Père Lachaise et 'Collections!'

I had the most bizarre and wonderful day. And I want to tell you all about it. I'm just not sure exactly how to describe everything.

First, I started my day on the hunt for the Montreuil flea market. I took the métro from my normal station, and I'm fairly certain it took me an entire hour to cross Paris. Once I got there...the market was not to be found. It's not an area I know well, or at all. And I don't exactly feel comfortable there, so I didn't scour the neighborhood like I should have. I gave up pretty fast because I was excited for the cemetery. As bad as that sounds.

Père Lachaise

Père Lachaise is absolutely gorgeous. I was simultaneously trying to hold up an umbrella, take pictures without being disrespectful, avoid breaking my ankle on the cobble stone, and admire the mausoleums while I walked around. It got to be a bit overwhelming. After about 30 minutes of wandering and failing to understand the layout of the grounds (which are immense), I decided to actually use the handy map that's marked with all the famous graves. I think I mentioned this before, but among the old Parisian families lie many artists, singers, writers, and political figures. That means Edith Piaf, Oscar Wilde, Gustave Caillebotte, Eugene Delacroix, Frederic Chopin, Jim Morrison, and much more. I wanted more than anything to kiss Wilde's grave. I even brought bright red lipstick with me. But I searched for quite some time just to be disappointed that it was blocked by this. 

Oscar Wilde's headstone & giant barricade

Dumb barricade crushed my dreams. I did find Delacroix and Piaf's graves though. I tried to find Caillebotte, but I think he was hidden somewhere.

Delacroix- painter extraordinaire

Edith Piaf

After the cemetery I headed over to the center of Paris, to recharge my Navigo. It's my funny little métro card, that make me feel very cool. Since I was in the area, and the wind and rain had completely murdered my flats, I popped into a shoe store and came out with two new pairs of shoes. It was a big day for me. I'm pretty sure I got some weird looks when I threw my shoes in the trash can on the street. Then, as I walked around a bit I decided, yeah, now's the time to go hang at a café for a while and people watch. And this is where my day gets interesting.

I decided on a café just past Pont Neuf, and the server seated me next to an older man, probably 70+. He was clearly a regular. And as I ordered, he started talking to me. He spoke very scattered English, but was more than thrilled to humor me and my far from adequate French. He asked me about where I was from and why I was in Paris, the usual. Then he told me about horse racing, and showed me his bets and how it worked. Mom, it was just like in A Moveable Feast. Everyone would walk by, say hi to him, and then they would quickly discuss the winning horses. So, we talked for a while, and he told me some amazing stories. And when I mentioned I was studying art, he told me that he was an antique buyer/seller, and that his apartment was full of art from local friends. He even invited me over to come see them. I was hesitant at first, since it's obviously never a good idea to just follow strangers home. But he was so nice and I wanted to be spontaneous, so I said yes. Let me add again, for anyone thinking I'm going to get killed in France- his name is Henri, he's super old and super nice, and was clearly well known in the neighborhood. So I knew nothing was fishy about him.

Okay. Back to my afternoon. We walked over to his building, which is in the 1st (super rich/historical) and on the way he told me all about the local history and about the details on the buildings. His living room looks like something out of an art book. And he's lived quite a Gertrude Stein-esque life. Henri had the whole salon thing going on. Paintings, drawings, artifacts, and photos hung everywhere and anywhere. He made me tea and proceeded to show me his entire art collection. I think I was there for about 3 hours, but I can't be sure. The visit became more and more interesting as he would bring me books and say (in French of course), "Oh, I was friends with James Baldwin and Beauford Delaney. Here's a painting Delaney did of me!" I can't find a picture of it online, but it's great, and he asked me to search online and find out where it is now for him. And look up those two guys. They were quite well known. Henri was just quite the happening man back in the 60s/70s and knew so many artists and writers in Paris. He even mentioned hanging out with Edith Piaf a few times. And thought it was normal to have lived across the street from writers like Françoise Sagan. I mean, this man has lived, and known a lot of people. It was a really cool experience to meet an actual French person and hear about their life. Especially one like this, and in this setting. I did feel like I needed to leave at some point though, so I made an excuse and politely made my exit. He gave me his phone number and card and told me that if I'm ever in trouble or need something that I can call him. And if I want to go to any museum or antique gallery that I can go with him and he would happily share whatever knowledge he has with me. He seemed super amused with me and yeah. I'm not sure when or if I'll see him again. I kind of feel pressured to spend time with him, and I want to, but I'm just always unsure about social interactions, especially with someone of a very different social culture. Maybe I'll just stop by that café again and find him that way.

Henri's apartment- I snuck a photo

Writing about it is difficult, as I'm still trying to process everything myself. I almost feel weird talking about it. I guess what I'm trying to carry across is that it was a long and confusing day. But I think I made a friend.

My walk home