You're Not in California Anymore, Dorothy

An Internet search would tell you that the average Paris temperature in January is 44F. That will change when they factor this year into the equation, I'm sure.  It's cold.

The last few days have been in the mid 20Fs and snow has been intermittent.  It's not lasting long on the ground, but one can easily tell which cars haven't been moved from their parking places in days; they're the ones with snow still piled on the roof and windshield.  The picture above is of part of the planted wall on the Musée Quai Branly, near the Eiffel Tower in the 7th arrondissement.  The plants are looking a bit peaked and the watering system isn't coping well with freezing temperatures, leaving icicles hanging from the ferns.

The other day we walked through a light snowfall to the Louvre, thinking it was exactly the right kind of day to spend in a museum; after all, we spent much of the fall putting off museum visits because the weather was too nice to be indoors.  Now the cozy inside was a pleasure that these fellows on the parapet couldn't enjoy.

We headed for the Italian painting section and came across this crowd.

See that little rectangle on the wall at the back?  In front of it is a cleared space into which visitors may not venture, so all these people are standing at least 20 feet from the Mona Lisa, a quite small painting that they can barely see.  Many of them are lifting cameras above their heads to take snapshots proving they've been there.  Meanwhile, about 20 yards away is a DaVinci painting of the Virgin and Saint Anne, whose face appears, at least to me, to be virtually identical with Mona Lisa's.  No one is looking at it.

Although this doesn't really fit in this post, I can't resist sharing it.  Several days ago we were on the Right Bank on our way to yet another museum when we passed this restaurant and I couldn't resist a picture (I don't resist much, do I?).

I imagine the story starts with a knock-off of something like the Hard Rock Café and the failure of that incarnation, followed by an attempt to capitalize on the Japanese tourist business without putting any more money into the decor.  Thus what we have left is this: American Dream Diner, Japanese Bistro, Manga Lounge.

And this is what they serve:

Paris en Grisaille

When I looked out of the window this morning fat white snowflakes were landing on the trees in the courtyard and the gardienne's Christmas lights were twinkling against a staircase covered in white.  While Gene went off to his French class, my sister Susanne, who's visiting for a couple of weeks, and and I decided to walk over to the Louvre, just across the river.

It was glorious. Quiet, white, clean, with little car traffic and few pedestrians, it could have been an Impressionist painting, a Sisley perhaps.  Virtually no color was visible, other than tones of gray, brown, black and the slate green of the river.

We crossed the pedestrian Pont des Arts, stopping every few feet to look around and take some pictures.  The few others out were doing the same, while this man, stopping on his way to a meeting perhaps, simply stood under his umbrella and stared at the newly fresh city.

The Louvre courtyard had a few narrow paths through the pristine snow.  The statues on the parapet had snowy epaulets and the Tuileries garden hedges were sprinkled as well.

The Louvre was unusually uncrowded, but after our visit it was pleasant to get back out to the transformed landscape.  The banks of the Seine remained untouched by cars or footprints.  Only the tour boat was moving on the river.

The buildings in the distance were hazy through the falling snow, and the sidewalks in front of the bouquinistes were deserted except for an occasional walker stepping carefully to avoid slushy patches.

It was a day many people preferred to spend at home.  The Velib bikes sat under their cover of snow.

The streetlights weren't lit but I wish they had been as the day progressed; a hint of light and warmth through the gray would have been welcome.

Schizophrenic Weather

That we've been having a very mild winter is obvious even to me, who has lived most of my life in California and where 45˚Fahrenheit is a cold day.  We've rarely dropped below that here, and here we are nearly halfway through December.  What we do have is a plethora of rainy days.  Not pouring down rain, not all day long rain, not flooding the streets rain, but some rain nearly every day.  Gray skies, wet sidewalks, smeared dog droppings kind of rain. 

We've learned not to leave the house without an umbrella, how to maneuver on the narrow sidewalks with packages, umbrellas and other pedestrians, and most importantly, to wear boots at all times.  I'm actually dreaming about wearing some pretty flats or pumps rather than being prepared for puddles at all times.  There are worse fates, I suppose, but I do love those shoes.

For a few weeks I thought we might not see the sun again until spring, but one day I woke earlier than usual and noticed that it was shining.  Rushing out to play in the sun, I felt, if not physically heated, emotionally warmed.  Then, by midday, the dark skies were back.  A revelation: it's sunny in the mornings!  We've been trying to reset our body clocks, which tend to have us up late at night and sleeping til mid-morning, to allow us a few hours of that blessed sunshine.  It's sort of working.

At least we see enough sunshine to remind us it will come back someday.  The forecast for next week is snow.