Paris: Musée du Louvre

Monday, 6 June, 2011

Destination #3: Musée du Louvre

Before there was I.M. Pei's pyramid, Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory of Samothrace or the gift shop, there was the Palace of the Louvre:

Model of medieval palace in current Louvre

Eleanor's first husband Louis VII could acquit himself ably enough in battle, but he was never the military strategist that his son Philippe Auguste would prove himself to be. Nicknamed Dieudonné (God-Given) at birth, Louis' much longed-for son was born in 1165 (sharing a birth year with Joanna, the youngest daughter of Henry and Eleanor). Philippe was crowned at age 15 and took up where his father had left off sowing and cultivating seeds of discontent between Henry II and his sons Hal, Richard, Geoffrey and John (Eleanor was out of the picture due to her imprisonment by Henry). Philippe seemingly made it his life's work to destroy the Angevins. I can't help but wonder if father Louis' humiliation over the outcome of his marriage to Eleanor was transmitted to son Philippe, who took it upon himself to destroy as much of the Plantagenet legacy as he could by either might or manipulation for the glory of Les Capétiens.

Richard & Philippe quarreling after Messina. 14th century Illustration from Grandes Chroniques de France, Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

Philippe's interpersonal relationships were complicated, to say the least. It's beyond the scope of this blog to discuss Philippe's marital woes but they make for fascinating reading! Philippe spent most of his life fighting with someone, whether Pope or Plantagenet, vassal or wife. And yet, for all his presumed need for Plantagenet-based revenge, Philippe maintained what seems to have been a genuinely close friendship with the fourth son of Henry and Eleanor, Geoffrey Duke of Brittany. Philippe was allegedly so overcome with grief at Geoffrey's untimely death (which we saw memorialized earlier in a plaque at Notre Dame) that he had to be forcibly restrained from jumping into Geoffrey's coffin.

Let's just say that Philippe was never particularly subtle when it came to making grand gestures. Take the impressive Palais de Louvre, for example. Built in the late 1180s, it was intended to deter Henry Plantagenet should he consider casting covetous eyes upon Paris. It was considered an impregnable fortress the scale of which had not been seen to date, a fortified castle complete with water moat, drawbridge, crenelated towers 32 feet high, and thick walls. Philippe's cylindrical watch tower was known as Le Grosse Tour and was originally surrounded by a dry moat which was expanded. The complex eventually became home to Paris' archives and treasures of the kingdom. Philippe also kept his arsenal stored at this castle along with archives and treasure. The Louvre was never his residence.

Louvre in the time of Philippe Auguste by Louis-Pierre Baltard, circa 1803

The building was renovated and enlarged over subsequent centuries and in time it did became a lovely royal residence.

Illumination "Les très riches heures du duc de Berry" showing the much-enhanced Louvre in the time of Charles V, nearly 200 years later

The keep was razed in the 16th century by Francis I, but the foundations of Philippe Auguste's original Louvre fortress still remain in the bowels of the Old Louvre complex, which we'll visit a bit later in our tour today.

By this point most of us were limping along rather pathetically, having stomped through half the Rive Gauche, Notre-Dame, and the Cluny Museum by 1 PM. Time out for lunch on our own helped, but the Louvre is an intimidating stop even for the freshest of explorers and we were all rather wilted by this point!  Fortunately our guides took us directly to the only known artifact physically associated with Eleanor of Aquitaine.

Behold, the Eleanor Vase.

"Hoc vas sponsa dedit Anor Regi Ludovico, Mitadolus avo, mihi Rex, Sanctisque Sugerus."  

That is: "As a bride, Eleanor gave the vase to King Louis, Mitadolus to her grandfather, the King to me, and Suger to the Saints."

According to that inscription on the base that Abbot Suger added, Eleanor gave this vase to Louis as a
wedding gift. At some point Louis gave it to Abbot Suger for the Treasury at St-Denis.

Early Byzantine carvings of rock crystal often involved aquatic themes, which may be why later Europeans interpreted rock crystal as being petrified ice. Rock crystal was considered to be an allegory for the Fountain of Life....precious stuff, indeed. Its level of transparency and reflectivity was renowned and was popularly used in the Muslim world for the creation of precious lamps for shrines and drinking vessels. This leads to the intriguing speculation that perhaps the Eleanor Vase was never a vase at all, but instead was a drinking cup or lantern.

