Although it might not geographically be the heart of the city, the Sacre Coeur (or Sacred Heart) basilica perched atop the quaint Montparnasse district has a Parisian charm that exudes that special I-can't-believe-I'm-in-Paris something. Sacre Coeur won my heart with its spectacular views at the cost of dizzying staircases, and it is one of my favorite spots in the city.
Mom, Lindell, and I ventured there Monday morning to begin our first full day we planned ourselves. After exiting the Metro, I asked a local woman with a warm smile which way to go to reach Sacre Coeur. She laughed at me and said, "Always up. Always up."
So, we did as she said and went up, up, up. The basilica is the second highest point in the city (after the Eiffel Tower of course), and after meandering up quiet cobblestoned streets (which reminded me of my dear Aix) we stumbled upon the church at the tip top of the hill.
Our buns may have burned, but the view was well worth it. The sun was in rare form, reflecting off every rooftop in Paris and back towards us. The whole city seemed to sprawl before us, demonstrating that maybe we hadn't seen everything like we thought we had.
Lindell stayed at the steps to rest, and Mom and I decided to climb more than 300 stairs to see the views from the basilica's dome. These were some serious, serious stairs-- the kind that never seem to end as they wind and wind and wind, seemingly becoming narrower the closer you get to the top. But wow. Walking around the dome provided breathtaking view after breathtaking view. The sturdy Eiffel Tower in one glance, the sparkling Seine in another.
After lingering on the steps of Sacre Coeur (and visiting the inside of the church famous for its giant mosiac), we wandered toward the Moulin Rouge, taking our time to stop in boutiques along the way. But, as we came closer and closer to our destination, the shops began to change their merchandise (think less postcards, more lingerie), and after a quick pictures ("To say that we've been there!" as Mom would say) we began walking towards the Opera House.
About an hour later (things on a map always seem closer than they actually are), we discovered that the main chamber of the Opera House was closed for rehearsal. So after taking advantage of the wonderfully clean bathrooms and snapping a few pics (once again, "to say we've been there!") we uknowingly entered heaven/hell-- The Lafayette Galleries.
I don't know if I can accurately paint of picture of Lafayette. It was like Sacs Fifth Avenue on fashion steroids. It was 7 stories. It made me accutely, accutely aware of my college-student income. It had a ceiling Louvre-worthy. It had a map at the front desk because you could easily get lost in the maze of fashion houses. It was really, really warm, as if the heat was deliberately turned up so the chic Parisian woman could check their coats and stroll through the galleries in their thousand-dollar get-ups without breaking a sweat.
We didn't buy anything, but we spent two hours with our mouths permanently in an "o" saying the word "wow" repeatedly when we would sheepishly glance at a price tag.
After Lafayette, we metro-ed over to le Marais, a district of Paris known for its Jewish heritage and one-of-a-kind, boutique shopping, hoping to find something more in our price range. But, alas, boutique is a synonym for "not as expensive as Lafayette, but not nearly as reasonable as the Gap."
After a quick rest at the hotel, Mom and I walked approximately five steps down the street to a restaurant our guidebook recommended-- Le Ferrandaise. It was fancy French food. The kind of food where you don't know exactly what you are eating as the ingredient list is longer, more complex, and filled with more unknown vocabulary than a Shakespeare play, but that is really, really delicious. I'm so glad we went, as I had yet to experience a more modern take on French cuisine.
With our bellies bursting, Mom and I walked over to the Louvre to see the Pyramid alight, as Lido (our tour guide from Sunday morning) had told us that the museum was one of his favorite spots in Paris after the sun sets. It was beautiful. I have a whole new appreciation for the Louvre without the crowds of people lined up in front of the Pyramid and surrounding the fountains. At night it is peaceful, and therefore somehow more awe-inspiring. A saxophonist playing a soothing, yet mournful tune under an archway was the perfect soundtrack for the night. We could even see a star or two braving the city lights to dot the sky.
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