Becky and I visited Musee Monet Marmottan ten years ago and remember its impressive collection of Monet paintings. Surprise to us, it was only a few blocks away from the Passy apartment 28. On Saturday morning, the Robsons and we walked down the street across Ranelagh Park to the front door of the Museum.

Musee Monet Marmottan

The handsome building in a residential area belongs to a Beaux Arts association which owns and manages the largest private collection of Monet paintings as well as those of other Impressionist masters.

On the first floor of this large townhouse, we saw paintings by Corot, Caillebotte, Renoir, and Degas in elegant, ornate 1900s Empire setting with statues, floral centerpieces, and elaborate wallpapers.

A special exhibit of Eugene Boudin was mounted in a series of small, very crowded rooms. He was a friend of Monet and in some ways a mentor despite their differences and arguments about style. He painted many scenes of people strolling along a beach.

Even he apparently became bored with these and added harbor and boat scenes. The sun and moon in his paintings are impressionist although he never identified with that label. Boudin, like many painters at this time, was not successful financially, but he is now regarded as a precursor of Impressionism.

Enjoying Monet

The Monet collection fills an expansive basement gallery with two dozen paintings spanning his career and styles. An hour with Monet is a rare delight. The serene setting with plenty of benches enabled viewing and contemplation. We had so much Monet to appreciate: flowers, churches, street scenes, water lilies, landscapes, buildings—all brilliant and wonderfully gauzy in focus.

Many paintings owned by the association were bequeathed by Michel Monet, the surviving son. The huge gift, including family portraits, was made to insure preservation and continuing display in the museum and on loan.

Sunrise: Impression, which has recently returned from loan, is stunning. It was presented in the first show by painters whose work had been rejected by the French art establishment. One critic at the time wrote that it was not a painting at all but just an “impression.” The label “Impressionism” meant to be demeaning became the label of the entire movement

Betsy’s Favorite. Choosing one favorite from all the glorious ones we saw at the Museum Marmottan Monet is almost impossible. My particular favorite is Les Roses painted in 1926 and one of Monet last works.

The brush strokes are hurried and loose. The flowers don’t even appear to be roses, but by standing several feet back, the roses seem perfect. I marvel how he accomplished this, especially on such a large scale.

Becky’s favorite. This painting drew me in with brilliant depth, composition and color. I felt present in the scene.

Steve’s favorite. I am fascinated by this landscape which is so different from many Monet paintings. The abstraction of the bridge and church is accomplished with a muted palette creating a perfect composition of dark and light.

Jim’s favorites. My favorite Monet painting was actually two paintings of essentially the same scene. The museum placed them side-by-side for comparison of the completely different styles Monet employed.

The first painting has a very soft and pastel feel as if Monet had placed a thin gossamer veil between the viewer and the scene. The second painting, also Becky’s favorite, used bold brush strokes and vibrant colors giving the scene a completely different feeling. These two paintings clearly demonstrate Monet’s artistic genius.

Always attracted to scenes of children, Becky was touched by the concentration of the young artist sketching on his island of the floor.

A guest artist Francois Petrovich had a separate gallery with her response to a Berthe Morisot painting. She did 9 variations of a sunflower.

Becky enjoyed the purple variations; I thought the dark sunflower painting was striking.

When Becky and I left the museum, we headed back to 28 looking for a place for lunch. On a side street, we found a Lebanese cafe with a line of customers—a good sign. We had excellent wraps of marinated chicken and Haloumi cheese. The rest of the afternoon was for rest.

What did Betsy and Jim do??

Going to Giverny

Two days later, four Monet aficionados were on a train to Giverny to visit Monet’s house and garden. Master of Movement Jim organized the trip with our Eurail passes. Unfortunately, turnstiles at Gare St. Lazare could not read them. I brazenly followed someone through the bicycle gate and motioned Becky through. Now we were two inside and two outside.

A train official saw the bewildered tourists gesticulating wildly and came to help. We showed him our Eurail passes and tickets. He opened the gate for Betsy and Jim and directed us to join a swarm of people waiting on platform 12. That was a good thing because we had been heading to platform 17 as listed on the schedule board. Thank goodness that the gentleman knew his business. Only seconds later we were in the swarm rushing to find seats on the train to Vernon – Giverny.

Betsy sprinted ahead and claimed four seats. For the next 20 minutes, the swarm continued until every space in the cars and vestibules was stuffed.

The first half-hour landscape was suburban Paris manufacturing plants and mid-height apartments which yielded to rolling country side and farmland for the last 30 minutes. The only excitement was when conductors and Securete guards gathered up scofflaws without tickets and put them off at the first stop—probably with fines.

Giverny is 15 minutes and 10 Euros away from the train station in Vernon. Two buses and a choo-choo open-air trolley were waiting for the swarm which obediently lined up.

Jim saw an opportunity because the swarm had lined at the second bus and nobody was on the first bus. He walked us quickly forward where we paid 10 Euros for a round trip ticket and took our seats. We were on our way while the swarm was still lined up.

I asked how he knew to move us ahead and he replied, “Don’t follow the lemmings.” The swarm had turned into lemmings. His words became our motto for the day and beyond.

Monet’s Garden Then and Now

Twenty years ago, Becky and I visited Monet’s House and Garden on a lovely June day. The garden flowers were beautiful, the water lily pond was full of blossoms, a boatman was taking people on short ride on another pond, and the house with lovely 1900 decor was charming. Everything was so idyllic, so serene that you could imagine the secluded life that Monet enjoyed in his retreat. You could almost see him sitting with an easel painting the scenes you were seeing.

