Paris, Day 3: A Bad Day to Be a Stratford, and Candice Fights the Battle of the Louvre

Wednesday, September 2nd, wasn't a great morning in the Stratford house. The kids had been ignoring me and my instructions, and by the time I finally got everyone ready to go, I was so exhausted and frustrated that I was crying quietly during scripture reading. (Staying up until one a.m. the two nights previous didn't help, either.) I had to go the bathroom for some tissues, and Ed followed me in to see what was wrong. When I explained, he stomped back into the living room and told the kids their trip to the Chocolate Museum was canceled. He ordered them to their beds for three hours, during which time they were to completely fill the front and back of a sheet of paper with a list of things that Mom has done or does for them. Then he kicked me back upstairs to bed and I slept like a rock for a little longer than three hours. 

When I came downstairs Ed was reading aloud their lists, and it was really nice to hear that the kids--albeit when forced--do recognize my sacrifices. Then Ed lectured them about learning to see and do what needs to be done, without being told, and he put them to work cleaning up, running to the store, doing laundry, etc. Every time I stood up to do something, Ed would say,"Can a kid do that for you?'

I made dinner for the kids, and Ed and I left to bike to the Louvre. He has been to Paris once before, seventeen years ago, and at that time the Near East wing at the Louvre was closed, so he had been waiting a long time to see it. I followed him around for a little while, then set off to try to see the History of the Louvre exhibit, which was unfortunately closed. Yes, I saw the Mona Lisa, but why would a photo by me be of any use to anyone?

This is the ubiquitous Louvre pyramid from underneath. At night it apparently has some sort of neon addition.

I saw another one of these intriguing sculptures when we were in Amman. They were found at Ain Ghazal in Northern Jordan, date from 5000 to 7200 BC, and, according to Wikipedia: "These statues are half-size human figures modeled in white plaster around a core of bundled twigs. The figures have painted clothes, hair, and in some cases, ornamental tattoos or body paint. The eyes are created using cowrie shells with a bitumen pupil." 

I liked David's Oath of the Horatii when I studied it in school, and the Louvre had an extensive collection of his other works, including the massive 33'x20' Coronation of Napoleon. I thought his self-portrait had an ironic smile, perhaps explained by the fact that he painted it in prison.

The Louvre's Greek and Roman collection is an entire city block long, but I liked this piece the most, even though I don't know anything about it. It's slightly larger than life, with her feet at the viewer's shoulder height, giving the woman dramatic power. Plus, she's holding a man's face like she ripped it off him. Who doesn't love that in a woman?

One of many exquisite medieval ivory carvings.

The view from one wing of the museum to the other, across the courtyard. 

After two hours I was exhausted, and I sat down in the lobby to wait for Ed. I watched other tourists shuffle out with drawn and vacant looks on their faces, barely lifting their feet off the ground in the vain attempt to avoid further painful steps. I know exactly how they felt. I don't feel like I need to go to the Louvre ever again.

Three hours on stone floors is no picnic, no matter how comfortable your shoes promise to be.

After meeting up, we wandered around outside for a little bit, and ended up at Gambino's, an Italian restaurant, for a late and delicious dinner.

The wine. No, we didn't drink any, even though Ed texted this photo to Mary and told her we were getting tipsy.

One of the most amazing things about Paris is that every time you go around the corner, there's a beautiful and historic building you've never seen before.