Weddings, Wings and Pilgrimages

19 April 2008

The Louvre

Spring continues. Today was mild and except for the threat of rain which seemed to hang over us but never eventuate, it was a lovely day. Virginia and I set out together and as we walked to the bus stop we saw three weddings at the Mairie or Town Hall. Saturday is a busy day for this sort of thing as many weddings now are purely civil affairs.

We caught the bus together and when we got to the Louvre-Rivoli stop went our separate ways. I went to the Louvre to look at Greek and Roman antiquities and Virginia looked at the shops on the Avenue de l'Opera which she found strangely quiet for a Saturday. Continuing her love affair with the buses, she experimented with different lines eventually winding up back in our neighbourhood to do some shopping and to explore Rue Lepic which runs close by.

At the Louvre, I did the unthinkable; I actually sought out some of the "tourist" items. Well, I found them while looking at other things but as always was impressed with Winged Victory. Displayed as it is, in a stairwell, it is magnificent.

They have also, I believe, moved Venus de Milo and she now stands at the end of an otherwise empty, long gallery. Both, of course are surrounded by tourists as is the Mona Lisa which I did not seek out but passed as I explored a gallery of Italian painting. It is in a separate room with some other works but it is clearly the centre of attention. And speaking of Mona Lisa, the enthusiasm for Dan Brown's book seems to have faded. Although there are still special tours, the Louvre has gone to some lengths (as has St. Sulpice) to point out the errors in the book and how it does not fit the reality of either the painting or the church.

Leaving the Louvre I wandered along the Rue de Rivoli until I reached the Square de la Tour Saint-Jacques. Here stands the Tour Saint-Jacques which used to be the bell tower of Saint-Jacques de Boucherie Church, built in the very early years of the sixteenth century. It was from here that pilgrims set off for the shrine of Saint James, Santiago de Compostela in Spain, during the middle ages. Some flavour of what it must have been like to set off on such a pilgrimage can be found in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales (although the departure point here was the Tabard Inn in Southwark).



Deciding there was not enough time to go on pilgrimage, I hopped a bus and headed for home where I caught up with Virginia and the two of us went up to the Butte to have a beer. We are now counting down to our departure and the beer was watered with a few tears; there will probably be more as we prepare to depart.