In Turner's collection of essays about Eleanor, historian George Birch believes that the piece was originally made in the Byzantine empire, possibly Persia, between 3 and 7 CE. He posits that Mitadolus was a Muslim emir from southern Spain, King Imad al-dawla of Saragossa, who gifted Eleanor's grandfather Duke William IX of Aquitaine with the vase in 1120 to win his support. This makes the vase all the more significant, not just as the lone surviving Eleanor artifact but as tangible evidence of Christian and Muslim collaboration from a unique era.

And yet Louis gave it away! The reason for Louis passing along a wedding gift (which is thought to have happened while the couple was still married) is unknown. It certainly seems to have been an awkward decision when looked at with modern sensibilities, and perhaps also from medieval ones! Perhaps it was an offering in hopes that the couple's barren marriage would be blessed by a child (two daughters, Marie and Alix, were eventually born to Louis and Eleanor).  Or was it a personal gift from Louis to his mentor Abbot Suger as thanks for rendering spiritual and state guidance?  Maybe it was the last remaining piece of a set and deemed not worth keeping around the palace! Whatever it once was, it remains an exquisite piece and visiting it set the bar high for finding further traces of Eleanor's world in the 21st century.

The original piece that Eleanor gave Louis was likely only rock crystal. What can't be seen due to the gilded silver setting Suger later added is the neck of vase, which according to the Louvre website extends upwards two centimeters. St-Denis Treasury inventories stated that the setting is of gold, jewels, and pearls, and mentioned two red jaspers "on one of which is engraved an idol, and on the other the head of a man." Those are long gone. The blue enamel medallions with fleurs-de-lis on the third band down are likely later substitutes for lost jewels. Suger believed that the beauty of precious objects such as this one helped worshipers transcend the material world, and he likely used the piece as a communion vessel (which again makes me wonder if it was contemporarily considered to be a drinking cup, not a vase). The crystal was reportedly in perfect condition until it was cracked in the 18th century (seriously not a good century for French artifacts).

The Louvre photo below shows the best detail so I am reproducing it here for discussion purposes. More details can be found on the Louvre website HERE.

Our group stood for a very long time at this display and we snapped many photos. My favorite shot is this one of author Sharon Kay Penman with the Eleanor Vase:

Photo by Lisa Williams Adair

We wandered around the Richelieu wing looking at other representatives from the Middle Ages decorative arts collection. There were a number of items from the Treasury of the Royal Abbey of St-Denis which resonated deeply with me, given the effort I'd made to visit this significant cathedral on my first day of the trip. The Eleanor Vase was displayed with two other pieces that Abbot Suger himself had a hand in designing:

Photo by Wendy Mehary

Suger found the middle piece, a vase from Egypt, and added the gilded silver eagle to transform it into a liturgical chalice. He explained:

And further we adapted for the service of the altar, with the aid of gold and silver material, a porphyry vase, made admirable by the hand of the sculptor and polisher, after it had lain idly in a chest for many years, converting it from a flagon into the shape of an eagle; and we had the following verses inscribed on this vase: "This stone deserves to be enclosed in gems and gold. It was marble, but in these settings it is more precious than marble." (Includi gemmis lapis iste meretur auro: Marmor set, sed in his marmore cavior est).

The other piece on display at far left was commissioned by Abbot Suger and is known as The Sardonyx Ewer. It was used for holding sacramental wine. Its inscription reads "Dum libare Deo gemmis debemus & auro Hoc ego Suggerius offero vas Domino" loosely translated as "Since we ought to offer to God with jewels and gold, I offer this, I make a vessel unto the Lord."

There is a fourth piece that is known to have been commissioned by Abbot Suger, currently in the collection of the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC.  Since visiting these medieval treasures in Paris and learning about their provenance, I've made it a point to stop in to pay my respect to Abbot Suger's aesthetic whenever touring the National Gallery. Here it is:

This cup is believed to be of Alexandrian origin in the last century BCE, although of course the mounting is circa 1137-1140. It is described as a "sardonyx cup with gilded silver mounting, set with stones, pearls, and glass" and was used as a liturgical chalice. The National Gallery catalogue claims that Abbot Suger

....took particular delight in the swirling bands of this stone cup in which the sard's red hue...so keenly vies with the darkness of the onyx that one essence seem to be bent on invading the other. The fluted carving, with deep channels cut into the sides, accentuates the sense of natural forces in surging motion...

