|... view of one magnificent building from another ...|
Then on Sunday, we began the climb to Sacré-Cœur from the bottom of the hill where we alighted from the bus.
The steep road was filled with people going up and coming down.
I stopped at a few local scarf stalls. Rebecca and Bonnie stood on the other side of the street watching the merchant who tried to straighten the scarves as fast as I could go through them.
|... chapel ceiling ...|
We stopped for a snack half way up the hill and watched a vendor get someone to hold string for him, and then he braided it into a bracelet, tied it on the tourist’s wrist and then tried to get them to pay him for it.
When we finally reached the top of the hill and got in the line-up to go through the church we lost each other.
Oh, Bonnie and Rebecca will say I lost them.
But they should keep up.
To find them I did a second round of the church and being unsuccessful I just went to stand on the wide steps and imagine what I would do if I never found them.
|Title of Restaurant? Ma Mere Catherine|
|... a cartoonist commandeeers Rebecca outside of Sacre Coeur ...|
...she does not buy his product of her ...
Rebecca looked down the steep stairway behind the church and remembered that her boys had slid down the cement abutment there enough times that they wore out their jeans and needed new pairs.
I stood in front of a restaurant for a photo.
The name of the restaurant was Catherine’s Mother.
Rebecca pointed out some of the political graffiti that is on the walls of some of the buildings, especially pointing to the one where Sacré-Cœur looks like the Disneyland logo – the words Sacre Coeur through the middle and the building somewhat shaped in the iconic image of the Disneyland castle.
“Probably protesting the fact that we have turned religion into entertainment,” Rebecca said.
|... Rebecca in black and white and cartooned ...|
“Only three minutes I will take. Only three minutes.”
Being somewhat irritated over having to give up three minutes of my holiday I began to time him.
His friend came over to draw a caricature of Bonnie.
She hid her head under her jacket. Rebecca continued an interesting patter with the cartoonist and soon a crowd had gathered around to watch.
I began to enjoy the costuming of the artist, a lovely silver decoration on the heel of his boot. The heel was so worn down that even a shoe-maker couldn’t have helped out that boot. We wandered one street over to see the funicular – the easy way to get up to the church. We researched the cost – only the price of a local bus ticket.
Tired we made our way back to our local community and ate our last meal in Paris at a restaurant. Our only meal at a restaurant to tell the truth. Bonnie practised her French on the waiter. She was successful because a delicious meal arrived in front of her.