"Hoppering" to Paris and Back in a Day

Chères amies et chers amis,

     What do you get when you combine a snowy winter day, four women hailing from four different continents, and two art expositions in the City of Lights? You get a frosty girls' day out in Paris!

     The planning for notre voyage began last October when my French amie, Annette, proposed  a day trip to Paris to me from America, Ann from New Zealand, and Anjana from India. She had read that the Grand Palais was hosting an exposition of American artist Edward Hopper. Annette suggested we make a day of visiting the French capital by taking the TGV (Train à Grande Vitesse) from Grenoble to Gare de Lyon in Paris, walking  l'avenue des Champs-Élysées, and visiting the exposition in the museum. We met a few days later to discuss plans over lunch and decided to also get tickets for a Salvatore Dalí exposition going on at the same time at the Georges Pompidou Centre. We gave Annette the thumbs-up to make the reservations and buy our tickets.

     Between that October day and January 20, the day of our visit, we all did some reading up on Hopper, whom I had studied in an American art class at Rutgers. I wondered what my friends' take would be on this guy who had not been a mainstream American artist and had never been imitated in Europe, as far as I knew. I almost felt protective of this fellow American; I wanted my friends to like his work as I did.

     A few days before our visit, I began to glare at the TV weatherperson who reveled in the fact that snow had begun to fall on Paris and was delighted with the prediction that des flocons de neige would continue to fall there through the weekend. Flights to and from Charles de Gaulle Airport were being canceled. Trains were delayed. Temperatures were frigid. I started singing Cole Porter's tune, "I Love Paris," stopping at loving Paris in the springtime, not wanting to get to "I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles". . . or when it blizzards. I have lived for so  many years in the southern U.S. that I shiver just at the thought of temperatures below 40 degrees F. I didn't want any weather interference for our Paris plans.

Paris Rooftops from the Pompidou Center

     On Sunday morning, January 20th, at 7 am, we met in the darkness of the gare. The train was scheduled for 7:23 to first take us to Lyon Part Dieu station, and then we would make our connection to Paris. It was frigid but not snowing. I hoped I had dressed warmly enough for a day footslogging around Paris, but not too warm for the sure-to-be-crowded museums. The train arrived, we found a 2nd class car and mounted to the upper level. No seat reservations for this leg of the trip, but for the train to Paris, we had reserved seats. We settled into a set of four places assises facing each other, and in an hour and twenty minutes later, we were in Lyon with a scant 20 minutes to make the TGV connection to continue our voyage.

Annette, Ann, and Anjana

     The TGV to Paris was plusher than the previous train, and we pulled out our petit-déjeuner of tangerines, energy bars, and biscuits as the train pulled out of the station. On that nippy day, we were happy that the club car was open and serving hot café. By 11:00 we were in Paris. The Centre Pompidou, where the always flamboyant Dalí* was posthumously holding court, was a mere 15 minutes by foot from the station. The slushy sidewalks with the still falling, wet snow were slick and very crowded--a little precipitation never stops tourists in Paris.
*(click on the short film)

Dali's L'ascencion du Christ, Pietà, 1958

      After grabbing a few croque-monsieurs, a baguette, and a bagel with saumon (guess who had that) at the Pompidou snack bar, we needed to join the queue to enter the exposition. I won't say Dalí has ever been high on my list of favorite artists, but I did find that the show, highlighting him and his sometimes bizarre art, engaged me.
     
     Our timed entrance to the Edward Hopper exposition was for 4:30, and we were advised to line up about a half hour before our ticket time. Between the two shows, we took the Metro to the Champs-Elysées Clémenceau stop and "promenaded" down the Avenue Champs-Elysées within  sight of the Arc de Triomphe before heading to the Grand Palais. 

Le Grand Palais

     




     And they sure named it right. The Grand Palais is a massive building with the indispensable classical statues marking it as an important ancienne structure. With daylight disappearing and our feet numbing with the cold, we all were ready to head into the building. But wait. Another queue. But this time it was outside. In the snow. To ease the discomfort of the cold and sleet we had to endure, the Grand Palais thought to entertain us with a clarinet player who was unfortunate enough to be hired to play with frozen fingers (and lips) for those waiting in line at this time of the year. Happily for us, the line keepers took pity on us and allowed us to enter un peu tôt. (The clarinetist was not so lucky.)

     Hopper had spent some time in Paris in 1906,1907, and 1909, but he seemed to be a loner there and didn't paint in the cubist and post-impressionist styles of that time. Rather, it was then that he began his signature spare, clean-lined paintings. I wondered if the other exhibition goers found this style refreshing compared to the classic French works so prevalent around town or were just interested because he was American. Because we had done our homework, we knew which of his pieces we didn't want to miss, including his famous painting, Nighthawks, painted in New York in 1942. The exhibition was larger than we had expected, and we ended up hurrying through the last few rooms, trying to take in as much as we could.

 Hopper's Nighthawks,1942

    Like Cinderellas in Paris, we had to make it back to the gare before the stroke of 7 for our  nonstop TGV back to Grenoble. The warm train was a welcome change to the cold rues, and the three-hour ride was enough time to let us talk over our day and to start planning the next grand girls' day out. Maybe next time we can make it for when there's no possibility of having to thaw out afterwards.

Anjana, Maureen, Annette, and Ann (Thanks, Anjana, for the picture.)

amie: friend (f )
notre voyage: our trip
des flocons de neige: snowflakes
places assises: seat places
petit-déjeuner: breakfast
saumon: salmon
un peu tôt: a little early
rues: streets
    

    

.