Montmartre

I'm sitting on the couch with the windows open and the Euro championship football match on TV - France vs. Ukraine. Every time France is moving the ball, cheers from passionate French football fans in the cafes and brasseries below my window rise up...and when the other team gets close to the goal, you can hear pained bellows as loud as thunder. The score is 0-0.

Today I took the bus up to Montmartre, to see the famous Sacre Coeur.

Nice church

Nice view

This wasn't the most pleasant experience...the throngs of tourists were irritating (outside the church I was jostled by people speaking a myriad of languages...English [American and other], German, Spanish, Dutch, Japanese...) but going inside the basilique was weirdly distressing.

If you want to go inside the church, you enter on one side, and are herded around the periphery. There was a mass going on, and the pews were full of worshipers. It felt truly bizarre to enter and watch them and the priests and nuns...as if they were some kind of exhibit. Although there was a sign that said "no photos" (it also said that you had to be dressed "decently!") I snuck a couple...

***The yells below alerted me to look up from my typing just in time to catch the first score of the game - goal France!!!***

The weirdest thing about the Sacre Coeur was definitely the jumbo-tron screen that showed the action on the stage. I mean the sanctuary. I was waiting for the kiss-cam to embarrass a couple of holy people.

But, when the giant church organ started and the congregation was led in song by a nun, I momentarily lost the surreal feeling.  I wish I had known the hymn - I would have liked to sing with them.

***Whoa! Another goal for France! Practically back to back! The streets are erupting with happy football fans!***

A final punctuation mark of weirdness - right next to the stained glass and candles, you will find vending machines for little souvenir coins. Don't know why they don't install a smashed penny (euro) machine, or a tee-shirt stand  - "my grandma worshiped in the Basilique Sacre Couer, and all I got was this lousy tee-shirt!" Sheesh. I think I will try to hit a  mass at Saint Eustache.

Montmartre is a neat neighborhood - winding cobble stone streets that turn and twine into each other. I set out to find the Espace Dali - a small museum devoted to the crazy surrealist artist, and on the way...the place du Tertre...more tourist cliches, anyone?

I'm going to have nightmares

Japanese tourists being accosted by a "master" of portrait painting.

The place du Tertre was awful....'nuff said.

But just around the corner was a wonderful respite from the tourist throngs...a restaurant mentioned by one of my favorites on the France Chowhound board - Parnassien. The place is Chez Plumeau - I actually wasn't looking for it - I stumbled upon it and was delighted.

Parnassien called it an ultra-charming terrace. If by "ultra-charming" you mean on a cobblestone street, away from the hordes of tourists, under the shade of a vinous tree that grows right through the middle of said terrace, you would be right.

Feeling peckish for the first time since my intestinal reign of terror, I decided to sit down and order a piece of quiche and a salad. The quiche had roasted tomatoes, chevre, and herbs...and it was ethereal. They referred to it as a "flan" in a crust, and that was right - the lightest custard, so savory....just delicious. The salad was not exciting - some lettuce and frisee splashed with a little red wine vinegar - but it was good to have something so light, yet absolutely yummy and satisfying.

On to the Espace Dali - I loved it. LOVED it. I don't know much about Dali, but this little museum did a great job in arranging many of his sketches, sculptures, and paintings by theme. The labels were in French and English, and were very, very good - written well and informative. I loved what I saw, and even without the audio guide, I feel like I learned quite a bit.

Melting clock!

Lobster phone!

Thorny thumb with angel!

Cheshire cat!

Winding down the butte towards the Place d'Anvers, I was away from the crowds and getting a glimpse of life in Montmartre. The sounds of residential life from above taverns and cafes preparing to open for the evening. More cobblestone streets, more twists and turns. Good thing my hip is OK!

The market in the Place d'Anvers was my first visit to Parisian neighborhood open market. I targeted it hoping to find the Ultimate Cheese Guy - highly recommended by another of my favorite Chowhounds, Parigi. Sadly, I didn't find him...but what I did find was great!

That top bunch of carrots came home with me

Melons

Meat melons

I also bought a rotisserie chicken (un petit poulet classic, sil vous plais) and some of the potatoes that roast underneath the chickens...catching their juices.

Sadly, I like French market rotisserie chicken about as much as I like American supermarket rotisserie chicken, which is to say...not much. Dry, not very flavorful...forewarned by the Chowhounds, and yet I had to at least try it. I'm going to cut it up cold and put it into a salad with a good mustard vinaigrette - that should help. The potatoes are to die for, though.

And finally - I stopped by La Ferme Saint Hubert, a cheese shop recommended by Parigi. A tiny bit of stinky heaven. I made up for missing the Ultimate Cheese Guy at the market by finding the two most adorable little pear-shaped chevres, called Croque Bique. I got a slice of something called chanterelle (didn't make it into the picture), and the skinniest saucisson sec - they called them aiguilettes, which I believe means "little eels." I also scored a petit Gaugry - a stinky Epoisses with rind washed in marc de bourgogne.

But I will attack those tomorrow, when hopefully my tummy will be 100%. For now, France won, Sweden and England are tied, and I'm going to bed.