TPAYT

What a fun report! You make each location come alive.
I am very impressed with Annette's beautiful glasswork. As a person who has no artistic talents whatsoever (I'm more of a numbers person), I so appreciate the creative talents of others.

YankyGal

Thanks for the great lunchtime reading today, nukesafe.

I'm glad you have a question mark after "Final" in your title. I mean, you just never know...

Looking forward to the rest.

nukesafe

Dee_Dee, yes there is an art market on Sunday on the Avenue Edgar Quuinet. The regular street marche for the usual fruits, vegetables, etc., is held there, near the Montparnasse tower, from early morning until around 2:30 in the afternoon. They leave at least some of the stalls standing overnight, and at 11:00 on Sunday morning you can visit a number of artists who display (and hopefully sell) their works.

nukesafe

Monday morning was, no surprise, rainy again, but we were off to the Baccarat Museum. http://www.baccarat.com/en/the-world...ning-hours.htm Technically, glass is quite different than crystal, and not really related to the things Annette does, but the heritage of the things this house has produced over the years is awesome. We were eager to look at more than the few crystal glasses one sees displayed at Macy's.

We had heard about the museum, but were completely unprepared for the wondrous things we were going to see. The museum is housed in an elegant mansion on the Place Etats-Unis in the 16th. It is worth the trip just to see the old ballroom that is left empty to let you feel how it must have felt to attend an elegant gala in the old days.

The museum is actually two museums; perhaps three, if you count the bathroom. You enter a grand foyer, and climb a curved stairway to the next floor, where there are a series of showrooms displaying the astounding range of their current production. Suave attendants are there to conduct one around if you have questions. Since we arrived shortly after 09:00 on a rainy Monday, we were the only persons in the place for awhile. While one group of employees were carefully unpacking a few boxes, polishing the contents, and carefully arranging them on a shelf --- glass, of course, a well dressed young chap approached us with a tray on which were two perfectly simple, perfectly brilliant, glasses of pure water. We were not thirsty, but it would have taken someone with more courage than we possessed to turn him away.

He talked to us about the building, and the special things on display, then left us to inspect the rest of the rooms. I'm sure he could tell we were not there to buy, as he could have knocked our eyes off with a stick as we noted the prices on various treasures.

On the next level was the museum itself, showing examples of the incredible workmanship the company has been known for since 1764. Wow! Each case was more eye popping than the next. That level also contained the sumptuous ballroom mentioned before, as well as a video presentation of the making of the crystal delights.

As we came out of the museum, I looked for the bathroom I had read about. Both Annette and I went in, not to use the facilities, but to gawk at the most astounding display of extravagantly ostentatious over decoration of a potty one could imagine. Simply has to be seen to be believed; mirrors, and crystal, and ---- well, go see for yourself.

As we went into that paean to excretory functions, I had noticed a tea or coffee service set up at two small tables beside the stairway. I asked a young lady at the desk about them, and she said they were for restaurant patrons waiting their reservations. “Restaurant?”, I replied, “I didn't know there was a restaurant here” She lifted a hand and a nice fellow took us through a doorway and on a tour of the “Crystal Room”, which was set up for luncheon. What an elegant place to dine! It was much too early for lunch, but another time we, hopefully, will return and grab a bite there. A really special place – and I'm sure one would dine from nothing but Baccarat.

From there, we went to the Drouot Auction House. We love going to auctions and, when we lived in D.C. before retiring, we would go to at least two a week for entertainment. Great fun; sort of like treasure hunting where you could get interesting things for very little, as long as you used your head. These were simple little estate and country auctions; not at all intimidating.

We had dropped into Drouot on an earlier visit, but the place was so big, so busy, so slick, and our French so inadequate, that we fled in confusion without even going into an auction hall. This time we decided to be brave and, even though our language skills had not improved, at least sit in on one auction. Here is a link to their upcoming auctions. http://www.drouot.com/?bpage=Sales&d...g.days&lang=en

We first glanced through a few of the catalogs on a long counter to see what was being auctioned, and where. Then we wandered from auction room to auction room for a pre-viewing of the things on offer. There are three or four floors of galleries with, thankfully, escalators connecting them. One of the galleries was stuffed with stuffed animals. Lions, tigers, a hyena gnawing a bone – no giraffe, but just about every other African animal one could imagine. We picked one gallery in which we saw art work that looked interesting, got a catalog from up front, found seats, and waited a few moments for the action to start.

