Paris: Pere Lachaise Cemetery and Rue de Rivoli
In September 2019 I was blessed to spend two glorious weeks in Paris.
Ever since I can remember, I have wanted to visit the City of Lights. To leisurely explore the narrow winding lanes, eat in small cafes and boulangeries, and browse the window displays as I wander up and down the wide boulevards.
- To practice my (incredibly) rudimentary French, which I learnt in a “French for Travellers” course three months prior to my departure.
- To drink Champagne in the middle of the day and pretend this is real life.
- To watch stylish Parisian women on bicycles, in impossibly high heels and no helmets.
Paris in the early Autumn is glorious. The days were warm, much warmer than expected, and the rain held off except for about an hour on the second day. The trees hadn’t started turning yet and provided much needed shade from the heat on my frequent rests. Thankfully for me, Paris was everything I wanted her to be. Everything I dreamed she would be.
Today I learnt two things.
1. I am spatially challenged.
2. Handsome French men ride motorcycles
Pere Lachaise Cemetery
Perhaps the first one I already knew; I just haven’t had to admit it for quite some time. Using navigation apps is certainly different from using a good ol’ fashioned map! After a false start, where I stopped and asked a waiter for directions, I did eventually find the Pere Lachaise cemetery. Once inside the gates, the map I printed was extremely difficult to read. Essentially useless.
The cemetery, while incredibly beautiful and serene, is made up of narrow paths that twist and turn and make no sense at all. There are few right-angles. Straight lines are practically non-existent. For someone who struggles to know their left from right, I had very little chance of navigating to specific grave sites.
Making me feel a little better about my predicament, it seemed I was not the only one challenged by the map. There were lots of other people wandering around looking lost. Content, but lost.
I did find the resting place of Jim Morrison but only because that was the grave closest to the entrance I came in, and I attached myself – at a distance – to the one couple who seemed to know where they were going.
All the other graves I wanted to visit? Well, I didn’t. It was simply too difficult. I did go looking for Pissarro because it was supposedly close by, but I just couldn’t find it. The others (Edith Piaf, Maria Callas, Marcel Proust and Chopin) were at the other end of the cemetery, and I didn’t stand a chance.
Once I admitted defeat and accepted my search was futile, I made the most of the experience. Simply wandering the meandering cobblestone paths is enough. I sat on a bench in the sunshine for an hour and watched other people enjoying the peace and tranquility.
At lunch I managed to successfully order chicken with vegetables, and a small carafe of white wine.
I smiled a lot and believe that helped. For under 20 Euros, it was more than I could eat and drink. I had been told to expect excellent value lunches and I certainly wasn’t disappointed on this occasion; my first lunch in Paris.
I allocated 50 Euros per day on food, but now that seems ridiculous and way too much, perhaps except the days I am eating at the Ritz and le Train Bleu.
Dinner most nights, I expect, will be crackers, wine, and cheese purchased from the grocery store on the ground level of my apartment building, and enjoyed while propped up in bed, reading and writing my journal. There are so many gluten-free options to choose from, it’s quite overwhelming, and such a wonderful thing to see.
Place de l’Hotel-de-Ville
After lunch – which was a late and long affair – I visited Place de l’Hotel-de-Ville; an amazing building which now houses Paris Tourism and other city administration functions. Initially know as Place de Greve, it was the location of many early public executions and beheadings.
I also visited Place de la Bastille, which is where the Bastille prison was located until the storming of the Bastille in 1789. The July Column (Colonne de Juillet) which commemorates the events of the July Revolution in 1830, stands at the centre of the square.
Rue de Rivoli
The Rue de Rivoli was hosting a market, and like any market, there were wonderful antiques, rugs, old maps and beautiful furniture and jewellery. There was also lots of cheap, plastic rubbish. I chose not to buy anything, although I did fall in love with a four-piece silver tea service but couldn’t figure out how to get it home, or what to do with it if I could get it home. It remained where it was.
To know Paris is to know a great deal
Henry Miller
