Paris 2.0

I knew I wanted to see a few different places than I saw during my first visit to the City of Lights. I perused my Euro guidebook for tips on sites I hadn't seen and circled spots of interest. After some self-reflection regarding places I'd highlighted, I learned something really deep about myself: I really like dead people. Seriously, three of the places I noted had corpses as the main attraction (we ultimately only visited one).

With my dead-people fascination in mind, our first stop in Paris was the Catacombs, a dark, musty labyrinth of subterranean tunnels decoratively packed with millions of displaced corpses. The Catacombs occupy only a small fraction of the abandoned stone mines that twist for 280 kilometers beneath the city.

The empty mines became the mildly-disturbing-but-intriguing bone depository that they are today out of need and availability. Paris needed space for dead bodies, and the abandoned tunnels offered virtually endless space. The city's cemeteries were quite literally overflowing with human remains back in the 1700s. Decaying organic material was seeping into the water supply. Parisians were being buried en masse and then exhumed once their flesh gave way to bones that could be stored above ground.

It sounds like it was a pretty gross situation, and the solution was almost equally as gross: put the bones of 6 million people into black-covered horse-drawn carriages and transport them into the mines over the course of two years. Then, stack them decoratively and make it a tourist attraction.

Sure, it's morbid and a little disconcerting, but you have to admit it's kind of cool. At the entrance is an inscription in Latin reading "Stop! Here lies the Empire of Death." You really can't imagine how many 6 million skeletons are until you see them piled many-bones high and many-bones deep.

The Catacombs aren't circular, so where you begin is not where you end up. We emerged out of a strangely nondescript exit on a residential side street. We figured we'd wander and stumble upon a good spot for lunch, but we quickly learned an important lesson about Paris (which I had forgotten since my last visit): It's expensive.

From what we saw, French meals started at about 15 euros and went up from there. Aside from the price, there was also the issue of not being able to read the menus in the non-touristy area we were in. So, like the vile Americans we are, we went to the only place we felt at home, McDonald's. Every time I eat there abroad I do so in shame, but a BigMac can fill me up for 6.50 euros, so it's a matter of economics, really. We vowed to eat at a French place the next day. (Later that night, our Christmas Eve meal was pizza and fries at a Middle Eastern pizzeria/crepes place.)

Christmas Eve in Paris.

Fortunately, entrance into Notre Dame was free. The place is beautiful, it really is, but on the scale of great European churches, it's not at the top of my list (read here if you want to hear me rave about the cathedral in Sevilla, Spain).

For Christmas Eve mass there, we showed up about 50 minutes early, waited in a cattle chute-like line and then headed in to take our seats about 3/4 of the way to the back. It was officially an "international mass," and we thought maybe there'd be a copy of everything in English. There wasn't. The mass program listed a couple of readings in English, and the Gospel was read in English, but aside from that, everything was French and Latin, neither of which I speak. We couldn't understand anything, really, but (mostly) everyone there shared a common belief and a common purpose, and we can all understand that, right?

The more impressive church, in my opinion, is the Sacre Couer Basilica in the trendy, artsy Montmarte district, and entrance to the main sanctuary is free there, too. (You can pay to go into the dome for better views, but the church steps have wonderful panoramas, and you don't have to spend a dime.)

I hadn't visited the Sacre Couer before, but once I saw pictures, I was kind of ashamed I hadn't heard of the place. How do you go to Paris and not realize there's a stunning white-domed basilica high on a hill, keeping watch over the city? I'm glad I made it there this time - and I have no complaints about the 400-some steps we climbed to get there.

We strolled through quirky Montmarte, through the ubiquitous Paris prints, postcards and tacky tourist bags. We found what, in our naive tourist eyes, seemed like a relatively authentic French restaurant offering two small courses and a dessert for 15 euros. We had promised ourselves to eat something like it, so we grabbed a table inside the tiny place. I had French onion soup for my first course, which was delicious. I ordered a chicken fillet with herbs for my second course, but the waitress messed up and brought me spaghetti instead. I didn't have the heart to point out the error. For dessert I had a crepe. So, I kind of ate French food...? Right? Right?

Way too cute.

Pardon this jolting transition that really isn't a transition at all: I really, really dislike art museums, so the Louvre's massiveness in and of itself gives me anxiety. But it's kind of sinful to go to Paris and skip one of the city's most iconic spots.

This doesn't even begin to capture Louvre's scale.

Even so, I would've committed that sin a second time (I didn't go there on my first Paris visit) had Todd not been influenced by his travel conscience - "I think I might regret not going in to see the Mona Lisa when I was so close." I've got no definitive proof, but my assumption is that, like me, many people go in there to see the Mona Lisa and some of Michelangelo's marble handiwork. The problem is that this crush of clueless tourists vying for position to view the Mona Lisa makes the place all the more miserable. The portrait is behind a wall of glass, so it feels distant, impersonal and institutional, quite frankly. If you like art, the Louvre has an amazing array of it and is without a doubt worth visiting. But if your primary motivation is seeing one of the most prized and famous paintings in the world, the 11 euro entrance fee is just too much.

What is worth your money, however, is the Eiffel Tower, even if it is cliche Paris. We took a 2-mile riverside stroll to see it at night, and it was worth every foot ache-inducing step.

The tower itself is stunning illuminated in yellow, and the same is true, too, for all of Paris. The city has an electricity at night - it's loud and alive and perhaps a bit obnoxious but in the most glorious sense of the word. A bit of hard-won wisdom regarding the Eiffel, though: Buy tickets in advance to skip the entrance lines.

That's all, folks.
Un saludo,
Teresa