Hello, Montmartre, hello!

My last day in Paris started off with saying goodbye to my hosts, and to Lauryn. We were off in different directions (she was headed to Bruge next, I to London, and we had different things we wanted to do). I went off to the Musee Carnavalet (the Museum of Paris), which was phenomenal, but I'll have to come back 10 times before I start to wrap my head around it. (It's like how I need to reread The Power of Myth now that I've gone to Europe and encountered the Virgin Mary obsession viscerally.) Went down towards Notre Dame. Stopped by St. Paul St. Louis because I passed by and it was open, and found it quite delightful.

Went to Notre Dame for mid-day prayer. It was a Saturday and so the place was packed. (The other time I went inside Notre Dame was a Thursday.) People packed into the aisles, circling the cathedral, getting pictures. I took a lot of pictures this break, but the picture shouldn't take priority over the experience. Take time to sit in cathedrals. You can find time, you can cram a LOT into a very short trip (I should know), while still taking your time wherever you are.

The service was a bit chaotic because of the presence of so many tourists. I ducked out of the mob and into the nave as soon as I could, finding myself a seat by a column. Pictures were being taken constantly, which made me feel a bit like an animal in the zoo. Not an unfamiliar feeling for me, being a Christian in New York, but still. No ill will, though, just different. If being there and witnessing that can provide some lightness to anyone, it's all worth it.

My French is not good enough for me to understand the service, however, my knowledge of worship services and ecclesiatical Latin is such that I was rarely lost, and the service was a nice moment of stillness. After a quick lunch where I chatted with an Italian guy (who was with a Colombian girl) for a while, I went down to the Musee Delacroix. Incredibly sweet. Actually got a little emotional when I came to the room where he died. (you've been making me fall in love with him this entire museum and then you talk about his death in this small room with his student by his side? You're not playing fair, Musee Delacroix.) Walked through the Tuileries Garden, which had some modern art thing going on so it was even more filled with art than usual, up to L'église de la Madeleine, which is one of the churches Lauryn visited while I was in Chartres. (She seemed to think that L'église de la Madeleine and Sacre Coeur could compete with Chartres. False.) I saw it and said, "No. No way that's a church, Paris, you have to be kidding me." Saint-Saëns and Faure were organists there. WHAT.

From there, walked up to the Cemetery at Montmartre, because, while I'm thinking of classical musicians, Berlioz was buried there. Beautiful, beautiful cemetery, quiet, with a lot of cats, really interesting visually. Wandered around the direction of Berlioz and Nijinsky. Thought Nijinsky's grave looked awesome before I even realized it was Nijinsky.

Nijinsky.

Berlioz

Wandered around back streets of Montmartre to get up to Sacre Coeur. Montmartre was the most familiar and comfortable of most of the places I've been in Paris. Some parts reminded me of Prague, many of the Village. (I stumbled across the fabric district at one point, along with the pleathora of places to buy cheap shoes.) Sacre Coeur was beautiful, but I favored the small church next door, St. Pierre de Montmartre. Lauryn was at Sacre Coeur for mass and was obsessed with the acoustics. Wish I could've stayed for that, but after Sacre Coeur I headed down to Gare du Nord to catch my train back to London.

But, just after I'd walked down the steps from Sacre Coeur, I was approached by a street vendor making bracelets (like the friendship bracelets I could never master making). He was very persistent, he was black, and he h

ad an accent that was definitely not French. So, when he asked where I was from, I said, "America, but I'm living in Africa right now." Turns out he was from Guinea. I did not buy a bracelet, but we chatted for a little bit. It was almost nice to have a very persistent vendor come up to me and try to sell me something, because that's very familiar to m

e right now. (I thought, "You have NO IDEA how equipped I am to deal with your sales pitch at this moment of my life.") Where was I, Montmartre or Osu?

Leaving Paris was a bit sad. I liked it there, and now I was starting the "returning" leg of my journey. Back to London I went, on the Eurostar.

Can anyone explain these abandoned baguettes to me?

Here are more Paris photos, taken by Lauryn so they're pictures with me in them. (LOOK MA I'M IN PARIS photos.) I noted that these are really "the many faces of Happy Colleen".

Can we talk about how long my hair is? Because it's LONG.

Baguette. Church. PARIS.

Outside Notre Dame. Had no idea she took this.

I LOVE BOWLER HATS!

This is a pig. (a what? a pig.)

Gaaaaaah!

This might be the happiest picture of me ever taken. Someone should take a picture of me when I return to PHTS and see which one is more joyous. Though, really, I make this face a lot.