You may whine and gripe all you want, but I still say that the best way to explore Paris is on foot. If you think taking the metro is going to save you - think again: you will spend so much time navigating the metro tunnels while switching between lines, you may as well just walk to your final destination.
The first major point of interest that pops into one's mind when in Paris is, of course, the Louvre. The long lines at the Louvre are no longer the mandatory attribute of the great museum. Go to Paris during an off season (say, in November) and visit the Louvre on an off day (Wednesday or Thursday) and you'll waltz right in. (Incidentally, the same applies to the smaller museums, such as the Rodin Museum for example - no issues getting in and plenty to see.)
The Louvre is enormous on the outside, but at least it has a definite shape, lulling you into the false belief that it might be easy to get around. You are forced to abandon this foolish notion as soon as you enter any of the wings. As my husband so eloquently put it, "the Louvre is a giant octopus of a building" going up, down, sideways and diagonally and coiling onto itself.
Don't ever try to marathon your way through it in one day. It can be done - theoretically, but why would you want to? You'll be tired as a dog and too rushed to make memories. ...Which sort of defeats the purpose of going to the Louvre in the first place. Pick one wing (the maps in several languages are available at the information desk for free), decide what you want to see and do wear comfy shoes - the floors are marble-on-concrete-slab: very pretty but utterly unforgiving on the feet.
We have visited the Mona Lisa - and yes, it is true: while the painting itself is rather small (smaller than the poster-size reproductions of it sold all over the place), it delivers quite a punch - you want to just stand there and look, trying to puzzle it out. However, one must be polite and step away from the lovely lady to let the countless others have their turn. By the way, photography is not allowed in many areas with paintings in them, and there are signs reminding you of that. I took my one paintings shot from a balcony across from the hallway leading to Mona Lisa - way outside of the area itself. I also made certain I disabled the flash while photographing at the museums. Please be respectful and don't try to sneak in a shot - the paintings are fragile and you do want them to survive long enough for your children and grandchildren to see.
Having said hello to La Gioconda, my husband and I spent the rest of our time at the Louvre with antiquities - Greek, Roman, Egyptian and Persian, briefly stopping by the Italian sculpture hall. (Actually, the latter was an accident - we ended up there while we were utterly lost somewhere in the bowels of the museums looking for the Egyptian exhibit.)
Having taken plenty of rest from the hike at the Louvre (even one wing qualifies as a serious workout), we took a lovely walk from our hotel to the Eiffel Tower, where we made an executive decision that our honeymoon wasn't meant to be wasted on standing in line - even if it was to go up into the great structure. We satisfied ourselves with a few memorable photos, then took a leisurely stroll along the Seine to Musee d'Orsay.
Musee d'Orsay carries the dubious distinction of being the Louvre's baby brother. Do not be fooled. It is enormous, lavish and has enough art in it to keep you busy for weeks on end.
Musee d'Orsay has reminded me of two delightful peculiarities of every Paris museum we'be been to. Number one: there are children of all ages all over the place. While they are plenty giggly and noisy as children are, they appear to be very enthusiastic about being in a museum: you don't see anyone yawning or rolling their eyes or not paying attention to whoever is guiding their excursion. Number two (possibly a chief reason for number one): the tour guides (both the school teachers and the museum staff) are extremely well-versed and passionate about their topics. I haven't seen a single droning monotonous talking head there, trying to dispassionately mumble his or her mind-numbingly boring lecture and, thus, forever murdering any interest in the arts in any human being between the ages of five and ninety-five.
In general, people who visit Parisian museums seem to do so for the sole purpose of enjoying what the museums have to offer - and not for the sake of taking a picture, buying a stupid tee-shirt and bragging to their friends that they've been there.
