Montmarte & Sacre Coeur

Last Saturday we decided to climb up to the top of Montmarte, the highest point in Paris, and to visit Sacre Coeur, a colossal late-nineteenth-to-early-twentieth-century Romanesque basilica dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The walk from our apartment took us through the tenth arrondissement, so we popped quickly into St. Vincent de Paul, a church we've wanted to visit:

From there we went on to the southern base of Montmarte, which is home to what seemed like Paris's version of Fordham Rd.: a busy and grimy street, swamped with cars and people, and filled mostly with run-down discount shops. Fortunately for us, we've had years of experience to steel ourselves for such a trek. Actually the street easily out-charms Fordham Rd., owing mostly to this view:

In our eagerness to make our way up the hill we accidentally turned down the wrong street, but quickly noticed our mistake because of how comfortable and easy it was to walk: the drove of tourists was pouring into the next street over. So with a slight course correction we joined the crowds and up we went. On the way we stopped at a cute shop for a small bag of cookies (two of which were out of this world), and gazed romantically at a carousel playing stereotypical Parisian accordion music - you know the sort.

As you can see, the approach to the basilica is very, well, French: 

The top of Montmarte offers the best views of Paris. Everyone comes mostly to see this:

That's very nice (or would be on a clear summer day). But we came more to see this:

That's St. Louis on the left of the portico (you can't see it, but he has the relic of the crown of thorns in his left hand) and St. Joan of Arc on the right. 

To help maintain the sense of sacred space, pictures are forbidden in the basilica's interior, so we don't have any of those. But in a terrible twist of biblical irony, the ambulatory had not one, but two shops selling religious goods. Even so, the nave is always roped off for prayer and the Blessed Sacrament is exposed on the high altar for adoration, so after a turn around the church we made our way into the still center, found an empty pew, and directed our zeal for God's house in that direction.

After ducking into a small and much older church right next to Sacre Coeur, where we witnessed some kind of ruckus being made for a wedding, we walked through the picturesque but tourist-crowded square before climbing down Montmarte and making our way home. We did, however, stop to recruit our strength at a little place around the corner from us that specializes in fries and beer. The service isn't great, but the mustard is.