Our tiny apartment is in the quaint district of Montmartre. It is a lovely district full of hills and green spaces, lively cafes, neighborhood shopping opportunities, La basilique du Sacré-Cœur, Cimetière de Montmartre, and les prostituées de Pigalle. The last week or so saw Ye Olde Blogge renewing his acquaintance with some old haunts in the district and enjoying some interactions with the locals in their native tongue, which for many would seem impossible given the reputation of the French for hauty rudness.
As an added bonus, today is the 14 July or 26 Messidor by the French Revolutionary Calendar. It is the day that the French got spooked and stormed the Bastille in1789 to nab the guns and gunpowder to defend themselves against all the tyranny from Louis XVI — Ha! If they’d had themselves a Second Amendment, they wouldn’tna needed to go steal themselves gunpowder and muskets and cannon, they’da had all the AR-15’s they’da needed to fend off the royal army and furry mercenaries. Stupid French.
Anywho it became a day to celebrate French identity, nationality, and independence. They’ve got military parades and fireworks and a fire fighter’s ball! It is just on the next block from us!
We’ll have to wait on pictures from that august affair. Following are some pics from other favorite places:
One evening we walked up the hill to Sacré-Cœur the venerable old chapel overlooking Paris. We didn’t take many pictures owing to me forgetting my phone at home, but here are some lovely pics Ma Belle Femme took of the gargoyles overlooking the building.
I always loved the gargoyles of Paris. They protect from rain and evil.
Cimetière de Montmartre
French cemeteries are a sight to behold. The grave markers are much larger than a tombstone and can be quite elaborate. Given space is at a premium, the caskets are stacked one on top of the other. Graves sites can be purchased in ten year leases or in perpetuity. However, if a grave is badly neglected the family to required to contact the cemetery to make repairs, or the grave will be removed. As families die out, the graves deteriorate, and are eventually removed. Entropy, it seems, catch us up to us all.
Many of the inscriptions are quite legible and tell a story of sorts. Here’s a small gallery of the pictures we took that day.