Louvre lover

Today we slept criminally late. We rationalized our behavior by pretending to care about French cultural traditions of sleeping late, about which we know nothing, but it made us feel very self-righteous.

I tried to take us to the cat cafe, but they appeared to be late in opening, and Cassie didn't want to hang around waiting. She got all squirrelly and antsy, because she wasn't "comfortable in this city." Once again, I had to bark at her to deal with it, that sometimes she just has to BE uncomfortable and her discomfort has to be okay while we all adjust.

Of course I can say that, because I have my super-powers of motherhood cranking. These are the same powers that enable me to get rid of insects, but only if everyone else in the room is screaming and crying. If anyone else were willing to get rid of the insect, say Greg for example, I'd be screaming and crying with all other wussy people...but under pressure to act like a grown up, I can totally pull it together. Similarly, if I were on my own in Paris, I'd probably slink around meekly, but I can't let my family turn into slinkers.

We went off to the Louvre, stopping at a local mall to pick up the tickets I'd ordered online. I cannot say enough about online ticket ordering. If you don't do it, you are a boneheaded fool who deserves to stand in line for hours.  At the mall, we decided to grab some sandwiches to get us through the Louvre without dying of starvation. Of course, this is Paris, so the mall sandwich shop had smoked salmon and cucumber baguette sandwiches. Yum.

On the way to the Louvre, we passed courtyards of enormous buildings, but they all seemed curiously dead compared to Rome and Barcelona. We couldn't figure out why, till we realized there was no greenery anywhere.  These enormous buildings with all kinds of glorious artwork surround a concrete courtyard. There's no life in it anywhere.

We found the Louvre easily enough, and took the requisite photos by the giant glass pyramid. By that time, we had passed enough buildings and monuments to conclude that the French don't know jack about making great fountains. They really need to talk to Barcelona, or if they absolutely can't get Barcelona on the phone, then Rome. French fountains are round pools with water hoses squirting up. Snooze.

But the Louvre, of course, is outrageously awesome. Let's get it straight: I could cheerfully live the rest of my life without seeing another Madonna and Child, Jesus scene, or Greek deity. I would have given big money to have these same guys paint a fruit market, or sailboats, or dead fish, or even the velvet sofa without the unattractive woman lounging naked upon it. But the total tedium of all that stuff just made the more interesting pieces that much cooler. Your senses get dulled by the 450th Jesus scene, but then you come across incredible standouts, like the Pacific Islands work. The Islamic art section was gorgeous.  And we never even got to the French and Dutch. We just got overloaded.

We wandered through the gardens whose names I cannot spell (Tuileries or something), where we found some of the life that was missing from the courtyards -- the park is great on a 75-degree day -- up to the Place de Concorde, which disappointingly did not feature a supersonic jet. That's where we finally took a break from our strenuous day (ha) and got some crepes from a street vendor. In all honesty, street-side crepes were my main reason for coming to Paris.

After a quick side trip to a supermarket called Monop' (really?) to stock up on snacks, we are back in our very nice apartment. Tomorrow Greg is taking the kids to the Catacombs, where my claustrophobia prevents me from going. Ohhhhh darn, a morning without the family. Maybe I will finally get to go to the cat cafe.