The chalice may have been used in the re-consecration ceremony for the new altar chapels of St-Denis on 11 June 1144, an event that Eleanor very likely attended. Abbot Suger did not disclose the provenance of this sardonyx cup but is thought that it might have been brought to Saint-Denis by dealers who flocked there knowing of his love of pretty things or it may have been a pawn redeemed by a wealthy lenders from the Jewish community who'd settled in Saint-Denis and Paris. This is likely how other items in the St-Denis treasury were procured as well.

How did this piece make it to Washington DC? The National Gallery catalogue explains:

In fulfillment of the law ordering the nationalization of the monastic orders, on 30 September 1791, the chalice was taken away from Saint-Denis and deposited at the Cabinet National des Médailles et Antiques. On the night of 16-17 February 1804, it was stolen from the Cabinet National, forced into a plaster bust of Laocoön, and smuggled, presumably by way of Holland, to England, which was then at war with France. It was acquired 1804 by Charles Towneley [1737-1805], London; in the Towneley family, London, until possibly 1920. (Harry Harding, London), in 1920; (Goldschmidt Galleries, New York), by 1921; purchased 20 March 1922 by Joseph E. Widener, Lynnewood Hall, Elkins Park, Pennsylvania; inheritance from Estate of Peter A.B. Widener by gift through power of appointment of Joseph E. Widener, after purchase by funds of the Estate; gift 1942 to NGA.

Much detail about this piece and Abbot Suger's visionary commissions can be found in the chapter on Medieval Metalwork and Styles in the National Gallery publication Western Decorative Arts: medieval, Renaissance, and historicizing styles.

One last look at detail on the sardonyx cup. While alterations have occurred over the centuries, this medallion with solemn haloed Christ, flanked by the Greek letters signifying 'I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End'" dates to Suger's time. I think that the intricate spirals of gold filigree, so detailed and done with the naked eye without modern visual magnification, are absolutely breath-taking:

Somehow I doubt it will ever make its way back to France to rejoin the other three Suger commissions, but I'd like to see that happen. They belong together.

Anyway, back to the Louvre. There were many other objects there from the Treasury of St-Denis, albeit from later eras. One that I found particularly intriguing was this patène de serpentine, a saucer inlaid with gold, precious stones, pearls, and colored glass. The paten itself dates to the time of Christ and a Glasgow historian gained some press in 2007 by speculating that this plate may be the legendary Holy Grail. The gold mount likely dates to the reign of Charles the Bald in the late 9th century, and this paten was used along with the Cup of the Ptolemies at the coronation of French queens. It's been associated with Abbot Suger but was probably not used during his time. Still, it's an intriguing piece:

 

When we finally tore ourselves away from the medieval decorative arts, we did a blitzkrieg highlight tour of the Louvre. We visited the Appartements Napoléon III and Cour Marley (see details about that on my other blog, The Historical Dilettante). We also had the opportunity to stop and see specific works such as Goujon's famous Diana and the Stag (forever associated with the fascinating Diane d'Poitiers); Venus de Milo (I was amused to later learn that founding members of The American Society of Plastic Surgeons had chosen to reproduce a likeness of the statue as their organization's emblem. Apparently for enough money, anyone can look like a beautiful woman with no arms); Winged Victory of Samothrace; and various Renaissance paintings including La Joconde (I have to admit to spending more time watching and being amused by the hordes of people jockeying for prime photo spots than gazing at the painting). Highlight tours are not my thing and I really hate being rushed through a museum. Oh well, such are the drawbacks of touring with a group.

Our most significant visit after viewing the Treasures from St-Denis was to the foundations of Philippe-Auguste's Louvre Fortress, deep in the bowels of what is considered the Old Louvre. 

As noted previously, although Philippe's fortress was razed during the Renaissance, excavations for the underground visitor’s center beneath I.M. Pei's glass pyramid uncovered the foundations of the original castle in 1983. These foundations are remarkably well-preserved and we enjoyed walking where once the wet moat protected the keep, and seeing the massive pediments.

We wandered on the long wooden walkway through the middle of the moat, down what amounts now to a dark tunnel beside the massive exposed foundations, and ended up in a mysterious little room of unknown purpose that featured a carving of this creepy fellow:

 

We returned by tour bus to our hotel. Some of our group attended a medieval-inspired dinner at a restaurant that had been arranged in advance. Since the menu was not accommodating to my dietary choices, I declined and instead had dinner with Paula, Sue and Nicole, and Yvonne at one of the restaurants at the Place de la Sorbonne. Sue and Nicole and I then wandered down to Montebello Quay for an evening boat ride on the Seine. We laughed a lot and enjoyed the sights of Paris (including several young men who mooned our passing bateau from the docks).

