We had a very quiet day at home yesterday. My feet still hurt after Tuesday's "grande march" and Paul's gastro-intestinal tract was a tad touchy - but too much information!
Today we were in good spirits again. We started with a little bit of business (something about arranging a letter box so we can receive mail and hence prove to the bank we are more than just tourists. I suspect we'll all need to stay tuned for many episodes to really understand what the bank and the postal address are really about - but it keeps him happy; that's the main thing!) and then we went back to being tourists.
We ventured up the only hill in Paris to Montmartre, and right at the top - Sacre Couer de Montmartre. There are many ways to get up the hill - on foot, by bus, by silly little train (like Thomas on the Geelong waterfront) or by funicular. We chose the bus, which is a neat little electric number, small enough to negotiate the small, winding, steeply hilly streets. Immediately alighting from the bus you look up at the basilica and see ......
In past years we have walked all the way from the Siene up streets and steps like these to get to the places we have wanted to go. I really don't know how we did it; but we did. Too old now though. It's the bus for us these days!
Even with the bus, there are a few steps required.
But once you get to the basilica, this is the view of Paris. This view is from the church forecourt.
And this view is from one level higher - the church porch. It is so good that hundreds of people seem to stand here for hours without moving. Maybe they didn't know about the bus - and climbed the steps.
Spot the local! Place de Tetre. It's tourist territory only in the little square below the basilica. These women and men are fabulous artists, working on the spot.
My favourite. A bit Modigliani- esque.
The artists under the trees in Place de Tetre. This is the area once called bohemian Paris where the immensely talented but dirt poor famous artists of the past made a living.
And then we got the bus back down the hill to Place Pigalle.
The Moulin Rouge is in this Pigalle district; so are one thousand and one sex shops and some very interesting shops for cross-dressers and other people with different needs. We passed a fascinating gentleman with men's shoes, bare legs, a multi-patterned yellow artists smock to the knee, a multi-coloured silk scarf, long grey hair, a gray beard, foundation, powder and lipstick - plus hat. A can't remember what his hat was like; I was so amazed at the make-up with the beard I forgot to look further. The whole Pigalle district looks a bit seedy, a bit down-at-heel. It is probably the next area of the city due for an "upgrade".
So...... it was only 4 o'clock. What should we do now? "I know" says Paul, "let's get on the next bus that comes along!" So we did. We had no idea where it was going but we figured we could find our way home from wherever it went - so why not give it a go. I was expecting to end up out in the sticks and not get back till dark. But no such luck. It went to the Trocadero, which is directly opposite the Eiffel Tower but on the Rive Droite (Right Bank) of the Siene. The Eiffel Tower is on the Rive Gauche - Left Bank. Boring, boring, boring. We knew exactly where we were and getting home would be no challenge. No great adventure to the "burbs" to be had from this strategy.
So we sat in the late afternoon sunshine, gazed at the workers going home, had cheese, bread and wine with real napkins and silver cutlery - called "le snack"- and then went home.
The trip home is in the next post .... "On the Buses".
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