Dimanche

By 6:30 this morning everyone but Ev and me were in a taxi headed to the airport. Sunday mornings are quiet in Paris anyway, but with everyone out of the house the place was like a tomb. It sunk in how far away from home we are. But my morning croissant gave me comfort.

This morning we went to church at the Paris Ward, located in an old building right next to the Pompidou Centre. The chapel was packed with people from all over the world. The bishop told us that there are 44 different nationalities in his ward. The biggest presence were the missionaries—it seemed that there were around a dozen in the meeting, shepherding investigators, translating, keeping things going. A very different vibe from Rexburg. Evelyn used the English headphones while I sat there and pretended to understand French. I loved singing the hymns—I'm very good at it.

This afternoon I did some writing, then went over to the Louvre while Evelyn took a nap. This time I went directly to the Franco-Dutch Renaissance section. It's all the way on the top floor of the most distant Richelieu section, and I have always gotten there at the end of a long visit. Today I made it a priority and spent a lot of time with each individual painting. And yes, J.C., they do have a Van Eyck in the Louvre. We just gave up too soon. You can't tell from my iPhone photo, but the detail in this is extraordinary. You can actually see each individual bristle from the stubble where he has shaved his head. And the detail goes on from there. First you notice how lifelike the faces and hands are. Then you notice that he has painted every warp and woof of the fabric. Then you see the dwarves and the peacock at the next level. Then you see the intricate town and ramparts on the river. They you see the forest. Then the mountains. You need to go over the thing with a magnifying glass to see it all, something they don't let you do.

On my way out I visited the sculpture garden of French masters, and paid respect to Houdon's bust of Voltaire. It makes a great companion piece to his Benjamin Franklin in Philadelphia. Too bad you can't see them side by side.

Tonight we went to Opéra. Well, at least we went to a concert in the Opéra. Called the Palais Garnier after its architect, it may be the best building of the 19th century. Its opulence certainly is fitting for opera. Today it's used mainly for the ballet, and the operas are performed in the new opera house at the Place de la Bastille. The theatre is exquisite, although I found to my discomfort that I am quite a bit larger than the typical 19th century opera goer.

 Tonight's concert was of Post-Romantic and early Modern chamber music, and featured some talented young musicians from the Paris Opéra Orchestra. The highlight was a quintet arrangement of Richard Strauss's Till Eulenspiegel, performed on one violin, one bass, clarinet, bassoon, and, of course, horn.