Paris: A Big Grave for a Little Man, Le Penseur, and One of us Crawls on the Metro Floor
Our final day in the City of Light started off with a humorous escapade involving us and the Metro system. The previous night, we noticed one of our Paris Cards had a defunct operational habit when used to enter and exit each station. Mysteriously, over the course of an evening, another Paris Card joined the ranks of defunct misfit. Thus, every visit to the Metro turnstiles became our version of Parisian Roulette - whereby, two of us were granted easy passage while the other half faced the Gauntlet from American Gladiators.
The morning Metro escapade commenced as we exited Luxembourg station. Julie and I managed to select the operational cards and had no trouble passing through the turnstiles. However, we noticed the other half of our party was stuck behind the brigade of metal gatekeepers. After repeated failures, it was abundantly clear - the defunct Paris Cards would not comply. The time had come to consider if we should leave Julie's parents behind while they rode the Metro all day (we would come back for them). As we debated the abandonment option, our predicament escalated to a situational comedy. The turnstile proved a formidable adversary, there was no chance of going over, under, or around - or so it seemed. All efforts were stymied with hilarious results, leaving no option, but to crawl under; the equivalent of a human using a doggy door. Unfortunate for one, but appeasing to the remainder - we laughed as we watched Julie's mother struggle to make it to the other side. Eventually, she succeeded and we were quickly joined by Julie's father who simply hopped the turnstile. Before exiting Luxembourg station, we went to customer service in hopes of correcting the malfunctioning Paris Passes. To avoid another lengthy diatribe, the encounter with the Metro Card service team involved interminable blank stares and inexplicable confusion. Obviously a futile effort, there was no chance to fix the cards nor rectify the issue; thus, the younger half of our group were given the defunct misfits because we could Cirque du Soleil our way pass the turnstiles.
Entering Luxembourg Gardens
Luxembourg Palace
Finally, we managed to make it out of the Metro and proceeded across the street to Jardin du Luxembourg, a palatial garden where we could relax and restore some of our sanity lost during the morning's follies. We left the grounds and headed east to the Panthéon, a museum Julie and I skipped on our first trip to Paris and were (initially) pleased to visit this time around. Our ephemeral excitement was dashed upon finding out the Foucault pendulum was undergoing a three-year restoration. Missing out on the main attraction made for an otherwise underwhelming experience, however, it was enjoyable to see the crypts of France's greatest minds below the building; including, Voltaire, Marie Curie, Rousseau, and Victor Hugo. Feeling the need for consolation over the restoration frustration, we pitted the void with baguettes and pastries from a nearby delicatessen.
Imagine Foucault pendulum here
Pendulum character rendering
With the bulk of the afternoon ahead of us, we rode the Metro to Varenne Station, a centrally located area to visit both Dôme des Invalides (Napoléon's Tomb) and Musée Rodin. Initial impressions of Napoléon's tomb ironically complete the self-fulfilling prophecy of the aptly named inferiority complex. The misnomer, "Napoleon Complex," started when the British Tory press spread sizable rumors with regards to the vertical prowess of the aforementioned. The height debate is a result of a measurement conversion discrepancy between the French pouce and British inch. It is believed that Napoléon stood a meager 5' 6", about average for the time, yet; his sarcophagus measures 2.15 meters (~7 ft.) in length and a meter wide. Presumably, French retaliation to the British Tory press in an age-old debate nobody cares about. We left Dôme des Invalides and walked across the street to the Rodin Museum to ponder the majestic statue, Le Penseur.
Voltaire wondering where the pendulum could be
Marie Curie
At this point, one would think we would be tired of museums, specifically, art museums. Despite the verisimilitude of the previous sentence, one Monet-centric attraction remained, Musée de l'Orangerie. We devoted enough time to admire the Water Lillies series for us to recover from the excessive walking throughout the day. Before we departed, Julie and I were informed of our second Parisian swindling in as many days.
Little guy, big tomb
Ceiling of Dome de Invalides
We received an email from our credit card company who informed us that our information had unknowingly been stolen by some Parisian ursine. However, the amount of money involved rendered Julie's street rat swindling innocuous. Apparently, one lucky street-rat went on an spending spree at La Salle des Ventes du Particulier, a high-end antique dealer. Fortunately, we were protected from identity theft, but our credit card was canceled - allowing us to move on with our day (damn gypsies burned us again).
Radio Paris
Seats for the conceret
With most of our days and activities planned, a bit of spontaneity beckoned. We returned to the 4th arrondissement and found some filers for a performance of Antonio Vivaldi's Four Seasons in a nearby church. Following a brief search, we found the venue, Paroisse Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre. With a bit of time before curtain call, we enjoyed the tranquility of Square-Rene Viviani, a small park between Saint-Julien and Notre-Dame. The general consensus agreed the performance was great, the small church provided an intimate environment and enjoyable experience. We had dinner right around the corner from Saint-Julien and concluded our trip to the City of Light with a walk along the Seine as night fell.
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