The Incomparable Paris
The paramount experience of the entire trip
The last stop on my long exploration of South European countries was… Paris, which is certainly not part of that region. I added it in because (a) it seemed an easy hop from Rome, (b) there is never a wrong reason to visit Paris, and (c) this is where Claire Berlinski, a woman I greatly admire, lives, and I arranged to meet her there.
I flew in on Vueling, the same airline I used to travel from Granada to Milan, and the experience was equally agreeable. There was plenty of room in the overhead bins, the plane was large and comfortable (with a better seat pitch than United, for sure!), and the checked bag fee was reasonable. And I got to see the snow-covered peaks of the Alps on the way!
The taxi from Orly to the city center cost € 44 (fixed fee), very reasonable for a near half-hour ride.
I picked an excellent location for my hotel, again! Relais du Louvre, true to its name, is an 8-minute walk to the Louvre pyramid; it is right across the street from a beautiful Gothic church, Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois:
, and is about 2 minutes away from the Pont Neuf metro station.
The lady at the reception was lovely and made two recommendations for nearby French restaurants. Both of these restaurants provided excellent meals and experiences in the next few days. The closer one, Le Fumoir, did not serve the full menu until dinner time, so I took the opportunity to walk around and just imbibe Paris.
While the city architecture was just as eclectic and, in most places, beautiful, the feel of the city certainly changed from what I remembered. On the streets, while French still seemed to be the language spoken the most, the native French appeared to be in the minority. The feel of the city center was closer to New York City of the 80s that I escaped back in the day than to Paris of the 90s which I fondly remember from my honeymoon and business visits.
Well, at least the restaurant I found on the way (Astair, in the old shopping gallery, Passage des Panoramas, the first covered walkway in Paris) was firmly French. I had bone marrow for an appetizer:
, sauteed octopus with potatoes:
, and a “floating island” for dessert, which I inexplicably did not take a picture of (probably fell right to it!)
On the way back, I took a picture of the front of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois glowing in the setting sun:
The next morning I had a 9 a.m. ticket for the Louvre, so I headed right there for the opening. Of course, there was already a line in front of the pyramid. What a ridiculous, incongruous structure! Not only is it in no way original (a pyramid, really? It has only been done for 6,000 years 🤣) or fitting with its environs, but it totally obscures the magnificent plaza formed by the palaces housing the museum!
While waiting in line, I kept looking at the magnificent architecture all around me but could not take a single picture because the stupid gigantic pyramid would always be in the way! The pyramid is quintessential modern art: pretentious, imitative, and ugly; a gimmick without purpose or function.
It all faded away when I entered the palace / museum:
I decided to take things in chronological order and so headed right for the Greeks:
Aphrodite of Melos, of course! (Better known, incorrectly, as Venus de Milo.) Circa 140 BC.
A paragon of classical artistic beauty:
This guy vies to be its equivalent for the male form:
"Borghese Gladiator," 100 BC
And, of course, the Winged Victory, soaring over multiple flights of stairs:
Nike of Samothrace, 190 BC
She is inspiring. Which is, to me, the mark of true art: it elevates, it inspires, it reveals the concept, the meaning beyond its form.
And there was much more to be had, in the most beautiful surroundings:
This room houses the exhibition of French crown jewels:
The tiara of Marie-Therese, Duchesse d'Angouleme, the only surviving child of Marie-Antoinette and Louis XVI. Over a thousand diamonds and 40 emeralds.
The “Regent” diamond, 140 carats. One could dive into it and never come up for air.
But enough of treasures! I was in the Louvre to see great art.
Which I encountered shortly. How about this formidable character?
It’s a “Portrait of a Man” by the Sicilian painter Antonello De Messine. 1475. While its object was never known for sure, it was nicknamed “Il Condottiere” (a mercenary) because of his expression and scarred lip.
And then, of course, Leonardo. While the hordes besiege La Joconde, other masterpieces are hardly glanced at:
Saint Anne, the Virgin Mary, and the Infant Jesus playing with a lamb. Early 1500s.
