the day the music died (Paris)

Never was there a happier sight for three bleary-eyed sleep deprived people than seeing the beginning of the stage being dismantled in the Place de la Republique this morning.  The nightly music would be no more.  

We knew we would be in for a difficult night because it was the last night of the free music in the Place.  Around midnight there seemed to be a surreptitious second beat.  Once the formal music ceased, this rose to be king of the night and the morning.  If it was a professional DJ he should be lynched because several times he allowed sufficient gap between his dull hip hop music to allow us to think the show was over.  And the music was loud.  Think really loud music from the house next door.  At 3:30ish the sounds of Abba's Dancing Queen were heard and as I reached for the knife it was swiftly removed form the turntable to be replaced by more hip hop.  At this point Jayne requested the window be closed which had marginal impact except to stop the airflow and increase the temperature in our room.  If I had known who to phone to get some action I would have dialled so fast ... but ... who knows.  We couldn't even be sure where the sound was actually coming from.  Sadly for everyone it stopped at daylight, 5:30am.  Sleep.  For a little while.

Paris:  Sacre Coeur

The lack of sleep almost threw our day's plans into disarray, but at 7:30 I was ready to get going for the day.  Plans needed to be adjusted, no time to go and buy breakfast, OJ and toasted left over baguette would have to suffice.

Once more into the metro.  We arrived at the correctly marked metro station 'Sacre Coeur' except once back into the daylight there were, of course, no directions.  Following the crowd seemed like a good idea and Sacre Coeur and its many steps - 225 or 300 depending on you source - was there before us (as usual the Catholics have to claim the highest spot in town and make you work to get there).  Having done our research, we were prepared for the 'string men' who approach, smile and wrap a string around your arm and then ask for money. No-one approached us, we must look formidable.

Up the steps we went, stopping for the occasional photo and to admire the view.  I didn't take many photos from the top because, although it was a beautiful cloudless day, the Paris skyline was a quite hazy.

I blame all the smokers

We were early for mass, so we scored a good seat, unlike Notre Dame where we were right down the back.

The Basilica is stunning in its beauty and grandeur.  So, it is a real shame that they do not allow photography inside, flash or no flash.  And while many an ignorant tourists ignored the request, I was not one of them.  The space itself is based on two domes.  The one above the altar contains a mosaic that has a 3D effect with the image of Jesus dominating it.  The dome above the people is brick and is lifted by stained glass windows around its top.  The stations of the cross are worked in tile mosaic as well and sit on the back wall on the altar area.

The dominant vista upon entering the Basilica is the altar and the monstrance.  The monstrance itself must be at least 3 metres off the ground.  I wasn't sure whether the blessed sacrament was on display or whether the monstrance played a significant part in the impact of the altar.  That was until just prior to mass commencing and one of the Dominican nuns picked up a remote and aimed it at the tabernacle and shutters came down around the monstrance.  OK then, no secret stairway at the back of the altar.

Although I could follow mass because I know the format, there was not a lot that I understood.  Thankfully, they had printed the readings for the day in a number of different languages on a sheet that was handed out as we came in.  Once outside, Cait and I compared understanding: and then I heard 'with' and the priest said 'Lord' a lot.

I love a good gargoyle

As with Notre Dame, the tourists continued the walk around the interior of the Basilica.  For whatever reason, smaller numbers, different floor types or something else, I didn't find them as distracting.  And their progress was halted completely to allow the priests to process in and out.

Sitting about 5 rows from the front, I thought we'd be among people who had come to worship.  Sadly not.  There was a passing parade of people who came to get a better look at the altar, and take a sneaky photo, during the service.  Oh, they were respectful, they pretended to look for a seat, sit down, cross themselves, take a snapshot, a quick prayer and then out again.  If God was vengeful like the Old Testament says then they would have been smote by a huge Monty Python God-like hand before they reached their bloody tourist bus.

After mass, we dawdled through the streets of Montmartre.  Yes, we shopped, need you ask dear reader.  Cait bought some things for people back home, we purchased our evening baguette from an award winning boulanger (and it was lovely, just finishing it off as I write this entry) and some wine.  Then to breakfast, well lunch really.  Yet another lovely meal.  The most interesting sight over lunch?  Hmm, it's a close call between the waiter who was clasping his cigarettes while he sucked on his ventolin puffer, or, the piano accordion player outside the restaurant who was moved on by police.  I mean, accordion playing is offensive, but to involve the police? Or was it the tour group member with dyed black hair, and bright purple roots? Hmm, her natural hair colour? We think not.

Back into the bowels of the earth, we caught the metro home.  On one leg we were accompanied by buskers playing a trumpet and saxophone - badly.  We were really pleased to change lines until ... what is that sound ... bugger, they had followed us.

Home to check the cricket score.  Sad face.  And watch the closing stage of an inspiring win by Chris Froome in Le Tour.  Cadel, champion that he is, can not win from where he is.  He doesn't have the team that Skye has put together.  Froome's domination made me wonder whether Wiggins really was injured, or did he spit the dummy because Froome was going to be the one the team was built around?

Then, back out for a spot of people watching and some afternoon tea (read wine, for the big people and ice cream - for Cait) at a cafe on place de la Republique.

There is not a lot to dislike about Paris.  I never feel unsafe.  The  beggars and hawkers always leave you when you ask.  BUT, the fact the people can't find a toilet is too much; visually and olfactorily.  Seriously, the smell in some areas is sooo strong.  I know we've copped it around where we are staying because of the crowds at the music festival each night, but I've seen boys and girls, relieving themselves just about anywhere.

Tonight, we hope for an uninterrupted sleep.

Until tomorrow.