Paris, France

Feeling pleasantly at home in Paris, I set out early this morning to see some of its sights. I started off by biking south until I hit the river, then followed the top bank of the Seine westwards until I hit the Ile de la Citie, on which the cathedral of Notre Dame was located.

Its twin towers and spire crept ever closer and finally I reached the square in front of the cathedral to see it in  all its glory. It certainly was an imposing building, covered in finely carved gargoyles and saints. And, standing gazing at it, I had a sudden realisation. Notre Dame wasn’t just a name, but rather was French for “Our Lady”, referring of course to Mary, whom the Catholics hold so dear.

Inside, many people were lighting candles and asking for the laws of the universe to be annulled on behalf of their confessedly unworthy selves - commonly known as “praying”. I did a circuit, taking in some pretty special stain-glass windows and some beautiful centuries-old carvings, all for free (Salisbury Cathedral, take note), and then continued my journey along the Seine towards the Louvre.

 The Louvre was a stupendously grandiose building stretching three sides of a rectangle around a central glass pyramid, into which  you descended. I grabbed a ticket at one of the machines and wandered into one of the halls at random, not knowing quite what to expect, as my appreciation of art went about as far as Rolf’s Cartoon Club.

No other art museum I had been in could hold a candle to the Louvre. The sheer variety, quantity and quality of the works inside was astounding. The French sculpture section, which I had unwittingly started in, demanded hours of perusal itself, let alone the Greek, Roman, Egyptian and Middle Eastern artifacts, or the massive galleries devoted to French and Italian Renaissance painters. I wandered aimlessly and very much agape, taking in as much as I could.

Since the ticket was valid all day, I split my time there with a break for lunch on a nearby street, seeking out the Louvre’s two most famous exhibits on my second visit. The first, of some Plain Jane bint called Lisa, was protected not only by glass but also by a Great Wall of Chinese tourists each taking it in turns to have their picture taken in front of it. I didn’t linger. Exactly the same was happening at the Venus de Milo, but at least I could wander around the back of the sculpture where there was room, where I observed that her arse crack was hanging out a tad. Must have been a bugger to scratch without arms.

I spent hours in the Louvre and must’ve only glimpsed a fraction of the exhibits, let alone given them the study they deserved. I left thoroughly impressed by the collection, and so full of culture that I had to visit the cultural void of McDonald’s to redress the balance.

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