I think of Oscar Wilde and the fickleness of pop, popularity (Paris)

and thank you to Leonardo's Bride and their song The Problematic Art of Conversation for today's title.

Pere Lachaise

Today was one of those lazy days you have when you are on the go.  Time to slow down a little.

The workman next door were right on time at 7:30am and I tried to ignore them, unsuccessfully.  The area they are working from is a courtyard surrounded by 6 storey buildings, so everything echoes, not that they would care.  They drop things, they shout to one another, they throw things, they are working, why should anyone sleep?

After a leisurely breakfast and a Skype and phone call back home, we set out once again on foot.  I was a tad concerned about this and we stopped at a shoe store on the Place to see if I could buy shoes a little more conducive to the distances we are walking each day.  It's sale time and they had a number of pairs I was interested in, but not in my size.  So, time to suck it up princess and walk on.

Pere Lachaise is a cemetery in Paris where a number of famous people have been buried.  Jim Morrison, the late lead singer of the band, The Doors, generally gets top billing by the tourist crowds, but they are merely catering to pop status.  His grave was relatively easy to find, even without the map that other wanderers had in their possession.

There were many other grave sites worth a visit: Balzac, Gertrude Stein, Marcel Proust, Moliere, Sarah Bernhardt and Max Ernst, to name a few.  The graves were not always easily found and we spent quite some time looking for Ernst's grave.  Cait studied him at school, he was an artist of the Dada movement.  As it turns out, we did find his grave, but there was no visible marking, just a photo of a man and his wife.

We did find the graves of Edith Piaf and Oscar Wilde.  Curiously, Wilde's grave is behind a perspex barrier which is covered in lipsticked kisses.  Even if the great man was alive ladies, you'd be barking up the wrong tree there.  Or perhaps I'm, being narrow minded and the kisses were from boys.

Maybe the kisses weren't from the ladies.

Even the undead have a resting place

After a few hours searching, largely unsuccessfully for celebrity headstones, we found an exit and decided on lunch before the walk home.  Another stock-standard corner cafe, another lovely meal followed up with a delightful coffee.  You can't help but wonder why the fare is so variable in quality at home.

Refuelled, we renewed the search for a bottle shop that sold Larmandier-Bernier champagne.  We found the first one easily, but it didn't re-open after lunch until 4pm.  We were 30 minutes too early.  Walking on, we found the next cave, this time, 10 minutes early, but in a bout of most un-Parisienne behaviour, the shop attendant arrived early and opened the store for us.  Success!  I purchased two bottles of different varieties of champagne.  They have recently increased their range and re-named their old range, so I'm not completely certain of what we were drinking at home.  Sometimes, you just have to put your hand up and volunteer to be the subject of an experiment.  I will publish the results when we pop the corks over the weekend.

For once, I was home in time to see the last 40km of Le Tour, that hasn't happened since we arrived in Paris.  Cadel is still in the frame, but with every passing stage where he doesn't pull back any time on Froome and Contador, the task becomes more insurmountable.  That said, just to finish Le Tour is a massive achievement.  

At the moment, the music is gearing up in the Place, so no doubt it will be another alcohol fuelled Gen Y party scene tonight.  Sadly, it concludes tomorrow night.  While I enjoy a glass of wine and some cheese, as I write this post, it has suddenly dawned on me that we haven't planned tomorrow.  Ah well, we'll see what the day brings.  Markets, at least.

The girls are watching the BBC news of a train crash outside Paris.  I posted on FB, as did Cait, that we are OK.  Thoughts and prayers to those involved.  It doesn't look good.