Lundi Church-Hopping

We learned a new word in French class today: “une blague”. It means “a joke”, which is what our teacher was doing on Friday when he told us we would have a test this Monday. He wanted to make sure we studied. Then he told us we would have a test on Thursday, and maybe he was kidding, but maybe…

After class, I needed to prioritise the laundry (and do actual work while doing it), which meant not only doing it but shopping for the necessary soaps and things. Sigh. A kink in the sightseeing schedule was necessary, and I planned to hop off the metro, see Madeleine and head on home. However, the general plan to wander to the nearby Saint Sulpice was just too tempting, and one church near a convenient metro station wouldn’t kill me.

A short bookshop stop yielded grammar books for some, a very useful complete map of Paris in portable form (with bus map!), and afforded my new zebra wallet the opportunity to fall apart. Sulk.

The church was particularly pleasant, and, I decided, the one with the nicest atmosphere of those I had been in so far.

The very first side chapel has a large Delacroix painting of Jacob and the angel, in which were gathered many apparent students of the French romantics. I don’t have anything against them, but I would much rather have wandered the rest of the church. I do like the energy in Delacroix’s work, though.

We saw the brass line through the church, somewhat inaccurately immortalised by Dan Brown in the da Vinci Code.

It is NOT the Paris meridian, which actually passes outside the church, it is NOT any so-called “Rose Line”; it was a sort of light calendar. A window long since blocked up, alas, would shine a beam of light onto the line at noon (I think) and at the winter solstice the golden globe on the top of the obelisk would glow (in the sun, not mystically). Just to clear that up.

Apparently Catherine Deneuve lives on Place St-Sulpice. Sadly for her, her view until 2012 is likely to consist of scaffolding and building equipment as they continue to renovate, and in some cases even finish, the church. Even so, we found a way through to the fountain at the centre, and Alissa had the opportunity to scare some pigeons.

We all decided that while we were very busy and important, we could probably manage another church, especially one as close as St-German-des-Pres. You see how this works? I’m sure entire days in Paris are lost this way.

St-Germain-des-Pres is a hotch-potch of styles, as one of the oldest churches in Paris, subject to the usual occasional updates and additions, with a soupçon of war damage. I liked it; I liked the bold colours and patterns, and to date, this is probably my favourite French church in terms of design, though St-Sulpice still has the edge on atmosphere.

Outside, I went looking for a Picasso sculpture dedicated to Apollinaire that was supposed to be around the church. I was unsure whether to expect a cubist or more naturalist work, and at first I thought I had found a cubist Picasso until I realised it was a Zadkine.

Picasso was nearby, in the garden next to the church.

Also nearby were the dual cafés of the intellectual XXth century, Les Deux Magots and Flore. Think some of the beats and add Simone de Beauvoir.

Then it was the metro, and after banishing a weird stalker-type person with the clever use of my friendly but intimidating grocer, I got to the supermarket and cleaned the clothes!