Padraig

Sally30, I share your wish. Thank you.

Travelnut, I failed to find that page (and I still can't see the way you got to it). I agree about the prices, but the food doesn't seem particularly interesting.

Herself has ruled that the Musée d'Orsay is not optional. That's fine by me.

Cathinjoetown

Padraig,

I think the garden at the Rodin Museum is the best part, so try to choose a decent day to go there in order to spend time in the garden.

Hope you have lots of sun and a grand time.

Padraig

Wet day on Montmartre; parapluies and imperméables; bistro not far from Place du Tertre; rough-plastered walls washed in yellow, creamy-white floor tiles (some cracked), dark timber, mirrors, close-packed bentwood furniture; Piaf songs as background; soupe à l'oignon gratinée followed by boeuf bourguignon and mousse au chocolat, washed down with a bottle of Côtes du Rhône.

Could anything be more authentic?

Padraig

Musée d'Orsay. Olympia absent. Some prostitutes do outcalls.

Padraig

Best new Paris experience: Musée Carnavalet. Free admission was a bonus.

Padraig

We sat on a terasse at Place de la Contrescarpe, drinking coffee and enjoying the sunshine (yes, a sunny day in November).

Sometimes the most interesting bits of buildings are the upper storeys, because they often escape the modernisers. And on the first floor of a shop I saw an old painted sign, the survival of which indicated a greater respect for history than for political correctness (or maybe it was just neglect, either benign or malign): Au Nègre Joyeux.

Nikki

Thanks for the updates. Whetting my appetite. Leaving today.

Olympia is visiting the Grand Palais across the Seine, I think.

Padraig

Bon Voyage, Nikki.

You are right about Olympia. We settled for the A4 size reproduction pinned to the wall in the place she usually inhabits. Herself was with me, so I could not show too much disappointment about failing to meet my favourite whore.

Padraig

There is a courtesy that not everybody observes in museums and galleries: that one should not step between another visitor and the object of his or her attention. We try to respect other people's space, and feel entitled to be irked when others do not do the same for us.

We have adopted a protocol about people taking photographs: if they are reasonably expeditious, and give the impression that they are trying not to be obstructive, then we allow them space and time to make their picture record.

After a half an hour in the Louvre Herself returned to my side and told me that she had decided that she would grant nothing to people using cameras, mainly on the grounds that if she did, she would not get to see anything, and also because so many people with cameras behaved with no consideration for others. There are people whose experience is mediated by a viewfinder and who, if they are ever to look at the things in front of them, will do so only in their holiday picture album. And as for those with video cameras...

So Herself and I might be in many people's holiday pictures, walking through.

In the garden of the Musée Rodin we paused (yet again) to admire a sculpture. A Japanese couple approached us, smiling: "please, photograph?". So we stepped aside to allow a clear shot. "No, no. You." And they linked arms with us while their companion pointed the camera. Thinking to gift them with one of my rare smiles, I took my pipe from my mouth. "Please", and they gestured that they wanted me to have the pipe in my mouth. Done. Picture taken, smiles and thank yous. So we will be in an album in some place in Japan, the objects of curiosity and, I hope, admiration. They should have bought us lunch.

I prowled a quiet street in Montmartre trying to find the point from which to capture the autumnal colours, the buildings, and the glistening wet cobblestones. When I found my spot, a couple came up behind me. I stood aside to let them pass, and they gestured to me to continue. So I got my picture, and thanked them. When I moved away, the girl took her camera out and photographed the same view. I am sure that I inspired her. Oh, the small glories in which we revel!