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on exasperation with the da vinci exhibit, and resenting the musée du louvre, too

The Musée du Louvre is extraordinary, despite its size, and I go as often as I can. Sometimes I return to Paris specifically to see an exhibit there. But saying that I know how to visit it.

If you go to Paris and the museum is on your list, showing up one morning or afternoon and queuing up with everyone else who has not planned ahead is a bad idea, a waste of time, a very bad idea indeed.

Before descending down into the Louvre, below Pei’s Pyramide du Louvre, you will encounter three lines, maybe four. A long line to the right will be those tourists who did not buy tickets in advance. They will be there for a long time, because all of the lines to their left will have precedence.

The second longest line, probably the farthest to the left facing the pyramid, will be for those who have purchased tickets in advance. They do not, of course, need to wait as long.

Verrocchio was commissioned in 1467 by the Tribunale di Mercanzia (merchants’ court) to produce this large bronze sculpture for its niche on the eastern facade of the church of Orsanmichele in Florence.

Most likely between the other two lines, the third line is the best: experienced visitors have paid a bit more money and bought a ticket in advance and requested a time for entering the museum. They are allowed in immediately; they will go to the head of all the other lines.  (Click on any photo to see it larger and in more detail. Cliquez sur une vignette pour l’agrandir.) But wait, there’s more!

on seeing the reconstruction of notre-dame, february, 2020

In February, a month to the day before President Macron Instructed France to stay home because of the COVID-19 virus, I took the TGV to Paris. I had wanted to see the da Vinci exhibit at the Louvre and what remained after the fire of la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris. I was looking forward to staying in the  neighborhood where Ernest Hemingway and Hadley had rented their first apartment in Paris.

From la rue Mouffetard in the 5th arrondissement, where I had booked my room, it is an easy walk through some side streets, past the Panthéon and Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, and then down Boulevard Saint-Michel to the Seine and to Notre-Dame.

The taxi went up the hill, passed the lighted square, then on into the dark, still climbing, then leveled out onto a dark street behind St. Etienne du Mont, went smoothly down the asphalt, passed the trees and the standing bus at the Place de la Contrescarpe, then turned onto the cobbles of the Rue Mouffetard. There were lighted bars and late open shops on each side of the street.  —Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises.

On reaching the Seine, one sees immediately the scarred Notre-Dame, its steeple gone, and the disarray arranged around it. Temporary buildings and cranes and large fences that keep people from getting to close are everywhere.  (Click on any photo to see it larger and in more detail. Cliquez sur une vignette pour l’agrandir.) But wait, there’s more!

on some moments in antibes during the covid-19 pandemic

Antibes, France is a small tourist town nestled between Cannes and Nice on the Côte d’Azure. One advantage is its size, but still the TGV–the bullet train–stops there. Good restaurants are plentiful. Three beaches are within easy walking distance from the business areas. And, the Mediterranean Sea and the Mediterranean climate make living easy.

Antibes has an old section, Vieil Antibes. It is small and easily explored within a couple of hours. Like most old villages dating back to the middle ages, the streets–les ruelles–resemble a maze with confusing twists and turn.

Picasso painted here, and left some of his works to Antibes after a promise that a museum would be established. Renoir, Cezanne, Matisse, and others found the light inspiring and returned often or like Renoir bought homes nearby and stayed longer.

I suppose, if one is to be confined somewhere for a long period of time, a small corner of paradise  should be good.

I am confined to my apartment; and as I have noted, I must carry l’attestation with me that explains why I am away from the apartment. Some friends and I agreed to meet in front of the Monoprix, a super market, on Place de Gaulle. For l’attestation, before leaving I must check the box:

« Déplacements pour effectuer des achats de fournitures nécessaires à l’activité professionnelle et des achats de première nécessité dans des établissements dont les activités demeurent autorisées (liste sur »

In other words, it is understood that I am shopping for food at a state approved business.  (Click on any photo to see it larger and in more detail. Cliquez sur une vignette pour l’agrandir.) But wait, there’s more!

on signs of the time during the covid-19 pandemic and talking about it in an interview

I was asked what it is like, as an American living in Antibes, to be in France during the Covid-19 pandemic. Annie from Join Us in France Travel Podcast talked to me and Patricia Perry, who lives in Paris, about our experiences with the mandatory home confinement in France. “What is it like sheltering in place in France?” she asked.

I am often stopped by the police; they want to see my attestation, the reason for going out. Leaving my apartment is becoming a privilege and not a right.

One late afternoon, I was walking next to the rampart that separates Vieil Antibes from the port. No one was ahead of me. I took one photograph of an empty street, put the camera over my shoulder, and stepped a few paces, when I heard motorcycles behind me. I turned. Two police officers stopped and asked for my paper, the attestation. After looking at it, one of them listed, sternly, the fines for breaking the rules. I was told that taking photographs is not on the list of approved activities. I was told to return home. I carry my camera still, but it is hidden under my coat.

Each day at le tabac near my apartment, I buy a national newspaper, Le Monde, and the local paper, Nice-Matin, that covers the news in my region. On Wednesday I want the Télérama, a cultural magazine. One day I asked the woman at the register if le tabac was going to stay open. Immediately, she said yes. It was necessary, she said, for freedom of the press to sustain itself.  (Click on any photo to see it larger and in more detail. Cliquez sur une vignette pour l’agrandir.)

In addition to newspapers, local, national, and international, she sells cigarettes, lottery tickets, and phone service, as do other tabacs. But wait, there’s more!