Montmartre (16)

Welcome to Montmartre, which was, and to some extent still is, the squalid home of starving artists. Ever since my first real experience in Paris in July 2007, I have been a big fan of Sacré Coeur, the basilica on Montmartre hill.

There's a long flight of stairs up to the top of the hill, which make for quite a romantic walk.

However, I'm not going to lie to you, even by omission: with my Navigo pass, I can take the adjacent funicular for free. Which I did on this walk. Don't judge me, it was particularly warm that day. It was part of my flân-ing--the leisurely strolling. Not convinced? Me neither.

In any case, the view from the top is great. Because I've been to the top of Montmartre hill, I feel even less like I have to go up into the Eiffel Tower (which I still have no desire to do. Sorry).

It was neat, on this walk, to see the homes and hang-outs off renowned artists. For example, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who painted the famous Dejeuner des canotiers lived in Montmartre. Anyone seen Jean-Pierre Jeunet's beautiful cult film Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain lately? Look familiar?


We also saw a cafe called La Maison Rose, which was once frequented by Pablo Picasso and Gertrude Stein. Picasso actually painted the avant-garde authoress' portrait, now at the Met in New York between 1905 and 1906:


Unfortunately, the only picture I have that I've actually taken at Montmartre is not of great quality, but is of the basilica at night. It's quite a beautiful building, and has an interesting history. In 1870, France lost the Alsace-Lorraine region to the now-united German states. The basilica was built as a kind of penitence for that the national sins they believed the cause of that loss. The church was begun in 1875 and finished in 1914 at the start of the Grande Guerre as the French call the First World War. You will remember, of course, that the vindictive Treat of Versailles restored Alsace-Lorraine to France at the end of the war, and it was in the wake of what must have been perceived as divine acceptance of this national penitence that the basilica was dedicated in 1919.

Curious, very curious.

Overall, I enjoy Montmartre for it's sort of indie-kitschy vibe. As we wandered the hilly streets, we decided that if we had lived at that time, we would be the middle-class bourgeoisie girls longing to live in the romanticized, fantastic squalor of the quarter.