Les Catacombes

Figured I would post about our visit to the catacombs while it is still fresh on my mind. First off, I think I was the only one of our group to say awesome as a description after the visit. I mean, they were all happy to have gone and seen and so on, but they were more spellbound or in awe than anything. The bones, thousands, maybe millions of them, stacked neatly and packed up, one right on top of each other and right under the city. With alters and grave markers and everything. I have never seen anything, anything like it. A testament to human ingenuity to say the least. I mean, the subway is one thing, sewers and all, but an underground grave system. Like a museum? Wow.

I think it is really interesting too, the line. I thought we would be some of maybe 20-30 people who might wait outside. No. The line snaked, and snaked. I doubt if everyone gets in to see them every day. The admission is 8 euros for adults, children free under 14. So we managed to get in with just the two of us paying. There were signs warning about children and some uneasiness they might experience. I asked the two boys about it and they were gung-ho. Remind me of myself. The girls were too. Once we got down there though, they were eyes wide open. Looking around like Mantan Moreland. No, not really, but they were very alert and somewhat ready to leave.

The walk down is 130 or so steps into the abyss and the land of the dead. The way up is another 83. The official entrance to the 3,000km (1,864-mile) tunnel network that runs under much of the city is unassuming enough minus the long winding line of the living waiting to meet the dead.

The rationale is to visit the catacombs converted due to public burial pits overflowing in the era of the Revolutionary Terror, when the bones of six million people were transferred to these catacombes.  A tunnel leads you through a series of galleries before you reach the ossuary, the entrance announced by the sign engraved in the stone: 'Stop! This is the empire of death."  What more can be said?

     
Well nothing, except that we got there by bus, so we had to return by bus.  After walking on what some called a death march to the bus stop we were greeted by a bus driver who waited for us.  I couldn't believe it.  We got on and moved to the back of the bus.  Apparently we were followed by a minion of the abyss who hadn't bathed in 500 or so years.  He had the whole bus lit up and CJ decides to sit right next to him. Can't blame him because there were only two seats available.  Plus the smell was so thick we couldn't determine who was emanating it until he departed.  The little boys were so tired they fell asleep two minutes afterwards though, right next to the cloud.  We said it was from the funk.  The guy, he is listening to some type of dance music in his headphones, and Candice swears he is dancing to it in his seat, moving his smell from side to side.  Brother needs to be introduced to deodorant and step into the 21st century.  Today.  I speak some french, but I wish I could have understood what the lady behind me said after this guy got off the bus.  Candice said after she said it, this other guy just dropped his mouth open, as if in awe.  Anyway, besides that underworld smell scathing us, and leaving my nose permanently bereaved, the catacombs are a must experience part of an experience in Paris.  Only arrive early and properly dressed for the weather if there is a line.  Also, leave the smells of the inhabitants of the catacombs below ground, if in doubt take a cab.