July 25th; It is our free day. I have a public transport pass. We seek out the dead first in the catacombes of Paris. They were once Roman limestone quarries that fell into the hands of the French and were filled with the bones of those who were crowding the cemeteries.
Others sought the dead that day too; my last sight of Ryan was looking baffled in face of a map. He wanted to find Jim Morrison’s grave. The catacombes themselves are wonderful. The stairs descend for what feel like many more than five floors into the earth, and from there empty tunnels stretch for many kilometres. In total there are some three hundred kilometres of these tunnels beneath the city, and over six million people buried within the catacombes, though only a stretch of these are open to the public. Kate was scaring Ben as we walked through the first tunnels. They dribble off almost endlessly into blind corners and then dribble on again. A few items of graffiti adorn the walls, though they are largely bare. And then some sculptures carved by a once-sailor, once-caretaker, now-dead man, of various ports he had visited in life. They were from memory.
Then the tunnels widen somewhat and you walk into a squat but pillared room. Upon the pillars is some black and white ochre-like paint that brought to mind the face paint of those indigenous cultures of Australia and the Pacific, and they reminded me of death. The bones start through the next arch. Some people were scared. I was being a little creepy and guttered to Ben, ‘Ask yourself friend; do you fear death?’ It was good. The long bones, of which I presume most are of the legs and arms, are stacked nearly to the low roof, with many skulls adorning the top. Other lines of skulls sometimes adorn the middle, and every now and then it seems the bone packers had a burst of creativity and do something very special; crossbones, strange patterns of skulls that resemble prehistoric drawings of men, wheels of bones around skulls, and the occassional love heart. I can imagine the night; the crypt keeper taking his new fancy on a surprise date – she questions the huge amount of stairs she descends, led blindfolded down the huge bare alleys and finally having the blindfold taken off to reveal a candle lit dinner and thousands of bones. A scream! It is truly a magnificient place to visit though, it stretches for a long way, eventually leading to rooms dripping with water and atmosphere. You can feel the weight of the world above you.
Notre Dame is one of the greatest examples of Gothic architecture in the world. The inside is impressive and huge, but less impressive to me as it once would have been. Perhaps I have been looking at too many great cathedrals. The towers of Notre Dame, up more stairs, are perhaps the highlight of the building. It is here you can see the gargoyles and chimeras, as well as another wicked view of the city; the French seem to be obsessed with seeing it from high places. Or perhaps it’s just the tourists. I had a picture with Quasimodo’s thirteen tonne bell. We went to Saint Chappelles. It is not as big, but in my opinion far more impressive. It looks rather gothic from the outside, but within it is a great splash of colour that reminded me immediately of the Palace of Versaille – but only the good bits, packed down into one small room. It was up the stairs that the real treat of the structure is to be found; a high and colourful roof, a nicely tiled floor, and the most spectacular application of stained glass I have ever seen in the world. The room is filled with an ethereal light of every colour, the great arched windows of the long walls and the great circle upon the far wall. People make lots of noise. The loudspeaker rings out the occasional ‘Shhhhhh,’ booming through the room like the voice of God. People stop making noise.
Ryan had to be found. Ben gave him several bouts of terrible instructions. What was literally a walk around the corner turned into a half hour epic. The Garnier Opera House was next. We were the very last people let in. It’s another grand building, but seeing a good four or five of the greatest buildings in the world a day or two before lessens the impact a little. The marble grand staircase is quite impressive. There are lots of statues of the great composers of the years as well.
Tour le Eiffel. We walked a good three quarters of the way there. It was a long walk. Kate was tired of walking, and in the heat I don’t the doubt the others were too, so we caught the subway the rest of the way. We boarded a train, after some difficulty navigating the platform system, which was two stories and looked like it was built for long distance excursions. The others were a little worried. ‘I wouldn’t get it wrong!’ I exclaimed. ‘The information lady told me it was on this platform – I trust her more than I trust your rudimentary French.’
We had seen it the night before, when we were all rather intoxicated, and taken a photo with the armed guards underneath it and watched the light show roll by. The Tower by day is as impressive as it was at night. It really is just massive underneath it. From a distance it’s clear on the skyline, but beneath it feels like there is no sky. It’s just a huge bulk, all rivets and steel and wheels. We waited in line for a long time. The top floor was closed but opened just before we went up. We caught an elevator up. It’s quite an impressive system. As you slowly rise up the giant wheels in the pulleys roll past and down the windows. Once you get to the second floor you have to take a smaller elevator to the top. It was crowded.
We stood up the top for a long time. I stood in thought and the others sat in a corner and talked for a long while. I do not know what about. I left and they soon followed. They do not know, but I stood in the lower top level waiting for the elevator. They joined the line at the top. They got on the first lift and I got on the second; they are a good five minutes apart at least. They thought I had ditched them. I left them to think as much.
Two things about France I feel I should mention now; number one is that all the police carry mean looking guns. I could name most of them if I thought about it for a while. I think I saw some MP90s around. Waiting in line at the catacombes and a police car, sirens on, drove by. There was a man leaning casually out the back window, holding a shotgun not too differently from the way you or I would hold a pencil. Very casually. Not long after that car, another drove past. The man in the front passenger seat was leaning a submachine gun on and out o the window.
The other thing: the general attractiveness of the population. Whereas in Dublin, where finding an attractive woman was a rarity and in fact eluded us completely, most women in Paris would be considered at least amiably attractive, though many are quite beautiful. Perhaps Dublin simply depressed me and lowered my standards, but I do not think so. Dublin.
We walked the surrounding streets of Paris for more than an hour or two afterwards. I was looking for food; Cassoulet to be precise. The others looked like they were looking for food. I found my Cassoulet but the restaurant was bordering on expensive and I didn’t want them to go where they didn’t. They agreed. A good half hour later, when everything was closing, they said they didn’t even want to eat. I was more than a little annoyed. Plus, they never mentioned it. And they looked at every menu! I had gotten a bit annoyed earlier on in the day, so it topped it off for me. We caught the train back to our bus stop. It was quite a long journey. I got a few pieces of pancetta from the supermarket. As Ben and I came back the bus was leaving; I saw Kate on it. It had stopped at the lights, but I realised Ryan wasn’t there. I decided not to jump on; rather I walked a bit further, to the stops. Ryan was sitting rather out of it at the stop for the 112. Our bus was the 101. He hadn’t know the bus had even gone. I had taken a gamble and it paid off – Ryan would be coming home that night.
When we got back it turned out that everyone had been drinking since the dinner at camp, and many games had been played – I never, some name-remembering games which included throwing things at each other, all sorts of stuff. I started up some Irish dancing, talked for a while and went to bed.
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