Not really an ode – I’m not the one to turn to for lyric poetry. Nonetheless, I think Luxembourg might be one of my favorite spots in Paris so far. After class, my original plan was to lounge in the park before exploring the crypts of the Pantheon. However, since it’s fall and I’m in Paris, it started to rain as soon as I stepped outside. Water was already dripping down the stairs of the metro station and onto my head by the time I found my umbrella. Instead of heading towards the park, I walked in a circle through some puddles before I finally found the Pantheon, which was a logical destination because it had a roof, or to be more exact, a huge dome.
As you probably figured out, the Pantheon does not refer to the ancient Roman ruins currently residing comfortably in Italy (although architecturally speaking, it did borrow many elements from its façade). The Pantheon in Paris is an odd mixture of things. Originally, it was built as a basilica honoring Saint Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris. When King Louis XV later recovered from a seroius illness, he decided to commission the building as a thanks for his good health. His renovation work on the old Abbey of St. Genevieve produced the striking structure that we have today. Eventually, the church became a favorite haunt of various intellectuals, including Léon Foucault, who set up his famous pendulum in the Pantheon’s walls. Today, tourists visit to marvel at the neoclassical designs and to see the famous crypts, which are full of celebrities, such as Marie Curie and Victor Hugo.
Being a fan of pretty architecture, dead people’s tombs, and dry places, I walked inside, presented my student ID, and was promptly asked for my passport or visa. I’ve been getting into museums for free because of my ID. Most institutions require those seeking free access to be a resident of the European Union, and most institutions accept a student ID as proof of residency. Except…you guessed it! The Pantheon. The reduced rate was €5.50, which was reasonable enough, I suppose.
The interior of the Panthéon is stunning. Polished marble columns shoot upwards towards intricately carved moldings. Sculptures of heroic looking figures decorate the corners of the bright expanse. All around the walls are paintings of St. Genevieve and her major life events. After you’ve spent enough time looking up at the domed ceiling, you can then stand transfixed with a live demonstration of Foucault’s Pendulum. I had the chance to witness a museum attendent adjust the pendulum and keep it swinging. The sphere was graceful. It was soothing to watch it move back and forth.
After I had had enough of physics and the earth’s rotation, I made my way downstairs to the crypts to check out some of the tombs. The crypts are well-lit. While not exactly spooky, there still seems to be something a little creepy about taking pictures of coffins and mausoleums. Some personalities, like Voltaire and Jean-Jacque Rosseau, had their own little spaces. Victor Hugo shared a space with Alexander Dumas and Emlie Zola. Marie and Pierre Curie were interred nearby as well. Wreathes of flowers wound with red, white, and blue ribbon had been placed on the stone coffins. (I wonder if they’re remains are radioactive. Probably not, but the Internet tells me that some of her notebooks are still too radioactive to handle. Who knows?)
All the crypt wandering took about forty-five minutes, but when I wandered back upstairs, the sky still looked gray, so I took out my reading and made myself comfortable on a bench. I watched a tour guide explaining the mechanics behind the pendulum. In the hour it took for me to finish my book, tourists of all kinds of nationalities had sat next to me. An American couple pored over a map deciding how to use their metro tickets most effectively. A Turkish couple sat in silence. A Russian woman and her friend talked excitedly about something. A grandfather and his grandson, speaking what sounded like Dutch, talked about the museum’s merits (or so I assumed) while later on, a German family gathered to take a break before heading to a cafe for a coffee and a snack. It was interesting to encounter so many people from so many different nationalities all in one place.
I would have been content to go home right then and there, but lo and behold, when I walked outside, the sky was a marvelous blue! There was sunshine! It was even a little warmer! Without a second thought, I made a beeline towards the Luxembourg Gardens. The Tuileries Gardens were lovely, but the Luxembourg ones were even grander. I took a seat next to the fountain with the Senate Building to my right. Bright yellow and orange flowers bloomed in neat rows and squares. The grass was a brilliant green, but all around, the trees had already begun losing their rust-colored leaves, a strange cross between spring and autumn. Like most of Paris’s parks, the scenery was picturesque, but what made Luxembourg so fantastic was the people watching. There were a couple of tourists posing for pictures near the statues. Parisians lounged on the green metal chairs, smoking cigarettes and gossiping. A group of small schoolchildren launched a toy sailboat across the fountain where it drifted loftily with a few ducks. The children ran to the other side to watch its progress while their parents jogged after them.
Eventually, I had to go home, but I could have sat there for another hour, enjoying the beautiful blue sky and watching passerby going about their daily routines. Now that the weather has grown colder, opportunities to sit outside will be harder to come by, but I now understand why so many people in Paris enjoy an expresso sitting outside. It’s a great way to really see what’s around you.