So today we took it relatively easy, a no-set schedule excursion to Montmartre. My mother decided to take a rest day, which turned out to be a good idea given that this was the most stair-intensive day we've had since we've been here (just to get out of the Abbesses Metro station required what seemed like a ten minutes hike up a neverending spiral staircase). The whole Montmartre thing started out as a downer ... too many tourists, a hazy day (obscuring the view), Sacre Coeur not nearly as interesting as many of the other, older churches we've seen.
But the day turned better after that. Next to the gigantic Sacre Coeur is the small St.-Pierre de Montmartre church, built in the 12th century by Benedictine monks. Much more interesting, in my opinion, although not nearly so grand. We then hunted in vain for a place to eat lunch, concerned that we'd get bad food at an inflated price in what was obviously a tourist area. We were in a Tabac getting a Diet Coke when and Suzie asked the shopkeeper what he thought the best restaurant in the area was. He directed us to the third restaurant on the left down an obscure sidestreet, the Butte en Vigne (named, we think, because Montmartre was formerly vineyards), and it turned out to be a gem of a place: a 10 euro menu with delicious carpaccio as the main dish (only later did we tell the boys it was raw meat ... eeewwww), and a delightful owner who gave us the courtesy of having an extended conversation with us in French. (As an aside, Will and Andrew are finally showing some interest in the language, and it is interesting to note that they seem to have picked up something of the intonation just from being here a few weeks.) We ate a leisurely lunch and finished off the meal with coffees afterwards (Suzie and I both agreed that we were getting into the long lunch thing pretty well now). Afterwards, we got away from the touristy area and walked into the nearby neighborhood. Charming, smaller buildings that most of Paris, and narrow cobblestone streets.
Eventually we wound our way down the hill to the Cimetiere de Montmartre, which we walked through for about 15 minutes, looking at the old tombstones and crypts. (No, Boyd, we didn't make it to Jim Morrison's grave; can someone tell me why it is he is buried in Paris anyway?). We then headed to the Gare St. Lazare, to see the trains and the scenes. En route, a downpour hit (a daily occurrence, but delightfully refreshing) that forced us into a very inexpensive and delicious boulangerie, where we refueled on pain au chocolat and more coffee (now, now, it only seems like we just ate). After the Gare St. Lazare, we headed again to Au Printemps for more shopping. At some point during that experience, I hit the wall, and by the time we got home, I was whipped.
One notable thing happened today: We ran into our first surly Frenchman. He was the cashier at Au Printemps. Suzie had brought her purchase to him, and he very gruffly picked up the box, turned it over and over, and informed her that it did not have a price tag on it (as if this was something that she was responsible for). Suzie, being accommodating, ran over and got another box, which had a tag that Mr. Gruff could scanned. But the second box was dented, and Suzie had checked the contents of the first box to make sure they were all OK (effecting a return from Santa Rosa being problematic), so she tried to ask him to put the first box in a sack rather than a second. Mr. Gruff was having problems with the sack anyway (he couldn't seem to get it open wide enough), and perhaps for that reason he simply ignored her. Finally she spoke louder and he finally acknowledged her, although it took him longer than it should have to accept the logic of what she was saying. In retrospect, I think he didn't want to deal with trying to put another box into the sack, and he was probably relieved when I just did it myself. The whole exchange was funny, and even though Mr. Gruff was, there didn't really seem to be any anger there, it was more that he was just suffering from le ennui, boredom.
Tomorrow we are up early, to take the train to Versailles.
Yes that is a black cat, which we saw in the cemetery.
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