‘I dream of painting and then I paint my dream’…. Vincent Van Gogh

Today, we were off to the Musee d’Orsay and then to Montartre.. But bigger than that, we are going to conquer these damn trains of Paris with or without help from the shrugging Frenchwoman at Le Kiosque. We had a later start today. We desperately needed the sleep after the huge day the day before. I think Versailles was the closest we’d come to being broken by Paris lol. So a leisurely breakfast and we were ready to head off.

We were all virtuous as we walked to the railway station. Maps said it was 800 metres and we were rested and ready to rock and roll. By the time we got down there we must have looked frazzled. Best intentions and all that. Anyway, when we got there, there was a lovely young man helping people out at the ticket machine and he got us a Navigo card and put a day’s travel pass on it for us. He explained how to get to the Orsay and we would work it out from there. It was pretty easy to be honest.

It looks more confusing than it is. When you read take the D line you freak a bit, till you get there and you see a big sign, saying D line.. We had to take 3 trains to get to Orsay. First from Alfortville where we were staying to Gare de Lyon, from there we had to get a train to another place that I’ve forgotten the name of and from there the last train to d’Orsay. I kept trying to high five Cecile each station but she kept saying we weren’t there yet.. She of little faith.. Well we did it.

We got to the Musee d’Orsay and as we hadn’t booked tickets, we had to line up in the old cattle race again. The line went quick enough but we were again out in the sun which was already stinking hot. The UV factor is low but the heat is horrendous. Anyway, while we waited I mused about what the statues of the women were out the front. I assumed they were the ones that rose from the Seine during the Olympics, but it turns out there were actually made for the Expo in 1878 and moved to the museum courtyard in 1985. The six statues represent the six continents of the world.

When we got in, we headed straight upstairs to the restaurant which sits at the face of one of the huge iconic clocks which are a feature of this elegant museum/gallery. We waited about 15 minutes to be seated and had some lasagne (very average) and a cold drink. I then followed that up with Tarte Citron Meringue (lemon meringue pie) while Cecile had a stripey coffee. (cafe latte macchiata she tells me) It was really lovely, but I do love my lemon meringue served hot which this wasn’t.. No complaints though. It was lovely.

We were already on the 5th floor so we headed from there to the Impressionists area. Oh my goodness. Look, I have obviously seen a good lot of these paintings in posters, online, on tv but never in person and I was not prepared for them. I like Van Gogh’s work but I prefer realism generally so it wasn’t THAT much of an attraction until I saw it up close and personal. Each one looks like needlework. I couldn’t believe the difference in seeing the real thing. Starry night is illuminated. It looks like real golden thread sewn in to the picture, reflecting on the water. It is simply glorious. The pain in his eyes in his self portraits is absolutely torturous and isn’t as obvious in any reproduction. I was honestly gobsmacked by his stuff. I liked his work before.. but now I love it.

Degas was another one that surprised me in the best possible way. I’ve always loved his ballerinas but in real life they are even more delicate than I thought. Especially Dancers in Blue which is a pastel. In reproductions it is pretty but when you see it in real life, those tutus look like lace. They are delicate and the shading is indesribable.

There were so many that were more than I was expecting. Again, the army of mobile phones shoved in front of every picture was annoying.. Not because they were taking the pics but they spent no time just experiencing them, so they will go home with the same reproductions they could have bought anywhere without feeling the works. No skin off my nose but they have missed something that could have touched their soul had they let it. After we’d wandered around in there, we headed downstairs after going to the other clock. Still hard to get pics as everyone is pushing and shoving to get the perfect selfie, so I gave up really and just snapped a few.

I was determined to see the paintings of William Adolphe Bougereau that I knew they had there. He is my favourite artist of all time. His work is exquisite. The way he paints hands and feet is perfection. Just after my daughter Aimee was killed, I walked into a restaurant and saw, probably his most famous painting (obviously a reproduction) of L’Amour et Psyché, enfants  and started to cry. The little girl angel in it was identical to Aimee. It broke my heart and soothed my soul all at the same time. Every inch of this little cherub was Aimee. Her hands, her feet, he strawberry blonde hair. This was my own angel.

Friends bought me a picture of it and people would almost faint when they walked in and ultimately everyone asked where I’d had the painting of Aimee done. But it was painted about 105 years before her death. I still believe he painted it then to give me peace all those years later. Anyway, I have looked at lots of his art and I am always amazed at it. His work is nothing short of divine. So knowing the Orsay had some works, I knew I wanted to see them. The main work they advertise is Dante et Virgile which is not one of my favourites. He was very obsessed with heaven and hell and that one is hell. But his heaven ones and his work featuring peasants are beautiful.

Regardless of which were there, I wanted to see them, so we wandered to the 3rd floor and had to ask where they were. I walked in and immediately saw La Jeunesse et l’Amour I started to well up. My favourite is in a private collection but this one has always captured me too and here I was seeing it up close and personal. The rich coloured walls make for a really intimate feel in the gallery, so much better than stark white. And you can stand quite close too. I could feel the tears starting and I was trying to swallow them back. The next day would be Aimee’s 40th birthday and I was already starting to feel emotional, so to see a painting by the man who had done such a likeness of her, was much more emotional than I could have expected. Thank you William Bougereau. You have brought so much peace to this broken soul and I’m sure I am not the only one.

We had a look at some other work in that area, lots of sculptures etc, and then went to find our way to Montmartre. Again, we conquered the metro system and came up the stairs to a gorgeous carousel at the base of Montmartre. We asked directions to the funicular and walked around the (painful on our legs) cobbled streets till we found it. For those who don’t know, the funicular is a funny little train thing that takes you up the steep incline to Sacre Coeur. From there you can see right over Paris. It really is a glorious sight.

We sat for a drink when we got to the top and then headed off to explore. There was a train there that took you for a ride right around the area, so we opted for that to start with. It was great actually. 12 Euro each but it took us from the top, down around the narrow streets all the way around the base and back up again. When we got off there, we started to walk down the hill on our own. We stopped at La Maison Rose further down at Dalida’s statue, where if you rub her breasts it brings good luck. At least I think that’s the story I heard last time I was there. Myphone was dead around here, so no more phone photos and I am not doing anything with camera pics till I’m home, so that’s all I took in Montmartre.

Then we saw the number 40 bus. Cecile had seen that we could take that, so we jumped on it and headed down the hill. And around and around and around. It went forever just to take us a few stations from where we got off to start with. But we got off near a name we recognised and caught the train back to Gare de Lyon and then to Alfortville. We walked home from there and by the time we got there, that 800 metres felt like 800 miles. I cooked a toasted salami and cheese sandwich and managed to burn it but I was so tired, I didn’t care, I still ate it.

Exhausted and knowing we had to be up early for Disneyland the next day we had an early(ish) night, sleeping the sleep of the bodies who have pushed it too far but are happy with all they have done.. More on Disneyland tomorrow.. but for now.

Happy experiencing art… Livvy xxx

Musee d’Orsay

Montmartre