The Year of Cezanne, or, Christ, get me out of here.

Did you know it was the Year of Cezanne? Yes. Paul Cezanne was an Aixois.
The official word:
"2006 has been officially declared as the 'Year of Cezanne' reminding us that it is the hundredth anniversary of the great painter’s death, in 1906. A number of celebrations honoring the artist are planned around the world such as a Cezanne show in Washington DC from January to May. But if you are an admirer of Cezanne… you must come to Aix-en-Provence and follow his footsteps amidst the Provençal landscapes he loved and celebrated all his life.
The Museum of Fine Arts in Aix will hold its Cezanne exhibition from June 9 to September 17, 2006 and over 100 major works will be displayed, on loan from museums all around the world (80 oil paintings and 30 water colors)."
Alright!
Having once again left Paris without stopping at the Louvre (gasp), my art-guilt really kicked in once I got to Aix and I knew that it was Cezanne or Bust. I could not bear to return home and answer the question: "Did you see the Cezanne exhibit?" with a "No."
Now, we went to Aix just by chance, b/c I thought it'd be very nice. Meanwhile, thousands of...let's call them pilgrims...made sure that they were in Aix this summer to study this collection of paintings. The pre-sale of tickets was an idea long abandoned, and the dealy was that you had to go to a specific place; stand in line; and they would issue X amount of tickets for that day; and you would go that day. I did my recon and was resolute in my strategy, so despite ingesting lots of pizza and red wine late into the night at La Grange, I hauled myself (and Wyatt) out of bed the next morning pronto! so that we would be in line by 8:30. When we got there this was the line.
The doors didn't open until 9:00 a.m., so we stood there for a (yawn) half hour, and then the line slowly started to snake around the corner...
...until we at last got to the front door...
...so that we could step through the door so that we could wait in line so that we could get to get to the counter to make the purchase.
We did that.
Wyatt was not very happy with me.

We got our tickets, and then headed back to the hotel to shower, try to obtain some coffee & toast scraps, and meet up w/Troy's mom, who was completely refreshed from a leisurely morning and rarin' to go.

People still in line for tickets that don't exist. Wyatt considers collapsing into the fountain.

Uh, that was a no-go on the shower, b/c by the time we got back to the hotel it was time to turn around and get to the museum. The crowd was so thick that I worried about whether or not we could get to the entrance, despite having the designated time slot. Once we got inside, we were packed like pickles in a jar, shuffling from room to room. The paintings were exquisite, of course. but with all the jostling and heat, I got to the point where I really didn't give a shit about Madame Cezanne or the nude bathers, and it all just seemed like tree after tree after tree and a mountain. So, we blitzed through the last of the rooms and sprinted to the exit, and felt so relieved to be free!
I may sound like a pleb, and maybe I am, but if someone asks me if I saw the exhibit -- which, no one has -- I can say I went, but I can't really offer up anything that intelligible.

Me: Can you take our picture as proof that we were here? Thank you![grimace]
Wyatt: Therapy, I need therapy.