last day in Paris

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Both my books at the Abbey Bookshop! The owner Brian Spence is a very nice man from Toronto who's been running this wonderful shop for decades. It's a treasure trove of every book ever written, now including yours truly, and it's also a centre for writers. Brian has these now but has also ordered another copy of the memoir. See that Eiffel Tower on the cover, Paris visitors? Buy this book!

 

At the Cluny Museum of the Medieval World, medieval children sheltering from the rain. The Cluny is another of my favourite museums in Paris, full of artifacts from Roman Paris - pre J.C. - to about 1500. So much beauty.

The museum itself is in a glorious building.

Darn - I was hoping to leave my voluminous luggages at the cloakroom. Glad to know they're keeping us safe.

Head of the kings of France, originally on Notre Dame. 1220 - 1230.

One of the exquisite Lady with the Unicorn tapestries. A whole room, six vast works of art made around 1500. Breathtaking.

The tapestries have a background of hundreds of plants and animals. Detail.

Bracelet from the fifth to the third century B.C. Could buy one almost like it in any jewellery shop in Paris today.

Paris sous la pluie - the Boulevard St. Michel, where I used to walk in 1964, looking at the sophisticated French teenagers and wanting to be like them. Now they're all staring at their phones.

The Pantheon dome is still being renovated. This is my 'hood - five minutes from where I used to live. Oh I do love this city.

flowering

Taken last year in April - Dad's magnificent tree. (Explanation further down.)

Taken today. Paris flower shops are fabulous, and this one featured my very favourite flowers - ranunculus, like a hybrid of roses and poppies. Such colours.

walking on Wednesday

If Bacchus Were a Woman: a feminist wine shop. Only in France!

The arenas of Lutece - dating from the Romans in the 2nd century, gladiators and wild animals and all. Now there's free wifi and kids playing soccer.

What a welcome sight - a Canadian flag in front of a bookstore.

 Inside. Be still my beating heart.

As it says on the right: Librairie Canadienne. YES!

Renting boats to sail on the pond in the Jardins du Luxembourg. My brother looked just like this in 1964.

 And as we passed by this stand, we wanted all of it.

A familiar face. He ascended the throne at the age of 17, much admired, and became something else. The Justin Bieber of his time.

She really was magnificent. Ice white, and covered with jewels - with, as she said, both the heart and the stomach of a king. I love that she included her stomach. 

in a cold wind in the 5th

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Dad's tree at the Jardin des Plantes - a few years ago I scattered some of his ashes at its base, so every time I'm here I visit him and have a little cry. I'll find a picture to show you what this tree will look like in a few weeks...

 Plane tree trunks at the Jardin des Plantes. Why are they mottled like that? Fascinating.

 On the rue Mouffetard - a famous Canadian ...

...and the famous Place de la Contrescarpe, where Hemingway drank.

Velasquez, the Tudors, the Abbey Bookshop

It’s Wednesday afternoon, and I’m playing catch up with the blog – pictures are one thing but my priceless prose is another. (As my kids say - LOL.)

So – on Monday, Velasquez at the Grand Palais, a gorgeous exhibition though very crowded. Today I went to an exhibit about the Tudors and saw portraits of Henry VIII and the Virgin Queen painted at the same time Velasquez, in Italy and Spain, was painting dwarves, hideous Bourbon kings, little Infantas in their absurdly ornate clothes, and the most beautiful back in art. Talk about absurdly ornate clothes, though – those British royals were something. Weighed down with massive jewels. Wonder what that feels like.

Velasquez, who started painting at the age of 12, captures the soul so perfectly, with understanding and depth – especially clear when you compare his work to that of his son-in-law del Mazo, who worked with him all his life. The younger painter was really good, until you see his work next to the master’s, so much richer, livelier, subtler yet stronger. There’s a beautiful quote about Velasquez by the painter de Stael, which I’ll translate badly: Solid, calm, unswervingly rooted, the painter of painters, an equal distance from kings and dwarves, an equal distance from himself and from others. Something for a writer to aspire to, too.

Out into the day – not raining, always good news – wandering again around St. Germain, home to the 14^th and out for dinner with Jean-Louis. When I dined with his family on Sunday, I accidentally took his phone when I left; we met Monday so I could give it back. We had a great talk, 51 years after we first met, about his crazy family and mine.

Tuesday was cleaning the apartment thoroughly and moving to the Hotel Port Royal in the 5^th. My hood. I am very happy to be back. The 14^th felt like real Paris, few tourists, mostly working families coming home after work with their groceries and baguettes. The apartment was big and bright, and my landlady reduced my rent considerably because of the noise. I almost considered staying. But this is the part of Paris I know well. Took my hosts Paolo and Annie for coffee on the rue Mouffetard, one of my favourite streets in all Paris. Watched a man with waist-length dreadlocks push a toddler in a stroller beside an older child; I remember him from my stay a few years ago, though he didn’t have children then. Spent the rest of the day walking, walking, revisiting my old stomping grounds, and emailing from my room. Was not feeling well so took it easy, which was welcome. It was so windy a storekeeper told me a woman was blown right off her bicycle.

Today, walking again – there’s sun though it’s cold, and tomorrow will be rain. I walked to my favourite Monge market and all the same merchants were there, then down to find the Abbey Bookshop. A Canadian flag outside – the owner is from Toronto. It’s heaven, packed with books old and new, a wonderful place I'd never been to before. I wanted to talk to the owner Brian about my book but he was busy – I’ll probably go back tomorrow. Found by chance, as I looked around entranced, exactly the book I need right now: “Good Prose: The Art of Nonfiction,” by Tracy Kidder and his editor. Later I sat in the Jardins du Luxembourg reading it. A guide on my own writing journey.

Lunch in a great student place off the Boulevard St. Michel with a soundtrack by the Shirelles, the Stones and B. B. King – heaven. Then to Luxembourg to see the Tudors. On the way, I did something I’ve always wanted to do – stop in the famous little umbrella shop on the Boul Mich. Hundreds of umbrellas. I treated myself to one that’s strong and very light, for tomorrow’s storm. Tonight dinner at a nearby bistro with my friend Juliet, a fellow blogger.

Tomorrow, my last day in this sublime city, in the rain. On Friday, off to London, where luckily it never rains.