What fun! For a few brief moments we could pretend we were rich folks trying to furnish our mansion; fantasize we were playing with the big guys. We had absolutely NO intention of bidding!

The auctioneer would call out the number of an object in the order of sale, a picture would be flashed on a large screen, the grunts who moved stuff around would hold up the object for all to see, the Auctioneer would say a few words of description, and start the bidding. Each item had a range of suggested values listed in the catalog, so he would start at the lower number, urge folks to bid, and then drop his number to attract the first bid. Numbers would fly, with his front men pointing to people making bids, and/or others would take bids on the telephone or internet. At one exciting point each of the two front men had a cell phone to each ear, and someone else was entering bids via the internet.

I have learned my French numbers enough to pay restaurant tabs, but I had to really think to follow the bidding, as it was in thousands, not the double digits in which I am comfortable in dealing. It was fun, watching tapestries, sculptures, paintings, and furniture fly off the floor. We could see that when a bidder won, he was expected to approach one end of the long auction desk and make immediate payment. The item would be moved to the back room by the handlers, and the buyer would leave the hall to go around to “backstage”, present his receipt, and take possession of his new property.

We would have left after a few minutes, as we had other things planned for the afternoon, but “Quelle Horreur!”, my dear wife had spotted a huge glass sculpture by the very artist whose work we had seen earlier in a gallery; Yves Truchhi. The tiny pieces in the gallery, perhaps 6 x 8 inches were priced at several hundred Euro, while the low end estimate in the catalog was not much above that for a piece that must have been close to a meter high and a foot thick. It was listed as number 218 in the catalog, butt Annette really wanted to see what the sale price was; research for pricing her own works, she said, ---- so we stayed.

Bad mistake.

My Dearest said she would wait for the asking price to drop, and if it was really, really, low, make one bid.

The piece came up.

No bids.

The price dropped.

Somebody made a bid.

Annette said, “Oh, good, somebody bid, now I won't have to.”

I could see the disappointed expression on her face and then I made my fatal mistake. I gave her the elbow, and whispered, “Go ahead.”

She did.

Someone behind us upped the bid jut a bit.

Annette resolutely shook her head at the Auctioneer.

He said something about, “OK, how about just another €20?”

Again my elbow.

She nodded, and we owned the thing.

Now the nightmare started. Paying for it, contacting FedEx, getting them to the auction house that day (they didn't show up) and getting it home. Luckily, one of the front men was amazingly helpful; arranging to wait for FedEx. Allowing us to call him at home, coming in on his day off to again wait for FedEx to show up two hours late, etc., etc. When the huge and unwieldy object was finally in FedEx hands, we made a special trip to Drouot to deliver to the front desk a bottle of the most spendy single malt whiskey we could find, as a present for him. We will write a letter of appreciation to Drouot, as well.

BTW, the art work still has not been delivered. FedEx seems to have lost it. Or it is stuck in Customs, or “What was that routing number again?” Different story every day.

Sigh ---- me and my damned elbow.

That's enough for now. I'm going to call FedEx again.

Dee_Dee

First, let me thank you for the additional information on the Sunday art market. I will definitely be there on my next visit.

Secondly, I would suggest the next time you & the Mrs attend an auction, you first tape your arms to your torso in order to disable your elbow! Love, love, love this story. How wonderful to purchase an admired piece of art as a reminder of your splendid trip. You must let us know when it arrives (and hopefully in one piece!)

kerouac

It will be an unforgettable item to own.

In order to stay away from auction houses on your next trip, I recommend visiting the city of Baccarat itself, in the Vosges. But of course the lovely showrooms there are capable of causing monetary distress as well.

Nikki

Great story about the auction. You will be telling it forever, especially if the piece actually arrives and ends up in your home.

I might think about attending an auction at Drouot, no danger of my buying anything.

Dee Dee, in addition to the Sunday art market in Montparnasse, there is one every Saturday at the Bastille.
http://en.parisinfo.com/professionna...paris-bastille

latedaytraveler

Hi Nukesafe,

What a wonderful, fun report! I am not a shopper but am enjoying your browsing, particularly your adventure at the auction. Hope your find arrives home safely.

