Tickets for Chamber music by Ravel and Saint-Saens, played by musicians from the National Opera Orchestra of Paris, were waiting for us at the Palais Garnier when we arrived a little before midday on Sunday. My son and his wife had organised this special treat for us months before, knowing how much I love classical music.
Stage inside the Palais Garnier.
Like most of the old theatres I’ve seen in Europe, this one was stunning. Red and gold everywhere; even without the music, the visit was worthwhile. The curtains were spectacular, made of what looked like
Dome above the stalls.
red velvet, masses of it, draped and flounced in theatrical fashion, almost like a separate character about to play his/her part. The dome above the front stalls told another story; decorated in bright colours with lots more gold and finished with a glistening chandelier hanging from the centre, it added to the atmophere.
We were amongst the first to arrive so we had plenty of time to take photos and and anticipate the enjoyment to come. I’m not familiar with the music of Saint-Saens and was pleasantly surprised by Le Carnival de animaux, especially as the conductor donned various hats to portray different animals. He made plenty of comments, but as it was all in French, we could only understand the acting, which was enough for us to get the idea. Most people in the audience were laughing loudly and I wished I could translate what the conductor was saying. A strange production of chamber music, but enjoyable.
After that we were ready for a late lunch so we wandered down a side street and found a food market inside a hall. Entry was from the street level, but an escalator took us down to the actual food hall where the displays were as tempting and artistic as
Our view from the escalator
Asparagus displayed as for a painting
only the French can create. No wonder their still life paintings are so highly praised when even the stall holders in a food market can make their produce look like a painting.
As it was our last day in Paris there was no point in buying fresh fruit to take back to our hotel, but we found the sort of bar that again, only the French can provide.
Claire oysters
Seafood of all kinds, cooked and raw, was on the menu. Australia produces some pretty good oysters, but my favourite ones are called Claire oysters and I ordered six of them. You can see from the photos that they are huge, but not rubbery as you’d expect. Just divine, with crusty bread and a glass of Chablis.
Fish and chips as only the French can do them
Susanne had fish and chips. I think she set out on this trip to try as many different varieties of the dish as she could. She looked very happy with her choice and was reluctant to allow me a few of her crunchy, delicious chips.
We had intended to go to Mass at Sacre Coeur but, with our concert at midday, and quite a distance to travel from one to another, we set off at about three o’clock on the underground, for the nearest
Clouds reduced the view, creating an image like an Impressionist painting.
station which is at the bottom of the hill. The walk up the hill certainly worked off most of our lunch. Being a Sunday, there was a large crowd both outside and inside the famous church. Grey clouds covered the sky and haze reduced the view of the city below us. I knew there would be a long queue for taxis back to the city and I wanted to at least pop into the Pompidou as well, so our visit was brief. My photos didn’t turn out very well, largely because of the crowds. Susanne did better so I’ve used her photos here. The most impressive work is the painting of Christ above the altar.
Stained glass windows
The Sacred Heart – Sacre Coeur – glows above the altar.
From Sacre Coeur one must wander through the stalls set up by artists in the old Montmartre tradition. I was keen to do this, but the work was generally not very good and we had no intention of buying something to cart around England for several weeks before returning to Australia. Those grey clouds burst when we were about half way around. With little space to protect themselves and their wares, the artists were not keen to offer us any cover.
My sister’s not happy.
I think this photo of Susanne expresses her opinion of that venture. Even her much loved Eagles jacket couldn’t keep out the rain.
We had seen people arriving by taxi before going into the church so we knew where to head for. Late on a wet Sunday afternoon, not many visitors were bringing taxis to the top of Montmartre and although there was a phone for the purpose and I did manage to make myself understood to the operator, we still had to wait for more than half an hour, wet and cold, and like all the others waiting, we felt a bit tense. When an American woman stepped to the front of the queue I’m afraid I was quite terse in pointing her to the end of the line.
Our hotel was like a welcoming home when we arrived back there. Packing took up most of the evening as we prepared to fly to Birmingham the next day.