Within / Without

Being in Paris, one also assumes the role of a pilgrim. You aspire to see these things that you have read about and hold close to the self. For instance, our eyes went wide with wonder at the Panthéon in Paris. There it was, that gorgeous pendulum. Yes, Foucault’s Pendulum. There is something to be said about the notion of secular nationalism and science. You see this massive bob of brass swinging.

Then of course there was the Louvre. Long before Da Vinci Code made Louvre appear like the the zone of clashing theologists, I had always aspired to go and stand (gaping) in the brimful of a museum that it is. We were eager, and our enthusiasm was part-killed by the enormous and serpentine queues. I suppose The Mona Lisa is somewhat like a rockstar. You admire the painting from a distance. There are guards surrounding the painting, and they wave you about to quickly proceed. I think The Mona Lisa, which is beautiful, has become a symbol of kitsch for too many. This intellectual snobbery that reduces The Mona Lisa to nothing because it is popular. You cannot help but be completely rooted when you look at her.

While the Venus De Milo is beautiful, somehow neither of us were really awed in its presence. But what caught my breath was the Winged Victory of Samothrace. Perhaps it is its dramatic placement, or the fact that there is so much of it that has been chopped off. Maybe it leaves so much to your imagination that it becomes even more beautiful in your mind. Either way, it’s hard not to be impressed by it. And hard not to stand at various angles, attempting to take it all in.

We wished we had more time to go to the Musée d’Orsay. My pilgrimage was incomplete without having had a glimpse at Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night. But as Sri said, it only meant that we now have even more reasons to go back to Paris.

There are other sacred grounds to cover. For instance, the supposed romance of Pont Neuf. With pain shooting up our legs, tired soles and the sudden heat (after the never ending spells of grey in London), perhaps romantic wasn’t really as easy to conjure as relief was. But one sort of melts into the red flowers and green grass of the small garden right next to it. It’s entirely possible that movies such as this one corrupt our romantic sensibility. But beautiful, is beautiful.

But with all that Paris has to offer, perhaps a pilgrim with eclectic tastes may find herself running from spot to spot. Maybe if you loved only monuments, loved only history, or loved only art, or loved only love – you’d have an easier time negotiating three and a half days in Paris. But if you are, thoroughly in love with so many things and if you are like me, in love with the idea of a city itself, you need to give Paris more time. Or another holiday.

Posted on April 10th, 2007 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Cities, Photographs, Sri, Travel