The Defender of Time

I've mentioned that I'm a fan of whimsy so you can imagine how excited I was when I heard that there is an automaton clock called "The Defender of Time." I confess to owning a collection of windup toys from the 1940s and 50s and several singing bird in cage wind-ups. So how could I not go see The Defender? He's in the 3rd arrondissement, not too far from the Pompidou Museum. My GPS behaved this time and led me past La Tour St. Jacques,

through some narrow cafe-lined streets.

This is what I always think of when I think of Paris. I suppose that's because so much of the city looked like this when I first visited in the 1990s. I passed some cool art on a building above a Starbucks

and just when I despaired of ever finding him, I turned a corner and there was The Defender of Time.

The Defender was created by Jacques Monestier between 1975 and 1979. Every hour a randomizer selects which animal gets to fight. All characters in the fight are operated by pneumatic cylinders. The defender and the animals are made of hammered and polished brass and the rock they stand on is made of oxidized brass. Every hour of the day (between 9am and 10pm) the Defender of Time struggles victoriously against one of the three animals surrounding him: the crab, the dragon and the bird, representing the sea, the land and the sky. The fight is accompanied by the sound of crashing waves, the rumble of the earth or the whisper of the wind. Three times a day all three fight him.

I stood waiting for the top of the hour as people walked past, oblivious to what was overhead. One man stopped a few feet from me, waiting for the start as well. He said "Trois minutes" (three minutes) and grinned. At last the rumbling sound started, the Defender started moving, looking at his three adversaries. Finally the dragon started moving. The whole spectacle lasted around 3 minutes but it was delightful. Clunky perhaps, but delightful. There's a YouTube video of all three animals fighting the Defender here. My new friend and I smiled and waved as we went our separate ways.

I looked online to see if I cold get a ticket to the Surrealist Exhibition at the Pompidou but it was, of course, fully booked so I walked over to the Market at Les Halles. Les Halles was Paris' central fresh food market. I hadn't done my research so I didn't know that it closed in 1973 and was replaced by an underground shopping center. That development was demolished in 2010, and replaced by the Westfield Forum des Halles, a modern, mostly underground, shopping mall topped by an undulating canopy.

It was my last day in Paris and I wasn't feeling terribly charitable toward the city. Maybe it was because it was Saturday and the streets were even more crowded than usual or maybe it's because Paris is meant to be such a romantic city and I was wandering the streets by myself. (Cue teeny violin playing sad songs for the spoiled woman in Paris.)

I smiled when I saw the name of this cafe. (At the smoking dog)

The Samaritaine buildings are lovely but they're still shopping centers so that held no attraction.

I ambled past Notre Dame once more, reassured to see that the gargoyles are still in place.

I crossed the Quai aux Fleurs to the left bank and passed The Sorbonne University.

I went by a clothing store that was having a big clearance sale on puffy coats in metallic colors. I briefly toyed with the idea of buying a silver one and getting a fluffy white scarf so that when I walked down the street I would look like a giant jacket potato (baked potato) with sour cream, but then thought better of it. I passed this lovely building but didn't realize that it was the Pantheon. Bruce had visited it earlier in the week and said that it was wonderful. Next time.

Finally I arrived at the Jardin de Luxemburg. It's probably my favorite park in Paris. There's a basin where you can rent little wooden boats to sail, a sweet little carousel and lots of room to sit and enjoy the day.

It was mid-afternoon, so I stopped at La Terrace de Madame for a spot of lunch and, of course, a nice glass of wine.

After my lovely little lunch I walked around the garden enjoying the flowers still in bloom

and more of those crazy square French trees.

I left the garden and fought the crowds back to the metro at la Place du Chatelet, passing the phallic obelisk topped by the golden angel statue along the way.

Back to the hotel to pack. Bye, Paris.