Overheard near the Gates of Hell, "They don't swing open." or Paris Day 3
We managed to both find our way and stumble today. We made an early stop at the nearby grocery store, the Franprix ( or granny racecar drivers, as Alan put it) and grabbed breakfast and lunch for just 5 euros. We ate on a park bench nearby and then began to stumble. The RER train had us confused and we spent a good deal of time sorting out which train to take. Had we not tried to be so clever or walked all or part of the route as Alan suggested, we may have avoided even more of the crowd at Musee D'Orsay. Our museum pass did allow a nice reduction in line size, but that brought us face to face with art that we seemed unprepared for. I don't know if the crowds had grown, our enthusiasm had waned, the museum was laid out poorly, or some combination of those things contributed to our struggles in D'Orsay. We fought through it and this train station turned museum was a nice setting in which to admire art. Or it could have been. The crowds engulfed Monet, Van Gogh, and Degas. I caught a few somewhat satisfying glimpses, but never had time to stop and really enjoy the paintings before me. I was bumped and jostled far too often for that.

From D'Orsay we went to the underground and toured the sewers. It smelled a bit and the jokes were ripe, but it was a great history of Paris on the sewage timeline. The tools used to clean the pipes, like a rolling ball just smaller than the pipe were fairly fascinating too. This one is a diamond in the rough. From there we hit up Rodin. The gardens were pleasant, Hell's Gate and The Thinker were visually interesting, but I again got lost in the crowds, the time, and the layout as we viewed Rodin's gardens and mansion. I find my attention for sculpture doesn't last long. Steam was lost. I wasn't displeased with Rodin, just not particularly inspired.

Dinner brought more group challenges. We found that consensus was not necessarily so. I think we got it worked out. Even fairly laid back travelers can find ways to step on one another's toes. It may not be the last misstep, but I think we learned from it. We eventually settled on a home cooked meal- it was a little like the old days of "Chicken Voila" only more French and more breakfast-like.

We capped off the night with delicious gelatto and a brief walk in the Latin Quarter. It's supposed to get colder all week. I'm not prepared. Also, it appears that the stale "what have I accomplished" feeling isn't limited to U.S. nights.