The pilgrimage

I almost wish Claude Monet weren't so popular, even though I don't think it productive to begrudge a deserving man his fame. The fact is though, that I wish my awe of him was not so cliché. In any case, going to his former homestead and gardens at Giverny, about 150 kilometers northwest of Paris, was quite nearly a religious experience, especially after seeing the bulk of his originals at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris.

It's amazing to know that I have walked the gardens that he walked every day, seen the water lilies and willow trees he so loved to paint, and crossed the Japanese bridge that is in many of his paintings, including the print that is hanging in my room at the Burgundy (see my prior post on Orsay).

I also managed to eat at the hotel where he took in many of his meals and drinks with the group of artists that themselves made the pilgrimage to Giverny, and carried on the tradition of Impressionism. I also stopped at his church and paid my respects at the Monet family grave plot. It was worth every second of the trip.


This picture: Me, Hélène, Orlàith, and Sonia at Giverny