Eiffel Tower, Musee Rodin, and aching feet

I leave the hotel around 7.30 am. It’s still dark and chilly, but I want to reach the Eiffel Tower in time to photograph her just before dawn. I take the number 9 Metro train from Saint Auguste to Iean, which drops me on the other side of the Seine. I wander past embassies lit up with Christmas lights and down through the gardens and morning traffic. It’s always a pleasant surprise to round the corner and find the Eiffel Tower looming above you.

On the Pont d’Iena bridge I set up my tripod and photograph her in the dawn light, traffic roaring past, their light glistening on the wet pavement. I gradually move closer, crossing the road and taking lots of shots until I’m almost standing under it.

I’ve mentioned the additional security at monuments before but it’s disappointing to see that they’ve had to put construction fences around the Tower base to channel people through. Two years ago you could freely wander under her, the only restriction being at the entrance gates. I’m really disappointed that I won’t be able to enter until later in the morning.

A little chilled I head off to find a cafe for breakfast. I order a Francais breakfast this time, which includes orange juice, bread and croissant, and jam and butter, to which I again add a hot chocolate. I linger for an hour using the complimentary wifi to have a chat to my daughter in London, catch up on Facebook, and let the day lighten as the cafe fills with Parisians and tourists.

Yeah, nah. Not today.

I leave the warm sanctuary of the cafe just before 10 am. I swear it’s actually gotten colder since before dawn. I loiter around the near the queue to security, wishing I had lingered longer at the cafe, but once again my bladder decides for me.

Through security and off to the left, under the East Pillar I find the public loos. It’s another bag search before I find relief, this time for free (oh, I forgot to tell you about the 1 euro pee I had yesterday!).

Back out under the Tower, I head to the green flag, where I’ll take the elevator to the sommet – that’s right to the top. At 11 am I’m allowed through and they pack about 30 of us into the cable car. It’s at this point I remember that horrible fear I have of going really high, really fast. Shit.

As we step out onto the 2nd floor, we’re told to turn left to take the cable car directly up to the top. Yeah, nah. That’s not happening for me today. Even the briefest attempt to look up has my head swimming. I grasp the rails and wait for my heart to stop thundering.

Okay, Adrienne, you can do this. You can stay on this level and take photos. When you’re ready you can join the queue going up. Just get your camera out and take photos, and slowly move around this level.

Once a round and I’m still not ready to go on the car northward. So I message Michayla:

So yeah, nah. Not today.

The sun starts to come out so I go around again, take more shots, and then head for the Descend queue. Cowardly, I know. But I really didn’t want to get to the top on my own and freeze up, and not be able to get back down. At least in June I’ll have Michayla’s hand to hold. It’s about time the roles were reversed anyway!

On the ground again I head through the turnstiles and to a temporary tented market with a winter theme offer all sorts of souvenirs, drinks, food, and local wares. I pick up a small can of foie gras to take to London and grab a hot dog for lunch.

Suffering for Rodin

One hot dog later (on a French baguette too!), I start down Allée Adrienne Lecouvreur, a side track on the Champ de Mars – the huge park under the Eiffel Tower. I’m heading for the Musee Rodin. Google Maps says it will take me 23 minutes to reach on foot. In reality it takes me more than 30 minutes, and I’m nearly crippled by the time I get there. At the gate, I clear security and the ticket lady, and head straight to the cafe, hoping they have wifi. They don’t. But a hot chocolate does wonders to fortify my energy levels. I ignore my aching feet and take a tour of the house.

Rodin was once a tenant here, along with several other artists and dancers. This explains his obsession with the way ballerinas could twist their bodies – you’ll find lotS of his trial forms for ballerina sculptures in the Musee d’Orsay. the early part of the 1900s he donated all the works on display to the State and set them up in this house for public view.

His work was very much in sync with other artists of the time, including Monet, Degas, and Matisse, in that he rapidly captured the essence of a subject’s movement and facial expressions with quick application of his hands, finger tips, and sculptors tools. Like the painters above, his work was an antithesis to the more fashionable marble sculptures of the neoclassical artists, who were obsessed with capturing the perfection of the human form.

His busts of local artists and art agents of the period serve as a more realistic portrayal of the characters of that time. But he’s best known for two seminal works: The Thinker, which stands in the museum’s gardens, and the more traditional The Kiss which sits inside in the centre room of the lower ground floor.