Paris II

By the morning of the second day in Paris I was tired and worn. My body was aching. My feet were blistered, my shoulders were sore, and I could feel the sweat from the day before lingering on my skin. I hardly felt as if I could take another day like the one before it. But somehow it worked out. I mustered the energy to get out of bed, showered, and made my way to the Metro.

My first stop was to be Montmartre, a vibrant, once very artistic quarter - now more of a tourist trap, but still worth going. Unfortunately, I got off at the wrong Metro exit. Normally in Paris this is not a big deal. If you get off at the wrong Metro exit, often the one you meant to get off at is only a block or two away. However, for those of you who don't already know, Montmartre is located on the top of a massive hill in the center of Paris. If you exit the Metro on the correct side of the hill, you can take a lift to the top. If you exit on the incorrect side, you have to take the stairs.

Having never been to Paris, let alone Montmartre, I was completely lost. According to the Metro map, I wasn't far from Montmartre. But I certainly wasn't in the legendary Parisian art district. As I approached the stairs (which I now know lead to Montmartre) I began to hear church bells. Knowing that the Sacre Couer is in Montmartre, I knew the district must be that way; however, the idea of walking those steps on that morning was unbearable. I could hardly fathom the feat as a possibility. Still, I mustered the courage and the will, and began mounting the steps to Montmartre, bells to the Sacre Couer chiming as I climbed.

When I reached the top I rested. I sat down, drank my water, and ate a sandwich I had bought that morning at a local grocery store in Laumiere. I watched tourists snap photos of the view, and knew that I'd done something they hadn't. I knew that I'd earned my right to that view. I'd earned my place, if only for the day, in Montmartre. I stood, snapped a photo, and headed to the heart of the quarter, the Sacre Couer.



Reaching the Sacre Couer, I was exhausted. I'd hardly slept more than eight or nine hours since I'd left Louisville on the 19th. Today was the 21st. I stopped, sat down on the steps outside the church, and admired the view. Nearly the entire city of Paris can be seen from this vantage.

Eventually I stood up, and walked inside the church. As I entered, I realized mass was in progress. At first I thought this odd. No where else I'd been had been holding Mass. Then it dawned on me. It was Sunday morning. This was Sunday morning mass. I sat at an empty pew, expecting to sit only for a moment, but could not get back up. Mass in such an incredible structure, even in a language which I speak very little of, was overpowering. I was in awe. Absolute awe. I sat through the entire mass before making my way around the rest of the basilica, and then exited via the front doors.



After leaving the Sacre Couer, I wandered for some time about the quarter of Montmartre. I watched musicians play, artists sketch, and people carry about in restaurants and shops. I bought a scarf, a painting, and walked through the Espace Dali (a museum of Salvadore Dali's early work).

Leaving Montmartre, I walked down the hundreds of steps of the "correct" side, and wandered to the nearest Metro station. From there I took a train to Montparnasse, had a baguette with tuna, and got in line for the Catacombs. What I did not realize was that the line for the Catacombs moves very slowly, and the caverns are shut and locked at 4:00 pm. I waited in line for about 45 minutes, and was then not permitted to enter. I had to wait until Tuesday morning before I would be able to return.

I did, however, snap a cool picture of this Lion statue in Montparnasse:



That night was the Fete de Musique, an annual music festival in Paris where the entire city comes alive. People are playing bongos and guitars at restaurants, and people from the street come and gather round. A number of bands and DJs set up around the banks of the canal. Everybody drinks and dances. I danced until the sun went down and all the restaurants closed their doors.

The next day I headed to the Latin Quarter, a vibrant center of learning where many university students may be found, as well as the head of the University of Paris system (kind of like the University of California, it is broken up into a number of different campuses, but work under the same university umbrella), The Sorbonne.

After this, I headed to Sainte Chapelle and the Palais Justice. I had to pay to get in, and did not think it was worth it. Also, a very rude German couple tried to cut me in line. I was not happy about that.



Jill and I went to dinner that night at a small restaurant not far from the canal. We had kippers, which were not good, and steak, which was wonderful. We talked to a woman about the Sans Papiers (Without Papers), illegal immigrants who are allowed to live and work, and do pay taxes in France, but are not given any rights by the government. The majority of them are African immigrants from former French colonies.

Afterwards, Jill and I walked back to the hostel, and I went to bed rather early that night.