A Dark Day in the City of Light

If you're wondering about the dismal title of this post, it's because we spent a few hours today wandering around the Père Lachaise Cemetery which is only a few blocks from our residence hall. Visiting a bunch of graves may not sound like a very nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but this is undoubtedly the most beautiful cemetery I've ever seen, and it houses some notable figures: Frederic Chopin, Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, and Edith Piaf to name a few. I'll have several pictures later, but for the sake of chronology I'll start with my Sunday morning :)

Paris is far from sluggish on Sundays, but it's definitely a bit slower paced than the rest of the week. Most stores are closed besides the essentials. What Parisians consider essential, however, is different from what most of us would think. Electronics stores, clothing stores, supermarkets...all closed. But les fromageries, boulangeries, patisseries, and most sidewalk cafés are still open for business.

So after sleeping in for the first time all week and enjoying a leisurely cup of tea, I got dressed and went out to wander. I had nothing planned until 3 when we were going to the cemetery, so I just decided to set out and see where I ended up. I wasn't surprised when my first stop ended up being a patesserie where I bought what I can only describe as a gourmet toaster strudel, though that doesn't nearly do it justice.

Warm, flaky pastry with strawberry filling. Oh my.

I decided that to fully enjoy my breakfast, I needed to find the right place to sit and savor it, so I hopped on the metro and headed back to the tiny park I found on one of my first orientation days. It's a 5 minute walk from school, and just across the Seine from Notre Dame.

Good morning!

Afterwards, I was right by Shakespeare and Company again so I decided to stop in again. It wasn't as crowded as it had been the first time I went, so I could actually browse the books for sale instead of simply looking at them sitting on the shelf as I tried to squeeze my way through the aisles. I ended up making a purchase, because what better place is there to read Hemingway?

In the afternoon we walked to the cemetery. It's just a straight shot down the Avenue de la Republiqué and should probably only take about 15 minutes, but we were distracted for about half an hour by all the antique stalls lining the sidewalk in front of the cemetery walls. Evidently there is a flea market on Sundays there, so we will definitely be back to check it out again!

We spent almost two hours walking among the graves. They ranged from simple tombstones to ornate mausoleums, some even the size of almost a small chapel. The whole place is beautiful with winding cobblestone streets and smaller gravel paths branching off. As you work your way in, a slight incline gradually increases, and before you know it you are overlooking the cemetery and can even see rooftops beyond it.

I couldn't get a good picture because of the tree in the way, but the engraving on the tomb said "unis sous la terre et pour éternité," which means "united under the earth and for eternity." I just thought that was so beautiful.

I sat down to rest while the other girls took some more pictures, and a woman approached me and asked me in French if I knew where Edith Piaf was buried. Even though I couldn't help her, I successfully responded in French that I didn't know but we also wanted to see it. And she understood me! Hooray! If I can get one solid French interaction in each day, I think that's something to be proud of. Baby steps :)

A final mini-anecdote from today: on our way back from Père Lachaise we stopped at a market so Annie could buy a few ingredients to make dinner tonight. A young man approached me asking my opinion about orange juice. Of course I was happy to help, but apparently the orange juice was a decoy as he then asked for my phone number so he could take me to coffee sometime. Naturally, I panicked and said I had a boyfriend. (Yeah RIGHT. Not sure where that excuse came from.) Annie and Melanie witnessed the whole awkward exchange and joked the whole way home that I must be sending out the right energy because I've turned into a French man magnet. I was not as amused as they were.

Moments after I got back to my apartment, Melanie sent me a link to a video that apparently is perfect for me. Ellen isn't really a name in France, but Hélène is actually a very common name, pronounced exactly like mine, and there's even a song that apparently describes me. A few noteworthy lines (translated): 
"Hélène...my name is Hélène." Very insightful.
"I'm just a girl like all the others." A bit melodramatic for my taste, but alright.
"I just want to find my love." And that's where she loses me. 

I did, however, get a kick out of the random music video where a girl, Hélène I presume, sings lovingly to a horse. So when I was with Annie and Mel again tonight, I sang them my version: Ellen. Je m'appelle Ellen. Je suis un cheval..." The last line of my updated lyrics? I am a horse. Next time a man approaches me maybe I'll just start singing for him.