My first week in Paris

It's been a grand and glorious seven days in Paris -- or nearly so. The weather has been truly remarkable: some mornings it begins chilly and rainy only to turn complete around by midday and turn sunny and warm, requiring a return home to change clothes. Certainly makes for a challenge to one's dressing for the day. (photo: painting in Pere Lachaise.)

Susie has been very busy this week with candies and chocolates; several early mornings and late evening days. But she continues to learn so much more about the incredible sweet world of French desserts (next week croissants!).

Me? I spend my time strolling the city paying my respects:

Even though it’s a rainy morning, on Wednesday I walk up rue Chemin Vert to Pere Lachaise to say hello to Sophie Blanchard and Jane Avril. As I was heading up the hill toward Jane Avril’s grave in division 19 a young Italian couple stop me to ask directions to Jim Morrison’s grave. Surprisingly I find myself replying comfortably and confidently in Italian. I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same way about French.

A few moments later, as I was nearing Jane's grave I noticed a British couple nearby looking a bit perplexed. I asked if they were looking for someone in particular (usually it's Oscar Wilde, Chopin or Jim Morrison). Why yes, do you know where Jane Avril is buried? I smile. As a matter of fact I'm on my way there right now.

A curious world indeed.

I spent Thursday tracing the final movements of Charlotte Corday. (You can read my detailed account of those wanderings along with photos right here.) I also paid my respects to Amiral Gaspard de Coligny, the hero of the French Huguenots and one of the truly great men of Sixteenth Century France.

Late in the day I returned to Pere Lachaise. I found it packed with crowds of flaneurs, wanderers, people strolling, looking, smiling, talking, just taking in the quiet history, the peace and harmony of this wonderful place.

What is it about Paris? Besides Pere Lachaise, I mean? It is Pere Lachaise and so much more: here I find myself connecting the past and the present, connecting my readings with the physical spaces in which those tremendous events took place, such as those final days of Charlotte Corday’s life. For me strolling Paris, past well-known landmarks such as the Place de la Concorde or the Conciergerie is much like walking the battlefields of Normandy or Gettysburg. (photos below: Place de la Concorde and the Conciergerie.)


It's also the small things, too, like the plaque on the gate at one of the Jardin des Plantes with the name of a young man shot down by the Germans during the liberation in August of 1944. Paris is filled with the large and the small bits and pieces that have brought it and me to this point in space and time.

I crave the energy of a city that does sap my own spirit but augments it daily, hour-by-hour.