I bet you’re sick of hearing about my adventures at the Hopital Lariboisiere, right? Well, I was sick of having them, so we can both be relieved that the morning of March 15 constituted my last visit to Parisian Nurse-Land. I’d been told by the nurse in Emergency that I’d have to return to hospital every morning to be treated, so imagine my relief when the two nurses at the clinic told me that I could do the treatment myself, and that if the toe stayed as bad as it was, rather than getting worse, I wouldn’t need to have surgery overseas.
Oh, frabjous day! Do you know what this meant? It meant that I didn’t look like this for, oh, days:
At the Cimetière du Père-Lachaise.
Thankfully for everyone around me, I also didn’t look like anyone in this sculpture:
I should admit that my relief did make me consider throwing off my clothes, spreading my arms wide, and zooming around like an airplane. What, you don't think about doing that when you're happy?
Now here is where the day gets embarrassing (as if describing myself playing nude planes [I wonder what would happen if we googled that? Go on, I dare you] isn’t embarrassing enough). When I arrived at the Cimetière du Père-Lachaise, I dutifully circled on my free map all the people I wanted to see. Or their tombs. I’m not so into decomposed skeletons (although I am sad I missed out on The Catacombs).
Chopin, Auguste Comte, Honoré de Balzac, Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein… you get the idea.
Readers, I failed. If this was a dead person version of Where’s Wally, Wally won*. That place is big, and after I could not find many of the people on my list, I gave up and just enjoyed meandering.
I did find Oscar Wilde, but he’s impossible to miss.
Also, you know how I couldn't find Auguste Comte? I've decided this means only one thing: HE DOESN'T EXIST AND POSITIVISM IS A LIE.
I also spotted my first flower-in-bloom of Spring which, combined with the appearance of the sun, made me content. What, you may ask, could make this day more pleasant?
One word: Camille.
Chocolate, cheese, and crepes may be the words beginning with “C” that most people think of as constituting happiness in Paris, but I am here to tell you that meeting someone as fun, positive, and warm as Camille absolutely trumps all of that. There is something overwhelming about meeting someone for the first time and feeling instantaneously comfortable, free, and joyful in his/her company; I suggest everyone aims to make such first meetings involve an hour and a half walking along a canal in Paris, in the sun, being shown local haunts by a local, and being taken to said local’s favourite local boulangerie.
Oooh, I just noticed the sign saying Chocolat. This may be my favourite boulangerie now, too.
This placed smelled good-oh. And I was even allowed to take photos (yes, I’m looking at you, Picard).
Yay for pistachio! Australia, you need to get on board with some pistachio and chestnut lovin'.
I prefer to think of this photo as "artsy" rather than "overly busy and badly composed".
The best thing about this afternoon with Camille? Knowing at the end of it that we’d be meeting up again in a few days’ time.
(Of course, there were delicious eats on this day too – but I think I shall do some food-centric posts in the future. Might even write them on my overnight train from Paris to Florence tonight. Which, quite frankly, terrifies me. A six-person mixed-dorm couchette and train bathrooms? I am absolutely wearing my trackydaks on the train and sleeping in them. And taking enough cookies, chocolate, and cheese to put me in a stupor. If only I could take a Camille…
* I feel better about this now, as a few days ago I saw a map of the cemetary that a fellow hosteller had. It was detailed, and clear-to-read, and showed exactly where people’s tombs were. For some reason, I got the paint-by-numbers-map which just had numbers splodged in the middle of vaguely-shaped sections. Oh hai, self-respect! There you are!
père lachaise is such a lovely part of paris, but yes, i never managed to see all the dead people i wanted to see.
picard didn’t let you take pictures of their frozen goods? oh well, i’d rather look at pastry…
a bientot
the paris food blague
Oh I love cemeteries. I find them fascinating places to explore and often the tombstones of “ordinary people” can be just as illuminating. The sculptures are always spectacular too.
I can almost smell those pastries from here too. Argh. The torture! Can’t wait to hear about your train adventure. Yes, anything involving fear is an instant adventure! I always travel with the mentality that the more disastrous a day you have, the better the story to remember for years to come
Aw, I’m blushing!
Wait, he’s called “Wally” in Australia? He has a different name in French, too, something totally random like Charlie. (I’m assuming, anyway, that you mean Waldo, he of the red-and-white-striped sweater. If not, I’m not a crazy person, really!)
Happy travels tonight! I’ve been in one of those 6-bunk couchettes before, they’re really not so bad.
I love how she has her head in her hands.
I think I’d like a Camille too! isn’t blogging wonderful – the people you meet!
How on earth do you stay so slim with your dietary dalliances?
Frogsandmen: One of Picard’s stores didn’t. I snuck into another one and went photo-crazy, though!
Helen: That how I feel, too – they’re fascinating places to just wander around in. And believe you me, this whole toe debacle has given me enough story fodder to last me a lifetime! I arrived in Florence an hour ago and already have several experiences under my belt… just have to blog two weeks of Paris first. But I’ll probably time-travel my posts
Camille: I only speak the truth
I’ve come across the Waldo version, but Charlie? Crazy French. Luckily there were only four people in my couchette, which was lucky because the bottom beds both broke!
Fiona: Rather appropriate for a tomb!
Whisperinggums: Definitely the best part of blogging
Kath: Oh don’t you worry, I’m doing my best to change that! In fact, I just bought a dress and skirt a couple of sizes up because I’m determined to be curvier at the end of this trip
Bring on the gelato, Italy!
oh my, I’m drooling over those pastries!
Simply Life: Camille certainly knows her food-shop-stuff!
I like the European approach to cemetaries. I remember the ones in Sweden being so beautiful, and people spending their lunchtimes in them to enjoy the trees and the sunshine.
I would comment more but I’m off to get naked and fly around my house……
Conor: They really can be such beautiful, restful (*giggle*) places to while away a few hours. Oh, and will you be my naked soulmate-friend?
I missed the cemetery AND the catacombs, gah!
Ha, I totally forgot that you Aussies call him Wally instead of Waldo…hehe, love it.
Amber: Return trip together to do all the things we both missed?
Agreed! Say, how do you feel about Scandinavia/Russia and/or South America?…
Amber: I’m in! Russia for a Tolstoy and Dost-Man pilgrimage? South American, I’m all about Chile (Pablo Neruda), and Scandinavia… we can find chocolate there, right?
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