Our last full day in Paris. I’ll concentrate on the highlights, but it’s not quite done. I’ll share some odds and ends with you tomorrow.

Then we’ll be done.

We had our breakfast and walked down Rue de Rennes toward the Seine.

I never get tired of seeing the wrought iron balconies or the beautiful color of the stone.

Two cafés: Café de Flore and Les Deux Magots. Both very famous and known for the literary figures who frequented them. There is a church right next to Magots, Église de Saint Germain des Prés. It’s beautiful and we visited it both last year and this year. It’s the oldest church in Paris.

This year, there’s some renovation work going on inside, so parts of the nave and sanctuary are unavailable. It has the most beautiful little garden and a concert series. On the fence surrounding the garden, we saw this:

Needless to say, we were greatly interested in this poster and in the man who is behind this series, “I’m not a trophy.” His name is Arno Elias and he runs an organization “dedicated to creating greater awareness for the rapid extinction of endangered species around the world.” Elias is a French artist and photographer. The ambassador for the campaign is model and actress, Cara Delevingne.

After spending quite a bit of time looking at this provocative piece of art and wishing we could see more, we continued walking a few feet, crossed the street, and then realized that the gallery hosting the exhibition was right there! So we went in.

I cannot tell you how powerful it is. We really wanted to buy a print but the one we wanted was no longer in stock.

A couple of the originals on display:

This lion was our favorite, but every piece was extraordinary.

And one more:

This was one of the most powerful parts of our trip for me. And totally unexpected.

Taken from upstairs in the gallery; Les Deux Magots on the left, Café Bonaparte on the right.

Yes, we stopped at Ladurée and bought one more box of macarons.

I ended up carrying this box by hand through the airport, onto the plane, and all the way to the cottage.

Melanie mentioned that neither she or her husband like meringue, which is the base for macarons. Neither do I. But I LOVE macarons. They’re another thing entirely.

On to the Seine.

We passed by this door.

And came to the Seine.

That’s Île de la Cité to the right, which is where we’re headed.

But first, Don asked someone to take a picture of us.

Don is holding the ubiquitous Ladurée bag.

We crossed over to the Île, and walked down the street bordering the Seine until we got to Notre Dame, which can only be seen from a distance right now. Then we turned left and headed toward a street that might take us to Sainte-Chapelle, an extraordinary gem that I learned about last year on Instagram, after  we’d visited Paris. We’re pretty good at figuring out how to get someplace in Paris and our instincts were right. We ended up here:

The gates to the medieval Palais de la Cité, the residence of the Kings of France until the 14th century. The chapel lies within the exterior walls surrounding the Palace (now an administrative complex) in the courtyard, something I didn’t know until we got there. The line forms on the outside, and winds its way inside the walls. (That’s the spire of Sainte-Chapelle on the left.)

Sainte-Chapelle was “commissioned by King Louis IX of France to house his collection of Passion relics, including Christ’s Crown of Thorns.” – Wikipedia. (The crown was eventually moved to Notre Dame and it survived last year’s fire.) The chapel was commissioned in 1238 and consecrated in 1248.

It was damaged during the French Revolution, restored in the 19th century, and the most recent restoration – to clean the stained glass and the stonework – was completed in 2015. “It has one of the most extensive 13th-century stained glass collections in the world.” – Wikipedia.

The exterior, including the Rose Window.

A peek at the stained glass.

We went inside to this beauty:

An exquisite little chapel. It was beautiful. But I was confused because it didn’t look the photographs I had seen and I became worried that I had come to the wrong place. Eventually, we realized there were narrow winding stone steps that would take us upstairs.

To this:

The tile floor.

From just outside the entrance.

Pictures cannot come close to doing it justice. The light, the intricate stained glass – all of it designed to tell stories – the wood, the carving, the soaring windows; I have never seen anything as beautiful as this priceless treasure.

It is exquisite.

A perfect place to visit on our last day in Paris.

