Paris: A riot and a wreck

Louvred it up like nobody's business this morning. Followed Rick Steeves for the last (or second-to-last) time on this trip, taking a two-hour tour through just one of the massive museum's three wings.

The place is overwhelmimg. I definitely would recommend a Rick Steeves-type book if you are going. Just ask Laz for his if I ever give it back.

Anyway, Venus di Milo. Winged Victory. Mona Lisa. Alf's quintuple self-portrait. Some giant works of art. Many believe the Mona Lisa is the most over-hyped of the bunch. Maybe, but it still produces an awe factor unsurpassed by almost anything else I've seen on this trip. Both the sculptures were amazing, too -- especially Winged Victory, which probably is in more need of its missing parts than is Venus.

I also saw several works of art here and at Orsay that I already had seen on this trip, not knowing the others were reproductions. Damn _____! (to curse Heathrow, press A. To curse the Welsh, press B. And to curse German efficiency, press C).

The Orsay, in some ways, is more accessible, what with the more contemporary works. But the Louvre has many of the giants (Van Gogh, Michelangelo, Giotto, Strahan ...) and some of the most famous works of art. Easily worth the visit. No diggity, no doubt.

...

So there I am in line at Notre Dame, actually going in this time and getting ready for tons of steps. There's some guy with a creepy mask lurking around and scaring the hell out of people, much to our collective delight. Really seemed like something you'd see on a hidden video show. Or Mr. Bean.

Climbed the towers of Notre Dame (it wasn't authentically moto ... Rather, it was quasi-moto (boooooo) ...), reached a lookout point and took in perhaps the best Eiffel-including views of Paris one can get without a jetpack, a magic carpet or the power of levitation. Then climbed in the bell tower, took one pic of the big hunk of metal and my camera battery (which had lingered valiantly all day) finally crapped out.

Climbed to top of tower for even better views, using the trusty pocketpc to take hopefully worthwhile pics (they were so-so ... oh well). Was more worried about it not getting the job done later at Musee Rodin, but it became sort of moot. More on that shortly.

We begin the long climb down the tower, with me leading the group. One woman was on my tail for the first 50 or so steps, but I sped it up on the unbelievably narrow and somewhat slick staircase just for the sport of it. Blew her away.

I was counting all the steps on the way down, but about the time I got to around 32or so, I decided it would be more fun to make animal noises that would echo back up the staircase and to the other tourists. So that's what I did. There was an owl, a monkey, some other random noises I'm sure they enjoyed it. I know I did.

Looking at the clock and the closing times of various sites, I basically had a choice between a nearby church with what reportedly is some of the most amazing stained glass in the world, or Musee Rodin, home of The Thinker. Line for the church was insane, so Rodin it was.

Took the metro relatively close and then walked it. Kept running into streets barricaded off by police. They told me how to get around and to the museum, but more police were around every corner (not literally). I was thinking some head of state was in town or something.

Nope, just fishermen.

When I got to the museum, I encountered more police than I had seen to that point. They all had riot gear -- shields, barricades, guns, etc. -- and many were right in front of the museum.

Ponder that, The Thinker!

A sign said the museum was closed (sorry, Rick Steeves).

"Will it be open tomorrow?" I asked one officer.

"Yes, tomorrow."

"Why is it closed?"

The officer pointed to all the trash and debris on the ground.

"What happened?"

"Fighting."

I found an English-speaking cameraman who explained that the fishermen were protesting because fuel prices are too high, which hurts their business.

Apparently the ministry of French Fish is right next to the museum. It started as a protest but got ugly.

(Off topic: I had great onion soup yesterday. Thought to myself, "I wonder if this is like French Onion Soup. ... wait, I'm in France. So it's just onion soup here!" I'm very smart.)

After taking in the scene -- which included many lingering protesters and other curious passers-by, I found some food and then took the train back toward the Notre Dame, where nearby sits a Holocaust memorial of sorts. As I was trying to figure out where the site was, a motorcycle accident happened right in front of me. Guy hit or was hit by a car, hit the ground and skidded his bike. He got right up and approached the car(s) that hit him, looking none too pleased. He appeared to be fine -- and police and an ambulance were on the scene in an amazing 30-45 seconds (helped that this happened right next to a hospital).

Protests, riots, harmless motorcycle accidents -- this place rocks! Oh, there's the art and culture stuff too, of course.

Anyway, the memorial, called Memorial de la Deportation, is simple but effective for what it is. Quartz pebbles (based on Jewish tradition) representing all French victims of concentration camps (200,000) are lined up in a hallway with a light at the end.

After that -- and my long but ultimately successful search for a phone that takes coins (I now have a phone card I don't need -- any takers?), I wandered to the metro to head back to Pont de Noo-eeeeeeeeeeeeee. But there was a pep band in my way.

Not sure it was a pep band, but sounded like one. Lots of brass -- they were great. Entertaining a crowd at Place de Chatalet, of which I was part for 20 minutes or so. Good stuff. What fun. Seriously.

Finally made it back here, where MJ helped find me food. And I've been researching this transit strike happening tomorrow, trying to figure out if/how I will get to airport. But before that I have just a little more sightseeing to do. Then, tomorrow evening, I'll be NY-bound ... and back to LA soon after. Crazy.`