Pont, Pontoise, et La Porte de L’Enfer

October 10

Following up on a couple of recommendations yesterday: Larry recommended the Rodin Museum. After Bill pointed out the error of my working from memory, I reread his original e-mail and Googled Le Petit Pontoise to get the address, 9 Rue de Pontoise.

I had Bill’s e-mail but misremembered the street the night before and had gone to Rue du Petit Pont, and so wound up at Le Petit Pont.

When the computer found Le Petit Pointoise for me—a few blocks away from the Little Bridge, its rue, and its restaurant—I phoned in a reservation just to be sure.

The visit to the Rodin Museum took us back yet again to the neighborhood of Les Invalides. I had heard the name of Les Invalides before I came to Paris but knew nothing about it. I have in the past couple of days learned that it started out as a hospital for disabled veterans. It was commissioned by Louis the Fourteenth, and like the public structures of that era is a spectacle. It’s a hospital with a facade of huge columns and a dome in gold leaf. Nothing like a V.A. hospital today.

I understand that Napoleon is buried somewhere around there. Maybe inside. He was short and wouldn’t take up too much room.

The Rodin Museum is in a mansion called Hotel Biron, where the artist paid rent when he was in Paris. He owned an estate somewhere else.

The German poet Rainer Marie Rilke lived there and recommended it to Rodin, who moved into a couple of rooms. He lived there for something like 20 years. Eventually he was the only tenant.

I’m fuzzy on the details, as usual, but it seems that some of the people may have been evicted because the owner, maybe the French government, wanted to sell the property. It was a pretty serious piece of real estate—big enough to have its own chapel, for instance.

Rodin by that time was in his 70s and famous, but even he was under pressure to move out. That’s when he came up with the idea of donating all his unsold work, studies, papers, etc. to the government to establish a museum, on the condition that he could live in the Hotel Biron for the rest of his life.

The grounds of the museum are formal gardens with Rodin bronzes at intervals. Some of the appeal of Rodin for me is that his work ranges from the realistic to impressionistic, sometimes in the same piece. It is very sensual and the faces are expressive and alive.

The Burghers of Calais are a group of larger-than-life men who strike anguished poses with grieving faces. They have ropes around their necks as they go out to submit to Henry V. Hang us if you must, but spare the city.

The Gates of Hell are covered with a tangle of naked bodies plummeting into chaos.

Balzac is in the garden, and so is The Thinker. The Three Shades from the top of the Gates of Hell appear nearby as a separate group in much larger scale.

Inside the house, are Rodin’s studies for several of his works—early alternative compositions of the Burghers, for instance. Plaster and terra cotta pieces that would become bronzes, several marble works, and some early paintings by Rodin.

Thanks to Larry for pointing that one out.

We stopped at a corner café across from Les Invalides before the hike home. There was a mirror in one window. Very strange. You can see people and cars through the window going in one direction, and people and cars in the mirror headed in the other, but they never crashed. They just passed through each other.

We walked back along the river past the government buildings at Quai d’Orsay. There are some really outlandish looking structures across the river at that point, but we didn’t get to see them today. Maybe when we come back from Avignon.

We took the Boulevard St. Germain to Rue St. Jacques, walked around the Pantheon again, and took some side streets to get back to the hotel, when I made the reservation at Le Petit Pontoise.

Charlie once said to me that he’d follow Larry to a restaurant anywhere. Charlie, take it from me: You can be just as sure if you follow Bill.

As it is in many small restaurants here, the menu at Le Petit Pontoise is short—shorter than the breakfast page at a Jersey diner. But there was still a range of unusual (at least for me) things to choose.

Free-range chicken with mashed potatoes probably would have been better than the way my grandmother used to roast it, but it sounded too tame for me. Veal kidney? Interesting, but generally I like my meat grown up before it is put on the plate.

We decided on two courses, fish first. We shared sea bass in vanilla sauce. Fish and vanilla didn’t sound at all like an intuitive combination, so we guessed that it would have to be good. That sauce went with everything—not just the fish, but the carrots, green beans, zucchini, bread, and pinot noir, too.

Quail with grapes followed that. Three bird legs with more vegetables and roast potatoes. I think it may have had rosemary in it.

Thank you, Bill.

I had a white Cotes du Rhone with the quail. I don’t often drink white wine, even with fowl or fish. But white Cotes du Rhone is hard to get, at least in the States, so when I saw it on the board, I decided to order it.

White wine always tastes a little sweet to my tongue. Wine in general tastes sweeter than my other favorite drinks, black coffee, or IPA and other heavily hopped beers, which are bitter.

The Rhone white has almost as much flavor as a red. It held up pretty well against the rich quail, but I probably would have tasted more of it if I had taken it with a mild cheese and some bread.

Well, we’re on the Train of Great Speed headed for the banks of the Rhone now, so I hope to get plenty of chances to pair the whites and reds of the region with foods over the next few days.

I have a half-bottle of Bordeaux in my book bag. We bought it yesterday at a wine shop across from the hotel. The name of the place is Et Si Bacchus Etait une Femme (And If Bacchus Was a Woman). With a name like that, it was a must-see on my list.

I’m about to open it now. It’s Chateau des Gravieres ’09. Let me see how good it is.

Today's photo, by the way, is Harry Goes to Hell.

October 16

Hi! Greetings from home!

We have checked in on Miss Maggie frequently. She is doing very well. She loved the attention (even from me when I would go over during the day to make sure she was OK). She is so affectionate I did not want to leave her.

We will check in until you return.

Just wanted to let you know she is doing great!

Anna

[Editor’s note: Harry did not at this time keep a mad relative confined to his attic. “Maggie” refers to a 10-year-old cat that has the run of the house.]