The Recompense and the Right of Glory

Woke up late and lazy yesterday. Dawdled over tea and biscuts, the braved the world.

This particular day was a day where I decided to get in touch with my Catholic roots... at least that's how it started. What ended up happening was an all-day reflection on the inevitability of death, and how we deal with that in life.

The first stop on this journey was, of course, Notre Dame de Paris. I had never visited it before, and I just had to see it.

I entered the heavy wooden doors and was confronted with flocks of tourists... while there was a mass going on. It felt wrong to take pictures, so here's one I found of the internet to give you a taste of how immense and beautiful this place is:

Traversing with the other tourists felt really odd. The mass was in full swing, and the echo of the numerous whispers and exclamations of the hundreds of visitors alomst drowned out the service. It was as if no respect was given for the intended, practicing function of the magnificent structure. It made me want to cry, really. Another thing that irked me to no end was the gimmecky aspect to it all. There were at least 3 gift shops, and those souvenir token machines dispersed everywhere around the cathedral. The image that automatically came to mind was Jesus casting the merchants out of the temple. Yet the tourists must be appeased, I suppose, and the church needs its money.
Exiting back out into the beautiful day, I headed straight for the crypt beneath the courtyard of Notre Dame. There, you can find battlements and foundations dating back to the Gallo-Roman period. Paris is very old, and it all started on the island where Notre Dame was built. It was neat to see the different layers of history: Gallo-Roman, Middle Ages, Renaissance, and then additions made up into the 18th century, when some of the walls the Romans built were still in use. I was lead to this neat place under false pretenses, however. I wanted to see the catacombes. The lady at the front desk of the exibit was really nice, and she gave me a map of the city and marked where to find the catacombes.

Off I went.

It was a gorgeous day outside, and in my opinion, that is the ONLY time ANYONE should go into the catacombes. Sound a little counter-intuitive? Imagine you are snaking your way through a series of claustrophobic underground tunnels lined with the bones of the dead, then tell me that you do not want to re-emerge from it into a beautiful early spring day with not a cloud in the sky, happy to be alive. For me, it's all about looking forward to the light of day that awaits you at the end of the journey... at least when visiting the catacombes.

Cemeteries have been emptied here.

Battles have been fought here.

Visitors have come and gone since the 19th century.

Yet the piles of bones in the Empire of the Dead (that is what the section of the catacombes that houses all the corpses are called) continue to haunt.

All of the walls within the Empire of the Dead look like this:

No joke. Sometimes, the skulls are arranged in designs: one wall boasted the outline of a heart made out of skulls near the entrace to the crypt. If your french isn't that good, the plaque above reads that all of those bones are frome the St Etienne Cemetery, and they were moved to their present location in May of 1787. As Paris expanded, the living took prescidence over the dead, and cemeteries were built over to make room for the growing population.

Many of the plaques along the walls hold poetic verses about death or scriptures from classic Greek thinkers or the Bible. I wrote many down, but I will not bore you with them here (plus I do not feel like translating). However, I will share with you where the title of this post comes from. One of the inscriptions reads:

Chaque mortel parait, disparaît sans retour; mais par s’illustrer faites vivre dans la mémoire: voila la récompense et le droit de la gloire!

Translation: Each mortal perishes, disappears without return, but his image comes alive in the memory; here is the recompense and the right of glory

Emerging into the light of day felt wonderful. The living can only pass among the dead for so long.

Next stop: Montmartre.

This is my favorite place in the city and I wanted to explore it alone. I made a bee-line for Sacre Coeur. I have visited this chapel every time I have been to Paris, and each time it manages to take my breath away. While construction on Notre Dame began in 1116, Sacre Coeur's origins are from the 1870s. The centuries spanning the difference between the two is evident in the architecture and the art. I prefer Sacre Coeur. There was no mass going on, the tourists were much quieter and more respectful, and absolutely no photographs allowed. I found one online for you, however:

It's guilded mosaics are all over the place, and the stained glass windows are fantastic. I felt much more comfortable here than in Notre Dame. There was only one book store, and it was all about Catholocism... and run by nuns. The kiosks for souvenir coins were not in the chapel, but outside it. Because it is less touristy, it is more authentic.

Thus ended my religious stint for the day, and I decided to meander about my favorite places on Montmartre that I rememberd from when I was 16.

In my wanderings, I stumbled across the Salvador Dali Museum.

That's right.

And it was awesome! Over 300 original works by the madman himself.

He was an active artist until his death (1989) and daubled in furniture design and sculpture, as well as book illustrations. Here are a few of my faves:

The 4 euro entry fee was totally worth it!

How does this fit into my theme? Simple: surrealism is a way to deal with reality. Branching off of Existentialism (thanks, Albert Camus), it is a movement that acknowledges that everything happens... but there is no reason. The absurdity of existence leads these souls to expressing that anguish in a very phenominal way. And Salvador Dali is just awesome. Charlie Sheen could take a few cues from this character. Two of Dali's most famous quotes:

"I am surrealism!"

"I don't do drugs. I am drugs."

I am going to leave you with these absurd thoughts and go explore Paris some more. Only 3 more days left in this wonderful city!