Piqued by Picasso, packed and pooped

Last evening, 15 rue des Archives, Paris, France, Yurp

..................

The Picasso museum has big old timber doors. And they’re closed until October 24th. Poop Picasso!!!

More time for wandering and tripping over a huge market where the handkerchief ( mouchoir ) salesman had a loud voice, strong opinions, a friendly nature and a bench just opposite where it was possible to sit and tune in to some lively French conversation, particularly as a chipper moustachioed bespectacled patron chose to argue the quality and price of his wares. Talk ultimately and naturally expanded to include the state of the Nation and the world, and finally to the son of a mutual acquaintance, who turned out not to be mutual because the spelling of the surname was different.
During most of this time the customer stood with wallet frozen in hand, arrested during the gesture of passing money across the aisle behind him to his wife, black and white check coated, black hatted and red-lipped, whose hand was frozen in a gesture reaching behind her for money as she sank deeper into animated conversation with the butcher.

par thu shaggy dog....................

During packing a pamphlet came to light suggesting the elusive Picasso might be pinned down in the Museum d’Orangerie near the Louvre, so I was off. Monet was hanging out there, and Cezanne and a few other absolutely delightful characters. Using the audio guide was great- wandering first to absorb without it, then listening to the commentary in French several times. Knowing I have to bump my bags down two and a half flights of gently winding stairs (or do they unwind as they go down?) I resisted buying the museum guide. I’m trying really hard not to regret it.

......A timber cut-out helps gardeners prune the trees to be so ROUND

............

I carried all of my loose change with me today to give to the ring-droppers...I still have all three kilos of it.


................