The Dead and Living

Where do I start? This week, the first of my courses, was long! Day one-four, as my teacher has said, we live like nuns, working from seven or eight in the morning until dark. Granted, some of this 'work' is adventuring around the city, but after a few days on that schedule, my feet were screaming. Seriously. There was a noise complaint. I've spent my weekend sleeping, taking leisurely walks around town, especially the river and outer neighborhoods, which I adore. 

I suppose I should start at the beginning. Yes? Ok, so Tuesday, we had class all day. They were long. And my brain hurt, and I discovered that even though I'm doing pretty well in the streets, classroom French is tucked further back into my memory. And it hurts to extract it. Ouch. I went to visit the Arc de Triomphe, however, which was so cool! I'd always written that off as a touristy thing I didn't need to do, but I'm so glad I did it. The climb was interesting, nearly three hundred stairs to the the top, and there is something so fascinating about being able to touch the original stone walls, just as they were created, way back when. Thanks, Napoleon.  I got in free with my museum pass, but if you're ever in Paris, yes, it is worth it.

I'm mostly alone (because after several attempts to be social, I still prefer to discover on my own, I find the experience much more fulfilling that way) so almost all of my travel pics are selfies. Sorry. 

I also went to the Pantheon that day, which began as a church to honor Saint Genevieve, patron saint of Paris. Now, it is an honor to the great minds of France. The upper floor is lined with magnificent tapestries and murals depicting the lives of Saint Louis, Saint Genevieve, Joan of Arc, Saint Denis, and others, who I'm learning about now.

Not normally wearing a white hat, the pantheon is having repairs done.

 There was also a huge JR piece, which I kind of flipped about. If you don't known, JR is a French photographer who specializes in taking portraits of real citizens, and pasting them on walls and streets, to show a community who they are made of. He has done special projects in many war and politically torn areas, and launched a global, community driven campaign a few years ago. I'm a huge fan of JR, and when I found myself literally walking on one of his murals, I got REALLY excited and practically danced. 

Beneath this floor, are the crypts, my first encounter with death in Paris, and it left me feeling odd. The crypts, which seem to go on FOREVER, house the graves of and monuments to such great minds as Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, Voltaire, Juares and more. I had no idea what I was walking into, and realizing the company I was standing in was truly humbling. Stories became truth, in the moments I spent down there. I plan to go back, and take my time to visit each person. 

Ps- that says Live Free or Die, familiar, eh?

Wednesday, we went as a class to the basilica of Saint Denis, because we are studying his era in class right now. (Well, we were, we've moved on now) I gave a presentation about the architecture of the building, and I'm really glad I had that opportunity, because now I feel like I really understand what I'm looking at when I see  churches, it's much more interesting.  I unfortunately don't have a picture, because they were working on the facade and it was covered in scaffolding.

I don't have pictures of this either, but my second dead people experience of the week happened here, because this particular church is full of the graves and monuments to the kings of France, who were buried here. I should mention the significance of this location is found within the legend of Saint Denis, who was the first bishop of Paris.for reasons I can't remember, he was beheaded, but he remained alive enough to carry his head out of Paris, and the place he finally collapsed is where the church was built. The kings of France were buried here until the revolution, when their bodies were dumped into a field. Napoleon rescued them, but their bones were unrecognizable, so they are all in a room together in the basement of this church, with their names listed on the wall. The room is small and musky, and the list is long, and there is no doubt, they are really there. The last king of France, who never reigned, and died quite young, is also buried here, his heart  (preserved in the fashion of all the royalty of France) is on display. 

Oh, we also visited the Saint Chapelle (a small private chapel for the use of the king, in his court, pre revolution) and the concierge. First, Saint Chapelle-

 

I didn't take many pictures here, because the grandeur was much better captured by the thirty cent postcards, but this is the upper chapel, where the king (Saint Louis) would go to worship multiple times a day. I learned here how to read a stained glass window: always bottom to top and left to right, but sometimes in an S shape, and sometimes row after row. This was really interesting because, thanks to Primary, I know lots of bible stories, and can follow most of the windows without aid. 

The concierge is part of that palace, and was one a space used for balls and events. But during the revolution, it became a prison, housing almost all the death sentenced anti-revolutionaries, including Marie Antoinette. It was crazy to stand in those rooms, and picture what it looked like more than two hundred years ago when that 'history' was real life. 

Thursday we had class (French is coming back to me!), and then I did laundry and slept, very very worn out. The history of this city is really coming to life, and it leads to all sorts of unexpected feelings of respect, admiration, a desire to belong and also a voice that reminds me of the acute knowledge that I will never be Parisian, which I usually try to shut up with some bread.