Just as Friday began with a promise of lousy weather and didn't disappoint us, so Saturday began clear with the birds singing, promising a day of spring -- and again we were not to be disappointed.
Susan had to go to the shop -- only one more week left now -- and that left me to guide our guests through the sun-drenched streets of Paris. Naturally we spent quite a bit of time in the Metro.
We walked to Saint Marcel and took the no. 5 to Stalingrad (not the battlefield just the metro stop in northeastern Paris) and switched to the no. 2, getting off at Anvers. We then strolled up the very earthy, very frenetic rue de Steinkerque, past the fabric shops, the tacky souvenir shops, weaving our way among the throngs (I love that word) throngs of tourists trying to figure out why they decided to come here in the first place. At last we reach the steps that ascend up, up and up to the very big, very white and very big and white Sacre Coeur basilica. (photo above: Miss K and her entourage.)
So on and up we went past the very annoying and pushy string bracelet vendors, climbing up and up and up (you got the point that we're going up here right?) until at last we were at the entrance to the church, where, upon turning around caught sight of one of the more breathtaking views of Paris. Besides being the traditional home of the raunchier, seamier, more uninhibited side of Paris, Montmartre is also one of the highest points in the city and of course still maintains much of its original architectural heritage, having largely escaped the waves of huge hi-rise apartment buildings that infected much of the rest of the city after the Second World War.
After walking in and out of the church we strolled over to the Place du Tertre, where several dozen artists were trying to make a euro or two. There seemed to be two distinct groups of artists at work here: those producing work from the mind (maybe from a scene recalled or an idea they sought to define through paint) and those producing work "on-demand," the portraits painted in a half hour, the men hovering on the periphery cutting out silhouettes by the handful -- and doing a very nice job of it to mind you. While it was nice to see the different and often very appealing "serious" artwork (whatever that means) the mass of tourists, the groups moving to and fro like schools of fish looking confused over which direction to head to next, all conspired to urge us to move on. So we did. (photo below: everyone needs a nap after dinner.)
We walked downhill to rue des Abbesses where we found a nice place for a quiet lunch and afterwards walked down to the Boulevard de Clichy, home of a variety of sex shops, seedy hotels and the Moulin Rouge. Glen and Christina were both let down by the smallness and crude and cheap look of the place -- Miss K on the other hand seemed undistruvbed as if she knew all along it would be a waste of her time. The area is rather like the Times Square of the 1970s, and on the outside the Moulin Rouge is just a nondescript building with a kitschy red windmill stuck on top. (It supposedly looks better at night. I have no idea what it is like inside. Dinner and show €140-170 per person off seasonBy the way one of the most famous Can-Can dancers, Louise Weber, known as "La Goulue," and who claimed to be the creator of the French Can-Can, is buried nearby in division 31 of Montmartre cemetery.
After all of about 5 minutes looking at the Moulin Rouge we hopped back on the metro and found our way back to the 5th arrondissement. We walked over to see Susie at the shop where we had the chance to meet the mysterious Misato:
And of course the MacD's had to buy some more chocolate.
Since we caught Susan as she was about to finish we took our time walking back to the apartment and then decided since it was so nice we would sit out front in the little place across from our building and wait for her to show up. Naturally she walked right by us and next thing I know she's calling me wondering where we are? Where are I ask? Upstairs! Hey, I said, look outside!
A few minutes later she's ready and off we go back to where we left off on Friday: starting from the Tuileries we walked through the Place de la Concorde, up the Champs Elysees and a little before seven got on the metro at the FDR stop, swtiched to the no. 6 at Etoile and got off three swtops later at the Trocadero. we had to show them one of our all-time favorite sites: the Eiffel tower with the "champagne" lights on. Everyone agreed it was well worth the stop.
We returned to the metro and took the no. 6 to Place d'Italie. From there we walked to a nearby pizza restaurant where we had eaten a couple of weeks earlier. Everyone had pizza (except for Glen who tried and enjolyed the calzone), washed down with some fine Dolcetto d'Alba. By the time we left the place was filled and so we were we -- so off we went to hotel and home.
Wish you had been there,
Steve
(photo below: a father and his daughter together again.)
No comments:
Post a Comment