Day 2. We slept in a bit longer than we anticipated, but hey, we’re on vacation so we are entitled to do that. After grabbing a bite we dashed out onto the street to a start our day at midmorning. We walked from the hotel to the Montmartre area which is known for several things: quiet streets, a history of 19th century art, and a huge basilica made of white limestone, the Sacre Coeur (Sacred Heart). Our route to Montmartre was by way of Boulevard de Clichy, which happened to take us right by the Moulin Rouge.
This is right around lunch time, so we stopped off at the Buffalo Grill for a quick nosh and slosh, and proceeded towards the basilica by way of the Montmartre Cemetery. Note: if you’re trying to find your way in there, don’t waste time walking the perimeter to find the entrance. There are two ways in, and one is to use Rue Rachel. The other is a one-way ticket, so I don’t recommend that way. That wasn’t our primary stop, so we proceeded down the rue and up the hill in the general direction of the basilica. We happened onto a nice Place, which features a small church (Saint-Jean- l'Evangéliste) and an exemplary Metro entrance by Henri Gaudin. The church isn’t much to speak of, but entrance is free and it has some interesting stained glass. The architecture and features look strangely Celtic, but I don’t know enough of the history, or architecture, to say for certain.
And yes, the name Montmartre means “hill of martyrs” and it’s definitely a hill. You’ll get a workout walking up there. We stopped and rode the funicular up some of the steps and let me just say that you can bypass that activity unless you’re old/infirmed. It’s really not interesting at all, and more or less just a waste. So save yourself a few euro and take the steps all the way up. It’s not the most steps you’ll ascend in Paris. There are people literally littered all over the steps. It’s a nice place to get above the din of the city and experience the din of the buskers plonking out tunes on their amplified acoustic guitars, and the African fakirs hawking their fake purses, and the puppeteers deftly maneuvering their marionette guitarist/vocalist to the sound of Rage Against the Machine’s Killing In the Name Of… and the quaint if not pungent smell of urine in most corners. Yes, all of this and more can be in your Paris Experience! Actually, we did see and smell all of those things right there on the steps of the Sacre Coeur, but it wasn’t at all obtrusive. Except for the urine, which seems to be pervasive around Paris. My guess is that it is pet pee and it hasn’t rained for a bit ‘round these parts, since there seems to be an abundance of free public toilettes across the city. Side note: these toilettes are pretty amazing – the interiors are completely washed down and sanitized after each visit. You might even use the same one twice, just to test it: pee on the seat and then go back in. The pee is magically gone! In contrast, there isn’t much dog poo, but it is there. Watch out for Parisian poodle bombs. You can also find flowers all over the place (yes, I know it’s not much of a segue, but I really like this picture).
We didn’t go into the basilica itself this trip, instead we went round to the the tower entrance and proceeded up the 324 steps to the base of the dome. No, there isn’t a lift, and no it isn’t the most steps you’ll ascend in Paris. The basilica is made of a white limestone that gets white each time it rains. What a novel concept… no need to wash it! The ascent up the left side of the basilica isn’t a straight spiral upwards, as in the Arc. This journey takes you up a few spiral staircases, across the rooflines of some architectural features that I can’t name, and then upwards to the base of the dome. You then have an almost completely unobstructed 360 degree view of Paris. It’s rather breath-taking, as is the wind. Don’t expect to have a perfectly-coiffed ‘do after your descent.
Two interesting features you can peep from the dome are the artist’s square and what I’m calling Diagon Alley. For you folks who aren’t fans of Harry Potter, then you could also call this “Sell the Tourists a Bunch of Crap with the word Paris on It, or miniature Eiffel Towers” Alley. I think there’s a similar alley or two in Amsterdam except it features cheese and wooden clogs. More on that later. Anyway, you can see these two features from a few hundred feet up. Don’t miss it, because you’ll want to be able to scope your quick getaway when the 100 or so “artists” want to pimp you for a pastel or charcoal drawing of your and your wife. Or just your wife, back at his place, and you’ll pick her up tomorrow, right?
After descending from the dome and the basilica itself down to Montmartre proper, we proceeded directly to the aforementioned artists’ square and alleyway. These are really not that interesting, and you can proceed directly past them and just wander a bit and take in the gorgeous buildings that exude a sort of 19th century charm. The streets themselves even lend to this atmosphere, with tight turns and built-up walls. There’s even a vineyard tucked away among the buildings.
The whole of this area seems like it stayed back in 1890 while Paris grew up around it. We liked the area, and even got ourselves featured in a movie that was being filmed on one of the streets. I imagine it was some sort of art or film school student production, because they didn’t ask us to sign a waiver, and didn’t give us some cash for being extras. Oh well.