So much packed into such a short time! I was glad this was not my first trip to Paris, as I'd have felt cheated by the fast pace. When I look at my personal photos of this time, I am struck by how radiantly happy and excited and completely exhausted I look!

Tomorrow we will leave Paris to track Eleanor's life in Normandy and beyond, so it was back to the hotel for a good night's sleep.

Bonne nuit et fais des beaux rêves, Paris!

Sharon Kay Penman's blog entry about our first full day of touring in Paris can be found here: LINK.

Paris: Cathédrale royale de Saint-Denis

Saturday 4 June 2011

It was with a jangly mixture of excitement and nerves that I left my husband and kids and departed for this trip. I had decided to add one extra day at the beginning to do some private sight-seeing. My flight was uneventful and the worst thing that happened was that I managed to spray Sprite all over myself at the airport. My lemon-lime fresh scent was no doubt preferable to the V-8 smell that permeates an airline cabin three hours into an international flight. 

 

Getting through Roissy Passport Control at 8:30 AM was a breeze; my luggage looked no worse for the wear; and I got a ride into Paris immediately. My driver spoke not a word of English and I was too tired to get creative with my phrasebook French so the ride was a quiet one....or as quiet as it could be with a French rap station to keep us company.  I groggily watched the outskirts of Paris transform into the glamorous city...sniggered at Madame walking a posh little dog resembling a leashed rat...tried to read shop signs...and then -- voilà! we were driving through Place de la Concorde! Obélisque de Louxor! L'église de la Madeleine behind me! Palais Bourbon straight ahead, La Tour Eiffel off to the right!  Everything was suffused with the most brilliant early morning light. I was suddenly wide awake and even more jangly with nerves and excitement. 

The cab made its way to the Rive Gauche and as the streets narrowed I looked for gates to Jardin du Luxembourg, which I knew was close to my hotel.  We finally pulled onto the right street but the driver got confused, passed the hotel, and kept going at what seemed to me to be a manic rate of speed. I cried out in English "Where are you going? Go back, go back!" and gesticulated wildly; I am sure my look of alarm conveyed what my words couldn't.  We eventually got Sorted.

I had arrived.

Trianon Rive Gauche, 1 bis et 3, rue de Vaugirard

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My room wasn't ready so early in the morning, but I was able to stow my bag and freshen up in the hotel powder room before embarking on my free day in Paris. I had grand plans for sightseeing but hadn't counted on being so physically tired. I don't know why this hadn't occurred to me; seems logical enough to take that into consideration and it was after all about 4 AM to my body. Nonetheless, I was determined to visit the royal necropolis at Basilique Saint-Denis, so off I set in search of a Metro station.  

Simple metal balustrade entrance

Art nouveau style entrance. Photos by Nicole Benkert

I wandered Boulevard Saint-Michel, stumbled down to the RER, and got directions to the proper stops. The hotel staff had directed me in a very round-about way and I knew the RER would be more direct, plus the stationmaster spoke just enough English and I had just enough pleading polite French to get my needs met. I do believe I lost track of time on the train, but eventually arrived at the St-Denis station. The area around the station was under construction and there were no helpful signs, so I wandered about some more trying to get my bearings, found a street map, and eventually got myself here:

Cathédrale royale de Saint-Denis

Before I toured the church I thought it best to get some lunch.  The neighborhood of St-Denis was primarily Algerian, and I noticed that none of the bistros I passed along the way had solo women customers. But I found a little cafe with women proprietors, took my lunch to a bench and enjoyed this view of the church while eating.  

It was a pleasant sunny Saturday to watch families and couples strolling by. I was tickled when a gentleman wished me 'Bon appétit!'  There's simply no cultural equivalent to such a greeting in the US; being hailed with "Hey lady, have a nice lunch!" doesn't cut it.

I later learned that my lunchroom was Le Jardin de Pierre-de-Montreuil and was actually sacred ground. The garden had been laid out in 1998 over what had been a burial area from the Merovingian era up to time of the French Revolution. In order to maintain the solemnity of the place, the architect designated the former burial areas for flower beds, watering systems, and lighting and drainage areas. He used patterns of plants and stones to reveal the circular layout of the now-vanished Valois Rotunda (the mausoleum that Catherine de Medici built for herself and Henri II) and the three churches that had been part of the complex. An aerial photo is below.

From: Saint-Denis: A Town in the Middle Ages.

