Chapter 9: Montmartre

Montmartre is an interesting area. Kind of urban-meets-tourist-meets-flea market all crunched together. It felt a bit faster paced there than in the other parts of Paris (and Paris in general is pretty fast paced.) It was too crowded and I felt a need to separate myself immediately before I got pick-pocketed. Yes, it was that part of town. Another weird thing that added to the flea market vibe was the large amount of Nigerian immigrant peddlers there. I'd seen them around the Eiffel Tower selling their light-up plastic souvenirs, but this part of town seemed to be a bit more comfortable for them. It was a little intimidating at first for me. Because they were direct immigrants they would forgo certain etiquette that I'd come to expect from living in the states (and big city living in general) and act as they would in their native country: yelling and running around crowded areas, pushing each other (in fun) without regard for the surrounding people and shouting in groups at attractive women as they walked by. Go with the flow Coire heh... Once on my way out of the metro station I was blocked by a crowd of Nigerians blocking the exit and beyond that (although I could not see) I heard large firecrackers going off in front of the local newsstand to which they roared in celebration. These were large explosives - not for sidewalk use - and I wondered how the poor newspaper guy was taking things, where the cops were, and if they were even coming or what. A little weird, that's all. But back to Montmartre: as I got past the first couple blocks I headed uphill and it felt a bit like SF. There's something about a city built on a hill that's complimentary to both man and nature. It makes you feel small, humbled. Looking down the winding streets and alleys was spectacular.

I stopped in a cafe and got myself a mushroom and cheese quiche. The girl behind the counter spoke pretty good English and helped my find the right way through all the twisted roads and odd-shaped intersections to the Sacre-Coeur. I really wanted to stop at a cafe and have a beer but I decided to continue onward; I was too excited to wait. I walked up this back-alley that was in fact a front side path for many apartments and met this sweet old lady and her dog. They complimented each other perfectly. She spoke little English but I appreciated the desire she had to learn about me. I found this kind of openness often during my stay. I looked back down towards the cafe feeling the breeze from above and taking things in for a moment.

The farther up I went the cooler it was to look down. What a view! When I finally got to the top I found several flights of stone steps that weaved up to a winding driveway and the backside of the Sacre-Coeur. I really enjoyed my half-assed (or as I like to call it "unplanned") approach to sightseeing. I liked being one of only a couple people when I got there - nothing worse than meeting a sea of tourists. It began to sprinkle almost immediately so I tried to get a few shots in before I got my umbrella out. Somehow the rain fit the energy perfectly. When I got to the front I saw what the big deal was; I felt like I was in Amelie! It stopped raining a bit and I got a picture or two. Inside was pretty intense as well. They didn't allow pictures, but I remember rows and rows of pews divided at the pillars that supported the sides, and a large path straight down the center leading to a giant gold alter directly under the onion dome that I'd seen from the outside - that was amazing to see inverted sitting underneath it! The alter area had six or so mini-alters each holding a statue, flowers candles and such. The light came through stained glass windows on all sides. I recall the smell of stale musty air, which I thought added to the charm of it all. What isn't charming about a place like that?

Back outside I stood looking out upon the city at the top of a giant stairway (another fun thing about coming up the backside was that I'd saved this part for later!) Midway down the first level a guy that looked a bit like Lenny Kravitz played covers of Bob Marley songs through a PA for the tourists. Can't win 'em all I guess. The rain began again and I headed down the steps, which curved around to the right and made my way to the bottom. Past the shops and bars I found the metro and headed back to Lotfi's place. Side note: It only rained five out of the 14 days I was there, but I really enjoyed it- there's just something about the rain in Paris...

After I got home I went down the street for a walk and ended up in a really cool marketplace that was in fact in an alleyway. It was filled with restaurants, vegetable stands, fresh fish, pasta - you name it. I bought some fresh hand-made pesto ravioli to take home. Yumm.. It started raining again and I stopped just east of the pasta stand under an awning and had a smoke. I felt at home in a European alley surrounded by rain.

Later that night Lotfi and I worked out a few songs, but decided it best if we went to Digo's house to get his guitar in trade for the one I was using. He lived just south of Paris so we walked it. Interesting how things change almost immediately after you leave Paris - it's hard to describe. Anyway, we hung out at his place for a bit, which was interesting. My how I love the smell of hops...