Traveling home
The day was long, and everyone was exhausted.
Our stomachs were half empty coming off of the early morning train ride into Paris, but our excitement and anticipation were overflowing. The second we stepped off the high-speed train and into the city of love, we couldn’t hide our giddiness. An exhilarating buzz surged through the air as we made it our mission to find food to fuel our busy, eventful day ahead.
We were off to explore a district of Paris known as Montmartre, the heart of the impressionist movement and home to some of the world’s most creative minds. The destination we made our way toward, a breathtakingly gorgeous cathedral, sat atop a large hill. Our tour guide explained that during the times of religious persecution, a Christian bishop, Saint Denis, was beheaded at the hilltop for preaching his beliefs. For this reason, the area earned the name Montmartre or “mount of martyrs.” The church mounted high in the sky, Basilica of Sacre-Cœur, offered a tremendous sight of the city.
The vibrant Parisian neighborhood radiated even on that cloudy, rainy day. It was hard to not feel swooned amongst the artsy hub famous painters, writers and philosophers sought for inspiration. Peering through the narrow cobblestone streets, I pictured Claude Monet, Pablo Picasso and Vincent van Gogh painting away high up in a balcony. Boutique shops, cafes and cozy little restaurants were nestled throughout the neighborhood. Street artists sat outside despite the rain, determined to soak up the inspiring, gloomy day and create a magnificent work of art.
Although rain drizzled from the sky, matting our hair to our faces and seeping through our shoes as we tried to avoid puddles, it added to the romance of the city. The artistic history can be seen in the architecture of the ivy-covered buildings, the brick cobblestone streets and the murals painted underneath bridges. Each corner we turned revealed a picturesque scene straight out of a French painting. I had to resist the urge to pull out my camera and snap photographs of every single block we walked. It was only a matter of time until I filled up the memory card in my camera, but the sights made it worth it. I couldn’t possibly leave this gorgeous district without taking home some pictures to savor for myself later.
I don’t know if Ernie Pyle had the same luxury of strolling down these Parisian streets. However I’d imagine he’d feel the way many of us small town Indiana kids did: absolutely blown away by the enormous beauty found throughout the city of lights.
