Day 2: Walking Literally
to the Grave (yard)
The day dawned bright and
sunny. K and I hadn't agreed on a set time for breakfast and I
wasn't sure if he wanted to accompany me on the days adventures.
Especially since I had decided to visit the famed cemetary Pére
Lachaise. Seemingly dark business for such a sunny day, but the
place was known for it's stunningly elaborate tombs and headstones,
as well as for it's famous residents such as Jim Morrison and Edith
Piaf. Allowing myself to sleep in until 9am, I made myself ready for
the day and drew up a note for K in case he hadn't quite gotten
himself over the Singapore jetlag. But after knocking on his door,
he seemed game for what I had planned and we set off in search of
breakfast and a leisurely walk around the neighborhood. Our
wanderings took us down a few narrow alleys, revealing pleasant
discoveries like the Paris Observatory and stunning views when the
road sloped downwards.
We soon came upon a small
bakery and I got my first delicious, sweet, flakey, buttery crunch of
a real french croissant and couldn't resist trying it's rich,
sinfully decadent sibling, the pain au chocolat.
After breakfast, we
ventured on, heading in what we had hoped was the direction of the
river. We soon stumbled upon an intersection where on the opposite
corner lay the famous cafe, La Rotonde, a place frequented by the
likes of Hemingway and Picasso.
After finding ourselves
quite far in the opposite direction of the cemetary, having come to
the Seine nearly as far west as the Musee d'Orsay, we consulted my
map to make our wanderings slightly more calculated. Of course,
being on the sparkling river on such a beautiful day, we had to take
the photo opportunities as they came.
As we made our way towards
the cemetery, passing through some of the more “Americanized”
neighborhoods with Starbucks, McDonalds, and KFC all accounted for, K
and I talked about the past and its impact on life in the present.
We barely noticed the length of our walk, well, my legs would beg to
differ. Finally reaching the cemetery's border, we found along the
wall leading up to the entrance a small flea market, selling
everything from furniture to books, to clothes, to kitchen wares.
There was even a gown that looked like it was from before the turn of
the century, although Alisa would have to confirm that.
We walked through the large
stone gate and I was stunned at the city like landscape of its
inside. Each tombstone was like a tiny building, room for only one
(although in some cases, even more). Rows and rows of them sprawled
out and climbing up hills of green, shrouded by leafy green trees,
the sun shining in hazy golden panes through their leaves.
A map just beyond the
entrance pointed us to the two graves I was set on visiting. The
first was that of the passionate medieval lovers Heloise and Abelard
with their ivory white, church like structure, lying statures raised
in Snow White fashion side by side underneath.
The second was of Francis
Poulenc, a french composer of the 20th Century who lived
and worked in Paris during that Renaissance of artists, writers, and
musicians. His music had often found its way onto my recitals during
my conservatory days, the first of which was the tragic song of
longing, C. I admit, I felt a bit emotionally overwhelmed in the
presence of his grave.
Now that our long walk had
finally caught up with us, K opted to find a sunny place to sit and
wait for me while I explored further. I ascended up the hill and
marveled at some of the more ornate graves, especially those with
exceptional sculptures.
But feeling tired and a bit
hungry myself, we caught a cab back to the hotel. K decided to lay
low for the rest of the day until dinner and I fancied a small picnic
in the Luxembourg Garden. We made plans to meet at 7:30pm and set
off on our separate ways. Changing into shorter pants and sandals, I
set off in search of the gardens which appeared to be quite close by.
I found my map to be a bit deceptive, though, as the walk was longer
than anticipated (made more taxing from the long walk in the
morning!). But I did find it, stopping quickly at a sandwich shop to
get a baguette sandwich. I wanted to find a small bottle of wine,
but had no luck.
The Luxembourg Gardens
consisted of great fountains, beautiful arrangements of flowers, and
small decorative patches of grass. While in Munich, one would have
wide stretches of grass on which to lie upon, Paris provided green
chairs which people would drag along the graveled ground to their
preferred location, sometimes two for their feet. I followed suit
and selected a sunny place near the large central fountain which
offered not only an ideal place to watch the kids sailing their
sailboats, but to see the Eiffel tower peeking its head above the
skyline, as if to remind the park's occupants where they were. So
with exhausted feet propped up, munching on my baguette, and
listening to the podcasts of Coffee Break French to improve my cafe
and restaurant vocabulary, I spent a lovely couple of hours.
The sun soon grew too hot
and so I retreated to the shade of an outdoor cafe nestles under the
trees of the gardens. Over a glass of rosé, I read a bit and
enjoyed feeling quite Parisian. I then explored a bit of the garden,
finding a beautiful sculpture headed pool and the stately senate
building.
Upon exiting, I found out
how Parisians react when a bit of grass is allowed to
them...Müncheners would laugh...
I let myself get lost for a
bit and delighted in the cozy, lovely apartment and the astounding
buildings that could be waiting around every corner.
I arrived back at the hotel
in time for a 20 minute nap before meeting K for dinner. His choices
for meals seemed a bit atypical for being in France. His proximity
to Italy caused him to seek out a good pizza, an expectation which
unfortunately fell short the night before. But this time, the quest
was for Argentinian Beef. Naturally, I was game. The beef one finds
in Germany leaves much to be desired and I had heard of the quality
of Argentinian cows. We were directed to a place slightly north of
the Marais neighborhood. Our waitress surprised us by being quite
multilingual and while K spoke English with her, I happily spoke
German. She recommended an outstanding Argentinian red wine and we
feasted on beautiful filet mignon with thick cut fries and delicious
grilled vegetables.
All was topped off with a
decadent chocolate mousse in a mango sauce. Probably one of the best
meals I had in ages and aside from the potatoes, I neatly finished
off every bite. When we returned to the hotel, it was time to say
our goodbyes. K was continuing on to New York where he would be
recording demos for the musical he has been working on, and I was to
switch hotels and go the rest alone, starting bright and early to
arrive as the doors opened to the Musee d'Orsay.
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