I picked up an audio tour for the Basilica and spent the next two hours wandering around in exhausted awe, gazing at the amazing gisants and tombs of France's royal families. 

The first church on this spot is attributed to Saint Geneviève in the 5th century and was built upon the reputed burial spot of Saint Denis, Bishop of Paris from the second century. Denis walked 6 miles after being beheaded for his Christian faith (hardy fellow, that Denis). The Abbey of Saint-Denis has been associated with the French monarchy since the Merovingian era, and the first monarch buried at Saint-Denis was Dagobert in 638 AD.  

The monastery at St-Denis had become a major power-broker by the time a 13 year old Eleanor of Aquitaine married young Louis and came to Paris as his queen in 1137. St-Denis was under the administration of the venerable Abbot Suger, a politically astute religious statesman, historian, and scholar who wielded considerable influence with the monarchs he served (Louis VI and VII). Eleanor's Louis trusted Suger enough to make him regent of the realm during Louis' absence for the Second Crusade.  In fact, Louis VII was educated at cathedral schools, and spent much time in his youth at St-Denis with Abbot Suger. As a younger son Louis was raised to follow an ecclesiastical path, and he unexpectedly became heir to the throne of France upon the accidental death of his older brother. By training and temperament, Louis was probably far better suited for life as a priest than as a monarch -- as Eleanor would learn.  

About the time Eleanor married Louis, Abbot Suger had begun rebuilding St-Denis. His vision was so innovative that it is said that Suger alone is responsible for creating Gothic architecture by incorporating pointed arches, ribbed vaulting, flying buttresses and stained-glass into one building.

That's an exaggeration, but the influence of Suger's church on sacred architecture cannot be underestimated. I have to admit that even my Romanesque heart was lifted by the airiness and light in Suger's creation. Truth must be told, however: it is unlikely that Abbot Suger was the actual architect of St-Denis, although the cathedral certainly transmits his vision. He was, however, its staunchest patron.  

St-Denis became the French royal necropolis and was the scene of many coronations. Forty-two kings, 32 queens, 63 princes and princesses and 10 nobles were laid to rest at St-Denis.

Eternal life. (Photo from Wikipedia Commons)

In repose.

I was particularly drawn to the tombs of Catherine de Medici and Henri II, having visited so many Loire chateau and even Diane de Poitiers' mausoleum at Anet on my first trip to France some twenty years ago. It seemed right to tarry a while in respect for Catherine at St-Denis (even though I am admittedly more drawn to her rival, Diane). I thought it remarkable and rather brave of Catherine to have herself portrayed in this manner in her transi, appearing aged and naked in death, when she had been so vulnerable and defensive throughout her lifetime.

Inscribed on the western facade of the main entrance to St-Denis, Suger had written:  

All you who seek to honor these doors, marvel not at the gold and expense but at the craftsmanship of the work. The noble work is bright, but, being nobly bright, the work should brighten the minds, allowing them to travel through the lights to the true light, where Christ is the true door. The golden door defines how it is imminent in these things. The dull mind rises to the truth through material things, and is resurrected from its former submersion when the light is seen.

The facade was originally topped with two towers (only one remains) and the portal carvings have long since either been destroyed or heavily reconstructed to the point of having lost their original imagery. In fact, restoration in the 18th century removed a series of statue-columns representing the kings and queen of the Old Testament. Many of these are currently on display at the Cluny Museum in Paris (which we'll visit later). 

Suger opposed the dissolution of the marriage of Eleanor and Louis while he lived and exercised considerable church authority against it. Their divorce had to wait until Suger died in 1152.

Another reconstruction campaign at St-Denis occurred in the 13th century at the instigation of young Louis IX (later canonized and known as Saint Louis....more about him tomorrow) and his mother Blanche of Castile (aka the White Queen), who were granddaughter and great-grandson of Eleanor.

Eleanor herself would have recognized only the barest outlines of the cathedral we see today, but she certainly would have visited the compound of St-Denis during her time as Queen of France. It would have been a journey of several hours from Paris. 

Saint Denis himself lost popularity as a rallying patron for France during the late Middle Ages and the Hundred Years War. Not only were his countrymen no longer crying "Montjoie saint Denis" to announce his patronage, but his namesake church suffered as well. The cathedral was plundered many times during the next several centuries. It suffered its final indignity when the monk's community was disbanded during the French Revolution and the building re-purposed as a storehouse for wheat and flour.

