February 16: Musée des Plans-reliefs (Museum of Relief Maps)

Talk about hyper-specialization: this is a museum (really, just a couple of large rooms in the attic of the Invalides) dedicated solely to a collection of scale models of French fortresses, made mostly in the 17^th and 18^th centuries. Think really obsessive model train landscapes, only minus the trains. Actually, think model trains in a submarine – the models loom out of almost complete darkness, with place names shining in neon green, and so the general visual atmosphere is similar to the climatic scenes in Das Boot. “Mildly interesting” is about the best review I can give.

February 16: Musée de l’Armée (Museum of the Army)

In the Hôtel des Invalides (a former military rest-home established by Napoleon) there are two churches and at least four museums. It’s like all of the Smithsonian Museums squished into one building – so much museological shock and awe that, after walking from one end of the complex to the other, I stopped off at the cafeteria before I even bought my admission ticket. It was clearly no day to skip breakfast.

The main attractions are Napoleon’s tomb, in one of the churches, and the Musée de l’Armée. The museum is surprisingly well-organized and accessible for a place which seems to hold multiple examples of every single armament and uniform every touched by a member of the French military. Thankfully, the museum is clearly broken up into areas by time period, so you can chose whether you want to gawk at knights or at tanks. Also, the display pays a lot of attention to army life in general, not just gory battles, so you don’t have to be a jarhead to enjoy yourself (although, speaking of enjoying yourself, a significant percentage of my fellow visitors were members of various armed forces, so it’s a good hunting ground if you’re into men or women in uniform). Be sure to check out the basement’s high-tech exhibition area dedicated to panting, throbbing adulation of Charles de Gaulle, which falls all over itself trying to make his legacy palatable to both the left and the right.

February 11: Musée Maillol (Maillol Museum)

This place is just like the Guggenheim: ladies who lunch and hip youngsters looking at a teeny bit of permanent collections and a couple floors worth of special exhibition. And so, like the Guggenheim, whether it’s worth a visit is almost wholly dependent on whether the exhibition is good or not. I’ll report back if the next exhibition here is bad, but I think that they can be trusted to rustle up interesting, if not especially challenging art. The current exhibition is called “C’est la Vie! Vanities from Caravaggio to Damien Hirst,” but you can refer to it as “Skulls, Skulls, and More Skulls!” since the inclusion criterion seems to have been “is there a skull in this work of art? if yes, put in the exhibition; if no, please add a skull and try again.” (Also, if the painting which is labeled as by Caravaggio is actually by Caravaggio, I will eat a skull).

February 11: Musée de la Franc-Maconnerie (Museum of French Freemasonry)

Breaking news, dear readers! Today the Museum of French Freemasonry reopened after a long and thorough renovation. And it looks amazing – all sleek brushed steel and pinpoint lights, as if Lex Luthor opened a museum of the history of evil scientists.

And as for the contents – it was like Christmas and my birthday rolled up into one perfectly-sized collection of assorted weirdass: gold embroidered ritual Masonic aprons worn by members of the Bonaparte family! Not-overly-skillfully-rendered paintings of 18^th c. Masonic initiations (dudes in perukes playing with skulls)! Did I mention ritual aprons!!!

Plus… I think that I actually learned things. Yes, that’s right – all I was expecting was to gawk at the regalia of semi-secret, quasi-religious, basically-a-drinking-club Masonry – but, turns out that the museum does a good job laying out the social history of the organization: its introduction into France, various prosecutions, its political alignments, etc. Above all, my world changed a little with my realization that, in France, the Masons are on the left: they started out not a fan of the monarchy and lately were big backers of the legalization of abortion. Coming from my understanding of American Masonry (as an activity of your Republican grandfather), this was like hearing that Walt Disney founded the ACLU.

Worth a half-hour if you like conspiracy theories or the wackier side of the Enlightenment.

February 10: “Paris Inondé 1910” (“Flooded Paris 1910”)

What happens to polar bears when the zoo floods? In the case of the 1910 flood of Paris, when the Seine rose more than 8 meters, they were left to fend for themselves. But don’t worry – they survived their stay in a more-watery-than-usual enclosure, as did all the other zoo animals except two antelopes and a giraffe (who died of pneumonia). The flood caused only one human death, despite making large areas of Paris look like Venice, and so the reaction of the majority of Parisians seems to have been “Flood holiday - wheeeee!” One letter on display in this exhibition, put on by the city government, says that a flooded Paris is such a marvelous sight that it’s a pity that God arranges for it only once every 100 years.

The signage is very much in French, but if you’re interested in the first urban natural disaster captured by the full panoply of modern news technology – film reels, amateur photographs, comic commemorative postcards – you can look at the pictures on their website or check out a new book by Jeffrey H. Jackson, Paris Under Water: How the City of Light Survived the Great Flood of 1910.

And yes – I have nothing critical or especially funny to say about an exhibition about an old flood. I just liked it, ok? Get off my back already.

February 7: Musée d’Orsay (Orsay Museum)

Of course you should visit the Musée d’Orsay. It has an amazing collection of 19^th century art, laid out in a way that allows you to see the evolution of modern art – just start here and you’ll understand what a change this was. And then you can go look at Van Gogh, Gauguin, Daumier, get into a Monet vs. Manet aesthetic throw-down, whatever.

But… prepare yourself. If it’s a required stop for you, remember that it’s a required stop for everyone else, too. And the Orsay is not designed for crowds. There are narrow hallways and small rooms which can cause the crowd to behave like a slo-mo mosh pit. There are enough multi-level platforms and staircases to make your feet hurt just looking at them. And the arrangement requires you to backtrack to fit all of the rooms, leading to much tourist anxiety about missing something.

Crowds plus layout problems does result in some spectacular tourist misbehavior: I saw many people fondling statues, two people having a snack in the galleries, one girl applying hairspray, and one older American quiet-shouting at his wife “why don’t YOU hold the map for once!” as he shoved the museum plan into her hands and stormed off.

Some general tips: Don’t go on a Tuesday, when the Louvre is closed – you’ll have to wade through the overflow. Don’t try to look at every single work, or you’ll be exhausted by the time you get to the upper floors. And do make time for people-watching, a.k.a. “Paris’ Funniest Tourist Meldowns.”

February 6: Exhibition: An Orient of Consumption

Lemme fill this in when I revisit to write down the actual name of the exhibition – Google FAIL!