Day 69...Alas poor Yorik - 3rd September

In Nathans words, got up early to look at some fucking dead people.
Ate warm yoghurt we had tried to cool in the sink overnight (we are sick of croissants and coffee, as well as trying to save cash). Then we trained it straight to Montparnasse to the catacombs.

Basically in the 1700's Paris' city cemeteries were in the middle of town and overflowing. To deal with the problem, they dug everyone up from several cemeteries and moved them to an underground disused quarry. Someone had the idea of making it look nice, so the piles of bones and skulls are arranged in packaged patterns. We walked down the stairs into a dark quarry tunnel. I was in a weird nervous anticipation. Death is so forbidden in todays culture, and there were going to be dead guys everywhere. The quarry itself was cool, you could see marks from where they worked on it. Then we turned a corner and there they were! Thousands and thousands of them. I couldn't get over the number of bones everywhere. It felt weird. Death is such a protective subject and to stand face to face with piles of skeletons of your own species is just bizarre.

There were no barricades or anything, you just wandered around amongst them. I wanted to respect the dead, but curiosity got the better of me so I touched a few skulls. eeew! One guy was sifting through leg joints and pelvic bones stacked behind the skulls. So wrong. It was also weird to know that these were 300 years old. Nate was simply weirded out at having to stare at someones skull first thing in the morning. I was waking up too, so it was hard to feel or gauge anything for what I was seeing. The main thought though, was that I now understand why men want to conquer things and have their name in history. Staring at these thousands of uknowns (1.6km of them in fact) who lived and ate and loved and stressed, to become nothing - really drives home. Kinda makes you less stressed when you think about it, as this is what it all comes to anyway so relax eh!! I wish death was more normal and open. Seeing it disguised feels more scary, like its unnatural for it to happen.

Anyways, after trudging through 2km of dead people, we resurfaced into the bright daylight. We headed somewhere nice to get our heads straight after that, so caught the subway to Ile de la Cite. It is where Paris was first settled some 3000 years ago. We stopped for a quick coffee, then walked past the Conciergerie. The Conciergerie was the old law courts and prison built around 14th Century. It was the main prison during the Reign of Terror (when the french wanted a republic and killed alot of people). It was where Marie Antionette was held before she was dragged to another part of Paris and beheaded. Cool. Basically, we headed towards Notre Dame Cathedral, but were diverted by protestors and police (not against us haha). The protestors were lying down in the road and making a big show with the news cameras all over them. We bypassed that after a quick look, by wandering along the River Seine (Ile de la Cite is an island in the middle of the river) and looking at the cute stalls. They were selling scarfs and posters, antique books and postcards and it was very nice. We were also entertained by some bum swimming in his undies in the dirty river water.

Unfortunately for us, Notre Dame Cathedral was closed for the day! There were cops and official looking people everywhere. The protestors were only up the road. We managed to figure out from various sources that they were renaming the square (hence the protestors) out the front of the cathedral and there was some official ceremony for it. So no Cathedral today. Disappointed, we walked over to the next island in the River, Ile St Louis. In the 17th Century the island was subdividecd and made into prestige terrace houses with wrought iron etc, and not much has changed since. Like Montmarte, it had a real provincial flair and was my second favourite spot in Paris. Nathan really loved the area as well. It was cute and old school, but really classy as well. Little fromage (cheese to you) shops, and chocolateries and little winding lanes abounded, all on a tiny island. It is apparently famed for its icecream, so we bought one to share. The flavour was choc-chip bourbon and it was an absolute tasty little ripper!

So since we wanted to see Notre Dame, and would have to before the louvre tomorrow to fit it in, we sadly left the area (although we had seen everything on Ile St Lous – that place is small!) We trained it to Pierre Lachaise cemetery. It was huge!! And hot. The cemetery has heaps and heaps of famous people in it like Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison, Chopin etc. I couldn't remember what Gertrude Stein did, and Oscar Wilde was waaaaay over on the other side of the cemetery so we missed those and most of all the others as well. There were pretty tombs there, with busts perched on top of serious looking guys, crypts and angels etc. It was cool, bugt I didn't find the cemetery itself pretty, isn't that strange? So there were lots of art monements etc, but it just didn't marry together well. We legged it to Jim Morrison who was tucked behind someone else. For the Lizard King, he had a pertty unimpressive headstone. Weird for someone so big eh? Maybe he is so mac daddy, he doesn't need a big head on his or something. It was odd to know that 6 foot under where I was looking, those famous vocal chords had rotted away and some weird skeleton was there. Ick.

Then we pretty much left the cemetery as I wasn't too impressed with it (I had seen better in Ireland and Scotland huh huh wup) and Nathan was kinda sick of seeing dead people all day. We left for a beer (it was over 30 degrees again today!) and took photos of funny names on tombstones on teh way. None as good as Anita Rakshit in England, but there was a family Bastard, and a family Gay. Cool.

After the beer, we trained it back to near Ile St Louis, into the suburb of Marais for dinner. Apparently it is supposed to be good shopping and dining there, but we found nothing and headed back to our home suburb of Montmarte. We had a lovely fromage platter (thats cheese for you) right near our hotel. It came with a bottle of red and I surprised myself by drinking half of it. I don't normally drink red as it gives me super weird dreams, and I don't usually drink alot of wine either, but I put it back quite well. So embarrasing though: we were enjoying the cheeses and I ate a block of one that had a very soft, but bland taste. “Try this one Nate, its really weird” I said, tucking into my second piece. Nate poked a square with his knife and looked at me really weirdly. “aah, nik it's butter” was his reply. I am such a dumbass! So much for cultured fromageriness for me!
We found the table next to us were American. Delighted to speak English to strangers for a while, we got chatting. The little girl asked us how we spoke English so well since we were from Australia, and I confused the poor thing by babbling about penal colonies and Steve Irwin. Degenerated into some Freudian thing about how there is latent narcicissm in most couples as they look alike etc.

Moved to a restaurant further down and ate dinner, drank some more wine then tottered back to the hotel. Eating cheese and drinking wine in provincial Montmarte made me so happy.