I had a very, very bad hangover today. I do not recommend my hangover to anyone. It is because all of that wine that the multiple cafe waiters poured for us last night. This is a picture of me, hungover in a children’s park and feeling bad for myself.
That said, I’m also in Paris and things must be seen. After rolling out of bed at 11:30 am and having one of those weird 15 minutes where you can’t even bring yourself to shower or brush your teeth because both will involve having to hold your arms over your head for more than 5 seconds, I went for it and I finally got my entire head of hair both washed and dried. After another short recovery break, I ventured outside of Rebecca’s apartment and stood blinking and cowering at the sun like a vampire-mole hybrid before dragging myself to the U Express where it took me far too long to find a small apple juice and an actually cold 2-liter bottle of water.
I’m not sure what this says about me, but my proudest moment of this trip was when I stumbled back outside the U Express, blocked a bunch of sidewalk traffic, shouted a defiant “Pardon, pardon!” To said disrupted sidewalk traffic, ripped open my jus de pomme, drank the entire thing in 8 seconds, and then folded myself over with my head between my thighs, hands on knees, panting. It was the universal sign of a human not yet ready to surrender to her vicious hangover, and I think people actually may have looked at me like I was kind of cool and maybe lived here and not like a jackass tourist. Either way we were all connected in a moment of collectively acknowledged human affliction.
But I digress because this post is about Montmartre. Which is my favorite. And the most beautiful and magical tourist Mecca of all all tourist Meccas.
Here is Le Sacre Coeur in all it’s glory. It’s a giant Roman Catholic basilica built in 1919, and it is even more exciting because it’s basically the entryway to I think my favorite neighborhood in the entire world, Montmartre. Walk up to the Sacre Coeur and then head to the left, take another left, right, left, and you are in Artist’s Square fairytale land.
If you think of all your favorite scenes from all your favorite Parisian cityscape paintings, plus Beauty and the Beast, plus Amelie, and your weird and unfounded Parisian dreams, you’ve got Montmartre. It’s all cobblestone and cafés and windmills and artists on display. Plus tons of tourists and touristy keychain stores and portrait painters and €15 glasses of cheap wine, but in my jaded opinion this is the only place in the world save Disneyland worthy of the tourist prices and accoutrements. It is heaven.
My favorite two things are the café-encircled artist’s square, in which you can meet any number of artists “in residence” offering anything from charcoals of the Eiffel Tower to a pastel self portrait, and the snakey cobblestone side streets that take you up or down a 70-degree pitch from the heart of Montmartre. And perhaps a close 3rd is sitting by myself at an overpriced cafe, watching visitors wander by, and actually enjoying the cigarette smoke that whoever next to me is blowing into my face with zero effs given. Heaven, it is, here.
We ate at the most amazing fondue joint of all time here in Montemartre, tonight, as planned, but just liked the museum posts, that will come later. Until then, au revoire, because it’s actually Saturday Thanksgiving and I’m 5 days behind time on posting and I’m tired. Food and museum posts soon!