ODES TO GOD AND MAMMON (not necessarily in that order)

One of our guidebooks (we have three, plus a mapbook) – the Lonely Planet’s Paris City Guide – had an interesting walk called “Right Bank Time Passages.”  These are covered shopping streets, the first of which was constructed in 1800, with about 150 of them in existence by mid-19th century.  Only a dozen or so survive today, the rest falling victim to the rise of the department store in the latter 19th.  Off to Metro stop, Louvre-Rivoli.  The passages are all on the Right Bank.  First stop were the twin galleries that flank a center courtyard at the Palais Royal.  One of them is the lower left photo below.  These are not actually passages, as they are not covered, but rather are arcades.  But, they debuted in 1786, so they were precursors.  Strip malls?  These two weren’t particularly interesting except for the high price tags and the abysmal taste of the clothing in Stella McCartney’s shop.  The arcades do have a load of history, however, as it was from the Montpensier side that the Revolution broke out just three years after they opened.  On the other side, Charlotte Corday, the assassin of Jean-Paul Marat, worked in a shop located there.  The other two shots are of the entrance and the gallery of the Passage de Choiseul, with mostly very tony shops.  Loni had a good time today!

 

Exiting this one we had to cut through an outdoor market, which was all fish on the left, which really smelled.  I’d think twice before buying there, but the locals were.  We also went through a square where a very self-satisfied  t.v. commentator was awaiting his film crew to set up as he stood in front of one of the many demonstrations that we have seen these past two weeks.  All very mild.  Don’t know what this one was about, but it didn’t have many supporters.  By the way, about half the population of Paris seems to wear neck scarves at the first hint of cool weather, all tied like this guy’s.

Continuing on our trek, we found another of the high-end passages, the Passage Panoramas.  Oye, the money circulating through there on the main corridor;  there are four less tony side passages.  This passage was the first one built, in 1800, and the first to be lit by gas lamps in 1817.

Passage Joffrey was the next stop, the last passage to be built, in 1847, and the first to have central heating.  I liked the funkier shops here.  My favorite was the M&G Segas boutique, which is where Toulouse-Lautrec bought his walking sticks.  It’s still in business!  Selling walking sticks.  Don’t ask me what that is hanging over my head.

Passage Jouffroy had stores for kids, but I was surprised to see an outing of first graders taking in the sights mid-day.  Coolest of all, Jouffroy had a hotel at the end of the corridor.  Neat.

We went through several others, but they were rather nondescript.  Next stop, the islands and the churches.  First, we crossed over the Seine and watched the working barges thread the needle through the bridge supports.  Not much margin for error. 

The Seine is a working river every weekday, with scores of these craft going up and down. No clue as to what they are carrying or where they are going.  On the weekend the river is packed with tourist cruises.  On the other bank, we got our bearings,

and headed down to the Ile Saint Louis.  There are two islands in the river, abutting each other.  The smaller is the Ile Saint Louis, and it is perhaps the most expensive residential real estate in Paris.  It gets a lot less traffic than other areas, so is like a calm oasis.  It is home to some tony 17th century buildings that line the Seine,

one of which sports dragon-styled rain downspouts, the Hotel Lauzon.

Ile St. Louis also is home to what the books call the “legendary” Berthillon’s, ice-cream maker extraordinaire.  Faithful readers know I am always in search of the perfect butterfat, but the temps today just didn’t qualify for an ice cream day.  We will go back when it warms up.  It also has the French Baroque Eglise St-Louis en L’Ile, which was quite light and pretty, including its graceful pipe organ.

At the top of the Ile is the Pont (bridge) St-Louis, leading to the Pont de L’Archeveche, from which one takes the iconic photo of Notre Dame’s flying buttresses.  At least I think “one” does, since I remember taking a shot of the same scene 45 years ago, on a sunnier day.  Even is the gloom, it’s a magnificent sight.

We were hustling our way around as we wanted to make the start of the daily English language tour.  Well, sort of English language.  We had a dear old lady who sported the classic caricature of French-accented English.  It was a hoot, but she knew her stuff when it came to the cathedral.  We just had to listen extra hard.  The taller statues in the upper picture are larger than life sized, but are not original.  The originals were destroyed during the revolution, allegedly as the rioters were after anything that resembled monarchy.  Not sure which king they thought sprouted wings like the two angels, but it was a mob mentality.  The replacements copy the originals and date from the 1850’s.  The guy with his head in his hands is an early Bishop of Paris, Saint Denis, who, after being decapitated in A.D.250, allegedly picked his head up and walked to a fountain to rinse it off, then staggered  six miles while preaching a sermon.   Well, that’s the story, and the Catholics are sticking to it.  The smaller figures ARE original, thus date from sometime in the late 1200’s.  Amazing that they have survived that well, as these are all low on the front, flanking the left entrance, and quite reachable from the ground.

Notre Dame is surprisingly narrow-feeling inside, with its nave 430 feet long, enough for a football field with end zones and a running track.  It can seat 6,000!  It was a lot dimmer than my slow shutter photo would indicate.

But the stained glass windows are beautiful nonetheless.  This is the rose window from the north transept, which has remained virtually unchanged since the 13th century.

Here are the windows from the rounded end over the alter area.

Our guide lady got us into the roped-off area where the choir sits in these great seats.  We hope to hit a choir or organ performance here before we leave.

From this vantage we also could get a good view of the alter area with its lovely Pieta.

Finally, our guide ran out of gaz, and the tour ended.  She made a polite pitch for donations to keep the good work going, but I think we were the only ones that passed her paper money.  Speaking of money, before we left we sprang some extra euros to visit the tresor (treasury), which, according to the guidebooks, in addition to displaying church silver and gold plate goods, holds Christ’s crown of thorns.  Or so thought Louis IX in the 1200’s, the poster boy for P.T. Barnum’s adage.  That Louis built the gorgeous St. Chapelle, close by Notre Dame, for about 400,000 francs.  He paid 1.3 million francs for the bag of thorns and a piece of wood allegedly from the true cross.  Anyway, we didn’t read the guides carefully enough.  The thorny wonder is on display only one hour on one Friday each month.  Not our day.  We had to content ourselves with the gold/silver plate, most of which is not that old, but certainly dazzles.  It’s even got its own wall of fame, with cameo portraits of all the past popes.  Ooh, be still my heart.

Our eyes glazed, we exited, walking out towards the rose window over the portals, whose view unfortunately is marred by some structural stuff at the bottom.

Oh, yeah, the front looks pretty nifty too.