Paris: Montmarte, Sacré Coeur, and Salvador Dalí

Paris, viewed from Montmarte

After two consecutive days of enduring interminably long queues, I decided that my third day in Paris would entail sightseeing that did not require waiting in line. And so, Wednesday morning I set out for Montmarte to see what I might see.

Sacré Coeur

Montmarte is the high ground of Paris. That is, Montmarte is the name given to the historic district that sits atop the eponymous hill from which Paris appears to spread out before you like an infinitely complex spider web.

Inside Sacré Coeur

Atop Montmarte sits the imposing and magnificent Sacré Coeur Catholic church and basilica,  constructed over a 15 year period at the beginning of the 20th century. The church was built as a sort of penance by the French people for their "moral decline" over the century since the revolution, which they believed was the true cause of their defeat in the Franco-Prussian war in 1871.

Gargoyle

Admission into the church is free and the crowd, while significant, was not oppressive.

The architectural beauty of the church, both inside and out, is mind-boggling. Signs inside the church urge visitors to be respectfully silent, but such a solemnity, a holiness, pervades the church that the signs seem unnecessary. It is unimaginable that someone could enter such a place and be oblivious to it.

Gargoyle

I sat for a while at a pew. My thoughts, befuddled and diffident at first, grew placid and serene over time. I felt a longing to see my wife. And I was acutely aware of the many miles between us.

Gargoyle

But I was reconciled to it, somehow. It was as if I knew that, at that moment, each of us was at our appointed place. It's hard to explain and I don't want to go down that path too far, anyway. I can't write anything that anyone (myself included) would understand.

Gargoyle

When I finally did make my way outside, into the cold Paris air, I felt alone and lonely. I reminded myself that this is a journey I chose. And I chose it knowing that, at times, I would be lonely. That was enough to hold me over.

Narrow stone street in Montmarte

I wandered around Montmarte for a while. There were many merchants selling tourist trinkets, and some quaint cafes selling coffee and sandwiches. And, just by chance, I stumbled on a museum dedicated to the works of Salvador Dalí, tucked away in a little alley.

This sculpture is, somehow, a self-portrait of the artist

Salvador Dalí, of course, is the modern artist famous for his recurring motif of melting clocks. The museum was not at all crowded and the collection was manageable such that you could wander through the place and feel as if you'd seen it all in an hour or so. Which I did.

Note the melting clock at the top of the torso, and the egg. Recurring motifs in Dalí's work

Dalí was a tormented fellow, suffering from a bit of an identity crisis. His parents had had a son named Salvatore, who died before Dalí was born. Throughout his life, Dalí struggled with the memory of his namesake brother. That struggle is reflected in his work.

This sculpture is an interpretation of the Holy Trinity

I can't say I have a clear understanding of his work, but I do find it fascinating.

Surrealism

And, Dalí, eccentric that he was, is attributed with one of my favorite quotations: "There is only one difference between a madman and me. I am not mad."

It was a full day, and I returned to my hotel footsore and tired, but feeling it was a day well-spent. I've decided that the best days are those that come to me, rather than those I have to chase. Make sense?

Maybe not. I don't know. I'm in Paris. That's all I can say.