Saturday, November 4, 2023

Day 4: Montmartre—coffee and art, vineyards and wine

Our fourth day may take a little longer to describe, though again I will postpone any account of our conversations till later. Today we visited the neighborhood of Montmartre.

First stop was Café Lomi, a coffee shop one of us had read about in one of our travel books. We took the Metro to Montmartre, and then walked several blocks through some neighborhoods that looked very different from the ones we'd seen till now. All the restaurants advertised either that their food was halal, or else that it was African and Antillean. When we got to Café Lomi, we could tell right away that everyone there was young and cool … except us, of course. We ordered coffee and scones.

Next we made our way by subway and bus to Sacré-Cœur. There was a long line to get into the basilica, and it was raining. But this was the plan, so we stood in line. When we finally got in, services were in progress. We circumambulated the chapels around the perimeter as quietly as we could—just us and the million other tourists who had been let in at the same time—and then discussed whether to climb the steps to the top. There were 292 steps with no bannister; also we had an appointment in the early afternoon, and it was raining. Marie was plainly not about to chance it. (I'll write later about the role of stairs on this trip.) I did the math and decided there was no way to make the time work. So we passed on the steps to the top.

Instead, we walked the short distance to the Place du Tertre, and walked around. We found a spot for lunch. An accordionist with a cat played "La Vie en Rose." Marie heard the song and held me, while hiding her face. ("La Vie en Rose" had been one of her mother's favorites back in the day.) We looked into a few art galleries, and I bought some gifts for people back home. And then we went to our one fixed appointment.

There's a vineyard just around the corner from where we were, one of the very few working vineyards still inside the city limits of Paris. It's called the Clos Montmartre. It is normally closed to the public except during harvest time (which was already a month or more in the past by then). However, the Clos has an arrangement with the Musée de Montmartre by which people who pay for a tour of the museum also get a tour of the vineyards. And that's what we had signed up for. We showed up for the tour, and were straightaway marched down the hill to the grape vines. For the next hour, our guide regaled us with a detailed history of the vines, of the local wine business, and indeed of the entire community—first rural, then artistic and bohemian—culminating in the République de Montmartre, which he explained was a concept and a community spirit long before it was a philanthropic society.

I was glad Marie was with me for this visit and this lecture. A visit like this feels somehow more real if you can share it with someone. And of the people I know closely, only Marie and Wife understand French well enough to have followed the talk. (The tour was entirely in French, not English.) Since there's no way I would ever take Wife for a vacation abroad again, that leaves Marie.

After the talk, our guide poured out two bottles of the most recent vintage for us all to share. The aroma (or "nose") was very rich, and very floral; by contrast, the taste on my tongue seemed thin. I suspect that's because, as an American, I'm used to California wines, and those tend to be full and fruity. Any time I drink European wines they taste a little "thin" by comparison, and I think that phenomenon explains my impression of this one. Then when we were done in the vineyards, we clambered back up the street to the museum. Our guide warned us to be careful about the wet leaves decaying on the cobblestone—"Ne glissez pas!"—but then by the time we got to the museum he had disappeared. We ambled around the museum for a little bit, but none of it was as captivating as the vineyards had been. So we took a few pictures in the gardens and left. From there we made our way down to the Rue des Abbesses, where we found dinner. And then back to the hotel.


         

          

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