Portrait of a woman of the Court of Milan, late 1400s.
The Virgin of the Rocks, also late 1400s.
Or how about this gorgeous “La Belle Jardinière,” the Virgin Mary portrayed as a simple, barefoot peasant woman taking a break from farm work, with two little children at her knees, by Raphael?
1507-08.
But no, everybody wants to see the Mona Lisa:
Who is certainly alluring, but is given disproportionate attention, in my opinion.
Take this portrait of “a man” by Tintoretto, from the 1570s:
Is he not enigmatic enough? Doesn’t he arrest you with his gaze? He does me.
Here’s Titian, a Woman with a Mirror, from 1515 – isn’t it gorgeous?
(sorry about the reflections – the paintings are covered in glass, and it’s well-nigh impossible to avoid reflections; also, most of the photos are tilted because it was impossible to stand straight in front of the painting, far enough to get the whole thing in, without people getting in the way)
Here’s another Titian, “The Man with a Glove,” from 1520:
The accompanying plaque informs me that “Titian invented a type of portrait whose psychological intensity derives from a focus on the sitter’s expression and personality.” Indeed.
One other painting from the Italian Renaissance collection, Christ Carrying the Cross, by Lorenzo Lotto, from 1526, stopped me in my tracks:
What a contrast between the suffering stillness of Jesus’s face and the frenzied activity around him!
I spent some time in the rooms housing Northern European paintings—Dutch and Flemish portraits are some of my favorites. Most of the paintings, though, were monumental, floor-to-ceiling affairs that required a long time for each to be fully appreciated. Maybe if I stay in Paris for a while and visit the museum daily… As it was, I really liked this portrait by Peter Paul Rubens:
This is Suzanne Fourment, Rubens’s sister-in-law and frequent model, from around 1622.
Next, I turned to the rooms featuring French neoclassicists.
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, one of my favorites. This is Oedipus and the Sphinx, painted originally in 1808 and then retouched in 1827.
Here’s another Ingres, the portrait of Mademoiselle Caroline Rivière, from 1806:
Lovely!
And here’s probably the most famous painting by Ingres, Le Grand Odalisque, from 1819:
Here’s another French Neoclassicist master, Jacques-Louis David:
Oath of the Horatii, from 1784, depicts three brothers who decided to risk their lives representing Rome as champions in a battle with another city accepting their swords from their father while their sister is weeping.
One last Neoclassicist whose painting stopped me for a while:
This is Hippolyte Flandrin’s best-known painting, Nude Youth Sitting by the Sea, from 1835.
And then there were rooms full of French Romantic school, best represented by Eugène Delacroix and his most famous and inspiring painting, Liberty Leading the People, from 1830:
I also stopped by this well-known portrait of one of my favorite composers, Frédéric Chopin, by Delacroix, painted in 1838, when Chopin was 28:
And, of course, I could not just walk by this familiar landscape:
I climbed that tower! I walked on that plaza just a few days ago!! Incredible.
(This is View of Part of the Ducal Palace and the Piazzetta in Venice, by Lancelot-Théodore Turpin de Crissé, from 1829. The view hasn’t changed much, just more tourists!)
And speaking of the Italian Renaissance: I couldn’t skip seeing where Michelangelo picked up where the Greeks left sculpture fifteen hundred years previously:
The Dying Slave, from the mid-1510s.
And a few rooms beyond, a worthy successor from the 18th century:
Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss, by Antonio Canova, 1793.
By then, I had been imbibing great art for over five hours; it was time to think about wrapping up my visit.
I finished, as is often my wont, with French Baroque and Rococo as an homage to my mother, who was responsible for me feeling like I’d been visiting old friends all day. She wrote her Master’s thesis on Antoine Watteau and always delighted in François Boucher.
To my dismay, some of Watteau's masterpieces were missing, on loan or in restoration, but L'Indifférent (1717) was there:
And this is Boucher – what heavenly excess!
