Thoughts

Travels Around Montmartre

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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:

Sacré-Cœur

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.

One of the many gargoyles protecting Sacre Cour from rain and evil.
Don’t look a protective gargoyle in the mouth! You might not like what comes out!
Zoomed in on a fierce gargoyle

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.

Believe it or not, there is a cross under all that ivy.
On 1 November, Tousaint, families come out to clean and decorate graves. I don’t think these flowers are from then, though.
The effort to make many of the markers to look like churches is remarkable.
Perhaps these gentlemen are here to protect those laid to rest beneath or, otherwise, keep them company?
A very thin long chapel-like grave marker.
The interior of the chapel-like grave markers often feature a small alter to pray at.
The plate detailing the names and dates of death of those buried beneath.
There is a story of a family told here. The father dies young in 1873, his young daughter dies the next year, and the mother lives for the next 30.
The grave marker of a young decorated military pilot, Bertrand Dauvin
A very sad story of a 21 year-old pilot lost trying to break the record for longest flight in a single-seat glider
There are many variety of markers. Those with sculpture can be the most fascinating.
One can only describe it as a bust in a cave. It looks almost as if the front part has broken away.
I didn’t copy down the name of the musician resting here.
Such a statement of intense private grief simply saying “to my mother.”
This family chose to mark this grave with a giant nude statue of a man.
The 18th century painter and designer JB Greuze’s grave marker. Presumably the woman is his wife, AG Babouti, died 1795.
The family plot of Émile Zola. As I understand it, he was disinterred from here and removed to the Arc de Triomphe
A listing of those interred with Zola
I’m at the grave of the grave of Émile Zola! Émile Zola, everybody! Émile Zola!
Godefroy Cavaignac was a 19th century politician and minister of the 3rd Republic
A close up of the sculpture marking Godefroy Cavaignac’s grave. It is startling in its realism.

Image Attribution

“JB Greuze” by Calico Jack is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Categories: Thoughts

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Published by CalicoJack

It's been five long years of blogging the Trump years. We've laughed, we've cried, we've pulled some of our remaining hair out, but we've made it. It is almost done and our democracy, nation, and souls are still largely intact. Unfortunately, we're not through.There is much more to come as we stitch ourselves back together like some kind of common Frankenstein monster as we recover from the PTSD that Trump gave us and the needless deaths and suffering from #COVID19. We also have to keep #BidenHarris honest & progressive, oppose Republican obstructionism anti-democratic tendencies, and whatever other black swans await us. All of which will be addressed using good old-fashioned snarcky, sarcasticky, profaney fun and psychological insights.

6 replies »

    • Howdy Garth!

      How apropos given all of the events of the French Revolution that took place in the summer and spring:
      5 May 1789, meeting of the Estates General
      20 June 1789, the Tennis Court Oath
      14 July 1789, storming of the Bastille
      26 August 1789, the Declaration of the Rights of Man
      27 July 1794, the execution of Robspierre

      That they would compare themselves to Jacobins who were the most ruthless and cruel of the radicals is not at all surprising. That they knew who the Jacobins were, though, is.

      God help us if their authoritarianism grows any further than it already has.

      Huzzah!
      Jack

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