Thirty years ago or so, I visited a charming museum in Paris called the Jeu de Paume. It was filled with paintings by the Impressionists and post‑ Impressionists and light seemed to fill the corners of this classical building. Most of those paintings are now housed in the Musee D'Orsay, a converted Railroad terminal on the left bank of the Seine.

This Beaux Arts building that dominates the Quai Anatole France, not far from the Louvre, was once the Gare D'Orsay. Now it is a museum devoted to the art, sculpture and decorative arts of the period from 1848 to 1914. Much work went into the reconstruction. The interior architects were a couple of Italians called "scenographers"‑‑which is probably why the catwalks and corridors of the upper level seem to have been commissioned for a Fellini movie set rather than a museum.

 The Russians believe that artists must suffer for their art. The French seem to believe that tourists ought to suffer for their art ‑‑especially if they have come to the cultural capital of Europe to view it. For although many travelers come to the Orsay for its collection of Impressionists and Post‑ Impressionists, the French have decided we should appreciate every piece of sculpture, painting and decorative art that emanated from the Second and Third Empires while tracking down the popular guys. The central corridor of the first floor of the museum, therefore, is devoted to sculpture of the 19th century. Not particularly good sculpture, mind you‑‑if fact you can find better examples in the various gardens and squares that dot the city. It is of the white, curved and romantic type. Galleries down here are full of Millets, Corots, early Degas and a host of lesser known romantic or Academic types.

My son and I had arrived late on a Sunday afternoon‑‑it was 4:30 and the museum closes at 6 p.m. The people at the entrance booth did not ask for money, but they did insist we check our baggage (My son had a knapsack, while I had an airline bag). At the checkroom the people told us firmly we must return at 5:30 p.m. or lose our items. We decided to split up since he can walk twice as fast as I can,

So how should I get to the Gauguins and Renoirs, the Manets and Monets? Because we had gone to the checkroom first, we had bypassed the Information Desk. So I grabbed a map and looked at the floor plan. Wow! There was an escalator at the back which took you straight to the Upper Level, where, according to the brochure I could find the Impressionists.

I walked through the main corridor quickly, noting the sculptures and the early works of everybody. There was an amusing 3‑D set of the old Opera house placed underneath a glass floor at the very end of the corridor. Cute, but I was running late, so on to the escalator. It took me straight up, all right. Straight up into Limbo! I found myself on the upper level‑‑at least I thought it was the upper level, but it didn’t seem to lead anywhere. There was only one way to turn and that led me to a room full of Bentwood furniture.

After that, there were corridors that seemed to end at closed doors, and there was something that looked like the back of an elevator but I couldn't find the front of it. Then there were the half‑floors‑‑little step‑downs that led to other rooms full of decorative arts, which led, in turn, to dead ends. The overall look of the upper floor is of structural wrought iron. Actually it reminded me of the fire escapes that used to grace the Brooklyn apartment building where I grew up ‑‑or of intricate catwalks above a very large theater

I could imagine Bruce Willis running on this structural steel surface. It was just the thing for a Die Hard

movie. He could race through this maze of dead‑ends and black steel contraptions fleeing from the terrorists‑‑or looking for the terrorists‑‑or looking for the bomb that was about to go off. All I was looking for was some color-­filled canvasses.

"Excusez‑moi, Madame"‑‑‑ I turned to see a twenty‑something woman rushing down the corridor followed at some distance by her sixty‑something mother. "Ou est les Impressionistes?"

"Parlez Anglais?" I asked, since I was not sure of her nationality, only of her desperation‑‑it was almost 5: 00 p.m. by now.

The woman's face fell as she realized I was just another American tourist trapped in this minimalist mishmash which the architects called scenography. She turned and ran back. I followed her. There must be a way out.

At this point I realized the only way out of this quandary was to walk down to the second floor. I found such a staircase. Sure enough, half‑way around the running track of the second floor, I spied a museum employee. Was she a security guard? Who knows? She wore the badge of office and was talking to another guard. These were only two people connected with the museum I had seen in 45 minutes and they were gabbing away, unaware of the lost souls who floated past them. Time was of the essence, and I didn't care if I seemed like an uncultured American. I interrupted them.

The woman told me to walk forward and take the escalator up to the third floor. Sure enough, I ended up in a room filled with lots of people. People talking‑‑people pointing at pictures. That meant I had found them! The Impressionists and the post‑Impressionists! But it was 5:10 p.m. by this time and I had to work fast.

It turned out I had to go backward in time. First the Pointillists, then Gauguin, then a smidgen of Van Gogh and Monet and Toulouse‑Lautrec. When I finally arrived in the early rooms (the pre‑Impressionists) I was surprised to find Whistler's Mother. Gee, I thought she was in an American museum. There was also Manet's Picnic on the Grass which I could swear I had seen in New York. Just as I reached the last room before the Cafe, a voice boomed over the loudspeaker.  In several languages I learned that the checkroom was closing at 5:30 and we all must be out by 6 p.m. on pain of death.

Oh, the hell with them, thought. I'm going to enjoy my remaining minutes here. But the inexorable swell of the crowd led me past Toulouse‑Lautrec again and to the staircase I should have taken in the first place. By 5:48 p.m. was on the ground floor and heading toward the checkroom. I saw my son sauntering toward me. He was without his knapsack. "Hey, Mom, they weren't really doing to close the checkroom at 5:30! What would they do with all that stuff?" This boy had lived in Europe long enough to know that while the Swiss expect you to obey the rules, the French don't. Sure enough we got our things out without a murmur. Now, if only I didn't have to leave on a plane the next day, I could start all over and do it right.

IF YOU GO TO THE MUSEE D'ORSAY

1. Allow yourself at least two hours. That's without eating, browsing the gift shop or

getting lost for more than ten minutes. Get up to the third floor first. I was able to move

around with ease in early May but once the summer crowds come in, you may have

trouble cruising the "popular" rooms. You also have to allow more time for the ticket

lines (assuming you go on a "pay" day.)

2. Ask the information person, or a guard: "Where is Whistler's Mother?" (Ou est la

mere du Whistler?) Or: "Where is Picnic On the Grass by Manet? (Ou est La Dejeuner

sur L'herbe par Manet?") . Since these paintings are in the first two rooms you want,

a detailed description of how to get there will put you on the right track chronologically

3. If the line at the info booth is too long, walk up the stairs to the second floor towards

the FRONT of the building. There you will find the escalator to the third floor. This will

put you in the galleries toward the end of the post‑impressionist period, but you can walk backwards

in time. Afterwards, you can peruse the second and first floors at leisure.

4. The map shows three levels, including the entrance level (there are subterranean

levels also). I figure that including a mezzanine and the "catwalk" area‑‑ there are

really at least five levels. Nobody seems to know for sure.

5. Remember‑‑the first Sunday of the month is free! And other Sundays feature a

reduced price. There are also reduced fees for senior citizens and college students and anyone under 18 is free.

6. Knapsacks must left in the checkroom, so if you are close to your hotel don't drag too much stuff with you. You can waste twenty minutes checking and unchecking bags.

7. If you are looking for Monets‑‑there are hardly any here. Go to the Musee de

L'Orangerie near the Tuileries.

FYI: The Musee D'Orsay is located at Number One Rue de la Legion d'Honneure (formerly Rue de Bellechasse). That's just the street address. Actually the building is between the Seine and the Rue de Lille. There is an RER stop called the Musee d'Orsay (on line C) right in front of the building. This connects with Metro lines at no extra cost. The Metro stop is Solferino (Metro Line 12) . The museum is closed on Monday, and stays open late (9:45 p.m.) on Thursdays. Check out specific info at www.musee‑orsay.fr.

Barbara Hudgins is the author of Crafting the Travel Guidebook

C2007 Barbara Hudgins