A wet weekend

The weather in London is fairly miserable. It certainly doesn’t feel like spring. But, we were determined to keep up with the tourism...

So, wearing more layers than I ever thought possible, Lucy and I ventured forth to the Natural History Museum in South Kensington:




The inside is no less impressive, and the wonderful light makes the entrance hall feel much larger than it is:


We wandered around a bit, and checked out a Sequoia slab that was ten metres wide and a gazillion years old.

Almost as old was the photography in the evolution exhibit. ‘Modern man’ apparently wears flares and sideburns whilst playing football with children in beige corduroy jackets whilst modern woman prepares a nutritious picnic nearby. I’d like to think we’ve evolved a bit more since then.

Wandering our way through various rooms, we eventually got to the good stuff. It was a bit thrilling to see a kiwi:


and a kakapo and a kea and a very pretend moa.

Of course, such things were very collectable, and this charming multiple homicide was made for the benefit of some gentleman’s dining room:




From there we journeyed by escalator toward the centre of a very very very unimpressive Earth (tin foil and red lighting) to learn about volcanoes and geology and the like.

In spite of the naff entrance, I liked the display of rocks and gems quite a lot. This is a tabletop recovered from a Roman villa in the BCs. Each tile is made of something that was very rare at the time, and implies an awful lot of wealth on the part of the owner:


At the other end of the spectrum were minerals that aren’t at all rare, but were kind of fun. I liked this one because it looks soft and furry, but is just a little bit less hard than diamond:


Compared to a table, this is a lot less ostentatious way to show a collection. It reminded me of the threads in my mother's sewing box:


My energy was waning in inverse proportion to that of the screaming children in our vicinity, and it was definitely time to go.

The one thing that made this visit unique for me was the opportunity to see kauri gum for the first time, and understand why it was so treasured. It makes a beautiful finished product:


Overall, the museum was informative, but kind of flat. I just felt like no one cared about the exhibitions any more; perhaps England’s loss of colonial power means it no longer gets first dibs on the cool stuff.

I can't believe we almost didn't do this one!

My plans for Paris didn't originally include the Musee d'Orsay, as I was more interested in ticking off the Louvre, Eiffel, Arc etc. However, after our trip, it is now my favourite gallery in Europe.

The gallery is in an old railway station that was built in 1900. By 1940, the platforms were obsolete, so it fell into disuse and was almost demolished before the Mayor came to his senses in 1977.

It is a gloriously long building:


and the inside is cavernous:


So there is plenty of room for gorgeous things. Within a very diverse collection, Lucy and I caught up with our friend Sappho:


and then quickly moved onto the collections. I think we did it all a bit backwards; our first stop was some fun modernist paintings:



I was impressed by the depth of the collection. I know it is fairly clearly an important museum, but they had more than one or two good works by important artists. Once away from the modern stuff, we were absolutely spoiled by room after room dedicated to painters. There was a Renoir room, a lovely Degas room (including thirty or so ballet dancers statuetes in bronze) and Monet, Manet, Cezanne...

It was Art History Student heaven, and I really enjoyed seeing for the first time paintings I had written ungainly essays about for most of the mid-1990s. It was a blast to say hello to my mate Vinnie as well:


I spent the majority of my time in his room, which had twenty major works - including Starry night over the river Rhone (1876).

Highlights elsewhere included Whistler's mother (1871)and Le déjeuner sur l'herbe (c1862). Overall, it was awesome.

And a great way to finish the trip.

A magnificent morning

Having been so busy to-ing and fro-ing to monuments and museums, Lucy and I had mostly been eating where we found ourselves at meal time. However, once we discovered that ‘Paris’s oldest patisserie’ was around the corner from our hotel, it made sense to make a dedicated stop there for breakfast at some stage.

And so, on our last day, we did the decent thing and stocked up:




I don’t know why, but I was particularly taken with the pink piggies:


Once we’d found a coffee cart in the main park, it seemed as good a place as any to enjoy a very Continental start to the day:


The surroundings were quite tranquil, and in spite of the cool morning there were plenty of ducks in the water:


I couldn’t help but wonder if the nearby statue hurt their feelings:


We made friends with the ducks for a while and watched some very dedicated joggers fog up the horizon. Eventually we followed them towards the Seine and to the Musee D’Orsay.

(I will leave our last tourist stop to my last tourist post about Paris…)

As a Parisian afternoon turns to dusk

It didn't take long to get from the Louvre to Montmarte, but we were absolutely starving when we got there and had trouble finding a restaurant that wasn't a rip off. Even then, Lucy's vegetarian meal came with clams, so it was quite disappointing overall.

But, once half of us were fed, we wandered through tiny, charming streets up lots of steps to find Sacre Couer and the highest point of Paris. It looked glorious in the full sunshine:


In contrast, the interior is gloomily amazing. Like Notre Dame, it wasn't possible to walk into the middle. There were high walls put up, and I had to content myself with peering through arches on my tiptoes. However, it was enough to show me what is my favourite church ceiling. Here is someone else's photo:


The blue of the roof is unlike anything I have ever seen, and gave me pause for thought the whole rest of the afternoon.

After Sacre Couer we wandered round to the village of Montmarte and gawked a bit at the 'painter's' selling their work. I am always sceptical of these markets, but I enjoyed the vibe:


Some lemon crepes gave us energy for the stroll back into Paris, and it was going so well we decided to try the Eiffel Tower again.

Amazingly, after half an hour in the queue and a truly truly truly terrifying elevator ride, we got to the top at dusk. Lucy and I had long enough to spot the landmarks we'd visited on our jam-packed trip, and could then pinpoint them again after dark. So perfect:




It was also very romantic. (Must be the altitude....?)

I am very happy to have been up the Tower. I had decided against the effort on my birthday but now that I have done it, I must say it it is one of the best tourist things to do. The lookout is lower than that on the Empire States, but somehow more special.

We got a lovely backwards view on the way to dinner: