Our hotel had a garden with a rooftop view over the old city.

Unfortunately, we only had the afternoon for exploring, but we made the most of it in Vielle Lyon, the oldest part of town.

Lyon is full of narrow passageways, called traboules, that link parallel streets, and frequently open onto interior courtyards.

In this case, the passage opened onto a sort of cul-de-sac, which was pretty remarkable for its swooping forms and asymmetry. The future designer of castles in the Loire Valley, was faced with a couple of constraints. He could not touch down on the existing well in the corner.

In the other corner, he had to avoid the existing entrance seen here. Unfortunately, these small courtyards don’t really photograph all that well.

The traboules open up onto unexpected courtyards. Frequently, these tiny courtyards feature elaborate detail.

Most of the streets in old Lyon run parallel to the water, and the traboules made short cuts from the hill to the river.

Frequently, the tiny courtyards feature elaborate staircases like this one.

During the German occupation in Word War II, the secret network of traboules proved to be very useful to the French Resistance.

I spotted this incredible 1911 Peugeot in a shop window.

Lyon’s cathedral is a massive presence in the old quarter.

Finished in 1476, the cathedral seems to have held up pretty well.

We came at just the right time to catch the light from the stained glass windows dancing on the walls.

I don’t remember ever seeing the light quite so magically cast in a cathedral like this. Maybe I usually see them on cloudy days. The result was more of a psychedelic light show than I expected.

There’s nothing quite like the shifting scales and contrast in light that are created in the side aisles of Gothic churches.

The combination of the height and narrowness of the nave dwarfs the congregation.

Unlike the attractions in Paris, we practically had the whole place to ourselves.

The people even look tiny in the aisles.

Across the plaza in front of the cathedral, we spotted the city’s other huge church, the Basilica of Fourviere, which was our next destination. We took a funicular up to the top of the hill. Unfortunately, the interior of the church was undergoing renovations, and a mass was getting started, so we didn’t really have a chance to take a good look at it, but we did get the best view of the city from the hill (the photo at the top of this post).

The other great attractions at the top of the Fourviere hill are the remains of the original Roman settlement of Lugdunum. The two theaters are still in great shape, and are still used for plays and concerts. Workers were busy preparing for them when we walked through.  Bernard Zehrfuss designed the concrete museum that pokes its way out of the hill in the distance.  Unfortunately, we didn’t have a chance to go inside.

The narrow streets that descend the hill open out to grand views of the city every once in a while.

Seemingly ancient retaining walls hold back the hill from crumbling into the city below.

Although we covered a good portion of Old Lyon in just a couple of hours, we wished that we could have spent more time exploring its narrow streets.

We had heard great things about the bouchon that we picked for dinner, le Garet, and we were excited for a traditional Lyonnaise meal. Elizabeth looks a little worried about the food coming her way, though.

Elizabeth ordered sausage for her first course, and this is not exactly what she was expecting. It was tasty, though, and the bread that was put on the table was delicious, too.

I ordered a lentil dish with assorted meat parts for my first course. I was a little taken aback when the waiter brought over this giant tray of food with a pot of lentils in the middle. I assumed that I was to take the items family-style, so I took a big spoonful of each. I was told that the meat parts included nose, foot, ear, and stomach (I think. I can’t actually remember exactly what each one was.). Surprisingly (or maybe not, since Lyonnaise bouchon food is legendary for a reason), everything was delicious. Once I got past the names of the parts, I enjoyed everything there. They were flavored very delicately with citrus and spices. I took way to much for my first course, though.

Next, we had white asparagus with a flavorful red wine and mustard mousse, which is something we’d like to attempt at home.

Elizabeth got a salad with bacon and a poached egg for her third course.

The salad was pretty great, and I think the photo speaks for itself.

I opted for the anouillette, a very rustic sausage with barely chopped up meat parts that I won’t mention. I was a little worried about this dish, but again, was very pleasantly surprised.

I ended up making a sizable dent in the course, considering how much I had eaten of the first course. Once I got over the barely chopped up parts, I realized that the flavors were complex and perfect, and the meat was tender. I would definitely order this again.

For our cheese course, the waiter brought out these special le Garet plates.

I hate to use superlatives, but this was probably the best cheese that I’ve ever had in my life. As he dropped of this huge wheel for us to take what we wanted, proprietor said that he had to drive fifty kilometers to get it from a small village in the country get it, and that it could not be found anywhere else. Unfortunately, since we had stuffed ourselves with the previous courses, we could only eat a sliver of it. If I ever go back, I will definitely be getting this again.

Elizabeth ordered this hilarious looking sorbet and meringue dessert.

After completely stuffing myself on previous courses, I went with sorbet for dessert. when the waiter brought it out, he drizzled brandy all over it, and left the bottle for a digestif.

The brandy bottle had a wooden man playing petanque inside of it.

Another clever coffee service.

We had to do some walking after our huge meal. This shot was taken on a pedestrian bridge over the Rhone.

The Basilica is dramatically lit at night, and served as a good beacon back to the Vielle Lyon.  Over to the right, is Lyon’s mini version of the Eiffel Tower.  The next day, we were headed back to Paris for the last part of our trip.

We came upon another flea market, which, like all the others, had some great old books.

Some books are better forgotten.

In a display of efficiency, Aix’s builders have taken advantage of every existing wall, and square foot of space. Houses and shops have been built in between the buttresses of the Madeleine church.

Our desert bounty of the day, some of the best of our whole trip. The praline and meringue treat in the top right corner of the box was our favorite, and reminded us of something that my mother occasionally makes. The chocolate treats weren’t too bad, either.

Aix’s cathedral, Saint-Saveur, is an amazing mix of a wide variety of styles, and was built over the course of almost two thousand years.

On the interior of Saint-Saveur, it is possible to see just about all of the eras of European architecture, up until the 19th Century, come together in one place. There are a couple of holes in the floor where visitors can look down on the ruins of the roman forum underneath.

In the side aisles, the contrast of styles is most evident. The succession of arches leads from baroque, to gothic, to romanesque.

The history of architecture coming together in one place.

None of the elements really match here, which is what I found so interesting about this church. It stands as a real counter-argument to that made on a lot of American college campuses, that consistency of pseudo-historical style must be preserved regardless of the era when it was built.

The altarpieces were even somewhat modern, and looked like they were supported by a Henry Moore sculpture.

More different arches, all built at different times.

The columns in the baptistry were actually reused from the Roman forum that once stood here. The rest of the baptistry is from the Renaissance.

A view towards the Aix city hall.

A market is set up on one of the squares just about every day. We got some great strawberries and apricots here.

Elizabeth shows off the local bread specialty of Aix. This one has olives, but some of them are made with bacon, tomatoes, or other local goods.  We stocked up on snacks before heading out to Chateauneuf-du-Pape to tour some of the vineyards.

The interior of a fermentation tank. Everything was state of the art in these parts.

Chateauneuf wine is aged in oak barrels like these. The coopers give each barrel a distinctive characteristic. These were stained in their mid-section.

The wineries don’t really care to deal much with tourists, so they have “self-guided tours,” meaning that visitors are free to walk around wherever they want. In the bottling room, we found all sorts of stuff, like this stamp, which is used to label the white wine.

The labels were also left out in the deserted bottling room. These are from a wine that Robert Parker gave a 98.

At another Chateauneuf vineyard, we took a look at the 110-year old vines that have survived a tremendous amount of turmoil since they were planted.   You can see some of the river rocks on the tops of the beds.

A view across the vineyard to Mont Ventoux, which you might recognize from yesterday’s post (probably not, though). It has been the scene for many dramatic Tour de France hilltop finishes.

In this winery, the barrels were dramatically lit to inspire awe.

We ended up picking up two bottles to somehow bring home.

There is nothing left of the pope’s new summer castle but some ruins at the crest of the hill.

The pope had a great view over the surrounding countryside. That’s the Rhone River in the distance.

The Rhone stretches towards Lyon, which would be our destination after Aix.

From some angles, Chateauneuf still looks like a pretty formidable castle.

From other angles, it doesn’t look too imposing.

This is some of the most valuable farmland in the world. In order to be called Chateauneuf, the wine has to be grown here, in just 9,300 acres. It must also be grown on land that is arid enough to support lavender and thyme. In the distance, Mont Ventoux still looms.

We had a great dinner in Aix that evening, which started with this amuse bouche.

Elizabeth’s eggplant salad included edible flowers.

I started out with lamb sweetbreads, which were surprisingly delicious and tender.

We each had fish courses. I can’t remember what type of fish this was.

Dorade with carrots.

Elizabeth went for the chocolate souffle.

I went with the red wine and apple tart, which also had some red wine and pepper flavored whipped cream.

The chocolate souffle was the real star of the meal.

The sun lit up a corner of our room just around breakfast time.

The antique market in Isle-sur-la-Sorgue had some amazing items. Here Francois and Nicolas look very electable as they gaze towards the future.

If you are in the market for any kind of cute kitchen item, this is the place to find it.

It seemed like there was more silver at the market than anything else, including the egg cups and spoons seen here.

My favorite items at the market were the antique petanque boules (bocce balls).

I ended up buying one of the petanque boules in this photo, all of which are from the late 19th Century. The guy from whom I bought it told me all about the significance of their designs. The balls have a solid wood core, and the metal exteriors are actually nails that were driven into the wood in patterns particular to the region where they were made. He said that the balls were all made by women for their husbands to enjoy. The studded balls are from Lyon, and the cobblestone-like ones are from the northeast of France (those in the previous photo are also from there). The fish-scale boules, one of which I bought, are from Provence. Afterwards, I looked for them on e-Bay, and it looks like I got a great deal!

Anyone need an old eye surgery kit?

Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is called the “Venice of Provence” because it sits in the middle of the Sorgue River, which flows through and around the town like canals. The water is much cleaner than Venice’s canals, though.

Fresh garlic is in season, and our B&B’s kitchen had been fragrant with its aroma. We wished we had had a kitchen in which to cook!

One of the local specialties: an almond and honey tart.

Apple tarts that looked pretty good, too! I opted for the almond tart in the previous photo.

The market covered the whole town, but after Apt’s market the day before, we started to get marketed out.

Another town, another church to check out. This gem had some great frescoes.

Our next stop was another hill town, Lacoste.

A quiet and picturesque town, Lacoste seemed a bit more rugged than the rest.

When he was forced out of Paris on obscenity charges, the Marquis de Sade lived and wrote in Lacoste’s castle.

At the top of the hill, there are a few sculptures commemorating de Sade’s stay in the town. The castle where he lived is in the background.  Although it appears to be in ruins from here, it is actually still occupied.

Bonnieux, the next town that we visited, can be seen in the distance here.

The poppies were out in full force on the back side of the hill.

This is the other side of the Marquis de Sade’s castle, which, as you can see, is still occupied. In fact, as I learned while looking at listings in a real estate agent’s window in Menerbes the night before, it’s for sale!

This is the narrowest bakery that I saw the whole trip.

Lacoste was not built for those who need wheelchairs.

A last look up Lacoste from the orchards below.

The last town that we visited was Bonnieux. Speaking of Sadism, cycling fans may recognize the mountain across the valley. It’s Mont Ventoux, scene of many a punishing Tour de France stage finish.

After stopping at a winery on our route, we stopped at a bakery to get some of the local specialties: cookies flavored with the food of the region, called “navettes.”. We picked up some orange, lavender, thyme, and lemon cookies, along with a bunch of other ones that I can’t remember. I prefer a more moist cookie, so I would call these only “OK.”

Our B&B was picture-perfect, and I made use of the chilly pool on the day we arrived. It was around 85 degrees, but a little breezy.

There was a path up to the cliffs above the house where we were staying. It led up to the ancient fortifications that were built for the town, and gave us a pretty nice view of the countryside. In the distance, you can just make out Menerbes, one of the tiny villages that we explored the next day.

The path up to the cliffs.

Our B&B from above, on an amazingly clear evening, which was made all the better after a rainy morning in Paris.

This is the entrance to the beautiful room where we stayed. The terrace out front was perfect for evening picnics with all of the food that we picked up at the markets.

Our first view of Gordes was from below, as we took a bizarre detour on the tiniest roads on which I could ever taking our Hyundai rental. The town sits at the top of a hill, offering what I presume were strategic advantages..

The few tiny narrow streets in Gordes have views across the valley.

The owner of the B&B where we stayed called to make a reservation for us, and we had a chance to do a little bit of exploring beforehand.  I would imagine that Gordes would not be a bad place to pass a couple of years.

Our meal started with the local tapenade, and the town’s local aperatif, which was some kind of vanilla-y, fruity wine concoction – not my favorite, but I like to try the local specialties.

Elizabeth opted for champagne, and relished the opportunity to see me shaking my head at the local specialty.

The region around Aix is famous for its Rose, which everyone told me was excellent. I have to say, though, that it’s just not for me – too fruity, and too light. I was willing to give the local specialty a try, though.

A fresh local salad.

Elizabeth’s meal: a little of everything, which included salad, fish, soup, chicken, potatoes, an eggplant thing, and a whole host of other treats.

A closeup of the pea soup, which was Elizabeth’s favorite part.

My meal, which was muscles, fish, asparagus, and potatoes in a langoustine sauce.

Elizabeth’s dessert sampler: why choose one dessert when you can sample five? She’s got cheese, strawberry soup, creme brulee, a lemon tart, and a local grape beverage.

The dessert that came with my meal: strawberry soup. It was definitely not something that I would have chosen on my own, but it was surprisingly delicious, and tasted like the season in a bowl.

The coffee courses, served after desert, are always nicely presented.

Yet another photo in my series of dental offices of the world, this one with my favorite dentist included.

Our day started out with lamentable weather. Not only did we arrive with every other tourist in Paris, but we also had to wait in the rain.

The weather forecast called for clearing skies later in the day, so we opted to see the interior of Louis XIV’s palace as soon as we got there. So did everyone else.

The formality of the 17th C court remains: Now only school teachers wearing outfits that match the chairs, and who escort skipping schoolchildren, are allowed into the chapel.

By the time we reached the hall of mirrors, we couldn’t wait to get out of the palace. The heaving crowds took almost all of the enjoyment out of the visit to the royal apartments, a visit that I might have otherwise relished.

Something tells me that the Hall of Mirrors loses its effect when crammed with people like this.

Once we got outside again, the whole day turned around. The orangerie, where citrus was originally grown and displayed, was almost completely abandoned.

I don’t know much about citrus cultivation, but it seemed odd to me that the trees with the most fruit had virtually no leaves.

The long allees are evocative of an era when mastery over nature was still seen as a novelty. I had been really looking forward to wandering around Le Notre’s gardens.

What kind of person earnestly compares himself to Apollo? Either Louis XIV had an under-appreciated sarcastic sense of humor, or a conflated self image. This is the Apollo fountain, with the god rising out of the water.

To Le Notre, a garden view was a 3-dimensional affair.

We decided to rent a rowboat in the Grand Canal, which is, essentially, a massive man-made lake in the center of the gardens. It stretches to 1.5 km long, and there is a cross-piece that is 1 km long.

The Canal was so large that it had its own current. Where the two pieces intersected, a strong breeze kept pushing the boat north. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t make much progress towards the southern extreme.

Elizabeth gives it a two-minute try.

I wearily kicked it into overdrive to make it back to the dock to avoid paying for a full hour. That’s the palace in the background.

Le Notre created huge “forests” on the property, which connect the various palaces, and presumable provided some hunting grounds, but even the forests are carefully planned and groomed. This is the path to the Grand Triannon, or palace away from palace.

We took a nice break to dip our feet along the northern section of the canal. It didn’t appear that any of the other rowers were able to make it this far, either.

The allee that leads back to the Apollo Fountain.

Every view terminates in a distant tunnel of trees.

My favorite parts of the gardens were the bosquets – perfectly manicured, green-walled passages through dense one-specied forests.

Although these bosquets did not include a labyrinth (the original one was removed in the 18th C), Elizabeth and I had no trouble getting lost within.

Which way to go?

One stubborn branch makes fights its way into a tightly groomed allee. I have no doubt that its days are numbered.

I imagine that all sorts of illicit things could have taken place in the bosquets when they were first built, but the long views make discovery all the easier from a great distance. Unlike the enfilades in the great french chateaux, with their off-axis cabinets, there is really nowhere to hide from the long perspective.

A fork in the rode, followed by a couple of other forks in the resultant roads.

We were rewarded for our morning showers with beautiful clear skies for most of the day.

We’ll have to come back some day when the fountains are running. Unlike those in many other gardens of the era, those at Versailles are pump fed because Louis XIV chose to build his palace at the highest point.

A last view back towards Le Notre’s gardens, and the Grand Canal stretching to the horizon.

Our in-room feast included quiche and croques madames.

The real stars were the desserts, a mouse and meringue creation, and a religieuse, supplemented with chocolates.

After beating most of the crowds here, we had a pleasant visit to the Musee D’Orsay. When I was a kid, I once had a tiny sculpture displayed in the basement here as part of a school project. Much to my chagrin, it has long since disappeared.

The Impressionist galleries have some great views of the city.

I’m not the only one who figured out that the views weren’t so bad. The old train station clock makes a great look-out.

One of our favorite portions of the museum was the Art Nouveau section. We were pretty much the only people there, and we saw some great Horta, Van de Velde, and Guimard work.

We had to leave the museum sooner than we might have liked because we had reservations at Allain Passard’s Arpege restaurant for lunch. This is our major splurge of the whole vacation. Allain Passard originally made a reputation, and developed a 3-star Michelin rating, as a master of grilled meats. About ten years ago, he decided that he couldn’t stand meat anymore, and decided to focus all of his attention on vegetables (almost; there is still some meat served, and the French don’t seem to consider fish meat). Amazingly, he maintained his 3-star rating after completely changing his restaurant, and turning it into a mostly vegetarian place. Since then, he has been called a “master of vegetables,” and we were keen to test the moniker. As a bonus, lunch is about a third the price of dinner! These amuses bouches were the first things we got to try, and they did not disappoint. They were thin potato crisps with three different fillings.

Four different kinds of vegetable dumplings in a light broth.

An onion gratin with fresh vegetables. All of the produce comes from the restaurant’s own farm, on which they do not use any modern machinery. The fields are plowed using horses.

Fresh steamed vegetables in a grapefruit pepper sauce. Amazingly light and flavorful.

A white asparagus with sauteed sorrel, flavored with fresh bay leaf.

Around this point, we started losing track of how many courses we had eaten. This was veloute with the smoked herring dollop on top.

New potatoes with the first peas of the season.

The staff brought out the turbot that would be our main course, to show us what it looked like fresh off the grill.

The finished product. The fish was caught just off of France’s Atlantic coast.

The cheese course. Chevre is hidden under the thinly sliced yellow beets. Although I had not first noticed it, I now realized that I was getting full. Of course, this might have had something to do with the eight slices of house-made country bread that I ate throughout the course of the meal (they just kept refilling my plate. What was I to do? Let it go to waste?).

Dessert, Part I: an assortment of bite-sized treats. The macarons were provided in two different flavors. The pink ones had a beet and mint filling that was surprisingly fantastic (not too sweet, and a just the right zing). Elizabeth and I could not come to a consensus about what filled the lighter ones, although I remain convinced that they contained white grapes.

Dessert, Part II: an apple-rose tart in a crispy chocolate crust with a salted caramel topping. The roses contained candied almonds instead of stamens. A terrific end to a meal that we’ll be thinking about for a long time to come.  Plus, as a souvenir, they gave us the knives that we used for the meal, so we’ll be thinking about it every time we use them.

The restaurant just happened to be directly across the street from the Musee Rodin, so we took a much-needed constitutional stroll through the gardens.

I needed to get some thinking done. What would we do next?

Why is it that hell always looks more exciting than heaven in artists’ depictions? This is Rodin’s vision of hell’s gates. My hell would be much more boring, and would involve easy listening music.

“What’s your problem?” These kind of photos never get old for me.

“What are you having trouble understanding? I’m carrying a big key, and I’m going to lock this door.” In all seriousness, I am always amazed at Rodin’s ability to capture motion in a sculpture. Supposedly, he was once accused of casting from life, although I’m not sure how that would actually be possible.

The sun finally pokes out at last on the temple of consumerism: the Bon Marche, the world’s first department store.

Home of the world’s greatest bread!

After our feast at lunch, we opted for a light self-catered affair for dinner, featuring pain Poilane.

After dinner, we walked over to the Louvre to take advantage of the fact that it’s open late on Wednesdays.

The best time to visit the Louvre is late on a Wednesday because most people only come during the day, and they don’t know about the extended hours.

Elizabeth takes in the hellenistic sculptures.

This is the ubiquitous photo of people photographing the Mona Lisa. When I add captions to these photos, the program tells me, “Alt text for the image, e.g. ‘The Mona Lisa.'” It seems that I’ve just ruined my one big chance to literally use that phrase.

There aren’t many greater settings for this genre of painting.

Nike of Samothrace, and the stunned audiences she attracts.

A quiet Louvre is prepared for closing.

Contrast. Tomorrow: Versailles!

Maybe three museums in one day was a little too much. Our feet were killing us when we finally got home. It was our favorite day so far, though.

We kicked off our trip with a stroll around the 6th arrondissement, where we’re staying for the first several days. Here, Elizabeth takes a break in front of Saint Sulpice.

Despite the overcast sky outside, Saint Sulpice delivers dramatic lighting.

On our stroll through the Luxembourg Gardens, we came across a huge group of children pushing sailboats around the fountain. It brought back a flood of memories of coming here as a child.

The next day, avoiding the crowds at far more popular museums, we went to les Invalides to take a look at the history of military costumes. Although I’m only showing a couple of images here, the museum is well worth the visit to see the progression of fashion from the middle ages to World War II.

There is no shortage of equestrian mannequins here.

Les Invalides, which Louis XIV built as a veterans’ home, also features a magnificent Baroque church.

The dome of the church was built by Mansart to rival St. Peter’s in Rome. I’m not quite sure that the comparison does him justice, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

The dome now covers a crypt, which was built to house Napoleon’s tomb. This is it, and his body is somewhere in there, supposedly within 5 nested caskets.

The side chapels are bathed in soft blue light.

The dome from the exterior.

Not too far from les Invalides, we walked by the office building in which my father used to work. Not too exciting, but I never before noticed the adjustable exterior shutters.

A bistro entree: bone marrow with toast. Delicious! Even Elizabeth liked it.

Elizabeth’s haricot vert, which sound much less pretentious when ordered in France.

Hanger steak.

The waiter’s recommendation:  braised veal.

The best chocolate souffle that I’ve had in quite a long time.

The next morning, we intended to go up to the flea market at Ouen. We stopped at Montmartre on the way, and never made it to the market.

I’m not sure what King Tut has to do with Sacre Coeur, but I appreciated the effort.

A brief appearance by the sun at the top of the butte de Montmartre.

The sun gave way to forbidding clouds in the Place des Vosges.

I recently saw this project in an architecture magazine. I don’t remember who designed it, but it is, essentially, a tiny sliver of a building added on to the side of an existing one in the Marais. The bottom floor houses some tiny shops, and the upper floors provide balconies for the apartments in the old building.

Heaven = a Parisian cheese shop.

Not bad for self-catering: Cheese, veggie salad, and a country pate with herbes de Provence from our local charcutier.

We had intended to get an early start on the day today, hopefully beating the lines at the local attractions, but ended up waking at 9:30. We hit Sainte Chapelle first, and the line turned us off to other popular attractions. The chapel was beautiful, though. This is the lower portion.

The upper floor of Sainte Chapelle. Louis IX (St. Louis) had it built to house the relics of the passion that he had recently purchased (pieces of the cross, nails, etc.). When the revolutionaries took control, they had most of the relics melted down.

As far as stained glass windows and gothic ornamentation go, nothing really compares with Sainte Chapelle in Paris.

More ornamental windows: Jean Nouvel’s Institut du Monde Arabe. More about the facade below.

Elizabeth makes her way to the entrance.

For those who don’t know, Nouvel created an active light filtering facade. Behind the outer layer of glass is a field of irises that were meant to open and close according to the strength of the sun. Of course, they never actually worked properly.

Nouvel was inspired by arabic tiling, and the irises become the ornamentation on the otherwise blank facade. Regardless of whether the system functions, it’s a stunning achievement.

Visitors enter under a huge open elevator shaft.

Wafer thin and barely translucent marble tiles screen an interior courtyard.

The courtyard screen is set off from the glass.

The brise-soleil from the interior.

I wonder how anyone actually thought that this intricate mechanical system could be maintained.

A view of Paris’ most famous landmark in the distance.

The perforated mesh portion of the screen shows how much can be achieved with a simple pattern.

Zaha Hadid’s pavilion in the forecourt, which was closed, looks a little worse for wear.

The quality of light achieved inside is really astounding, and definitely reminded me of some of my experiences in Central Asia.

Croque Madame, anyone?

Gloomy clouds hung over us all day today.

I had been hoping to get into Labrouste’s library today, but was thwarted by a national holiday, the celebration of the end of World War II. Souflot’s Pantheon was decked out in the tricolor flag.

I’m not sure why, but the line was disturbingly long at the Pantheon, so we only made it as far as the front porch.

We next made a trip to the neighborhood where my family once lived when I was a little urchin. Although this building, the Swiss Pavilion, by le Corbusier was very close to our old apartment, I never knew its significance until I studied architectural history in college.  This is the approach from the Southwest.

I’m guessing that the building doesn’t attract too many tourists, but we were able to get in. It still functions as a dormitory for visiting students and faculty.

It has either been kept up very well since the 1920s, or it was built incredibly well. It looked almost brand new inside. Here, Elizabeth tests out the meager bed in the one room that visitors are allowed to enter.

Spartan furnishings and dark clouds rolling in.  The dorm windows, which face south, are ribbon windows with  a strip of translucent patterned glass up above.  In the view from the southwest up above, the lower portion of glass below the ribbon window must be spandrel.

Most of the original photographs of this building are in black and white, so it never occurred to me how important color was to le Corbusier in this era.

The single-loaded corridors define sterility, but have lots of light.

I wonder if Nouvel took a tour through le Corbusier’s Swiss Pavilion before he designed the Institute du Monde Arabe. Their subtle, but there are definite affinities. These glass blocks light the stairwell.

A friend of mine had to model the Swiss Pavilion for our 3D modeling class.

Late for class again! We walked by my old elementary school, site of some of my least fond memories from the brief time when we lived in Paris.