I don't think I've done anything quite like this since YSO's one free day in Rome last spring, in the course of which we grabbed a map and spent the day sprinting around the city in an effort to see as many famous things as twelve-ish hours allowed.
A friend and I decided to avoid the Tour de France crazies yesterday and took off on a sightseeing tour instead. He wanted to see the Paris catacombs and I wanted to see Pere-Lachaise, the cemetery full of famous dead people including a bunch of composers, so we started with the catacombs.
If you go to Paris, really, you really don't need to see the catacombs. Trust me.
I figured the catacombs would be full of creepy little chapels and lots of slots in the wall where people were buried, and besides, part of the French Resistance had its headquarters there during WWII, making it cool to those of us who are fond of history. The idea of a city beneath the city was certainly intriguing, provided the ceilings were high enough. Although I wasn't naive enough to think that I wouldn't be seeing any actual human remains, the implications of the word "ossuary" didn't really register with me. The first kilometer of abandoned limestone quarry tunnels (before the ossuary) was interesting in a featureless sort of way -- I guess they run all over the city and some of them are actually ancient -- but the sign over the entrance to the second poorly-lit kilometer declared ARRETEZ! ICI C'EST L'EMPIRE DE LA MORT, and, naturally, there was only one way out by that point: through the second kilometer of mines, which was... full of neatly-arranged bones. If you REALLY want to see, google-image it (though I don't endorse this). It's something I probably should've thought to do ahead of time. On the bright side, however, the ceilings were all of a decent height, and I could see far up and down the tunnels, so I avoided blind claustrophobic panic everywhere except for the spiral staircase at the end.
Really, don't go to the catacombs of Paris.
In fact, it's not necessary to go to Pere-Lachaise either. Half the avenues are unlabeled on the map you will purchase for two euros, which means you will get hopelessly lost among the strange little death-houses (family chapels) that line whichever avenue you happen to be following. Hey, at least it's full of fresh air and trees -- in other words, it isn't underground.
Bizet: one of the three famous musicians we actually managed to find before getting lost (the others were Enesco, who was next to Bizet, and Rossini, whose body is actually in Florence).In a bit of shock from our morning we walked to the Bastille, pastries in hand, and from there to the lively, good-smelling Marais, Paris's old Jewish quarter. We ate the best falafel ever and declared ourselves recovered from the morning.
Bob l'Eponge.
Place de la Bastille
Falafel!!!
Celtic harp on the street.After some shopping we eventually made our way to Ile St-Louis for the best gelato ever and discovered Paris Plage, Paris's summer festival down on the quais next to the Seine. They dump sand along a few kilometers of quai, set up cafes and crepe stands, and everyone has a great time. We also discovered a live band in front of an important-looking building and wandered around Notre-Dame a bit afterward. And lo and behold, we found ourselves in front of the Shakespeare Bookstore, an English-language bookstore full of interesting things, where I located a long-coveted collection of T.S. Eliot. A trip through the Latin Quarter for paninis and we had had enough, the horrifying morning having long since melted away into a warm late sunset.
