November 6, 2006: Bell Towers and Cemeteries

So Monday we really did hop out of bed at a decent hour, though with two of us to get dressed and ready and then head to the pastry shop and café, it’s still not “early” by the time we really get going. Oh well. We had decided to do Notre Dame first thing in the morning, so we could make sure and actually DO it—since I had bragged to everyone at home that we were going to be climbing the 400 steps to the top, it just wouldn’t do to go home and have to face the music.

They only let 20 people go up at a time, so we had a short wait before we were allowed up the stairs. The stairs were crazy! Very narrow, winding, and steep, and with a worn-down spot in the middle of each step from centuries of people (monks?) going up them. It seemed like we climbed a thousand steps before we finally came out into the open, and what a view! We got some great shots of the gargoyles and the spire, and of course of the scenery (though it was a bit hazy that day). Then of course as we wandered around we saw another worker who asked, “Going up?” We still had more steps to climb! Fortunately all the other tourists were in about the same shape—we did pretty well, I think, as far as keeping up and not slowing down too much. Finally up at the top (which, really, the first stage must have been only have the number of steps or something, and then the second stage must have been the rest? I didn’t actually count…) we were at the top of the belfries, and suddenly the bells started ringing! It was beautiful! I was disappointed to find out that no person actually rings the bells—it’s all electronically done these days. Bummer! But we did get to go into one belfry where they had one of the oldest bells on display—it was gi-normous! We wandered around a bit at the very top (I took a picture of the lightning rod;) and then we headed back down the nine million steps so that another 20 people could come up. (Well, it certainly felt like nine million!) By the time we got to the ground, our legs were quivering. But it was so worth it!

Since our legs were all watery and tired, we decided to take the bus to the Pere Lachaise Cemetery. We didn’t make it that far before we got off, at Saint Paul (the edge of the Marais district). We were hungry so we wandered around a bit looking for restaurants and found this great little Italian place. It was super busy, and our waiter was kind of a jerk (we’d had better!) but the minestrone was absolutely fabulous, and we had a pizza with salmon, mozzarella, and crème fraiche. Have I mentioned that in France they eat things like pizza with fork and knife? After our fabulous meal we hopped back on the bus and made it to the cemetery. We wandered through it a bit—I wanted to take a picture of Jim Morrison’s grave, which actually had a guard posted by it. We found some other very interesting graves as well, including that of Heloise and Abelard, the oldest occupants of the cemetery. Finally after more wandering around we realized the time and practically ran out of the cemetery before we got locked in, and we caught the bus again to go home. I think the bus went all of two stops before everybody got off—except us. We just thought the driver was taking a break or something, until finally he told us, “Fini!” Okay, then! So we hopped off and backtracked a bit to take the Metro to the Canal St Martin. By this time it was dark so we did the canal walking tour pretty quickly, but we saw a canal lock and a drawbridge or two—as well as some bum “villages”: they had tents, chairs, and I think even a couple tables set up under the bridges. (We saw them from on top of the bridges—we didn’t go near them.) Then we took the Metro home and stopped at a bakery for sandwiches and the grocer’s for salad and a jar of soup. It was all so good!