Exploring Paris - La Joconde
Paris! Can it be in Paris that I've woken up to a cloudy morning?
Breakfasted on my baguette and had a cup of tea. Off to the Lourve to see Mona Lisa (or La Jaconde). Poor Mona was displayed behind a bullet proof glass and the crowds gathering to see her had to be ushered through a gallery, pass other art treasures (such as the paintings of the Marriage at Cana and the Wedding of Catherine of Medici) into a new gallery sponsored by *drum roll* - the Japanese paint manufacturer, Nippon Paint.
In fact, Mona was placed right against a freshly painted, non glossy wall (in all likelihood and probability, using Nippon Paint).
The sad thing is, with all the crowds clamouring to see the lady with the half-smile, there were at least 6 security guards trying to rein in over-enthusiastic admirers. Shouts of "Step behind the line please!" (this said in both French and English), "One photo only!" (this by a very exasperated armed guard who had countless elbows jabbing him and camera flashes popping off) were continuously repeated.
It's a bit sad really. You are supposed to sit on a bench to admire Da Vinci's strokes and rendering of the portrait. How could anyone do this, with a surging crowd, flashes popping and general noisness is beyond me.
True to its reputation of being the world's largest museum, after 5 hours of non-stop walking (and cramping feet), I only managed to cover about half of it. I did like Napoleon's rooms for its stupendous splendour and opulence, art works by the Masters and statutes such as Venus of Milo.
Off to meet Cecilia at the foot of the Eiffle. Took a few shots with her and Martha, and went to the Trocadero Gardens and Arc de Triomphe. Popped into Sephora where you could try every imaginable perfume without guilt and smell like a floral bouquet afterwards. Make-up lines there are mid-priced and for those who love to make up, it's paradise to try out the pots of rouge, eyeshadow and make up.
It's a tiring day and unfortunately, apart from a horrid episode of being harrassed by an umbrella-wielding man who tried to get to know me better, all's well that ends well. Thank God indeed, a trick I used in the past is handy once again in dealing with such creeps.
I wanted so badly to eat an omelette. At the stall manned by someone who looked Middle Eastern, although the list states that they offer omelettes, none were available. "Except kebabs," the man offered helpfully. The strange thing is, the shop seemed to be patronised exclusively by men, specifically men who looked rather rough and ready, although they seemed to be regulars at this joint.
It was past 9.30 pm when I got back to my hotel with my dinner. The hotel policy was to lock the main doors after 9 pm, but each of us have a key to it. My key seemed to fail at this critical moment (my nice hot kebab dinner was getting wet as it began to drizzle) and the door refused to budge. Banging on the doors did not seem to rouse anyone to come and open it. I was contemplating calling the front desk and yelling, when finally the door yielded. Karolyn's assistant (a very blur beefy Frenchman) came out of the back room office to see what's the ruckus all about. There apparently is a trick to working the key and in my increasing desparation, I must have done it right.
Breakfasted on my baguette and had a cup of tea. Off to the Lourve to see Mona Lisa (or La Jaconde). Poor Mona was displayed behind a bullet proof glass and the crowds gathering to see her had to be ushered through a gallery, pass other art treasures (such as the paintings of the Marriage at Cana and the Wedding of Catherine of Medici) into a new gallery sponsored by *drum roll* - the Japanese paint manufacturer, Nippon Paint.
In fact, Mona was placed right against a freshly painted, non glossy wall (in all likelihood and probability, using Nippon Paint).
The sad thing is, with all the crowds clamouring to see the lady with the half-smile, there were at least 6 security guards trying to rein in over-enthusiastic admirers. Shouts of "Step behind the line please!" (this said in both French and English), "One photo only!" (this by a very exasperated armed guard who had countless elbows jabbing him and camera flashes popping off) were continuously repeated.
It's a bit sad really. You are supposed to sit on a bench to admire Da Vinci's strokes and rendering of the portrait. How could anyone do this, with a surging crowd, flashes popping and general noisness is beyond me.
True to its reputation of being the world's largest museum, after 5 hours of non-stop walking (and cramping feet), I only managed to cover about half of it. I did like Napoleon's rooms for its stupendous splendour and opulence, art works by the Masters and statutes such as Venus of Milo.
Off to meet Cecilia at the foot of the Eiffle. Took a few shots with her and Martha, and went to the Trocadero Gardens and Arc de Triomphe. Popped into Sephora where you could try every imaginable perfume without guilt and smell like a floral bouquet afterwards. Make-up lines there are mid-priced and for those who love to make up, it's paradise to try out the pots of rouge, eyeshadow and make up.
It's a tiring day and unfortunately, apart from a horrid episode of being harrassed by an umbrella-wielding man who tried to get to know me better, all's well that ends well. Thank God indeed, a trick I used in the past is handy once again in dealing with such creeps.
I wanted so badly to eat an omelette. At the stall manned by someone who looked Middle Eastern, although the list states that they offer omelettes, none were available. "Except kebabs," the man offered helpfully. The strange thing is, the shop seemed to be patronised exclusively by men, specifically men who looked rather rough and ready, although they seemed to be regulars at this joint.
It was past 9.30 pm when I got back to my hotel with my dinner. The hotel policy was to lock the main doors after 9 pm, but each of us have a key to it. My key seemed to fail at this critical moment (my nice hot kebab dinner was getting wet as it began to drizzle) and the door refused to budge. Banging on the doors did not seem to rouse anyone to come and open it. I was contemplating calling the front desk and yelling, when finally the door yielded. Karolyn's assistant (a very blur beefy Frenchman) came out of the back room office to see what's the ruckus all about. There apparently is a trick to working the key and in my increasing desparation, I must have done it right.
posted by Leng at 10:52 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home