Saturday morning and we leap up and dash off in the wee hours of the afternoon. Today we test our Metro skills; destination: Sacre Couer! Fortunately, I’ve downloaded the RATP app for my phone (per Rick Steves’ instructions), which makes the Metro child play. It’s also an example of how our phones make us stupid, or me specifically because I remember visiting Paris in the pre-iPhone days and figuring out the Metro. Now I just let the app figure it out for me.
From Arts et Metiers Metro station we take the 11 line and then the 2 line to arrive in Montmarte. Emerging from the Anvers Metro stop, the way up is clear. In fact, it’s a veritable pilgrimage up the street which is thronging with tourists and three-card monte scammers. Griffin is crazy interested in the latter and I have to recount for him the time in New York City when, against Pam’s directives, I managed to convince myself that I was to be the exception - a winner at three-card monte. I was mistaken.
We wound our way upwards to the great, white basilica atop the hill - Sacre Couer! Through the deaf and dumb petitioner women and into the basilica itself to light candles and gaze awestruck at the stone figures and stained glass. Once we emerge, Griffin buys Tour Eiffel keyrings and a lock to place upon the gate there.
In “My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist,” the author Mark Leyner mused whether writing a novel while having to pee rely really badly would accelerate the progress of his protagonist through life events, for instance allowing him to finish a four-year degree in just two years. I bring this up because it is now afternoon on Sunday, and I have to finish writing about Saturday. Like, now. So, to abbreviate…
We tromped further up Montmartre to the Dali Museum, per Bennett’s advice and recollection of having visited it 20 years ago. A small museum with an incredible collection of Dali’s sculpture (as well as paintings), I think we all enjoyed it even more than the Pompidou. Griffin totally got into understanding the motifs in the art, noticing quickly Dali’s use of the crutch, which we learned symbolized the oppression of reality. Enough said.
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