Jupiter (as a bull) seducing Europa, from 1747
On the way out, inexplicably, I ran into an installation of modern painting; I'm not sure what the occasion was, but it was a good reminder of how far we have fallen. This … contrivance … has a lofty, pretentious title of “The Orphan.” The write-up next to it says: “Once a palace, now a museum, the Louvre is adorned with decors created by the greatest artists of their time. In 2024, Luc Tuymans, a major painter of the modern era, has been invited to create a temporary mural at the heart of the French paintings section.”
This is what he “created”:
Yes, this is the best the modern world can come up with to complement the beauty and genius of all the above. A sad and sorry state of affairs.
Luckily, this being Sunday, I went to Mass at the gorgeous church across the street from my hotel and could enjoy these ancient surroundings:
Afterward, I had a wonderful dinner at Le Fumoir, one of the French restaurants recommended by the lady at the hotel. It delivered! The menu was modern French, with Scandinavian influence (many dishes leaning on smoked and pickled fish). I had an innovative cocktail with mescal and pineapple liqueur, topped with beaten egg white:
For an appetizer, I had this beautiful thing topped with salmon roe; unfortunately, I can’t remember what was inside, the receipt I saved only says “Menu Soir” (evening menu), and even the current menu on the restaurant’s website doesn’t list it!
I do remember it was delicious!
The main dish was “burnt mackerel, tarragon and cockles risotto with sweet peas”:
(That one I did find on the website 😀!)
For dessert, I had their version of Pavlova:
All in all, a phenomenal day! But the best was yet to come…
On Monday, I arranged to have lunch with Claire Berlinski, “an American novelist, essayist, journalist, historian, travel writer, biographer, critic, editor, and consultant who lives with an elderly three-legged cat in Paris.” Claire is also the founder, editor-in-chief, and principal writer of The Cosmopolitan Globalist Substack, which is how I got to know her.
I can’t remember how I discovered CG, but I quickly grew to appreciate, and then crave, its mix of information about the world that you cannot get from “lamestream media,” and the deeply moral passion that Claire brings to each of her articles.
After the events of October 7, Claire decided to teach her subscribers a Middle East 101 class based on a course she taught in a college to make us “much better informed than the vast majority of journalists covering the conflict.” So far, we’ve had over 20 lectures/discussions in weekly Zoom meetings that frequently last much longer than the designated two hours. Claire managed to have prominent people – authors, diplomats, and journalists – join the calls, providing their perspectives, and answering our questions. It has been the most invaluable, unique experience driven solely by her knowledge, her connections, and her passion for the subject.
While constructing my long voyage to Southern Europe, I realized I would end up in Rome—and Paris ought to be an easy hop from there! I reached out to Claire with a request for a meeting, and she said, “Of course!” So, I added this leg, days 50-54, to the trip.
After some back-and-forth, we settled on having lunch at Le Train Bleu, which is as remarkable a restaurant as I ever set foot in. Just look at it!:
For me, having a meal in more enjoyable surroundings is impossible.
And the menu! We both had the 7-course tasting menu with wine pairings. It was one of the most memorable meals, and not just for the food:
Devilled eggs and Petrossian caviar
Roasted sea bass, potato gnocchi with asparagus, olive seasoned jus
Roasted veal rump, spring vegetables, supreme vin jaune sauce
Strawberries, basil, and Madagascar vanilla
And the wine pairings! The second pairing was the best wine I ever had; I believe it was AOC Chablis Domaine Oliveira Lecestre. I am trying to find it in the States. The closest store that sells it is about three hours away; I seriously consider going! (it’s a beautiful drive through the Leatherstocking region)
But the best part of the experience was the company and the conversation. Claire is smart, witty, considerate, inquisitive, and supremely generous with her time – we spent nearly six hours together. On the walk to the restaurant and afterward, she showed me the Paris she knows so well and loves – areas I would never have seen otherwise. Our conversation ranged from our backgrounds to current events, politics, religion, philosophy – you name it! She is supremely well-informed, well-read, and well-traveled.
That afternoon, without a doubt, was the highlight, the capstone, of my entire trip.