Today, all serenity is gone. Our swarm joined the swarms from dozens of tourist buses and the hourly train. It seems everyone had taken Rick Steves’ advice to avoid the morning and arrive around noon for a leisurely afternoon. Ha! More people arrived mid afternoon including three groups from a River Boat cruise.

The walk from bus parking lot toward the gardens was fairly easy. Cafes and restaurants along the way were overwhelmed with lunch business. Betsy used “don’t follow the lemmings” by turning left instead of right where she found a small cafe and we enjoyed a light lunch.

We bought combo tickets at Marmottan Museum and entered using the express line and avoiding the lemmings standing in the long ticket line on a sultry afternoon.

Inside the garden, the swarm/lemmings were everywhere; buzzing around the beautiful gardens, lining up to walk through the house, wandering around the lily pond which has no blooms until June, and standing in front of everybody’s photographic efforts.

While Becky waited on line for the house tour, I found a quiet bench perfect for resting and observing the swarm. Soon she abandoned all hope and joined me on the bench which was prime real estate.

Field trips are a ploy for teachers dealing with tired children and spring fever. Becky and I know this from 40 plus years in schools. The first rule for fields trips is findings things that are age and interest appropriate. An educational field trip requires preparation and follow-up. None of this was apparent at the gardens today.

Children love flowers, but why are they in an acre of flowers instead of flowers in the parks and yards in their neighborhood? Do they have any idea why they are walking through a century old house? Or care who Monet was? Or why they are squatting down on the house steps obstructing traffic to have a snack? Or why the teachers are screeching and repeatedly counting heads?

Groups of excited 3, 4, or 5 year olds were the most interesting. They were herded through the gardens by frantic, overwhelmed teachers and addled parent chaperones.

Identifying children by their class membership is always an issue. Several strategies were in play: matching T-shirts, matching caps, necklaces, and name tags on strings or stuck on. I would definitely go for T-shirts as recognizable and attached.

One bored five-year boy engaged in casual gravel scuffling. Two dads joined him scuffling gravel back and forth several times, until the teacher noticed. Then the “not dads” wandered off smiling about inciting insurrection and leaving the child to his fate. I am fairly sure that gravel scuffling would be this child’s favorite memory of the day.

Other swarm groups included disinterested, hormonal teenagers holding hands or clustered in roving bands. A day out of school in the spring is great, even if you have no idea why you are there.

Demanding fashionistas were accompanied by their minions with cameras—boy friends or best girl friends who were tasked with getting the perfect look. Long white dresses were de rigeur.

Finally, many people, like us, had spent time and money to view the garden that inspired the Monet’s paintings. However, after an hour what they most wanted was a place to sit down.

They eyed our bench—hoping that we would soon depart. After a reasonable time, we relinquished to seats exiting via the shop. We retraced our steps to the small cafe oasis for a cool drink and more rest.

Betsy and Jim had taken advantage of a lull in the house line and scooted through. They then visited the very fine local Impressionist museum where they enjoyed a wonderful collection and were introduced to British impressionist Sisley. We had viewed the collection 20 years past and still enjoy looking at the catalog.

Leaving Giverny

We all walked back toward the bus just as the 4:02 bus pulled away. About a dozen people were stranded waiting for the 5:02 bus. However, another bus from Vernon immediately appeared and we were hopeful.

The driver said he could not take us back because it was the end of his day. The distressed group grew to about 30. I suppose the bus driver took pity on us and got permission to deliver us to the train station. Most had already bought round trip bus tickets, except for the those who had paid for the one way trolley.

A tree in the middle of road delayed our return trip. The tree was patiently waiting to be planted. The bus driver and tree planters finally guided us through. This delay meant we barely missed the train. We were hot and thirsty and retreated to the nearby cafe to enjoy local beer and soft drinks for an hour.

The train arrived, we rode an hour and took Bus 32 back to apartment 28. Jim and I picked up wraps from our new Lebanese diner for dinner. It was a long and wonderful spring day with friends on a trip. What could be better?

Reflections on a Pond without Lilies

Becky noted the coincidence of Monet containing the first five letters of monetizing. Every charming house along the road to the garden had turned into a cafe or shop. Monet came to Giverny seeking escape the from hubbub and distractions of Paris. He would surely be horrified that his fame has overwhelmed the serenity of Giverny.

Whether you read this blog as surly or sardonic or wry or funny, we genuinely enjoyed spending everyday with our friends and travel buddies Jim and Betsy. We could not find more amiable and flexible companions. Thanks to you, our friends and readers, for traveling with us.

A long-time friend Ken Mirvis shares his travel blog with us. We enjoy reading it and learning about his adventures and misadventures traveling the highways and byways of the United States. We hope someday those travels will bring him through Hendersonville.

Ken and I were new faculty members at Tri County Technical College in Pendleton, South Carolina in 1974. His brother Joe was director of the Oconee County Community Theatre. Joe, Ken, and I bonded through our shared love of theatrical mayhem in productions of The Odd Couple, Carnival, Roar of the Greasepaint, and a summer play for children Flounder Flounder of the Sea in which Becky and I played a married couple.

Ken, a professional writer and owner of The Writing Company in Boston, advised and admonished me to include, not just the happy travel stuff, but everything that goes wrong as well. All the mishaps and missteps of travel can be called color, or griping, or just the truth. I hope he enjoys this episode of bumps. If my narrative emphasizes the traumas more than the triumph of spending a day with Monet in his garden, you can blame Ken.