naturally think the women should be doing the heavy lifting leaving the men free to employ their brains and imaginations? We have big questions...

Finally made it to the floor with the Impressionists, a huge collection that actually included a few women. Things are changing.

I seldom want to take a photo of a painting, as I figure my amateur skills won't do them justice. Apparently I feel a bit less reluctant to impose my perspective on sculptures, as I did take a photo of that daring and controversial (for its time) Degas sculpture of the Little Dancer.

Both Cindy and I were pretty wiped out at this point. You know it's time to leave a museum when you find yourself falling asleep when you're just standing and reading a label of some beautiful piece of art. But we had miles to go...so we made our way back to the entrance ...

...after taking this parting shot from that top floor.

We spent a few minutes enjoying the jazzy music outside before setting off for the next adventure, a sunset cruise on the Seine.

Fortunately we had time to go back to our little (tiny, in fact) pied-a-terre--which we really liked despite its size. I really loved that place despite its size and age. The owner has equipped it with everything needed for short-term stays, and she's made clever use of every inch. And it was on a lovely little street on Ile St.-Louis:

Our street

Our door

We spent enough time there to get a little badly needed rest. Then on to the sunset cruise, which would be lacking in the sunshine necessary for a dramatic sunset--or any sunset at all.

But that is for the next chapter, as my eyelids are no longer capable of holding themselves up. And we leave early in the morning for Milan, our next stop. If you consult our itinerary on the website, you'll see how far behind I am in writing these chapters. Ah well.