Seeing Paris from inside Starbucks

Now that I live in France full time, going to Paris is less of a tourist’s adventure and more of a necessary pilgrimage for my own wellbeing. I spent the past two days checking in at my favorite spots and consuming as much Starbucks as possible.

My first Chai latte since January-a glorious experience.

My first Chai latte since January-a glorious experience.

 

A second Starbucks near the Moulin Rouge. I couldn't help myself.

A second Starbucks near the Moulin Rouge. I couldn’t help myself.

There's no better fare for people-watching (or dog-watching!) than from the cafés in Paris.

There’s no better fare for people-watching (or dog-watching!) than from the cafés in Paris.

Once the sun went down and I’d logged enough hours alternating between coffee and wine, I made my way to Sacré Coeur, Paris’ famous pure-white basilica. By eight o’clock, the street vendors and tourists had given way to hushed quiet. A guard met me at a side door, where I checked in with a nun with a kind face. Sister Jeanne Marie led me to my space for the night, a simple, clean bed and wardrobe in a separate cubicle from about fifteen other identical cubbies. Passing me a temporary card identifying me as a religious pilgrim from inside her crisply starched robe, she left me on my own to settle in.

An old, springtime photo of Sacré Coeur.

An old, springtime photo of Sacré Coeur.

Sacré Coeur has been a church of perpetual adoration since the 1800s. All day and night, 365 days a year, someone is always praying in the church. Since a few dozen nuns can’t be expected to take on that sort of task themselves, the church allows civilians to spend a night in its safe, clean facilities in exchange for an hour or two of prayer. Though I am not catholic, and have had more than my share of doubts regarding organized religion in general, it seemed like too unique of an experience to miss.
I certainly was not disappointed; stepping into the empty sanctuary at 3 in the morning, lit only by the candles left at each chapel, was a moment I will not soon forget.

The next morning, after an early mass and breakfast, I found Sister Jeanne Marie in a small study room, and we had a nice long chat before I grabbed my backpack and continued on. I walked to the Centre Pompidou, one of my favorite places to sit outside when the weather is nice and the street musicians are playing.

The best place in town to people-watch.

One of the livelier places to watch les bourgeois-bohemes of Paris

Several hours later, after staring at modern art until I had given myself a headache, I found myself across from Notre Dame, reading in the attic space of Paris’ most famous Anglophone bookshop, Shakespeare and Company. Taking the time to sink into a wonderfully cushy leather armchair and read for a couple hours helped me to detangle all of my thoughts from Montmartre and relax before hopping on the metro for a final time.

I walked down this street weeks ago for a bit of light strolling!

I walked down this street weeks ago for a bit of light strolling!

A quick 36 hours in Paris is always an exhausting venture, but one that provides the opportunity to break away from the world. Living in a small town means that you are never alone, constantly in danger of being spotted by students or acquaintances. Whenever I find myself all alone in a big city, I take it as a sign to step apart from the crowds around me and meditate on solitude for a while.

I’ve yet to be disappointed.

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A Thousand Words

I hope you’ll bear with me as I try to catch up on sleep from the past few days in Paris. Please accept these photos as a little appetizer before the main course of the blog is posted tomorrow!

Approaching the Arc du Triomphe from the Champs Elysées.

One of the many vintage metro signs all over the city. Classic Paris.

Crossing the Seine to the Notre Dame.

Entering the Church of the Madeleine.

Sacre Coeur, one of my favorite places in Paris (when it’s not crowded and hot).

All gussied up for the opera! Photo taken by another attendee.