[35] At Giverny

Normandy, from what I have seen, is a lush countryside en plein d'air, as they say, and Giverny even more so, only it is is a horticultural heaven hewn out of a sort of pastoral wilderness - if that even makes sense. I arrived in the town of Vernon by the twelve o'clock train from Paris which departed the Gare Saint Lazare from platform 19 at precisely four past. The difference between Italy and France is that French trains are on time and their train stations always have prominently placed clocks displaying the precise time. And yes, these details are important.

From the station at Vernon, I took a navette to the smaller town of Giverny and managed to find my way to the Foundation Claude Monet, where the gardens and house of that Impressionist painter of the first order are preserved. Let me say this: it is not well signed, nothing is evident, and no one seems to care. Fortunately, I am attentive and observant.

The first sight at the Foundation is the giftshop, some what inaptly named the Atelier Nymphaides (after the famous water lilies of the pond). If you can stop yourself from buying napkins, t-shirts, spoons, gardening gloves, and not least post cards emblazoned with anything Monet, you can make your way out into the gardens. And when I say horticulturalist heaven, I mean this:

(Feel free to click on the photos for a closer look. I don't have photoshop with me, so they are not properly colour-corrected yet)

(The bust of Monet, down an obscured pathway just after you descend from the bus, is a bit of a tourist trap. Since it is impossible to orient oneself without signs, many of us (and yes, I said us) are easily led to believe that is the way to the gardens. In fact it is.....but not the entrance; that path would lead you along the fence outside the gardens, the fence with a bit of a moat and another fence. Not so evident)

Sitting at one end of the pond, watching a duck swim merrily about the lilies, I spoke at length with an American couple from Atlanta ('originally from Boston, but too many people drove Volkswagons in that town, if you know what I mean. Atlanta was just so much more vibrant. It was a boom tozn, you know....') about the merits of travelling abroad as a young adult and of archaeology....since every one, once I tell them I was here on a dig, seems to think I am an archaeologist and it is just too much bother trying to dissuade them. I think the husband had gangrene or something, because his feet were all weird (and in this case, I would permit the wearing of socks with sandals....in fact, I now wonder if all men who wear socks zwith sandals are not afflicted with a similar condition).

This was our view:

The pictures I took of myself in front of the lily pond, though not showing much other than my large head, turned out a lot better than any others persuaded me to let them take of me. Here I am not wearing my ridiculously large sunglasses (and yes, I am completely aware of how ridiculous they look; that was the desired effect).


It was hot (though not as hot as in Italy on the dig, I was quick to remind people) and this little American girl had the right idea. This is the entrance to the lily pond area.

The house of Monet was a divine little country house, all blue and yellow. The Salle à Manger was the typical bright yellow and the kitchen was a beautiful deep blue. We were not allowed to take pictures in the house, though I managed one or two looking out the master bedroom windows looking out into the garden, probably because there are all those famous Japanese prints everywhere and the whole thing is too small and crowded (compared to the Musée d'Orsay) to protect properly; but there were these delightful lilies just by the kitchen window that seemed to match the heirloom Chinese blue and white style ceramics on the shelves. This is the photo I took looking into the house from the porch, and though artistic, is totally unable to capture their beauty through the mottled glass.

So end of story, I went to the local supermarket, bought some brie and a nice half baguette to eat on the train back and ended up talking to a young Swedish couple about environmental sustainability (as many of you know, one of my favourite subjects) and immigration policies.

And now I pack......