Sunday. Dimanche. It is Pentecostal Sunday, and tomorrow is un jour férié for the French.

My plans for today began with meeting my friends (Lisa, Harry, and their adult daughter Emily) for a tour of Les Catacombes de Paris. I took the 4, and when I got off the train, I saw my friends step off the same train – different car! Lol! That was so amusing!

We headed out to get our bearings and find the entrance to the Catacombs, and once we did that, we went to a nearby café to enjoy some beverages before the tour.

Our tickets included an audio device/guide, and we began our descent into the depths of Paris’s underground via a spiral cement staircase of 131 steps. During the entire dark, damp, walk, we were introduced to the history that accompanied the visuals we were seeing, learning how all of this came to be, as we walked along these long, dark hallways leading to the ossuary. I was glad to learn the Catacombs/graves were at least consecrated.

Beyond that, I was astounded by the meticulous design and layout of the bones. It was breathtaking, really. Oddly, so, of course. Many areas were marked by dates, regions, parishes, and some superstitious warnings, all adding to the story.

Two photos of the ossuary follow.

By King’s decree, in 1785 the transfer of all bones from Le Cimetière des Innocents (closed due to health risks) were to be moved into tunnels in the ancient, abandoned underground quarries where space was prepared to house them. It’s macabre, yet beautifully so.

By the 17th century, enough people had lived and died in Paris that its cemeteries were overflowing, overstuffed with graves to the point that corpses, at times became uncovered. And so the solution arose to place them in the centuries-old tunnels that had existed beneath the streets of Paris since the 13th Century, remnants of a time when limestone quarries were mined to build Paris into a thriving city. By the time these burials ended, 6 million Parisians’ bones came to their final resting place in the city’s Catacombs.

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/paris-catacombs-180950160/

Afterwards, we ascended the 113 spiraling steps or so (but who’s counting) — and voilà — a gift store! That was quite unexpected, to be honest, but we each bought a little something, and I have to say that souvenirs from the crypt was not on my Paris BINGO card.

Part II

From there, we decided to go to Montmartre – twist my arm! – so we headed for the nearest Métro.

When we arrived, I knew we were walking up a different hill/street from the one I walked up before, but having been there only once, I didn’t know how to correct our route. I just didn’t have the layout in mind, We didn’t come upon the funicular, sooooo…

We WALKED those famous 222 Montmartre steps!

The last time I visited Montmartre, there were hardly any tourists. This time, it was FULL-on tourist season, but it was great! They have plenty of restaurants and cafés (in all of Paris, really) to accommodate crowds like this. I love the village of Montmartre, the artists, and its charm — and we didn’t even see all of it today.

We had a nice luncheon, and started walking around the square with its cobblestone streets, taking photos, buying souvenirs, and enjoying each other’s company. Lots of laughs and easy company. It’s been a gift to have my friends here, and I have loved showing them what I know and also discovering new things together.

We decided we did want to see the inside of Sacré-Coeur, so we waited in a short line — but they weren’t letting us in. I remember again that it was Pentecostal Sunday, and that explained the line — but I thought for sure there wasn’t a mass going on at that hour. It was after 6pm.

Finally, we were allowed in, and the scent of incense wafted in the air, and my eyes filled up. Mass was going on! Let me tell you there’s nothing quite like it in a church like this. The music (giant pipe organ), the beautiful singing, the candles everywhere — all of it overwhelmed me. I turned to read that the church had been consecrated on my birthday. I was meant to be there again. I hadn’t noticed this before.

I just couldn’t believe they were allowing visitors during mass! Everyone was respectful, quiet, and moved about the perimeter, visiting various statues, chapels, and sanctuaries. I knew I wanted to light a candle at the statue of Mary, as I had done during my last visit, but in listening to the service, I also knew they were preparing for Holy Communion. I recognized the prayers (even in French) and the whole rhythm of the service.

Attending mass in Paris had been on my rather long list, but I hadn’t done it, and didn’t think I’d get to it. I moved it down the list when my friend Irene (from Spain) told me services here were like 2 hours. Lol! I guess I’m going to hell for saying that. Lol!

Receiving Communion in Paris was on the list. And here I was, and it was happening. Now. So, I got in line, said an Act of Contrition on my way to the altar, and received communion from the priest who’d said the mass. What? I returned to a pew, and said a few prayers.

What an unexpected!

I thanked my friends for indulging me when we got outside. They were equally moved by the service. I said I didn’t know if I was going to burst into tears — or flames. Lol!

Tears won out.

We left this beautiful basilica and took a few more photos outside — from the highest vantage point in Paris. The sky was dramatic, and we decided to buy some locks as souvenirs and one for Emily to lock onto the surrounding fence.

As we headed down those 222 famous steps, the drizzle turned to rain. We reached the métro station, and lo and behold there was a small boulangerie just across from the entrance. How convenient! We bought some bread and treats and plotted our trip home.