I'm at the Pompidou. That's in Paris.

To quote the timeless lyrics of my favorite tongue-in-cheek band, Art Brut, "Modern art...makes me...want to rock out!" Maria and I visited the Pomidou center today, one of the necessary pilgrimages for modern, and post-podern, art enthusiasts. The Pompidou hosts a chronological exhibit of modernism, beginning with the impressionists and moving all the way forward to Jackson Pollock, "action art" and all the rest. The collection is astounding, and Maria remarked that the Picasso's and Matisse's were extensive, as are their exhibits in a number of museums around the world. They were certainly prolific, and every one of their pieces is a masterpiece. There is not a wasted stroke.

Last night, Maria and I visited the Sacre Coure (spelling?...no time for spell check), a basilica dating from the 1870's that overlooks Paris. We got up there just before sunset, and the panoramic views of the city were brilliant. As darkness fell, it become easier to pick out the monuments of Paris. We could see the blue piping of the Pompidou, the gloomy buttresses of the Notre Dame, and the unmistakable Eiffel Tower. It was really beautiful, and there was a festive atmosphere on top of that basilica. Most people there were very young, or in the verbage of the parents reading this blog, "whippersnappers" and snuck sips from their malted beverages as they watched darkness crawl over the city. Maria and I abstained from drinking, partly because an altered state was not necessary to appreciate the view, and partly because we had an early morning at the Musee d'Orsay followed by the aforementioned visit to the Pompidou.

Oh, I almost forgot. Yesterday, after a few false starts because of the rain and long lines, Maria and I made a consensus agreement to visit the inside of Les Invalides, as I mentioned yesterday, has a Napolean's tomb and a war museum. After looking at the exhibits, the only thought I had was that mankind has been very, very good at killing for a very long time. The advancement of our species has been almost dependent on advances in war, and it was interesting to compare, philosophically, the beautiful works of art we've seen thus far at the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay and the Pompidou with the equally beautiful weapons we saw at Les Invalides. Which has advanced mankind further? The Renaissance or the rifle?

After deep thoughts like these, I'll probably drink too much when we get to Nice tonight. Our flight gets in at 10:30, so if we hurry, I'll pass out by 12:30. Just kidding. The trip has been great so far, and I'm going to sun burn myself into unrecognizibility very soon.