Sunday, May 2, 2010

In which we go to the Musée de l'Armée

When Blaise's parents visited last December, one of the things that his Dad wanted very much to do was to go to the Musée de l'Armée. His Mom was less interested in going, and so as it turned out, Blaise, Danny, Ezio, and Dad went to the Musée de l'Armée, while Sapphire, Cherry, Mom, and I went shopping and baked Christmas cookies.


I wanted to go to the Musée de l'Armée at some point during our stay in France though, and spring break seemed to present the perfect opportunity. Blaise was quite clear that he wouldn't be interested in returning during our stay in France, since they had been fairly thorough when they visited in December. Ezio was game to go back though, and we could go on a weekday and let Blaise have some peace and quiet for getting work done, something that can be in short supply when the kids are out of school for a couple of weeks.


So, Tuesday morning, we set out for the museum, with the idea that we would spend a couple of hours and then head home for a late lunch. Oh, how the best laid plans. . ..


We got off the train at Invalides, as directed by the RATP website, and headed up the stairs to the surface. Then we had to figure out which way to go. Ezio helpfully explained that it had taken them half an hour to figure out how to get the museum when they came in December, which was not particularly reassuring. Fortunately, I spotted a building that looked big and official, and decided that, despite the fact that it didn't have a visible sign, that it was likely to be the right place. We walked down Les Invalides toward it, stopping regularly to pick up pretty stones and put them in pockets (to the point that I was somewhat concerned that Cherry might lose her pants), and in through the gates.


Next job: find the ticket office. Although this sounds like it ought to be relatively simple, it turns out that it actually isn't so easy. The museum is inside a substantial complex, part of which is still used as a veterans' hospital (at one point it was entirely a hospital) and the various parts of the museum all have separate entrances. There were automatic ticket machines outside each of these entrances, but they dispensed only full price tickets: if you were eligible for free or reduced price tickets you had to go to the actual ticket office to get them. Since under 18s are free at all French national museums, that meant that we didn't want to use the dispensers.


As it turned out, the ticket office was located on the opposite end from where we had come in, so we stopped there, then decided to go see Napoleon's tomb, which is in a big dome at one end of the complex. They checked our tickets, and we headed inside to see the massive coffin (actually, it's 6 coffins, one inside the other), first from above, and then, after descending the stairs, from the side.


Back up to the top, and then Ezio decided that he wanted to show us the part that Grandpa had been most interested in. Over to the WWI and WWII section we went, showing our tickets at the door once again. We began at the end of the Franco-Prussian war, then on through WWI and WWII. We saw one of the taxis that was used to bring troops to the front in the first war, and video of the triumphal parade after the victory. We looked at maps that showed the progress of the Allied troops in driving the Axis out of France and Italy. We read bulletins explaining what the Nazis were going to do to resistors, and to their families.


By that time it was after noon, and we were hungry. Complicating things somewhat, we hadn't yet seen the medieval section of the museum, and Sapphire wanted to look at armor. What to do? Well, perhaps we could manage lunch at the museum cafeteria, assuming that it wasn't too pricey. Two sandwiches and two pieces of flan, divided 4 ways, set us back 14€ and filled all of our stomachs. (The sandwiches were huge.)


Then it was off to look at armor. Cherry was very excited to discover that there was some armor that would have fit her. It was actually made for a 5 or 6 year old, so it would probably have been a bit big for her, but that was a minor detail as far as she was concerned. It was clearly much too small for an adult. Ezio decided that he would photograph all the armored horses that we saw. Sapphire admired the fancy sword hilts. There was a temporary exhibit on how medieval manuscripts were made, complete with 4 illuminated texts to look at, through glass of course, and a display of the various tools and pigments that would have been used. In case you were wondering, the gold you see in medieval books is real gold, and while the scribes used quills that were fairly large (think of those that you've seen in illustrations), those used by the illuminators were tiny.


Back out to the courtyard, and into the complex church, which was built by Napoleon for the use of his injured soldiers. The inside is almost undecorated, except for the flags and pennants of conquered armies flying from the rafters, and the plaques to French military heroes decorating the pillars.


Finally, I wanted to see the Napoleonic exhibit, which was being renovated when we were in Paris before. We entered the building, showing our tickets once again, and headed up the stairs, where we were greeted by a sign informing us that the lights had been dimmed in order to better preserve the artifacts and admonishing us, therefore, not to take photographs. We saw Napoleon's horse, stuffed, of course, and displayed in a case. We watched movie/maps, which explained the tactics involved in a few of the important battles. We saw a life-sized mock up of what Napoleon's tent might have looked like. (In case you were wondering, he had things pretty good, even on military campaigns.) Then, we went up two more floors and looked, very briefly since the girls were getting whiny, at the scale models of various fortified cities, which were, evidently, used in planning military attacks and defenses.


And then, at last, we headed home, to discover that Blaise had had an extremely productive day, and hadn't, despite Sapphire's fears, been the least bit concerned about the length of our absence.

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