I was at Vishniac

This morning's breakfast did  not come with a croissant, alas. It was delicious anyway, though, and I didn't have to worry about what was intended for whom! A major accomplishment, in my book. In the classical french custom of lingering over meals, I read my book as I enjoyed a prolonged breakfast. Then again, I may have been following the classical Stanford custom of procrastination while I did not do my readings for Tuesday, but that's slightly less glorious and culturally-aware, I would say. In any case, suffice it to say that this morning varied very little from the others.

Of course, I can't sit around all day in Paris, even if I have work to do. I have to get to my greater class: the study of historic foreign cities! That is, it was time to take a walk and visit museums. I first set out south on rue Vaugirard, thinking I would explore a bit (until today, I had only ever walked north). It turned out not to be particularly interesting, with the notable exception of the Pierre Hermé I found (remember the EXCEPTIONAL macarons from yesterday? Well, I do). Then again, if you go walking in Paris and don't find something interesting, you haven't tried hard enough. Lazy, and engrossed in my book, I took the Métro to the station by Musée D'Orsay, semi-intending to visit the Grand Palais exhibition again. Unfortunately, given that it is the second-to-last weekend before this hugely popular exhibition closes, even the coup-fil line (that is, the one for special people with cards, like me!) was undesirably long, so, book in hand, I took a walk.

I passed through the Tuileries, heading, eventually, to the Musée de l'Art et l'Histoire Juif, since in the Métro I had seen a poster announcing a photography exhibition that was closing today. I haven't really walked through the Tuileries since I've been here, and I can never turn down a walk through the park, so soon I found myself winding between trees (well, okay, if you ever find yourself "winding" between trees in a French garden, you are either a) extremely drunk, or b) doing a soccer dribbling exercise; they are all perfectly aligned in rows), book in one hand, camera in the other. The light wasn't particularly good (that is, it was quite cloudy), but a great day for wandering.

I found a nice fountain. Without any tourists! What an achievement.

Birds are quite fond of this particular side of the Louvre. Thermals?

I stopped in the Louvre for a peek, and bought a croissant for a snack, which, in my hungry state, I forgot to photograph. I believe I took the Métro from the Louvre to the Marais, although the journey was quite overshadowed by my book (I'm almost done!). Then, I wandered. After stopping for an apple strudel on rue des Rossiers (which, again, I forgot to photograph, my bad! Guess I'll have to get another one…), I followed rue de la Veille Temple for a bit before realizing, in a bit of an ironic reversal from yesterday's adventure, that the museum was actually on rue du Temple. This resulted in an exact backtracking along yesterday's path until I came upon the museum.

This very secure museum is guarded by scary faces on the doors. The Gendarme is decoration.

This was the only museum so far that noticed my Leatherman (even though I put my bag through a bag scanner upon entering every museum), so I suppose that is reassuring for their security. The exhibition was fantastic. It was truly stunning. The photographer, Roman Vishniac, was a Russian Jew who began his adulthood in Berlin (the Bolsheviks weren't a big fan of him). A biologist and zoologist by study, he fell into photography, and started taking pictures of pre-war Jewish life in Eastern Europe. An American organization, noticing his talent, hired him to continue in 1938, which provided him with some additional protection. This resulted in some of the most stunning photos; in a sense, he was a war-time Henri Cartier-Bresson. Bresson was, in fact, fond of several of his works. He moved to France when Germany got too dangerous (actually, well after Germany got too dangerous! 1939) and was lucky enough to emigrate to New York in 1941 with his family, where he began seriously publishing and displaying his works. I only took one photo inside the exhibition, but the website is: http://vishniac.icp.org/ if you're interested.

For safety and peace, huge numbers of Jews were moving to Palestine. Irony?

They had a super-cheap coffee vending machine, and I sat down for a nice €0,55 coffee. Unfortunately, I ruined it by forgetting to subtract the sugar, but, having bought it, I drank it (it was still coffee!) and affirmed my love of café noir.

From the courtyard. Because space is a privilege in Paris.

The façade of the museum. A beautiful building.

You know how I love random arches that lead to empty courtyards.

Statue in the courtyard of the museum.

After the museum, I walked back towards Hôtel de Ville, and intended to take the Métro to the Louvre and walk from there. Unfortunately, I headed at first in the wrong direction, and had to switch back over at St. Paul. This is fine, as it gave me more time to read my book, which is fantastic. Coming back across the courtyard before the Louvre, I stumbled upon the most impressive sunset I have ever seen in Paris. I stood for fifteen minutes taking photographs and watching its progress. This was a Monet-style study (that is, I have countless photographs of exactly the same thing with slightly different colors to mark them as different paintings, so I can sell a matching set and triple my earnings). In all seriousness, I could hardly choose which photographs to include, so I have provided a sequence that maps the progress of said sunset. Please appreciate the fact that this is at most 1/3 of the pictures I took.

Finally, the sun faded behind the Palace, and I headed across the bridge. Then, of course, I had to catch the sunset sinking behind the buildings across the Seine.

Musée D'Orsay with sinking sun

I made my way home eventually, taking care to choose a different route than my normal one. The problem is, my customary trek is so incredibly direct that any alternative is bound to take me significantly longer. However, I made it home in plenty of time before dinner.

We had some sort of meat with tomatoes provençales and rice, and a potimarron écrassé. We had a delicious cheese and an apple compote with Christmas pudding just because. It was quite a feast.

So, after yet another spectacular day, I have to stop procrastinating (or, at the very least, finish my book!). Bonne nuit!