Day 32: I bring myself to death after all...
- Marlena Skrabak
- Jul 9, 2019
- 4 min read
Updated: Aug 21, 2019
Bringing myself next to death felt like an accurate representation of my being after all. Still far from recovery from the amazingly draining weekend, the discoveries for the day were physically manifesting my internal inability to function like a living breathing human.
Waking up early but still rushing, the black cup of coffee was not enough to jolt me awake and power me for the rest of the day. I arrived at my destination like the walking dead, knowing that I would fit right in.
Today was the day I explored the Paris Catacombs, and, if I am being entirely honest, I felt slightly nervous. I knew for a fact that I was going to come face to face with rows upon rows of dead people. I think that can reasonably make any stomach turn.
Arriving over 3o minutes before the doors opened, it still was not early enough to be at the front of the line, and this line grew at an impressive speed. After stepping in with other friends from my program, I decided to take a good look at the accumulation of people behind me. Swarms of people were already making the line curve down the block. Standing in this line, I was thankful for two things. One being the fact that I had forethought to check the opening time, 10am, and arrive before that time, 9:30am. Second being the fact that this was not a limited day in Paris and standing in line for a bit was an acceptable experience.
Once again, I love being a "student in the history of art," or at least that is what my Reid Hall card states. It gets me into places for free occasionally and this was no exception. Let me look at the dead to further my education in art. There's the argument.
For a quick note, as we walked down the stairs, one of the intelligible people in front of us said he knew someone who had sex in the Catacombs...Anna noted that would make three levels of bones all in one place. I cannot disagree.
Going through the Catacombs, it was strangely disconcerting in that it did not feel real. The rows of bones stacked on each other felt fake for the pure fact that there were so many. It was hard to fathom that these were once people who walked this earth a couple hundred years ago. It ended up also being a time of contemplation. As I started shivering, I thought about whether or not I would want to be cremated or buried. Morbid? Yes. But interesting to hear and understand people's opinions nonetheless.
Making my way through the damp underground, I wondered if some of the tourists' inappropriate reactions were ways they were coping with the truth, or lack of utter tact. It is difficult to say. The gift shop at the end also struck me as out of place. Everything these days is merchandisable.
Then, I separated from my group as they had to finish their redactions and I had already turned mine in. I was looking forward to exploring the 14ème on my own. I headed to Parc Montsouris and just enjoyed the fresh air. It felt distant from Paris which in a way it is as it almost borders the Périphérique. Traversing through, I came out on the other end at la Cité Universitaire, a set of dorms built by a menagerie of different architects from all over the world. By this I mean there was one for Mexico, Korea, the United-States, Japan, etc. I grabbed a cheap-o coffee out of a machine crème-brûlée flavored and was delighted by the taste.
Seeing a significant part of the area, I felt it was time to head back through the park to the Cimitière Montparnasse that is almost hidden by tall walls covered in ivy. Making my way in, the old family crypts rose high above me with the Montparnasse Tower in the distance. I was surprised by the serenity that could exist in a place surrounded by city. Eerie to once again have death on all four sides of me, this time though was different. I was standing above, not below.
Seeing the tomb of Simone de Beauvoir, I found it endearing that Sartre was in the same one. There were red-lipped kiss marks all over the head stone which I am not sure if I find disrespectful or empowering.
Back at Reid Hall, I had time to enjoy some more peace before class, eating some free fruit that was left over from another class. Pineapple is truly where it is at.
After class, the walk home was equally comforting. With each day it becomes more and more familiar; it will be strange when it suddenly stops being a part of my life.
Dinner was full of fresh salad and finished off with extra dark chocolate pudding. I was not complaining. But I sure was ready for bed, I could hear the warm covers calling my name...
Comments