During the Revolution the royal graves were desecrated by a mob and the remains exhumed, brutally tossed about, and then dumped into a common pit with quicklime to hasten decomposition. In 1805 Napoleon I ordered the restoration of the building, and Louis XVIII later exhumed the royal remains from their common grave and placed them in a vault in the Basilica’s crypt.

I stood for a while deep below the church, gazing at the wall of the royal vault and reading plaques commemorating the names of those whose remains were reburied at St-Denis. I felt the weight of history all above and around me. 

Ironically for my Eleanor obsession, her former husband Louis is one of the few monarchs not originally buried at St-Denis,and thus he does not have a gisant representation there. Louis got the last laugh on everyone, though. Having originally been buried at the Cisterian Abbaye de Barbeau he founded at Fontaine-le-Port in the Île-de-France, his was one of the very few French monarchical tombs that escaped desecration by Revolutionaries. Louis was re-interred with dignity in 1817 at St-Denis.

At the time of this visit, the last royal ceremony in France in more than a century had occurred at the Basilica in 2004 when a formal funeral was held for the child Louis XVII. Young Louis died of tuberculosis in prison and his heart was removed secretly the next day by the chief surgeon. It was placed in a crystal vase, passed along over the centuries, and resided at the Basilica since 1975. By comparing its DNA with that from strands Marie Antoinette's hair, it was established that this truly was the heart of the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. That finding forever laid to rest rumors that the child had survived imprisonment. The heart was placed in this display under a medallion portrait of the child.

A second French royal ceremony for this century is anticipated when the skull of Henri IV, authenticated in time for the 400th anniversary of his assassination, will someday be laid to final rest at St-Denis: LINK to ARTICLE. 

The famous (or infamous, depending on your opinion of his work) architect Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc took charge of the restoration of St-Denis in the 19th century. I'm assuming the metal supports to the buttresses as seen below were added during that time. But considering that the original vaults of Suger's choir collapsed and were replaced within a hundred years, this has always been a high maintenance building!

I am so glad I made the effort to visit the Basillica, since the history represented there would underpin everything that I planned to see on this trip. It was a fine starting place for a tour focused on elements of medieval history. 

My photos of this visit are minimal due to camera problems, but some wonderful photos can be found on this site originating from the University of Pittsburgh (hometown shout-out!) at LINK.  You can also learn more about the Basilica in preparation for your own visit by checking out this website: Seine-Saint-Denis, Paris off the beaten track.

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I managed to navigate my way back to the Rive Gauche without incident, although I did nod off briefly and awoke startled to find myself sitting in a nearly empty stopped train in the Gare du Nord. I realized at that point that I was too tired to continue sight-seeing, so scratched my plans to visit Le Madeleine and Palais Garnier. One can only do so much. I made my tired way back up Boulevard St-Michel but had to stop along the way to admire Fontaine Saint-Michel at the Place Saint-Michel, which marks a border between 5th and 6th arrondissements. Created during the French Second Empire by a team of sculptors, Mike and the Devil were done by Francisque-Joseph Duret and the rock was created by Félix Saupin. That's right, the rock had its own sculptor. I like how the Devil is glaring at the pigeon flying by Mike's knee in this picture:

I particularly liked the winged dragon by Henri Alfred Jacquemart. He's cute, in a spewing dragon kind of way.

Checked into the hotel and was pleased to learn that I'd been given a room on the top floor with a lovely view...except the tiny little elevator only went to the floor below. Alas, I had to lug my suitcase up a flight of stairs. It was a miserably and uncharacteristically hot early June day in Paris, and after my long trip to St-Denis I was quite worn out. Below are the flowers sent by my beloved husband and children, which I was thrilled to find waiting for me in my hotel room once I finally got checked in. This photo says "LOVE" and "Paris" to me.

I felt much better after a shower and brief rest so decided to venture forth once more. I desperately needed to replace my camera's memory card, as I'd mistakenly brought along the wrong size. I was directed by the hotel staff to a FNAC electronics store around the corner on Boulevard St-Germain.

Unfortunately due to my fatigue and French-plus-electronics fail, this turned into a Quest. I came to know everyone at this FNAC on St Germaine quite well and they were very kind to me in my extremity.

By this point I was nothing less than completely knackered. I abandoned my goal of having a nice dinner in Paris on a Saturday night in favor of grabbing something from the nearest Monoprix and collapsing in a heap back in the hotel room.

Monoprix on Blvd St-Michel; photo from Google Earth

Quel dommage!