We have bumped into one such endearing enthusiast at the famous portrait of Madame Rimsky-Korsajov - the wife of the famous Russian composer. This particular middle-aged museum goer had come to Musee d'Orsay just to see that particular painting and raced through the entire museum with his wife in tow until he found it. When he finally saw the painting, he ran up to it, opened his arms and exclaimed, "Ah, there she is!" While the man paced in front of the painting, studying it this way and that, his wife told us they owned a life-sized poster of it and that her husband had dreamt his whole life about seeing the original. After the dear fellow calmed down a bit, we chatted about Rimsky-Korsakov's good fortune: he possessed an incredible musical talent and was married to the beautiful lady in the portrait.
One of the smaller museums - Musee de Luxembourg had a Titian exhibit we decided to visit, but it almost wasn't worth it: the place was too crowded and a bit overpriced (10 euro per person - d'Orsay is way cheaper and has much more to offer), although the collection itself was very good.
The way this museum operates is interesting. It does not have a permanent exhibit of its own. What it does have is a gaggle of talented curators, who go out, do research and negotiate with other museums and private art owners in order to pull together 2-3 interesting exhibits per year dedicated to specific artist or a specific topic. The Titian exhibit was just something that happened to be there at that particular time. Had we come 3-4 months later, it would have been the Lalique exhibit, according to the information on the tickets (the museum administration cleverly uses the tickets to provide information on the current collection and future event advertisement.)
If you are on a limited time table and must pick and choose what you visit very carefully, stop by the two of Paris' most famous cathedrals - Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur. If possible visit both on the same day - the intensity of the contrast between the two great architectural wonders makes for a memorable experience.
Hard as I tried, I could not see Notre Dame as a place of peace. Sacre Coeur - light, airy, high up on its hill, as if trying to take off - was much more a place of serenity and healing. Notre Dame is savagely beautiful with its heavy structure and many sight-fatiguing decorative elements. It is also gloomy and oppressive - especially on a miserable November evening, when darkness crashes onto the city awash in icy rain and with an entourage of bone-chilling winds in tow. Sacre Coeur is all about peace and forgiveness; Notre Dame is about eternal damnation and sacrifice. Its statues, bas-reliefs and paintings of saints and martyrs appear either indifferent, or stern, or angry, or terrified, or in pain. The lovely, gently smiling Holy Virgin with a bouquet of fresh white daisies laid out daily at her feet seems almost out of place - her near-frivolity frowned upon by the neighboring saints.
It was no wonder that my husband and I both practically jumped out of our skins when the grand Notre Dame organ announced the beginning of the evening mass. The music was beautiful, and the cathedral soloists were as good as those at Sacre Coeur. However, those first few soul-shattering organ chords were enough to frighten one into repenting every sin he or she has or has not ever committed.
Sacre Coeur... We could have walked there - it was only four miles away from where we were staying. However, we opted to take the Metro in preparation for the murderous staircase that leads from the bottom of the hill to the cathedral itself. Cautionary note: do not do Sacre Coeur on your first day in Paris, especially if you lead a sedentary lifestyle - the climb will kill you. Rather, do what we did: spend the first couple of days wandering around the city and getting into a decent walking shape.
Photography is not allowed inside Sacre Coeur. ...A pity - it is beautiful, you'll just have to take my word for it. We were fortunate to get there during a service and enjoy the singing of the most magnificent nuns' choir ever. The ladies took turns singing solo, and each one had an incredible voice in her own right. If you ever saw Riverdance and heard the clear-voiced Irish singers - that's the voice quality of the nuns at Sacre Coeur.
As it often happens in Paris, Sacre Coeur - one of the most magnificent places of worship in the world - peacefully coexists with the locale of an entirely different nature - Monmartre. Numerous cafes and gift shops... Artists... Beggars... And the funny little old man who kissed my hand, wrote me a little love poem on the spot and received two euros and a kiss on the cheek from me in return. He was sweet and I sincerely hope that he liked me at least half as much as he pretended to... Or at least I hope he liked the kiss better than the euros... In any case, the kiss and the two euros were a small price to pay for such a purely Parisian experience.