We took the train from Wittlich to Paris early Tuesday morning, arriving at 10:30. Then there was a ride on the Metro to near where our rented flat was located.
The ride on the Metro made me smile a little: Rainer loves to imagine his vacations in advance and all year on our long runs he would ask Sandra and I what we wanted to do or see. Sandra’s answer was nearly always: “I want to go somewhere big enough that there’s a subway.” When asked why, she responded that subways = art galleries, at least in her experience.
We dumped our stuff at the apartment – a tiny one room affair that was tidy and bright and perfect in terms of both location and budget. We were just down the avenue from Napoleon’s Tomb – the golden dome glinted dully but promisingly in the rainy skies.
Our first stop was Musee d’Orsay. In truth, the reason we were in France was the Orsay. Sandra loves Impressionism, and noticed in the video course she took a few years ago that nearly every painting mentioned was housed there. She’s been on a 6-year campaign to wrangle us there, even going so far as to research marathons and triathlons to increase Rainer’s likelihood of going.
Orsay was crowded – most other museums were closed on Tuesdays. But it didn’t really matter. We all really enjoyed it. The ratio of painting to enjoyment was probably the highest of any gallery we’d been to. We went through every room once, and then a few rooms a second time, even a third time. I think Sandra could have stayed there til closing. We almost did, but wanted to beat the rush to the bookstore that would happen at end of the day.
That night we just crashed into bed. Up since 4:30, walking all over the city, minds stuffed full of the sights of Paris and hundreds of paintings.