LBH on duty with the blog, still. Saturday morning we took the girls to one of the oldest marionette shows in Paris. This darling little theatre, which hasn't changed much at all since it was built in 1933, does twice-weekly marionette shows that are something of a staple entertainment for Parisian children. We saw "Les trois petits cochons" ("The Three Little Pigs"), which had some unexpected plot twists--the Big Bad Wolf it turns out wasn't hungry at all, only lonely and sad. And it all worked out happy in the end. This was closely followed by the Amorino gelato that has become de rigeur any time we leave the apartment. Mercifully for us, the portions are small.
Statuary and flowers at the Jardins du Luxembourg. I never tire of beauty.
The Pantheon. Formerly a church, now a monument to the Great People of France. And a majestic monument it is.
EBH leaps up the stairs of the Pantheon. She has more energy than the rest of us because she rides in the stroller most of the time.
C'est magnifique. The interior of the Pantheon.
A functioning Foucault's Pendulum that actually keeps pretty good time. (We were there around 1:30pm)
In one of the side chapels there was a cut-away model of the Pantheon that seemed almost as large as the real thing.
The Crypt. (Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaa.)
Rousseau's tomb, in the crypt.
Voltaire's tomb.
Victor Hugo and Alexandre Dumas are buried in the same room. That would be an interesting conversation come resurrection morning.
Some architectural detail on the front porch of the Pantheon.
Stopping for crepes after a long walk. (File under "Things We Never Get Tired Of")
A street performer at the Pompidou Center, doing a marvelous impersonation of a tree moving in the breeze. We're not sure why. But sometimes it's just safer to chalk things up to "Art" when you're around the Pompidou Center.
CQH was temporarily diverted from a Victor Vasarely that matched her outfit rather well.
If it's modern art that you're invited to crawl into and pretend it's a cave, EBH is all over it.
Because Notre Dame is fairly orthodox Catholic, the Sunday services officially start on Saturday night. We attended the 6:30pm Mass, which began with a lovely organ prelude before the priest walked down the aisle with his helpers and the incense. We stayed for about half the service, before E got impatient and the incense started to give us a headache. On the way out we saw these statues by the door, and wondered what that poor bishop had done to deserve losing his head. After the Pompidou Center, we just chalked it up to "Art" and moved on.
Gorgeous and interesting.
ReplyDeleteI'm going to start chalking up my messy house to "art". It looks like you are all going strong! Keep up the blogging. It makes me feel like I'm in Europe every other night.
ReplyDeleteIf Hugo and Dumas were discussing the ending of "The Count of Monte Cristo," I would love to be there.
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