Sunday morning, Blaise's parents came over around 11, with their bags all packed. They were going to spend Sunday and Monday nights at a hotel in the Latin Quarter, near the Sorbonne. In order to facilitate things, they had carefully selected a minimum of things to bring with them, all of which fit into a backpack, and were planning to leave their big (OK, they weren't actually that big) suitcases here with us. That meant that we could spend the day in Paris without having to drag heavy suitcases with us, or having to come back out to the suburbs to pick up their luggage.
First we toyed with the idea of going to the Musée de l'Armée, even calling to see whether or not they were open. (There's been an ongoing museum strike that has closed most of the museums here sporadically.) They were. Ultimately, we (that is, Blaise) decided that the best thing to do would be to go to Montmartre and see the area that we lived in 2 years ago. So off we went.
We got off the train at Abbesses, at the top (or near the top, at any rate) of the Butte Montmartre. (I'd actually never been in that metro station before. We lived relatively close, and so when I needed to be up there, I just walked. In fact, since our favorite bakery was located near Abbesses, I walked there virtually every day, and often twice a day, with Cherry on my back in the Ergo. Now I would make her walk it too.) We first walked over to our favorite bakery and bought sandwiches and pizza and fougasse for lunch, then sat in the park to eat them.
Midway through our meal it started to drizzle, and we took shelter under an overhang to wait out the rain. It quickly became clear that unless we wanted to spend our entire afternoon under the overhang wating for it to dry up, we would have to deal with getting a bit wet, so we headed up toward the Basilique du Sacré Coeur. To get there, you first come to a big plaza area, from which you have a very nice view of the church. To get closer requires climbing lots of stairs, or paying for a ride on the funicular, which zips right up the side of the hill, but costs a full Metro ticket for a 2 minute ride. Blaise's parents rode. The rest of us climbed. Once we'd finally reached the top, it was evident that a cloudburst was imminent, and so I herded the kids inside the church while Blaise and Danny searched for their parents.
Afterwards, we went around to the side of Sacré Coeur, and visited Saint Pierre de Montmartre, which is the oldest church in Paris. (It was dedicated in 1147. In contrast, Sacré Coeur is quite new, less than 150 years old.) Afterward we bought roasted chestnuts and mulled wine and water at the Christmas market outside, and then began the trek down the hill toward Place de Clichy and our old apartment.
We walked past the Place du Tertre, and down Rue Lepic to the Moulin Rouge, then along Boulevard de Clichy and up Rue Cavalotti to our old apartment. I'm fairly sure that the same homeless guy was still living on a ventilation grate outside the Flunch, though he has now built himself a makeshift shelter out of cardboard boxes. I wonder if he has his office chair in there?
Then the kids and I got the train home, and the other adults walked through the cemetery and then headed over to the hotel. ( I made the mistake of deciding to transfer at the Gare du Nord from the 2 line (La Chapelle) to the E line (Magenta). We walked nearly a kilometer between the lines, went from an elevated line down to one 4 levels underground (i.e, there were 3 underground levels of track higher up), watched 3 guys being frisked by the cops, and walked through an army security area. Next time, I'll stay on the 2 line till Nation where I can switch to the A.
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