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On Friday we visited the Musée d’Orsay, which I had seen with Jason in May (as well as in prior years). I was pleased, but not surprised, to find that the emotional charge of seeing the museum’s masterpieces was just as delicious a month later. At some point I can imagine becoming jaded — that old Cezanne again? — but two visits in one sojourn is nowhere close. My reaction resembled how I relate to the art works in my home in Cambridge: they give me pleasure each time I see them, even if that’s several times a day. Photography is prohibited in the museum now but here is a shot of tourists unconsciously echoing statues on the plaza.

Tourists unconsciously echoing statues on the plaza of the Musee d'Orsay.

Tourists unconsciously echoing statues on the plaza of the Musée d’Orsay.

As we got home we noticed loud music at a square two blocks from my apartment, so naturally we strolled over to have a look. It turned out to be the rehearsal for a fashion show planned for an hour later. This was my favorite of several snapshots.

A parade of models just down the street from my apartment.

A parade of models just down the street from my apartment.

Friday evening we had one of the best gourmet meals of my stay, at Métropolitan on rue Jouy just around the corner from my apartment. I’m delighted that Jaime’s visit occasioned me to try it, and just a bit sad that I didn’t know about it before. Our three-course meals, with a couple of drinks and coffee, were about $100 each, so it’s not for every day, but I would certainly have steered Jason there if I’d realized how good it is.

Jaime with his main course at Metropolitan, amidst an agreeable group of diners.

Jaime with his main course at Métropolitan, amidst an agreeable group of diners.

Bob blissfully contemplating his main course at Metropolitan.

Bob blissfully contemplating his main course at Métropolitan.

Metropolitan, just down the street from my Paris apartment.

Métropolitan, just around the corner from my 2014 Paris apartment.

After dinner we walked up to the haut Marais to see if we could get in to Candelaria, the hip bar that Alexis had introduced Jason and me to in May. It was full, but the doorman kindly pointed us to another cool place, Mary Celeste, a few blocks away. We had some stylish cocktails amidst a stylish crowd, then strolled over to my favorite gay bar, Le Duplex. It was crowded and convivial, although we didn’t get into any memorable conversations. Just for fun I bought a little pocket blood alcohol monitor, which reported me at .09 when I got home. That’s over the usual limit for driving in the U.S. but I wasn’t noticeably buzzed, nor did I have a hangover. (I haven’t had one in years, as a matter of fact.)

On Saturday we awoke (quite late) to a rainy day. We spent most of the day at the enormous and marvelous Musée des Arts et Métiers, which is a collection of scientific instruments and devices and technological artifacts that beggars description. I’ve previously posted a Musée des Arts et Métiers Photo Set, which I will augment with this years pics, but here are a few glimpses.

Jaime with a little statue of liberty at the Musée des Arts et Métiers, in a former abbey.

Jaime with a little statue of liberty at the Musée des Arts et Métiers, in a former abbey.

One of dozens of exhibit halls at the massive and marvellous Musée des Arts et Métiers.

One of dozens of exhibit halls at the massive and marvelous Musée des Arts et Métiers.

Bob with the

Bob with the “Motorized Bat” in the musée des arts et métiers in Paris. (It never got off the ground.)

Saturday was Paris Pride (La Marche des Fiertés) so after the museum we walked over to Place de la Républic, where we were pleased to catch the tail end of the parade, as well as being part of the moist but nevertheless festive crowd.

Bob with his new best friend at Paris Pride.

Bob with his new best friend at Paris Pride.

At the end of the 2014 Paris Pride Parade (Marche des Fiertés), at Place de la République.

At the end of the 2014 Paris Pride Parade (La Marche des Fiertés), at Place de la République.

After dinner at a local place on rue Faidherbe (because we couldn’t get in to any of the upscale places that had been recommended by one of Jaime’s friends) we regrouped at home, then went out to Raidd Bar, famous for its nightly shower shows (recorded in an earlier post). It was a scene!

Raidd Bar on the evening of Paris Pride (la Marche des Fiertés).

Raidd Bar on the evening of Paris Pride (La Marche des Fiertés).

Hélas, there was no shower show, but there were go-go dancers, and the mostly-attractive crowed in the absolutely jammed bar was a perfectly adequate substitute.

Mot du jour: mannequin. Model.