CWT Journal – September 4, 2026 | Paris
Today began with an unexpectedly literal race to the Louvre. We left our apartment with ample time for our 10:30 tour, only to encounter the immovable force of Parisian rush hour. Halfway there, we abandoned our Uber and decided locomotion was preferable to gridlock. The four of us ran nearly a mile through Paris and arrived at precisely 10:30—sweaty, breathless, but technically punctual.
Unfortunately, punctuality proved insufficient. The tour staff checked us in…and apparently considered their work complete. By the time Dad realized nobody was actually connecting us with our guide, our group had vanished into the Louvre’s labyrinth. A frantic pursuit ensued, but no guide materialized. Knowing a refund was probably a quixotic aspiration, Dad successfully insisted on the next tour. Only three spaces remained, so Mom happily absconded to the Musée d’Orsay while Dad and the girls entered the Louvre.
Despite our difficulties, the Louvre proved worthwhile. Beneath the palace we explored remnants of the medieval Louvre, learning how masons marked stonework to identify and account for their labor. We met the Venus de Milo and the magnificent Winged Victory of Samothrace—Nike, the Greek goddess of victory, poised atop the prow of a warship despite having lost her head and arms sometime during the intervening 2,200 years.
Our guide also shared a bit of modern lore connected to the statue. The company Nike took its name from this Greek goddess of victory, and its famous Swoosh was designed to evoke the wings of Nike herself. Standing before the Winged Victory, it was easy to see the connection: the statue’s sweeping, windblown form seems almost to capture motion, speed, and triumph in stone. The company’s name and logo suddenly felt less like abstract branding and more like a direct reference to one of the world’s most recognizable symbols of victory.
Then we entered the room containing the Mona Lisa, and “room” may be too generous a word for the experience. It was packed with many, many people, all pressing forward for a glimpse of the world’s most famous smile. We had to battle our way through the crowd just to reach the front, where we finally saw Leonardo da Vinci’s small portrait of Lisa Gherardini, the wife of a Florentine merchant. Leonardo began the painting around 1503 and continued refining it for years, eventually bringing it to France when he entered the service of King Francis I. The painting later became part of the French royal collection and ultimately found its permanent home at the Louvre.
Its fame grew dramatically after it was stolen from the Louvre in 1911 by an Italian employee who believed it belonged in Italy. The theft made international headlines, and the painting’s recovery two years later transformed it from a celebrated Renaissance portrait into a global cultural icon. Today, the crowds surrounding it are almost as famous as the painting itself.
Interestingly, we found the Prado Mona Lisa more interesting—and more beautiful. The Prado version, painted in Leonardo’s workshop at roughly the same time as the Louvre portrait, shows the sitter from nearly the same angle and against a similar landscape. Its colors are brighter, its details feel sharper, and the presence of the second version offers a fascinating glimpse into how Leonardo and his assistants developed the composition. The Louvre Mona Lisa may be the more famous painting, but the Prado version made a stronger impression on us.
We also walked through the Galerie d’Apollon, scene of the audacious 2025 Louvre jewel heist. Thieves used a mechanical lift to reach an upper window along the Seine, breached the gallery, and escaped within minutes with eight pieces of France’s historic royal jewelry. One crown was dropped during their escape; the remaining stolen treasures included tiaras, necklaces, earrings, and brooches once belonging to French queens and empresses.
Afterward we reunited with Mom at the Musée d’Orsay, itself a masterpiece—a former railway station overlooking the Seine transformed into one of the world’s great museums. There we introduced the girls to Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, Manet, Pissarro, and the Impressionists, trading the Louvre’s antiquity and grandeur for color, light, and modernity.
After an exhausting but magnificent day of worldschooling, we headed home, made chicken pasta together, and concluded the evening with what has become perhaps our most immutable European tradition:
Ice cream.
Sometimes education requires textbooks. Sometimes it requires sprinting through Paris to see a headless Greek goddess, learning that she inspired the name and logo of Nike, and battling a crowd to decide which Mona Lisa you like best.