Catacombs of Paris
©Thomas Wilson Shawcross 24 Sep 2000 Paris, France
Today, I decided to see the catacombs of Paris. I took Metro line 1, to the RER train B, to Denfert Rocheneau. I figured the six million people buried in the catacombs could wait for me to have lunch, so I headed toward a nearby street for pedestrians. The street was having its 20th anniversary celebration of being converted into a street for pedestrian use only. There were festive signs, vendors, and street entertainers. One lady sang while playing an ancient hurdy gurdy that read a loop of giant continuous-fold punched cards. Very French, I thought. Inspired, I bought three CD's of famous French chanteuses - Edith Piaf, Damia, and Frehel (three generations of French singers, it was explained to me). I had always liked “La Vie en Rose” as sung by “the little sparrow,” Edith Piaf.
I chose a well-positioned brasserie and sat down to watch the passing spectacle and have lunch. A man playing an electronic accordion wandered past, accompanied by an assistant pushing a generator on a wheeled stand, and two men wearing full-body costumes. One was a lion and the other was a camel. I couldn't decide if they were supposed to represent famous French cartoon characters, or what. I do like some of the French and Belgian cartoon characters, such as Tin Tin, Asterix, and Barbarella, but I don't know if there is a cartoon about a lion, a camel, and an accordion player.
Little parades always fascinate me. I love local parades - events that are on a much smaller scale than say, the Veiled Prophet parade in St. Louis. I'll never forget the happy memory of watching the Victoria Day parade in Jasper, Alberta with my son Michael. People decorated their tractors and drove them down the street - celebrations like that touch me, for some reason.
After a satisfying lunch of ham & cheese omelet, salad, and cafe au lait, I found the entrance to the catacombs, only to find that they had just closed for lunch! Two six-foot tall red-haired girls from Holland arrived at the same time I did, and we commiserated with each other about the inconvenience. We decided to spend the next hour drinking wine. They were pretty girls and fun to talk with - they had just arrived from Holland by coach (six hours) and they had been to Paris many times and had done most of the tourist things, except for the catacombs.
An agreeable hour later, we stumbled back to the catacombs and went in. The first part of the tour takes you through a seemingly endless warren of bricked passageways. Eventually, you enter the "Empire of the Dead" (as I translated the sign), and it is a quite unique sight. After a long descent on a spiral staircase, one enters a series of long, winding tunnels and chamber rooms. At first, it is just a tunnel, then after a long walk, the piles of bones begin - piles of bones, stacked along each side of the tunnels.
Some very neat and tidy people have stacked the bones like so much cordwood along each side of the passageways, from floor to ceiling. Rows of leg bones, about two feet high, alternate with layers of skulls, and then another layer of leg bones, more skulls, etc. I don't know what they do with the finger bones or pelvises - probably just throw them behind the pile facing the passageways, I expect. That's what I would have done.
After a while, seeing so many bones becomes surreal. After a while, the bones don’t seem real, but they are. Every so often, there is an unusual one, like a skull with a bullet hole in the center of the forehead, but for the most part it becomes a sea of sameness, and the eerie feeling soon passes.
How did the catacombs come to exist? As the city of Paris grew, many of its old cemeteries were dug up and the bones were moved to the catacombs, leaving lots of nice building space where there had formerly been huge expanses of cemeteries. I have never seen any place like this. I wonder if there are any other places like this. I think the catacomb tunnels existed naturally and were used for bone storage – I don’t think they were dug just to store the bones. The tunnels are bricked-in now and would appear to be man-made, but I think they were built inside of pre-existing caverns. I should look into this.
When I emerged from the catacombs, I climbed some stairs and walked out a door that opened on a city street. The exit location of the catacombs is four or five blocks from the entrance and on a different street, and there are no signs telling one how to get back to the entrance. Fortunately, I had walked the general area earlier, so I knew where I was when I emerged, but I suspect that a lot of tourists become confused when they exit at a different place than they had entered.
Now, I am back at my hotel. Tonight, it's a change of clothes, and then out to the streets again. I am going to see if I can find a pick-up game of Petonque.