At least we stopped for a slosh (cappuccino time!) at the La Maison Rose, which was a great little joint. And I do mean little. If you decide to stop here, sit outside, enjoy the view (fall colors everywhere, and just that sort of old-towne feeling without the traffic. If you need to visit the toilette, be forewarned that it is a bit of a squeeze. Might want to save that for the sidewalk as the Parisians seem to do*.
Oh, and you’ll find buskers tucked into a few nooks around the artist’s square as well. We were treated to some fantastic** tunes rendered by cello, including some John Lennon classics and some other less appealing tunes. Some passers-by were really getting into it, and by it I mean some sort of alcohol because I surely do not understand why they were “appreciating” this subpar muzak. And I noticed this guy was really proud of his work, because the CDs were priced at a bargain of 20 euro. You gotta really love the cello, and punishment, to want this. Yo-Yo Ma would be turning in his grave if he heard this***.
Oh, and since there are tourists wandering around, you’ll also find some rather interesting behavior, other than “music" appreciation”. We were standing around admiring the scenery, taking some photos, and noticed this guy (on the left) taking a video of a guy (seated) while he ate a plate full of mussels. This guy, whom we’ll call Weirdy, just walked up, camera running the whole time, and stood behind the oblivious diner as he consumed his meal. After about a minute and a half of filming, Weirdy walked off, presumably to stalk someone else eating a more exotic meal.
After we satisfied a reasonable amount of wanderlust in the quaint, charm-filled area around the basilica, we proceeded directly to something less whimisical: the cemetery! Actually we were headed more towards the “lust” side of things as I was keen to get a picture of the Moulin Rouge windmill at night. But we had to pass across the cemetery, and I know Steph is a huge fan of buried people, so I thought it would be fun. You might recall how I mentioned earlier that there is but one way to get into the cemetery at Montmartre. Of that, I am certain as we walked around the entire facility trying to find the entrance, and it is not in the least a small cemetery. Autumn certainly lends itself to creating a strange feeling when it comes to cemeteries. Surely the barren trees of winter could evoke thoughts of death and hopelessness, and spring yields feelings of life and rebirth. Somehow autumn works differently. The tombs are bathed in a glow of light that isn’t sad, but isn’t happy or bright. The light wanes in the evening and gracefully exits, neither quickly nor shuffling; the golden and maroon leaves of poplars and sycamores slowly drop from their branches and seem to lace the tombs and mausoleums with crowns of yearning. That’s probably the best word I can think of to describe the feeling.
There are quite a few famous people buried here: Emile Zola and Honore Balzac to name two. Of note is the fact that you cannot see the cemetery from the street, save for the one bridge that bisects the necropolis. This bridge seems to have been placed very accurately, for some of the mausoleums beneath it are inches away from the structure. And, should you require use of the facilities, be aware that here lies the footpad and the hole. I’ll leave it to your imagination (greatly helped by way of the photo below).
We made it back to Pigalle, the area around the Moulin Rouge, and hung out for about 45 minutes waiting until after sunset so we catch the neon in action. I’m pretty absorbed with light at night, which is why we tend to do a good portion of our sightseeing is at night. It was quite interesting watching the people as well. We observed a pair of guys take pictures of each other in front of the Moulin Rouge for a good 30 minutes, and I am not in the least bit kidding. And, strangely enough, we also managed to get ourselves interviewed by a Croatian news crew who was presumably doing a bit piece on travel destinations from Croatia. They asked about safety, nightlife, and other things which I presume are of interest to Croats, like beer, waffles, and pancakes. Oh wait, that’s Amsterdam – never mind, Croatia! We did the interview and didn’t get paid for it (dammit!) but had fun doing it and got a picture with the hostess and camera man. I also got my neon picture too.
From there, we attempted to wend our way back to the golden polygon that has become our trekking path and managed to find our way down to Place de la Concorde, which is where they a) built airplanes, or b) signed a peace treaty, or c) executed people during the French Revolution. Bonus points if you can get the right answer(s). The Place leads down to the Garden of Tuileries, which isn’t very spectactular at night (it’s closed) and then to the Louvre. There is a neat obelisk in the center of the Place which, in typical imperialist fashion, was liberated from Egypt some time ago. The obelisk is 3500 years old. It’s worth a look as the view from the Place is straight up the Champs-Elysee and you can see the Arc in the distance. It doesn’t look that far, but it’s a tad less than a mile.
The Louvre is just past Garden, but is probably another 3/4 mile. We strolled down and took in IM Pei’s Pyramid entrance to the Louvre at night.
We walked around a bit, and then found a brasserie to take in a nosh and slosh. There, we decided that 15 miles was enough walking for the day, and being that it was approaching 2300 we decided to take the Metro back to the hotel. Steph liberated a KitKat from the vending machine while we waiting, and then it was off to bed.
*Yes, I’m kidding. I’m sure that’s all dog pee. Really.
**Crap. Difficult to contain laughter during performance.
*** Hearing this would kill him, and cause him to then turn in his grave. Yes, I know he’s not dead!