You folks certainly cover a great deal of territory. You mentioned, I believe, doing the Orangerie and Orsay in one day then heading for the Marais to peruse more shops – that was quite a day.

I also enjoyed the Nissim de Comando Museum – a real gem.

Looking forward to the rest of your journey. Merci for sharing…

tower

Nuke..from one <b>Octo</b> to another, your report is wonderfully descriptive and fun to read. The mention of Chihuli sparked some memories for me. In Seattle one time when Dale was exhibiting, like his stuff or not, the display was extraordinary. He was most friendly to chat with, also.

Dee_Dee

Nikki - oh boy! Another new art market for me to visit! Thanks for the info and the link. I had better bring a extra suitcase.

nukesafe

A new day dawned on Tuesday to find us off to look for two galleries to which we had been referred. Both were closed, unfortunately. Much of the rest of the morning was spent on phone or iPad checking to see why the French component of FedEx found it so damned hard to find Drouot Auction House.

Lunch time found us near Luxembourg Gardens, where we planned to have a meal at Le Ferrandaise, where we had eaten before. We came up to the door a few minutes before 12:00, and asked a waiter standing in the doorway if they were open. “Midi!”, he snapped. It was about three minutes 'till, but --- OK. We wandered up to the corner to wait, but the guy behind the bar at Au Pere Louis at the corner saw us standing out there and gave us a smile. That was enough encouragement for us, and we went in and had a delightful luncheon cozy surroundings. Couldn't find their web site, but here are the reviews on Yelp: http://www.yelp.com/biz/au-p%C3%A8re-louis-paris-2

After that, we split tacks. Annette had scored a ticket to one of the fashion shows at Galleries Lafayette, that afternoon, and I wanted to wander on my own. Since we were close to the Luxembourg Gardens, I walked over to the fruit trees. I had heard that somewhere in the South-Western portion of the park, some king or other had established a national garden for all of the varieties of apple and pear trees in France. Le Verger du Luxembourg is supposed to contain some 1000 espaliered fruit trees of 600 varieties, along with a nearby beekeeping school to keep them pollinated. I had been in the gardens before, but had never seen them. The enclosure I finally found was much smaller than I had imagined. The torturous shapes the trees had been forced into against parallel fences are the only way one could crowd that number of trees into that corner of the gardens. The trees are protected by wire netting, so one cannot wander among them, and I can understand why – the delicious pears and apples would be plucked in an instant if you could reach them. Most of the individual fruits had plastic collars around their base, or covered with plastic bags; I suppose to protect their perfection. Rank has it's privileges, and that is one for the French Senators, I think.

I had never been this deep into the park before; always sitting by the pond, watching the kids with the boats, listening to an orchestra play on the bandstand, or going as far as the kiddies' playground. The south part f the park was not nearly as crowded, with wide sweeps of statue-studded lawn, beds of late blooming flowers, and trees with their leaves turning for Fall. I sat on a bench for awhile and just enjoyed.

No rest for the wicked. I had never seen the Pantheon. Walked by it a number of times, but never gone in. I trotted (well, shuffled) the few blocks to the edifice, and went in. It certainly is an impressive building, with the enormous vaulted dome. I can see why Foucault chose it to demonstrate his pendulum; that 67 meters of cable he was able to stretch to the ceiling would have given him the best chance to demonstrate his theory that the earth was rotating. I had seen his original pendulum in Arts et Metiers, but the one in the Pantheon is more impressive.

I wanted to see where some of the notables of France were interred, so I went down the helical flights of stairs that led to the crypts. It was much more open and airy than most such places I have been in, but damned if I could find my way out. I kept wandering from chamber to chamber, getting tired of reading carved inscriptions. I kept following “Sortie” signs, only to end up at closed doors or barred openings. It finally dawned on my dim brain that the symbol on those signs were of a running man, indicating I was following emergency exit signs. I realized I had to climb those damned stairs again.

