Je Suis Perdue...Not a Surprise, Really

This morning, I had class at the Musée Marmottan, just down the street from campus. It was overly crowded with fancy little Passy grandmas, but the Impressionist paintings were definitely worth the stepped on toes. Huge Monet waterlily paintings filled up the walls of the lower rooms.  The colors were vivid royal blues and greens, and it seemed like you could just dip your fingers into the immense ponds. There were a few thick charcoal Degas sketches and some pastel nudes upstairs. On the top floor, Berthe Morisot's lovely watercolors and quick, colorful sketches filled frames around the rooms. 

After the museum visit, I came across this carousel of plastic horses. It looked like an old carnival attraction, but the kids seemed to still enjoy it.  They all were strapped onto the backs of the horses, and then held out pointed wooden spears. At first, I thought they were supposed to be crop whips or swords (how is this safe?!), but after watching the parents pull the horses around to get it to spin, I realized the kids were collecting small metal rings with the sticks.  

Spring is on its way

After my class and a quiche saumon epinards (salmon and spinch) for lunch, I took the métro to Bastille for a walk. The assignment said to be a flâneur:

"flâneur" (n.)- a man who saunters around observing society (oxforddictionaries.com)

 I sauntered around and observed as best as I could.

My directional disability did not let me down today. I started at Bastille, got lost and wandered down some empty streets, found the métro stop Voltaire (pulling a Martin here, cause it was an inconvenient métro stop that would take me too far north), transferred to different lines, got to the Marais (my initial intention), and then somehow walked back and ended up at Bastille. 

Observations:
-Closed shops. Everyone is on vacation all the time, though this week might actually be an official vacation of some sort. I wouldn't know; we don't get off American or French holidays here.
-A roller skater gliding like an ice skater down the sidewalk.
-Many cafés: friends drinking beers, couples sipping wine, old people smoking cigarettes and clinking tiny espresso cups. I feel like the people sitting outside at cafés are constantly judging (perhaps being better flâneurs, despite not "sauntering about"), as the cafés are set up with all the chairs facing the street for people-watching/gawking rather than arranged for conversations.
-Upscale shops with window displays being changed.
-The smell of wood shavings at a construction site.
-Unleashed little dogs peeing on small plastic bags of garbage.
-Rumbling garbage trucks picking up bright green bins.
-The rapid exchange of French between large groups of families and friends, swinging shopping bags in clusters on the sidewalk.
-British accents.
-Motorcycles.
-People dressed in all black, with maybe a pop of color from a scarf.
-Bursting grocery bags with baguettes poking out as people rush home for dinner.
-Le fleuriste. La fromagerie. La boucherie. La boulangerie.
-Red Tabac signs
-Small chickens spinning around in an outdoor roasting machine.
-The bright setting sun splashing through the bars of gates and between gaps and doorways.
-Friendly colorful wooden doors.
-Constant movement, but not in a rushed or anxious way.
-Sneaking bites of pastries.
-Handfuls of plucked baby flowers, the first bits of spring.