Today, I decided to see the catacombs of Paris. I took Metro line 1, to the RER train B, to Denfert Rocheneau. I figured the six million people buried in the catacombs could wait for me to have lunch, so I headed toward a nearby street for pedestrians. The street was having its 20th anniversary celebration of being converted into a street for pedestrian use only. There were festive signs, vendors, and street entertainers. One lady sang while playing an ancient hurdy gurdy that read a loop of giant continuous-fold punched cards. Very French, I thought. Inspired, I bought three CD's of famous French chanteuses - Edith Piaf, Damia, and Frehel (three generations of French singers, it was explained to me). I had always liked “La Vie en Rose” as sung by “the little sparrow,” Edith Piaf.
I chose a well-positioned brasserie and sat down to watch the passing spectacle and have lunch. A man playing an electronic accordion wandered past, accompanied by an assistant pushing a generator on a wheeled stand, and two men wearing full-body costumes. One was a lion and the other was a camel. I couldn't decide if they were supposed to represent famous French cartoon characters, or what. I do like some of the French and Belgian cartoon characters, such as Tin Tin, Asterix, and Barbarella, but I don't know if there is a cartoon about a lion, a camel, and an accordion player.
Little parades always fascinate me. I love local parades - events that are on a much smaller scale than say, the Veiled Prophet parade in St. Louis. I'll never forget the happy memory of watching the Victoria Day parade in Jasper, Alberta with my son Michael. People decorated their tractors and drove them down the street - celebrations like that touch me, for some reason.
After a satisfying lunch of ham & cheese omelet, salad, and cafe au lait, I found the entrance to the catacombs, only to find that they had just closed for lunch! Two six-foot tall red-haired girls from Holland arrived at the same time I did, and we commiserated with each other about the inconvenience. We decided to spend the next hour drinking wine. They were pretty girls and fun to talk with - they had just arrived from Holland by coach (six hours) and they had been to Paris many times and had done most of the tourist things, except for the catacombs.
An agreeable hour later, we stumbled back to the catacombs and went in. The first part of the tour takes you through a seemingly endless warren of bricked passageways. Eventually, you enter the "Empire of the Dead" (as I translated the sign), and it is a quite unique sight. After a long descent on a spiral staircase, one enters a series of long, winding tunnels and chamber rooms. At first, it is just a tunnel, then after a long walk, the piles of bones begin - piles of bones, stacked along each side of the tunnels.
Some very neat and tidy people have stacked the bones like so much cordwood along each side of the passageways, from floor to ceiling. Rows of leg bones, about two feet high, alternate with layers of skulls, and then another layer of leg bones, more skulls, etc. I don't know what they do with the finger bones or pelvises - probably just throw them behind the pile facing the passageways, I expect. That's what I would have done.
After a while, seeing so many bones becomes surreal. After a while, the bones don’t seem real, but they are. Every so often, there is an unusual one, like a skull with a bullet hole in the center of the forehead, but for the most part it becomes a sea of sameness, and the eerie feeling soon passes.
How did the catacombs come to exist? As the city of Paris grew, many of its old cemeteries were dug up and the bones were moved to the catacombs, leaving lots of nice building space where there had formerly been huge expanses of cemeteries. I have never seen any place like this. I wonder if there are any other places like this. I think the catacomb tunnels existed naturally and were used for bone storage – I don’t think they were dug just to store the bones. The tunnels are bricked-in now and would appear to be man-made, but I think they were built inside of pre-existing caverns. I should look into this.
When I emerged from the catacombs, I climbed some stairs and walked out a door that opened on a city street. The exit location of the catacombs is four or five blocks from the entrance and on a different street, and there are no signs telling one how to get back to the entrance. Fortunately, I had walked the general area earlier, so I knew where I was when I emerged, but I suspect that a lot of tourists become confused when they exit at a different place than they had entered.
Now, I am back at my hotel. Tonight, it's a change of clothes, and then out to the streets again. I am going to see if I can find a pick-up game of Petonque.
posted by Tom Shawcross | 11:58 AM
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