Paris Postcard.

Today was another great day in Paris.  My wife and I spent the morning at the Musee d'Orsay, home to the largest collection of Impressionist art in the world.  Today, you see works by Monet, Degas and their contemporaries reproduced or imitated on everything from toilet paper packaging to motel wallpaper, but in their day, they were real rebels.  When you enter the museum, the first galleries you visit hold the work of the Impressionists' predecessors, paintings described as "Conservative," after the Conservatory where they were exhibited at annual salons. Even the uneducated like me can see what a huge change the Impressionists represented after that.  I think the word used most frequently by the voice in the audio tour guide was "shocked," as in, "The public was shocked by Sisley's blurring of lines."  Personally, I think they may be exaggerating the level of the general public's consternation but, still, I left wanting to know more.

After the Orsay, we took a long walk through Tuileries Gardens and up the bustling Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe.  I'm glad we went, because the view as you walk up the broad boulevard is right out of a Paris poster, but the high-end designer stores didn't really interest me.  Wealthy Japanese visitors seemed to dig them, though.  

I prefer the Marais, where our friends live:  narrow, winding streets, lined with boutiques, bars and restaurants.  I'm sitting now in the living room of their apartment.  The window is open and I can hear the Vespas buzzing along the roads and children laughing on the playground below.  Reality is beginning to creep into my thoughts.  Tomorrow is our last day here, and then we're on the plane and back to earth.  I miss my kids and I look forward to seeing them, but for now I'll sit and plan how I can send for them, find a little place to live and make this city our home.

Yes, I realize the plan is not well-formed.  I'm telling you though, a guy could get used to this place.