Sleeeepppp!

Well, it's almost noon here in Paris, and I just woke up? What's up with that? I was so tired after my long day yesterday that my body just conked out and stayed that way. I did go to the Musee d'Orsay, and it was wonderful, full of beautiful paintings and brilliant sculptures. There were a number of works by Van Gogh, which moved me particularly because of his struggles with depression and insanity. There was also a portrait of Berthe Morisot by Eduard Manet, which I stood in front of for a good ten minutes. Her story sounds so fascinating, an artist herself, Morisot and Manet were good friends and she eventually married his brother. Seems that something else might have gone on—it would be a good book for Tracey Chevalier and/or A.S. Byatt to write.

Before I got to the Musee D'Orsay, I walked by the grounds at the Louvre, listened to all the people be confused because it's not open on Mondays, and then wonder what to do. But most of all listening to absolutely clueless people discuss architecture in ways that they just sound foolish, not that I'm an expert, but I certainly don't make proclamations to everyone around about the switch from 15th century (the Louvre) to 16th century (the buildings surrounding the museum). Wha?

After spending a good 3.5 hours in the museum, which including having lunch by myself, something I had never done before, I walked around the Seine to Les Invalides and took a look at where Napoleon is buried. I didn't actually make it to the crypt (by that time I was tired), so I hopped on the Metro and came back to Tina's. I fell asleep on the couch for a while, and then Tina and I visited some friends of hers, had a wonderful birthday dinner.

Apparently there's a group of ex-pats in Paris that form a sort of strange community where everyone knows everyone else and it's only a matter of time before one makes the rounds. They all seem to love Paris, which is wonderful to see. We told funny stories about Canada and the United States, and ate delicious food. They drank. I didn't (stupid disease!) because I'm saving my own imbibing for Ireland (t-three days!).