Stunning views from Sacre-Coeur
The streets of Montmartre
Artists and their works at Place du Tertre
Cimetiere de Montmartre
Night falls on the streets of Montmartre
Getting on the wrong subway is no fun but Oh so pretty!
The world famous Moulin Rouge
My dad is a military man. Throughout my life he taught me many wonderful, useful things.
One of his teachings included training me (from a very early age) to understand that the best thing to do to get one’s bearings is to go to the highest point and see the world from above.
Since I came to Paris without a single plan, this notion seemed exactly what I needed.
In the morning, I made my way to the highest point in Paris: Sacre-Cour, a basilica built as a memorial to the 58,000 French soldiers killed during the Franco-Prussian war.
Breathtaking. Head bowed in prayer, I made my way inside and sat amongst the crowds and listened.
Priests and nuns still pray for the souls of the dead here, 24 hours a day, as they have since 1885.
From here things got turned around. I mean I got turned around. (Sorry dad)
Imagine trying to make your way on foot from South Calgary to Airdrie but instead you start heading to Okotoks.
Yes, that’s exactly how gloriously lost I got after this point.
Fortunately, I couldn’t have picked a better area to do this in: Montmartre and Pigualle.
Montmartre is the old stomping grounds for many famous artists including: Picasso, Dali, Van Gogh, Renoir, Manet, Toulouse-Lautrec and Degas to name a few.
Here, you can still have your portrait drawn by one of the many artists who set up shop at Place du Tertre.
Glorious turned into not-so-glorious as I made my way (unknowingly) to Pigalle. Once a home to dance halls and cabarets (the Moulin Rouge is still there), it’s now been largely taken over by sleaze and porn. During the day I'm sure this place is OK. At night however, I was eager to get outta there.
Trying to get a cab after the sun had set proved to be... interesting.
For once, I am thankful I can’t understand the French language very well. Who knows what those sketchy-looking men were saying to me? I’ll never know!
Feet trashed, hungry and wet, my first day in Paris was both a wonderful and painful (for my feet) adventure.
This blog was created to share my belief that the art-making process is a catalyst for transformation and
I am living proof.