An Afternoon in Paris

The things we never saw coming often take us to the places 

we never imagined we could go.

The shortest period of time lies between the minute

you put some money away for a rainy day and

the unexpected arrival of rain.

                      ~ Jane Bryant Quinn

You travel with the hope that some thing unexpected will happen.

It has to do with enjoying being lost and figuring it out

and the satisfaction. I always get a little disappointed when I know too well

where I'm going, or when I have lived in a place so long 

that there's no chance I could possibly get lost.

It was our last day in romantic Paris. We asked each other, what do we want do before flying home to resume our lives in real time?

We spent our morning with Monet’s water lilies at the Musée L’Orangerie. His eight murals stretch across the oval walls of two rooms. It seemed a fitting way to end our time in France as we had begun our time visiting Monet’s gardens at Giverny. I had always thought that Monet either had a vision problem or his impressionistic painting was an intentional blurring of what his eye saw. Instead at Giverny, as I gazed across the water where he had stood with paints and easel, there was something about the quality of the air that Monet accurately reflected on canvas. To sit in the Musée on its benches and absorb his work had been a delight.

Next on our day’s itinerary - a leisurely lunch as only the French can do lunch. Then we wandered across the open space toward the Louvre.

Ah yes, the Louvre! One of the world’s largest museums, where a person could spend a week or even more. We would never be able to take it all in. Our life-list of places we wanted to see was far too long to allow us to spend adequate time in Paris to truly appreciate this vast collection of art.

We looked at each other. Was it unfair to just walk through its doors and after a few hours to simply leave? But at least we could say we’d been to the Louvre!

The long queue stretched out from the iconic glass pyramid marking the entrance like a languid snake. We found our place at the end of the line. Others followed behind us. After standing there for about ten minutes, two gendarmes hurried straight toward us. We looked at each other – what offense might we have committed? How could they know we were planning such a short visit to one of Paris’s greatest treasures.

One of them explained to us that the Louvre is closing right now. There is an electrical problem of some kind. The two of them moved on to other people who had been waiting in line – with the same explanation. Gradually people began to disperse, some seeming to be at a loss as to what to do.

We kept a straight face until the two men moved out of earshot. Then we burst out laughing. A few years earlier in England the same thing had happened to us with the British Museum. On on our last day in London, we had saved this venerable museum as the climax of our time in England and Wales. We had arrived at the Museum promptly at the time it opened in the morning. Only to be told that it was closed due to some kind of electrical problem.

As people began to move away from the Louvre, a light rain began to fall. Some last day in Paris this was turning out to be! Out popped the umbrellas.

Then we noticed many people streaming toward the magnificent Notre Dame Cathedral. We shrugged as a Frenchman might and said why not. At least, it would be out of the rain.

Entering the doors of immense Cathedral we joined a crush of people putting away umbrellas. Peering over their heads, we saw the Cathedral was filled with people seated everywhere possible. Before we could figure out what to do, a brusque-looking woman in a uniform hurried towards us. Oh dear, here we go again. At least the lights remained on.

Without saying a word, she beckoned to us to follow her. Leaving behind all those damp Parisians jammed together like sardines in a tin at the Cathedral’s entrance. She took us down the center aisle to the very front row by the high altar to two empty seats. She motioned that we should sit down. Why she assumed we did not speak French we had no idea, since we had not said one word as we crossed the threshold. And blending into the crowd whenever we could was something we strived to do when we traveled.

Why not? A late afternoon Sunday Mass was not something we would have particularly sought out. But with our front room seats, we had a prime vantage point to see everything. Fortunately the rhythm of the Liturgy is universal and language was immaterial. Thus it was easy to know when to cross ourselves or when to stand up or sit down - and not look like a total tourist.

Apparently it was a special occasion, complete with Bishops and Cardinals dressed to the hilt. They gathered around the altar like bees at a hive. And the pageantry unfolded – in French! At the very end of the Mass, a Cardinal with a very American accent offered the final prayer in English. However, we never did figure out what this celebratory Mass honored.

After all the dignitaries processed down the aisle, the musician presiding over Notre dame’s incredible organ opened all the stops, playing a famous Bach cantata. Some of us just stood there, craning our necks upward and absorbing the sound filling the cavernous space. Watching his nimble fingers fly over the keys.

What a glorious way to celebrate our last afternoon in Paris! As one traveling friend has said it is not the planned itineraries that make travel such a gift and a blessing. It is the willingness to embrace the unexpected.