Chasing Hemingway

the stairways up to the butte can make the wretched sigh / while the windmill wings of the moulin shelter you and I

Two posts in a few days – what is the world coming to? ;-)

This was a chill weekend. I was trying to relax and recouperate after being dead all last week. But then, yesterday evening, I got restless. I hadn’t left the apartment all day, so I decided, as it was nearly dusk, to go walk up to Montmartre and just get some air and wander a bit. It turned out to be the best thing I could have done.

Just as I got up onto the hill, it started to rain. Not hard, just vascillating between spitting and drizzling. I just wandered, choosing roads that looked cool, that were less populated, and that I’d never taken. I stumbled upon stairs heading into unknown areas, with amazing views of the city shrouded in rain and light. I passed smaller cafes, bars, and restaurants, hearing both locals and tourists laughing, talking, and eating. I heard the sounds of dinner parties wafting out of windows, and someone playing guitar, and the opening theme of Indiana Jones. I got lost, and it was beautiful. I thought a lot, and came to a few conclusions. As I walked up a hill, retracing my steps, I looked up and saw a large, old windmill at the top, surrounded by foliage, and I really felt like I was in the mythical Montmartre. It was the Moulin de la Galette, the moulin. I walked down some stairs as the rain came on faster, and the words I used above in the title came to me unbidden. A little cliche, but there’s a reason they were written.

I started to make my way home, and then I heard some bells, tolling the hour. I found a church at Places des Abbesses, and people rushing home. There is a very fine line between the time when everyone you encounter on the street is rushing home for dinner, and when everyone you encounter is out for the evening, out for dinner. I got to see that line, and both sides of it. Finally, I returned home, but a different person. Prior to this, I didn’t fully understand why people liked Montmartre, why it had been so idolized by artists and writers. Now I understand. Now, I am in love.

That was yesterday. Today, with Maddy and Lauren, I discovered the Bon Marche. Amazing! I am in love, again.

Today I also watched The Horse Whisperer in French. And Jojo, Philippe, and I bought tickets to Ireland!

There is supposed to be a tempete tonight. Or, rather, it is supposed to hit Paris tonight. I love the rain. I love this city in the rain. I love fall.

Does anyone want to send me a Halloween package? It would be much appreciated. :-D

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This entry was published on October 23, 2006 at 10:24 pm and is filed under Junior Year Abroad, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

2 thoughts on “the stairways up to the butte can make the wretched sigh / while the windmill wings of the moulin shelter you and I

  1. Physically hurts. Je t’embrasse, cherie!

  2. Hilary on said:

    yeah, i do want to send u a package. will work on it. full stop.

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