Vendettas, nuraghi and the marches: Paris in June

Since we arrived back in France we have been doing a bit of an Art Crawl, focussing on one of our passions, the Impressionists. So, for her big birthday bash, we decided to treat Bec to a week in Paris. That ended up not at all being the best travel decision we have ever made.

Our first day, her birthday, was not so bad: we found a lovely restaurant in downtown San Michele and sat down to a long leisurely birthday lunch which we eventually walked off traipsing the length of the Left Bank from San Michele to the Eiffel Tower, grinning. So.Very.Good.To.Be.Back.In.Paris.

Our second day, we queued for 1 1/2 hours to buy tickets for the Musee D'Orsay to see the Impressionists. We were not so worried at that point as we often have to queue, but we were so hungry after standing so long in the queue we didn't immediately enter, instead found a place to have lunch. We waited a long time for lunch, the restaurant was crowded, with folk from the M'O queue who were falling down fainting from hunger we discovered. We then had to re-enter the museum: another long queue, even with pre-purchased tickets. Inside, we found again that we had to queue for the special Edouard Manet exhibition that we had come for, so by now my teeth were well gritted and thoroughly gnashing. Nearly another hour. Luckily, it ended up being special, or I might have been found curled up in one corner insensibly ranting. I have only so much patience.

We queued then, late in the day, to enter each separate room of the Impressionist and Post-Impressionist displays. Staff were on-hand nervously blocking different rooms with rope barriers at different times attempting helplessly to stem the massive flow. Van Gogh, in a separate area entirely, was practically non-negotiable given his popularity, but with persistence we managed to view his work over the heads of hundreds of tourists.

Not that the crowding in these exhibitions is much different from any of the other times we have been to the Musee D'Orsay, but we were still intent on seeing it though. Colour us determined. Well, colour Bec bemused. The accents in the queues were mostly Americans, and Australians. I didn't speak, I didn't want to be labelled as either. And I am sure everyone else in all the queues hated the mass of both of us.

Note to self: Do not ever return to the M'O in late June. And forget July. And definitely not August. No matter what. Note to M'O staff: Schedule specialist exhibitions, like Edouard Manet, in some other venue at this time of the year. That might reduce the insane traffic around the M'O at least by half.

Another day we took Bec to Giverny, as part of her birthday week celebrations. Oh woe! Where were our brains even then. In Claude Monet's house add about eight busloads of infant school children and you have queues of major proportions, compared even with the Musee D'Orsay. Or the Tuilleries Musee which we tried another day but, sensibly, quit before we started screaming like banshees. Add to that a temperature of around 37⁰C and you do not have a match made in heaven. Monet's house is rather cramped, and on this day was scorchingly hot.

I was bemused by the young children, wondering what interest any one of them might have had in Monet, his garden, or his art. Having said that we won't ever likely be back to check what they might have gained as we came away feeling that Monet's garden, which we have avoided until this birthday trip, was really just another well worn, and not even a very well cared for, tourist cliche.

There are two gardens: one near the house in straight rows, then a water garden which is a bit of a hike out the back. The row garden was fairly random: lightly planted, too lightly in truth, with cheap filler annuals that were falling down limp in the heat. Only two rows of the entire garden were opened, the others were blocked off, so viewing, and planting, was limited, and cleaning up at the end of the day after the tourist hoards was minimised. Not at all like the photographs rich with plantings of Monet in his garden in his time.

The water garden had one or two exotic specimen trees as part of its permanent display, but that is all. Most of the spaces were filled with dripping willow or masses of shady bamboo stands that gave it all just a tiny hint of Japanese. Nothing remotely exciting in terms of garden design. The most interesting thing about Giverny the day we were there was a flamboyant Japanese male tourist dressed up in traditional garb, allowing tourists to photograph him. Without his colourful presence the garden would have been a whole heap more boring I am afraid.

Days four, five and six were the same in Paris: more queues, more heat, taking all day to do just one thing. We left Paris in late June. Though we will definitely return. We always return. But, we'll come early in the Spring, mayhap, when the queues are not so extensive. Or later in the autumn when the air is cooler. Until then: Au revoir, Paris.

oooOOOooo