The fountain at Centre Pompidou, on a warm, muggy day in May. Lots of people are milling about, workers coming and going from lunch, tourists planning their next move, lovers kissing or sharing a cigarette, and a small group of boys playing football in the courtyard of the old church across from the fountain. It was a perfect day to stay out of the museum and wander the streets.

But this is Paris in May, when the weather is at its most French. So, one day it is fountains and football, the next it is, well...

...a perfect time to go to a museum, and there is no better museum to spend a rainy day than the very same Pompidou.

The brainchild of then president Georges Pompidou, it is one of the leading museums of modern and contemporary art in the world. Also, it is housed in a fantastic structure designed by Renzo Piano and Richard Rogers. Just like the Eiffel Tower nearly a century before it, the uniquely exoskeletal building was widely condemned by the French as a monstrosity of architecture. But, slowly, like the tower across town, it won the people over.

It probably helped that it houses some of the greatest art of the last century.

From the works of Picasso, which shook the art world in their day and for which I have always had a fondness, to contemporary artists whose names I don't recognize but whose work does manage to trip me out none the less. Like this one, for instance:

"Aménagement de l'antichambre des appartements privés du Palais de l'Elysée pour le président Georges Pompidou"- There is so much going on here visually it would take a week to notice it all. And this picture doesn't capture half of it. I don't know if there is any deeper meaning or anything, but it is fun to look at. It looks different from every angle, with colors and shapes shifting along with your position. I pictured myself stepping inside the room (which the public is not allowed to do) and being swallowed into a whole other dimension. Trippy, like I said.

Then there is this piece. A long mirror with the image of a woman bending over next to a headstone, with a can in her hand. I surmise that she is watering the earth over the grave of a loved one, hoping some flowers will grow. Her tights caught my eye. I walked up behind her and took a picture. Suddenly I was part of the work - "The Creepy Bald Guy Taking a Picture of the Mourner in Green Tights" should be the new title. I felt both embarrassed and elated, and a little sad. I also felt a little duped, like the artist knew this is exactly what I would do. I am so predictable.

There were many, many more works to see. We did the best we could. But then it was time to go back out into the rainy chill of a Paris evening in May. We walked to a nearby restaurant that served Corsican cuisine - delicious helpings of country cheese, cured meats, and grilled vegetables. We drank champagne. The rain stopped. The next morning we rented a car and headed to Germany, driving through a sunny and warm French day in May.