2014 In Paris Saturday

            Saturday, I had breakfast with Nathalie and then headed for the camping store to buy a mattress and a pillow.  The odometer was not working.   The clerk at the camping store changed the battery.  It came to life but the displays were a mystery.  This means finding the bike shop from last year.

            The mattress was the type that self-inflate.  They are very expensive.  The pillow had a better price.

            The bike shop was near the Bastille.  The Bastille was disappointing.  This important building touched off the French Revolution in 1789.  Its symbolic importance cannot be over exaggerated and the novels of Victor enhanced its worldwide fame.  Visitors come to see the Bastille.  Unfortunately, nothing remains of the Bastille having been torn down shortly after the revolution.  A huge monolith encircled by a round a bout commemorates the sight.

The man at the bike shop was the same person who I dealt with last year.  He nicely remembered both the bike and me.  He clicked the right dials and the odometer sprang to life.  Unfortunately, shadows appeared and distorted the numbers.  After several attempts to correct the issue, he replaced the odometer with another.  This good gesture turned sour when within a few blocks the “new” odometer developed similar issues.  But now the shop had closed for the afternoon.

The Mosque was across the river from the Bastille.  Several people including Allen at the YMCA suggested going to the Mosque.   Allen had also recommended the restaurant connected to the Mosque.  With the wait line extending around the corner I opted for the sandwich shop across the street.  The Natural History Museum was nearby but that will have to wait for another time.

After a sandwich and a coke, I pedaled to the front of the Mosque but found it closed reopening at two.  Flip-flopping lunch and the visit would have been wiser.  Hindsight is always 20-20.  Instead I headed off to the D’Orsay.  For the first time I did not enjoy cycling in Paris.  The numerous cars and tour buses were strangling the traffic and fouling the air.  Later, Nathalie said that the air quality is a growing concern.  Three times during the passed winter officials limited the number of cars by going to odd and even numbers on the license plates cutting the traffic in half.

As always the D’Orsay was wonderful!  Buying the ticket the day before was a god send as the ticket line was enormous.  I stupidly forgot my walking shoes.  Instead I traipsed across the marble floors with my biking shoes clicking like high heels.  I took several breaks.  Viewing fine paintings can be very tiring.  Why don’t they would rate the paintings: this is an excellent painting by Cezanne, this is a so-so effort by Cezanne, etc.  Cezanne could not have been at his best every time.