On my last full day in Paris, I had no more mental energy to do anything major—a museum visit or a trek to a famous site. Instead, I decided to follow Rick Steves’ Historic Paris Walk.
Which started, naturally, at Notre Dame, the historical heart of Paris, unfortunately closed for restoration since the disastrous fire of 2019 (yet another topic of conversation with Claire the day before). Still, they built a platform from which you can see the cathedral over the construction walls:
Luckily, I had been inside a couple of times before and remember the gorgeous stained-glass windows and the historic chapels. Ever since I read “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” by Victor Hugo in my teens, this church held a special place in my heart. The power of a historical novel!
The walk continued to Ile St. Louis. On the way, I stopped at the Deportation Memorial, a new (since the last time I visited Paris) monument to the 200,000 French victims of the Nazi concentration camps. It is a superbly designed and executed memorial, plunging one into dark, narrow spaces intended to create a feeling of unease, discomfort, and fear.
The room that affected me most had this on its walls:
The names of the death camps.
A map of all the death and work camps.
I can’t help thinking that each was staffed and serviced by the locals (in addition to the Nazis, of course). They all knew, or could know. And if you extended the map for a couple of thousand miles eastward, you would see just as many dots for the Gulag Archipelago. Mere 80 years ago. In Europe.
“The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either -- but right through every human heart -- and through all human hearts.”
― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 1918–1956
In our conversation the previous day, Claire pointed out how the French try to keep the past current (and educate new generations) by placing historical plaques, including ones describing the deportations, in many locations across Paris (and across the whole country, I would imagine). Good.
Crossing to the Left Bank, I noted the booksellers with their green stalls and passed by the Shakespeare and Company Bookstore, which struck me as a tourist trap. It certainly was mobbed by more than enough tourists!
The next stop was St. Séverin, a church in Flamboyant Gothic style:
It had its share of gargoyles, and then some!
Look at these beauties:
Inside was a whole different story, serene and uplifting:
Next on the walk was the Latin Quarter and Boulevard St. Michel. I strolled around the Quarter and saw this beautiful fountain, Fontaine Saint Michel:
The following destination was Sainte-Chapelle, a chapel famous for its stained-glass floor-to-ceiling windows; Rick Steves calls it a “cathedral of glass.” Unfortunately, it, along with so many big tourist attractions, needed an advanced ticket, which I did not have. I couldn’t even get close to it, because immediately to its right is where France’s Supreme Court meets, and the place was guarded by gendarmes equipped for a minor war:
(Supreme Court straight ahead, St. Chapelle on the left, machine gun front and center)
I had lunch/dinner at Caveau du Palais on Place Dauphine, a quiet, wooded pedestrian plaza, at an outside table. I caught up on my “French must-haves” – escargot and French onion soup – there:
The Historic Paris walk concluded on Pont Neuf, very close to my hotel. On the way there, I saw Tour Saint-Jacques, the tower being the only survivor of a church demolished in the frenzy of the French Revolution:
Paris never ceases to surprise: a beautiful building, an alluring plaza, a quiet garden, or a majestic architectural ensemble coming into view beyond a bend in the street or in the gap between two houses.
On the day of my departure, since my plane was not taking off until almost 6 p.m., I decided to have another totally French meal at the second restaurant recommended at the hotel, Au Pied de Cochon. Google informs me now that it means “At Pig’s Foot”—not the most alluring name for a restaurant; however, ignorance is bliss! I liked the looks of it:
, as well as its menu cover:
Things only improved from there. First, they had a cocktail made with my favorite elderberry liqueur, St. Germain, served in a glass that looks like the bottle that nectar comes in:
I even copied the recipe from the menu:
(the other variations look pretty good, too!)
Second, I was able to order one of my favorite French dishes for an appetizer:
Frog legs!
Then “roasted French duck breast” with “Dauphinois gratin” (cheesy potatoes) for the main course:
(you can’t get any more French than that!)
And this delightful meringue piggie filled with cream:
A truly apt ending to my long adventure!