Paris journal Day 6
It's much tougher out there on my own. I hadn't realized how much I'd enjoyed the vacation from the ongoing dialouge in my head until today. I started in Montmarte, an area that looked a little more rundown than some of the others we've been to. I wandered past the "birthplace of cubism" and a caricature/art market before arriving at Sacre Couer. We've been seeing Sacre Coeur up on the hill in the distance from everywhere and it was good to get up close. Inside, nuns were singing and it was moving. I think God must approve. The building was awe-inspiring inside and out, but I was a bit surprised to learn that it was built in the 1870s. That's fairly recent. They had modern sewers by then.

From Sacre Couer I took the Metro to Montparnasse. On the way, I accidentally exited the Metro when I meant to transfer and that cost me. It was my first realization that three heads can be better than one. Montparnasse was tricky because I couldn't decide exactly what I wanted to see. I eventually landed near Sartre's grave. Immediately after getting my picture taken at Sartre's grave, a strange tourist-y thing to do, it proceeded to rain while the sun was shining. As I searched for the rainbow, the clouds surrounded me and it began to hail, pretty hard for a moment, before raining again. I could only laugh and assume that this was the weather having an existential crisis. From the graveyard, I headed to the catacombs, but they were closed. So I backtracked to the Montparnasse tower and took the ride up. I spent an hour or so 200 meters above the city. It was an amazing view, although everything was pretty far away down below. The neatest thing to watch was the weather. About three-fourths of the city was in a foggy/rainy mess while the other fourth enjoyed bright sunshine.

I came down from high and headed where the sun had been- Le Jardin du Luxembourg where I saw some old men playing Bocce. Then I went to Saint Sulpice (made famous by the Da Vinci Code, but not nearly as impressive as Sacre Couer in my mind. Maybe it was the lack of nuns, or the presence of an ominous sounding sermon.) I cruised by the Sorbonne thinking that once again left to my own devices I eventually stumble on college. In case there was any question, even the sophisticated French university girls looked young to me. I then headed to the Pantheon- burial site for the likes of Voltaire, Dumas, Hugo, and others. Also home of Foucault's pendulum. And for this day a place to support the fight against cancer. I was accosted by a man on stilts in a flower costume and a woman in a bee costume. I played mute...

Tonight is yet to be determined, although I'll probably need dinner. I nearly forgot the chocolat chaud, that turned out to be more like chocolate soup than a chocolate drink. It was thick enough to drown in, but I wasn't impressed.

Later: Success comes in funny ways. I had a leisurely three-course French meal. I spoke no English during the meal. From there I wandered the Latin Quarter. I was considering a jazz club where a U.S.A man was playing swing, but I wasn't that excited about it. Instead, I found some street dancers to watch for a while. One managed an impressive one handed hand stand. Then for good measure he took to switching hands to the beat. Then I got rained on for good measure.

I've established a nightly ritual here in Paris. It seems to involve walking over a bridge, which sets me insides going. As I near my temporary home, my mind focuses intensely on two thoughts- 1. possibly returning to the streets for another Pelforth and 2. the toilet. I climb the winding five flights of stairs, auto-lights always flick on a few seconds too late. Desperately now, I try to open my door. I fail and try again. The lights have now brightened the hallway as I fumble with the lock. Success arrives and I fling open the door and rush in to the toilet. After I finish my business, I shut the front door and call it a night. Tomorrow I again express appreciation to and for my fellow travelers.