The quick entry to the Louvre inspired us to try that again at the Musee d'Orsay. Unfortunately, there was a line several busloads of people thick. I tried to sit on the wall where a picture was once taken as I read among the statuary. The statues are now removed and no one is allowed to sit on the wall. Since lines of people outside means lines of people inside, an alternative was proposed. Walked to the Rodin Museum. Much of the larger works are scattered around the gardens, and we sat by the pond to read our books. The past few days had been warmer than expected so I had worn only a shirt. The sun worked against me today and brought chills and clouds over Paris. (Brian had wisely always worn his coat). I tried to just accept the cold into my skin in an effort to avoid to shivers, but that wasn't successful. Avoided large groups of children in the house area of the museum. I think there may have been two since this tactic didn't work well at all. Lunch was at the outdoor pavilion in the garden. While waiting in line a German woman pulled a cat's tale. His claws scraped across the tile floor and he yelped. She laughed to her companion and tried to call him back to her. Brian and I sat outside and the cat visited. We fed him some ham from our sandwiches until he became greedy. Some trashy Italian teenagers were singing Eminem and trying to look tough.
Down to Montparnasse to tour the catacombs. The logistics of the project are curious: cemeteries smell and are overcrowded, underground quarries need to be filled before the Left Bank collapses so fill it with bones. Halls and halls of brown femurs stacked like Lincoln logs, with a row of skulls interspersed. The skulls seemed very small, but Brian pointed out that our skulls aren't much larger. By the time we exited, a constant drizzle and cold wind were falling. Over to Montparnasse cemetery and saw Serge Gainsbourg's tomb but the rain became steady. Sorry, Jean Seberg and Tristan Tzara--next time!
A coworker of Brian's was also in Paris on his honeymoon so we stopped off at Odeon to leave a note at his hotel. Walked wrong way from metro and found movie theaters with films in "version originale". The other Americans were out so we left a note. Spent the rest of the afternoon watching saw Jim Jarmusch's film Coffee and Cigarettes. Not too familiar with his work but he missed a chance to make some great point with the film (don't ask me what the great point is). The best bit was Cate Blanchett playing herself and a down and out cousin. Round the corner for an early dinner at a creperie. A black cat came to say hello and curled up for a nap between Brian and myself. Not necessarily a psychic companion, as William Burroughs would write--perhaps just a psychic visitor. At the end of the meal the cat jumped up and disappeared around a corner. He was just joining us for the meal.