Perhaps I should explain at some point why I keep bitching about stairs. It's not that I'm old, (I am, of course) but I am in relatively good shape, working out in the health club as often as my dear Wife can bully me into going; at least twice a week. My problem is lack of lungs. I have never smoked, but the lungs that got me through a nasty war as a Marine, let me ski and dive, swim and hike, dance and run, started to go a few years ago, and I now have less than 50% capacity. That means if I walk too fast, or hit some stairs, my muscles can't get enough oxygen, and I have to slow down or halt to let my lungs catch up. Pain in the ass. Annette is an angel, slowing her lope to accommodate my shamble, pausing with me halfway up the stairs in the metro, etc. I just wish the rest of the harried Parisian Metro riders didn't give me those fearsome, annoyed, Gallic glares when I stop dead, and they have to leap aside to miss a collision. Gallic glares penetrate like x-rays, and really sting!

After I caught my breath at the top of the crypt stairs, I headed to the next place on my list of things I had not seen in that part or town, the Arenes de Lutece. The only Roman arena in Paris that still exists is just off Rue Monge. There are a number of entrances, but I used the one off Rue Monge that leads down a ramp directly into the arena. As I stood on the sand, watching some guys playing Patanque, I looked at the walls of the arena, and tried to picture myself there in Roman times. Damn, but those walls are high! Even chased by a lion, I could not have been able to climb out of that place even in my youth. I guess that was the idea, not like a bull ring, where a chap can vault over the barrier to escape the bull. You could go in, but maybe not out unless the people let you. Perhaps we should redesign both the House and Senate chambers along similar lines.

I went back up the ramp to where one could access the seats, sat, read my novel, and ate an eclair I had bought down the street. I had the whole place to myself, save for the patanque players, and a chap teaching a small class something or other; probably about the Romans. I spent a very pleasant hour or so there until the rain started to spit again, and I went back toward the 11th, where I had made plans to meet Annette at Jacques Genin's patisserie at 4:00.

Since that famous and very trendy baker had been touted so much on this thread and by David Lebovitz, http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2012/09...colate-pastry/ and since it was only about 500 meters from our apartment, I felt it my sacred duty to go there just so I could report on their Paris-Brest for you Fodorites. We had gone in a few days before, and scored a table immediately, only to be told they had just sold the last Paris-Brest. I had to force myself to eat something else so as not to annoy the waitress.

I should warn you that it is truly trendy. Very nice, but there are only seven tables. If you know how long Parisians like to linger at a cafe, be prepared for a long wait. I was to meet my date there at 4:00, and arrived about 15 minutes early. I peeked in to see if she had arrived as yet, planning to have a drink at a nearby bar while if I had to wait for her. She was not there, but there were three couples waiting in line. I got in line, too, and at about 4:10 my phone rang. It was Annette, saying she had taken a bus, and it was hung up in traffic, so she would be late. She arrived about 4:30, joined me in line, and we were seated about 4:45. It is not a fast food joint!

The Paris-Brest was WONDERFUL!

Tomorrow we journey to Besançon.

taconictraveler

Oh, what a charming report this is. I can picture many of the places you are telling about. Positively transporting! Many thanks.

latedaytraveler

ttt

ltr

Great trip report! Need to bookmark this.

Keren

Wonderful. And eagerly waiting to read about Besançon.

TPAYT

You do have quite a sense of humor----redesigning the House and Senat chambers---good one!

Iregeo

Thank you, thank you for this delightful report! I have always wanted to go to Drouot, but have never had the guts!

bardo1

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nancy1652

I too spent a Sunday at the market at Vanves and was thrilled to find a dealer selling old Sothebys catalogs.
These are very difficult to find any more, but this fellow had 100s, more than I could possibly look at. I bought two huge Impressionist and Modern Art catalogs from 2011 auctions (for 7 euros each) and one Aboriginal Art. I find these catalogs to be far superior to most art books, since the reproductions are superb and the information about the paintings is always interesting. Quite a thrill for me.

My apartment was on Edgar Quinent so I had the delight of shopping the food market on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the smaller art market on Sundays. I was also only a 10-minute walk from the Luxembourg and entered the park right near the fruit trees you mentioned. Thanks so much for the description and their history, as I wondered about them. I too loved that area of the park which was the first time I had been in it.

Your writing is delightful and I am thoroughly enjoying your report. I just returned a few days ago, so I shared your weather, good and bad. I love Paris no matter what, but a sunny day does make the Luxembourg a joy to be in.

CarolA

I am planning to print this off and give it to my crazy mother who has decided at 75 that she's getting too old to travel. And her lungs work great (despite 50 plus years of heavy smoking.. there is no justice in the world is there?)

Love the report!