We returned to the Jardin du Luxembourg to watch some pétanque later in the day, but I’ll write about that tomorrow. And I’ll share some other thoughts.

Don’s under the weather today, so I’m off to check on him.

Happy Saturday.

I just finished A Better Man  by Louise Penny.

And now I have to write a post. And find another book to read. But my head is still back in Three Pines. I know those of you who read her understand. She is a superb writer.

Back to Paris.

Breakfast the next day:

Fresh squeezed orange juice, coffee (Don brought his own mug), pastries, bread, and jam. Yogurt, cheese, fresh fruit, etc., on the sideboard.

The room:

We walked to the Jardin du Luxembourg. We wanted to spend some time there before we had to leave for a 4:30 matinee way across the Seine.

We plopped down on some chairs and watched people walk by. We could see all the children running around in the playground, as well.

Don was changing the film in his Holga camera.

You can see the pétanque courts off to the rear.

Eventually, we headed over there to watch some games. But while we were waiting, Don noticed a stray ball or boule and decided to practice. I joined him, though I only have a photo of Don.

The boules are heavy. I did surprisingly well. We’d really like to learn some more and take a stab at playing. We almost have Rick and Doug talked into it. Stay tuned.

Don walked over to get some vegan hot dogs (with carmelized onions, so good!) and we ate lunch while watching some spirited games. It was Saturday and it was a busy day at the courts, with everyone grabbing whatever space they could.

Eventually, and reluctantly, we left. We had to trek to a theater way over on the right bank to the east of the Eiffel Tower to see some Molière – The Miser. It’s an old, old theater called Theatre Ranelagh. Don had researched the production and purchased tickets online. We arrived at the door and picked up our tickets. We were assured they were the best tickets for us because they were in the balcony where you could see the subtitles. Good idea. And it did help to read the subtitles.

We were even given an English language program, though I think I would have preferred one in French.

As Don went off to the toilettes, I stood in the lobby and noticed more and more parents arriving with children. An alarming amount of children if you were thinking (as we were) that it was a production for an adult audience. When Don returned, I gently mentioned that I thought this might be a production geared toward kids. He looked around and agreed.

Dang.

There had been nothing on the website or in the description of the show that indicated it was for children. Sighing, we made the best of it by saying that what we really wanted was to hear Molière spoken in French, that was the important thing. And we did.

As for the production, it was ultimately disappointing. It was low-budget. The costumes were just so-so. And, for me, the most maddening thing was that every line was delivered downstage (at the edge of the stage) facing outward. Didn’t matter if the characters were carrying on a conversation. They faced the audience. I wanted to scream. I suppose you could call it stylized, but it didn’t have enough style to call it stylized. Some of the actors were quite good and it was  a delight to hear the text in French. That part was lovely. But it was badly directed, which wasn’t fair to the actors, who were doing their best – especially the lead actor playing the Miser.

I don’t think Molière is the best subject for kids as it’s satire. Satire that they didn’t get, as was obvious when there were built-in pauses for audience laughter, which didn’t happen. On the other hand, it’s lovely that parents are taking their children to see France’s greatest playwright, to see the theater.

A mixed blessing which only made us more determined to see the Comédie-Française next time we’re there.

But we got to see Molière in Paris and that’s neat.

After the show, we traveled back to the Left Bank and ate dinner at a café near the Musée D’Orsay.

This was the ceiling in the café. (We’re in Paris, after all!)

And then, as we had planned, we walked along the Seine at night. It’s magical any time of day, but at night? Oh my goodness.

A late-night bouquiniste.

We sat on a bench in the middle of one of the bridges and waited until the hour was struck so we could see The Eiffel Tower light up with twinkle lights for five minutes. It’s really glorious.

Looking down the river to the Île de la Cité.

Beautiful, isn’t it?

That night, the clocks were set back one hour.

Tomorrow: the flea market and our treasures.

Happy Thursday.