Au Revoir Paris

Today was our final full day in Paris, and we decided to set out on foot to find and explore an area we had not yet visited, the Montmartre quarter in the 18^th Arrondissement.  Montmartre is an elevated area in Paris, and at its summit is a beautiful Roman Catholic church called the Basilica of Sacré Coeur de Montmartre as well as the famous Artist’s Square on the Place du Tertre.  It had been an optional experience on our tour and some of the tour group had visited it yesterday.

Join us for a stroll with our Local Specialist through Montmartre – an artists’ village once home to Picasso and Toulouse Lautrec, tucked away from the modern city. The paint will still be wet on the canvasses, as we watch apprentices work before our eyes in the famous Artist’s Square.  Mingle, barter, and stand in awe of Sacré Coeur Basilica in this historic, bohemian neighbourhood.

It was a little over two miles on foot, but it was cooler than it had been in Nice and I had recovered from most of the effects of Covid.  Navigating there was a little tricky.  There was no direct route, but using a combination of Google Maps (which provided streets and landmarks but no directions) and a compass, we managed to zigzag across an unfamiliar part of Paris until we could see the rounded dome of the Basilica ahead of us.  We were on some narrow streets unlike the wide boulevards in the 17^th Arrondissement, but as I have noted before we felt completely safe.

On the way, we descended off the main street into a large area called the Cimetière de Montmartre, dating back to 1825 and 27 acres in area.  Readers of this blog may know that I especially enjoy cemeteries, Highlands Memorial Park and the Old Burying Ground in Beaufort being two of my favorites.  This was truly a beautiful place, though, unlike any cemetery I had ever seen before.  We wandered up and down cobbled streets marveling at the crypts and the gravestones, some of them 200 years old but some of them quite recent.

We finally found ourselves on a wide boulevard, divided in the middle by a tree-shaded sidewalk and bicycle path, the Boulevarde de Clichy.  It was very pleasant walking there, away from the traffic, and on the way we passed the famous Moulin Rouge cabaret which some of our tour group had visited the previous evening.

The area just past the Moulin Rouge was what I can only describe as seedy, although nothing like similar areas in cities in the US, with  private clubs, cafes, and gift shops.  We lost sight of the Basilica, but found it again at the summit of a steep street, the Rue des Martyrs.  There was a lot of pedestrian traffic up the street, a mix of obvious tourists and young people who looked like artists and students.  We stopped for lunch at a little café on the corner called La Fourmi, located in what looked like a very old building, and struggled a little with the menu and the language barrier, which is always a little exciting.  We both ordered the croque-monsieur végé (zucchini, and comme-ci comme ça) and an amber-colored IPA (délicieux).

After lunch, we started up the Rue des Martyrs, zigzagged through an interesting little area filled with more cafes, and then began climbing what turned out to be many, many steps.  I was still a little fatigued from Covid and have to admit I was a little winded at the top.  But the views up there were spectacular - we could see the Eiffel Tower in the background - and the landmark which we had been approaching all day was well worth the climb.

Just around the corner was the Place du Tertre, a large shady square with cafes all around, packed with artists at work displaying their art and sketching portraits of tourists.

We stopped for a basket of bread and a glass of cold Côtes de Provence rosé at a little brasserie called La Mère Catherine, which I later learned was one of the oldest restaurants on the square.  We were packed in very tightly, shoulder to shoulder with what seemed to be mostly tourists.  We noticed that a woman next to us had ordered something we had not yet tried (and would not try) – beef tartare, which seemed to be served everywhere in France this time of year.  We had seen it on menus all over Paris as well as in Lyons and Nice.  Apparently it is safe to eat this dish, which consists of a cylinder, perhaps the size of a stack of a half dozen pancakes, of raw ground beef.  The woman consumed the bloody dish completely.

We took a taxi back to the hotel, driven by another interesting driver.  He had been all over the world, including many places in our country (Niagara Falls, Las Vegas, Florida), and he seemed to have enjoyed it all equally, a modern-day Ulysses in a taxicab.

We had been looking forward to a final dinner at Que Pour les Gourmondes, the little sidewalk café across the street from the Hotel Mercure where we had eaten our first dinner in Paris when we had arrived more than two weeks ago (see post of July 13).  We learned that they did not open until 7:30 p.m., which is a little late for us but the time most Parisians enjoy a leisurely dinner.  We waited for them to open and were glad we did.  The same jolly young waiter helped us, and we learned that the chef was his mother, who made an appearance at one time to chat with a friend who had dropped by.  The Salade Gourmande du moment this time was fresh fruit, mostly melon, with feta cheese and some of the best lean Serrano ham I have ever had.  The entrée was salmon with a spectacular sauce of some kind.  And we could not resist the dessert as well!

This was our last evening in Paris, and it made me think of Humphrey Bogart telling Ingrid Bergman (although in a slightly different context), “We’ll always have Paris!”  We had a toast with the usual Côtes de Provence rosé and watched the sun set over the skyline of Paris.

It had been a beautiful day, and despite the interruption of our tour by Covid, it had been a beautiful adventure in France.