Today is Palm Sunday in Paris, a point hard to miss in this city. On my way to breakfast I passed the ladies at the door of the church preparing the greenery. In Paris, it is sprigs of boxwood rather than palms, but the point is made just the same.
At every church in the city, it seemed you could get a sprig of green to carry around. And at Notre Dame they had big white tents set up to entertain the children. Church members in white sweatshirts would answer any questions you might have about the day, and their church, and their religion.
Around the corner, a flower market bloomed. I happened on it quite by mistake while making a detour for a scoop of haagen dazs (chocolate praline carmel crunch).
And as I became intoxicated with the smell of fresh spring blooms, I heard birds chirping away. There were cages full of tiny birds, every variety imaginable, to the great delight of children straining to escape from their parents to see what it was all about.
There were all shapes and sizes and colors. Fascinating. I don’t know if this was just for this weekend or if this a regular occurrence, but it was really quite magical.
There were booths with all types of birdseed…
…so you can feed your nesters and get your own fresh eggs.
And that was just part of my day. The highlight was a visit to Centre Pompidou, the Paris version of New York’s Museum of Modern Art. A unique building, very modern and industrial, it was a delight, and the collection was interesting and varied.
The last time I was in Paris, much of this museum was closed for renovation, so today was a treat and I spent hours there. My poor Beloved Brit I am afraid would have been bored to tears, which is why I came on my own.
The collection is varied, but my favorite area is Floor 4 and 5, 1900 to present.
A few of my old favorites…
And of course Peter Doig…
I could go on and on and on–way too many to mention here.
Just a spectacular day. And then I walked outside and down the street on my way to Notre Dame, and saw this…
You’ve got to love Paris for the art. Just when you think you’ve adjusted to the visual overload, something else pops up and blows you away.