Another great complimentry breakfast sooo good.
Then we went to the Musee d'orsay which I would say contained more of Mike and I's taste in art: more monet, van gogh, etc. I could spend days there as well.
I love the impressionists and more sculpture there (esp. the Renoir)
After d'rsay it was back to the hotel, grabbed some takeout at our favourite italian place haha. The owner who had previously ben so rude to us seemed to act like we were best friends now. He asked if we were american and we said no canadian. This seem to make all the difference. He said he had lived and worked in Gastown, Vancouver as well as Naniamo. such a small world. I think he may have given us a discount too, but still pricey 18 euros for lasagne and one canneloni.
Then it was off to sacre coure, just up the hill from our hotel where we saw a poor woman attempting to park a rav 4 on a steep street. Scary, you had to feel bad for her, the look in her eye told us she was really scared and had no clue how to get out of her predicament.
Up the hill more we saw so many cool souvenier shops and a cool little art market in a square. Many people offering to paint Mike’s secretary and him together. We smiled and laughed at the way they were so pushy, trying to get us to choose them.
Further up the hill, we cam to Sacre Couer. Gorgeous huge church that sits on top of the Hill, overlooking Paris. The views were breathtaking and provided us with a different perspective on the city than we got in the Eiffel Tower.
Inside the church was amazing as well. The rule was total silence and there was a gentleman policing this just inside the door. Several SHH!s were heard as we wandered through. The silence did add to the serene feeling inside. We almost started giggling as a pigeon had found its way into the top tower and we were both considering the possibility it may poop on us.
After wandering back to the hotel for our things, we made the pilgrimage to Jim Morrison’s Grave at the Pierre Cemetary in East Paris. Once we got to the cemetery, we were in awe. I have never seen anything like it. Cobblestone streets separated groups of graves. Each grave was different, some were huge tombstones, others resembled sarcouphoguses. Some were small little houses, I am not sure what they are called, but they look like small little rooms for praying for the dead. Their were a few family tombs and other sculptures everywhere in the graveyard. Moss and the dampness just added to the feeling in the cemetery. Even with maps in the graveyard, finding Jim Morrison’s grave was quite challenging. The cemetery had named streets and avenues, we need the “address” of his grave but had to rely on scratchings on other tombstones to show us the way. The quest was worth it when we finally found it. Two girls were crying while they stared at it. Fresh flower, cigarettes, pipes and drugs were thrown on the grave. A gate kept tourists back from getting too close to the actual grave. Our fingers and feet began to lose feeling from the cold, so after a bit we left and made our way back to Garde du Nord once more to head back to London.