Thursday morning we went out on a suitably rain-soaked morning to visit the Catacombs. We had to wait in the queue outside for a while -- they try to keep the numbers relatively low, so someone has to leave before you can go in. It's all very charming and low-tech... old-school turnstiles, some yellowed postcards at the ticket desk, and then a steep spiral staircase. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust, though there are lights.
First we walked through some pretty empty tunnels created out of the old stone quarry. It seemed to go on and on, and I wondered if maybe I had been misled by the pictures I had seen. Perhaps there's only one ossuary room? But then, eventually, we passed a sign: "Arrête, c'est ici l'empire de la Mort" and came to the corridors lined with that must have been millions and millions of carefully arranged bones. Some were simple -- just lines and lines of femurs, with the "knee joints" on the outside. Others used other bones for decorations -- some had patterns of skulls, for example -- while others had insets of tombstones or other carved stones.
I was really pleased that they limited the number of people who could be down there at any one time -- it meant that quite often we had rooms to ourselves. And most people stayed pretty quiet in the catacombs... except a bored-sounding tour guide. It was surprising how many bones there were -- they just went on and on. I began to imagine holding a goth wedding in the larger rooms. Probably wouldn't be allowed by the authorities.
It was almost a relief to climb the spiral stairs at the other end of the tunnels and emerge into the still-wet, but brightening Paris morning.
Later that day we made our way to the Institut Pasteur to visit the museum. Not sure what to expect, we just turned up and had a battered "guidebook" thrust in our hands as we were taken into laboratories lined with display cases crammed with relics. There were displays on crystallography, his work on yeast and fermentation, his work on anthrax, and, of course, his work on rabies. Hand-blown glass jars of various shapes and sizes, filled with various items... including the (okay, to me) very recognizable "rabbit spinal cord dangling in a jar". (Tiny thrill.)
But then we were collected, along with two other hapless visitors, and taken upstairs to Pasteur's apartments -- typically overstuffed and overfurnished rooms, lots of awards, some random art, flocked wallpaper. Could have been anyone's... though slightly amusing to find it in a city, rather than in a country house.
But then we came to my favorite part of the tour... the trip to the crypt. A glorious mosaic arched ceiling depicting several of his great achievements... snarling dogs, happy cows, frolicksome bunnies, and laden grapevines. And in the middle, a big black marble sarcophagus. Oh, and a bronze death mask. Awesome.
I had hoped to go back up to the "gift shop" (they had some books and postcards), but we were basically then escorted to the exit. Methinks the museum staff are just grad students bored out of their mind.
In the evening we made our way to Montmartre and wandered around following a "walking tour" from the City Walks card. First we stopped at Cafe des 2 Moulins -- aka Amelie's cafe -- and drank red wine at the bar while smiling at besotted tourists (and feeling besotted ourselves). Then we climbed up the hill, seeing the Lapin Agile and a restaurant, whose name I have of course forgotten, that looked amazing. But I had other plans.
We were wandering around, thinking everything was beautiful and quiet, and wondering about out next trip to Paris, finding an apartment there, etc. Until we rounded a corner and the street was suddenly full of drunken teenagers. What? Crazy noisy busy icky. Romance completely gone. We made our way up the steps to Sacre Coeur and had a quick wander around the very pretty church, then back outside for the view over the city. The hub-bub made us not want to linger, so we wandered off.
Eventually found our way to our dinner destination, Au Grain de Folie, a vegetarian restaurant. Let me just say... this place was bizarre. It maybe seats 10 people who know each other very well. We arrived and there were two people in the place... they had a certain haggard look to them... but we sat down, got our menus, and prepared to be amazed.
The wine was okay -- basic red table wine, drinkable without being noticeable in any way. We had starters and a main... and waited about 20 minutes for starters. Tasty something or other... perhaps a salad with a bit of goat cheese on toast? It's been too long to remember. But it was okay. After we finished our starters, the two other diners left. I should point out that we were the only two people in the restaurant at this point.
A good hour later, we got our main course. It was... hmm. Nothing special. Quite a bit of random small collections of food. As if perhaps she had rummaged around in the tiny kitchen and scraped various things out of tupperware and arranged it on a plate. We also had the distinct feeling that she was drinking plenty of the house red herself... she kept wandering by the table and chatting with us... as we sat there, without food.
After our main course, we sat there for a while... until she came back and told us that she had made a lemon cheesecake that she was very proud of, and thought we should have some, Um, okay. It was indeed good, in that "little bits of lemon peel" sort of way.
We were probably in there for 2 hours. No one else came in while we were there. How does this crazy old dear survive?
When we left, I told Wil to take a photo of the facade to remember it. As he was framing the shot, she came sprinting out to pose in front of her restaurant. Adorable.... if crazy.
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