Pere LaChaise and Sacre Coeur: Paris

On the outskirts of the city is Pere LaChaise cemetery.  It's an enormous graveyard and is full of generation of families and famous ex-pats.  There are several notables buried here, including Edith Piaf, Jane Avril, Stephan Grappelli, and Seurat, to name a few.  It would be impossible to find all of these graves, but we managed to find a couple people you might recognize.

Menilmontant is a wonderful silent film.

Tree next to Jim Morrison's grave

We stopped by to pay our respects to Oscar Wilde.  I was absolutely infuriated by the state of the head stone.  It was (at one time) a lovely deco-style sculpture but it had been destroyed by graffiti.  It was covered in notes in pink and red marker and black sharpie.  It was maddening.  I refuse to post a picture of it. 

Good thing there was a fence around this one...

Chopin 

Then it was back on the Metro to Montmartre and Sacre Coeur.  

I was hoping for the neighborhood, artist's colony feel but unfortunately it was simply overrun by tourists and more guys selling awful trinkets.

The famous steps of Montmartre.  Of course, Brassai's is better than mine.

We stopped at a grocery store to get some slightly more affordable food to eat for dinner, then crashed at the hotel.  By this point, I couldn't wait to get on a plane and away from France.  And I hate flying.

The next morning, we rode the Metro to Gare du Nord, then caught another train to Charles deGaulle airport.  On that train, we suffered at the hands of incredibly awful, rude people who shoved our luggage into other riders.  Then, at CDG, we stood in a line that was over an hour long because the United/Continental desk was so unorganized.  Security was nonsensical, and trying to get a croissant at the Starbucks was inane because people didn't line up.  Just rushed the counter.  

Luckily, both plane rides were uneventful (although the transfer at Dulles was also ridiculous).  

Keep watching this blog for more stories.  I'll be revisiting the Edinburgh photos soon since I didn't have much time to post about it earlier.  

Je N'aime Pas Paris

I desperately wanted to.  But I just didn't love Paris.

Tuesday, August 2nd was mostly a travel day from London to Paris.  Getting luggage from the hotel, on the Tube, to St. Pancras, then on the Eurostar, through Gare du Nord, then on the Metro in Paris, then to the hotel was a bit taxing.  Actually, the worst part was St. Pancras.  Once we "officially" left London to board the Eurostar, it was chaos.  No announcements, signs, or labeling -- in any language.  Just mobs of people staring at a non-updated departure board.  Ridiculous.

The train from London to Paris itself was perfectly pleasant and I didn't notice we were in the Chunnel until we came out of it.  But Gare du Nord was a nightmare.  In such stark contract to the well-mannered city we were in just a couple of hours before.  Scammers were everywhere.  Signage was incomplete.  There were no staff members to help.  It rather summed up the entire population as we experienced it: Every man for himself. Any chance someone had to get just a little bit ahead, despite what it might cause their fellow human, they took it. 

We finally arrived at our hotel, which was quite lovely and on a quiet street.  And determined to get the bad taste out of our mouths, we immediately set out on foot to the Champs Elysees and the Arc du Triomphe.  

Tired and hungry (we hadn't eaten all day, really), we set off to find a small cafe or bistro in a less touristy area.  

Despite our wanderings, the best we could find was a $27 hamburger.  Yes.  You read that right.  And this was not a fancy place be any means. Exhausted and rather disenchanted, we made it an early night and vowed to do better the next day.