Orsay can you see ...

I tried a new schedule today - working and errands during the day, museum in the evening. Try the Musee d'Orsay at six p.m. on Thursdays, a friend had advised me, as it's the only night the museum stays open late and all the tourists eat at six. I got there at ten to six, and though there was a boisterous clump of Italian schoolchildren ahead of me in the line, we got in fast. When I left at 8 p.m., two star-studded hours later, there was a long line-up outside, even at that hour. So, there's a Valuable Tip for your next trip to Paris. 

Even if there were no paintings, Orsay would be worth the visit just for the building alone - that cathedral-like massive inner space with vaulted, decorated ceiling and spectacular gold clock. But of course there ARE paintings, just a few. I went straight to the top, the Impressionists and post-Impressionists, and breathed a sigh of pleasure and recognition as I started the tour - Cezanne, Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, Degas, Fantin-Latour, Renoir, Gaugin, Seurat, Bonnard - many of their greatest works that I studied in school as a child.  And others, previously unknown - a tiny Manet canvas of one asparagus stalk - just beautiful. A Monet of a  young boy almost hidden among tall plants in a dark apartment. Still lifes that make you want to always arrange your fruit so it's spilling onto the table. The almost menacing intensity of Van Gogh, the sweet pinks and blues of Monet, the wondrous calm of Cezanne. 

It's helpful that they all painted both themselves and each other, so we can put faces to the work. There's a portrait of the painter Berthe Morissot by Manet - who knew she was very beautiful? And in a group portrait by Fantin-Latour, there's Rimbaud the poet, his hair wild, looking about twelve years old. The artists are usually portrayed dressed in dignified suits, with big beards - not the wild starving-in-a-garret painters of Paris that we imagine.

After an hour gorging myself on the top floor, I went down to the ground, saving the middle floors for another day. Another wander round, with lots of sitting to watch the crowd as well as the canvases and sculptures.  But after an hour and a half, I find I can't take much more in, try as I might, and I did try. Emerged into a stunning Paris dusk, the fading sun gleaming on the Louvre across the river, and walked along the Quais to Boul' Mich' to get my bus home, gazing into the windows of very exclusive shops, including one that sells only antiquities from the Middle Ages. I was thrilled to see two Paris flics - police - huddled over a street map. I guess they, too, have to figure out where they are. 

Stopped at the nearest grocery store on the way home to buy two necessities, milk and wine. There was an entire wall of selection, ranging in price from 3 euros to 25. So I bought a bottle of 4 euro Bordeaux to have with dinner. It smells a little bit of socks, but it's drinkable. 

I raise a glass of wine, my friends - to artists, who have so enriched our world.