In which we commune with the dead

One of the things that we did before we came to Paris was to ask the kids what they were most excited about doing in Paris. Sapphire was especially excited about going to the Cité de l'Architecture et du Patrimoine, Ezio wanted to go to the Cité des Sciences, and Cherry wanted to go to a cemetery.

So after breakfast on Saturday we figured out what the best route was to Le Cimetière du Père Lachaise and headed off to see what we could see. ("To see what we could see, to see what we could see.") And, well, it was a cemetery, so mostly what we saw was tombstones and mausoleums and flowers of all three varieties: living, dead, and plastic. We found what had been Gioachino Rossini's tomb before his body was exhumed and transfered to Italy. (His wife's body is still there; evidently she was not worth transferring.) We saw the tomb of Baron Haussmann, famous for redesigning Paris in the mid-19th century. We saw the tomb of the novelist Colette (of Gigi fame). And we saw Jim Morrison's tomb, at Cherry's request, since she thought it was fascinating that he died in the bathtub. (You all know who he was. OK, fine, here's a link.)

Of course we saw lots of other tombs as well. Some with gorgeous examples of sculpture, others rather plain. Some containing the remains of centenarians, others the remains of infants. Some obviously well cared for, others rather decrepit. Some containing the remains of entire families, others the remains of only one person.

And then, to celebrate the fact that we were only visiting the cemetery, and not yet there permanently, we headed across town to Pierre Hermé for macarons: cucumber-vanilla, rose, chocolate, raspberry, caramel, passion fruit, . . ..