Friday was my last day of classes, and what a day! Definitely my most difficult TD, on Louis XIV. I had prepared and printed out in advance (how unusual) my homework, an analysis of a passage from Montesquieu's Lettres Persanes, but it turns out that the homework for that day was actually studying for the test. Which I hadn't known about. Drat. I was just a little bit upset (just a little), not because I am worried about mes notes (the French word for "grade," which the Prof. told me he would be lenient in assigning) but because I like to be prepared for my tests, and do not wish to give the impression that I have not learned anything, simply because I have not taken the trouble to read over my notes once or twice.
After that, I trotted back to my dorm in the drizzle, and, checking my e-mail, found that my Dad had told me that they were still in the hotel, and asked me if I'd like to join them for a trip to Notre Dame. They had been planning to visit Versailles that day, so I couldn't quite understand why they still hadn't left for that, but I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to spend time with them, so told them I was willing and ready to meet them (and bring sandwiches). We met outside of the Sainte-Chapelle at 12:15, and I finally got an umbrella, which was needed in the absolute downpour (I had been getting by on my excellent red rain-jacket). Dad needed nourishment (which I hadn't known, thinking we would visit first, and eat second) and the rain was the hardest I've seen since I arrived in Paris (that is not an idle statement). Dad wanted to find a public place where we could sit indoors and eat, and Mom and I agreed, but I told them that I didn't know of any place closer than Paris Pantheon-Sorbonne, which is for them about a 30-minute walk. They decided that that was a good idea, so they found the closest cafe (we were still on the Ile de la Cite), a decision that rather surprised me. We sat indoors, out of the rain, warming up and drying out as much as possible (I was somewhat wetter, having stood out in the rain for some time). We ordered crepes and hot drinks: this is only the second time that I've eaten crepes here in France, not because I don't enjoy them, but because I've simply been too stingy. We warmed up, and ate and talked until around 1:30 pm, and then headed off, our first stop being the Sainte-Chapelle.
As I mentioned the first time, the Sainte-Chapelle is stunningly beautiful, and also quite cold. We were as bundled up as possible, and after admiring the lower chapel, ascended to the upper chapel, and sat where Louis IX himself used to sit, right across from the stained-glass window depicting the book of Esther. There were dozens of tiny panels, and we tried our best to recognize a few familiar scenes: Haman constructing a scaffold, Moredechai being led through the streets on the king's mount, Achashverosh removing Vashti's crown (or possibly, crowning Esther), various people drinking. The panes were just too distant, however; was there once a time when people actually could read and understand the stories depicted in the stained-glass windows? I've seen a woman with binoculars at the Sainte-Chapelle -- not a bad idea! We eventually stood up and switched sides, sitting on the opposite side of the chapel's aisle so that we were looking at some other familiar books, those of the Torah (five books of Moses). There, too, we had more difficulty than success in recognizing what was what, although the Menorah is iconic enough that it's easy to distinguish. There was a figure in yellow carrying a shield with an emblem of a black scorpion who appeared multiple times in the window of Bamidbar (Numbers): I wonder who that was? I simply have no idea. There seemed to be a fair amount of combat and battles in that window, especially in the later sections...
We headed back out, into the rain (at least I had an umbrella now), and over to the other side of the Ile de la Cite, to Notre-Dame de Paris. Notre-Dame is large, famous, well-stocked in gargoyles and in stained glass, and cold. It is also surprisingly uninteresting, for such a famous building. Really, I mean that -- the stained-glass roses are beautiful, as is the rest of the stained glass, but there really isn't that much of it, relative to the rest of the building. Notre-Dame de Chartres remains my favorite French cathedral named Notre-Dame.
It had been a long enough day for my parents, and I was rather wet and cold by this point. We returned to their hotel room together; Dad dozed for a little bit, and I told Mom a little bit about the chateaux of the Loire (something you all read a little too much about back in August, I imagine). For dinner, we ate the sandwiches I had brought from my room. They called it a day, and I took the Metro back to my dorm, wearing Dad's sweater, which had helped me stay warm.
~JD
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