Phobias

All of us are afraid of something.  I think that's what the psychologists call phobias. I'm not afraid to admit I have one or rather some.  I don't care for snakes. I don't like high places. I don't like small places. And I don't like cemeteries. It's not that I'm afraid in cemeteries, I'm just not real comfortable in them. But recently with the encouragement of my traveling companion I visited a famous cemetery; the Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. She said it was in the guide book and Rick Steves recommended it and who was I to disagree with Rick, the king of PBS travelogues. We had a cafe au laite and bought a map at a small store before entering the massive gates to the final resting place of the famous French and other famous personages. The map was not very useful to me. My knowledge of French is very limited.

This is not the only cemetery in Paris but one of the better known because of its inhabitants and there is a waiting list to get in.  That is to be buried here.  It spans over one hundred and ten  hilly acres of Paris complete with large hardwood trees and shrubbery.  It also has many tourists.  (I guess a lot of people read Steves' travel books.) We thought we would like to see the graves of some famous people.  There are tombstones and tombs everywhere, mostly in rows. Many of the tombs appear to be small chapels or some kind of fortification.  I'm not sure what kind of protection the dead need.  Things seem to be kaput when they bring you here.  We  read the inscriptions with our limited French and laughed at our mispronunciation of the names.  

We visited the mausoleum which was at the top of a hill.  It seems they filled it up and in order to get more space they removed the bones and burned them.  The resulting ashes took up much less space.  Mausoleums always smell funny to me and seem to have a cold wind coming from some mysterious place. We passed the graves of soldiers and saints, (not really) as we continued to walk about. We came to one large stone of the grave of Oscar Wilde, the famous playwright.  You can no longer kiss his tombstone while wearing brightly colored lipstick. The ban applies to both men and women. Two weeks earlier we were standing in front of the courthouse in London where he was on trial, which resulted in his leaving the British Isles.  Victorian England was not a good place to be a gay man. He was a brilliant man of letters who was probably ahead of his time.  

We passed the resting place of the American dancer, Isadora Duncan.  Her ashes are next to those of her children. Considered the creator of modern dance she died tragically in Nice where her children died in an accident earlier.   Lynn Redgrave played her in the movie.  I brought my traveling companion up to date on Isadora Duncan as we climbed yet another hill.  I don't know much about modern dance but did read a very good book about creativity by Twyla Thorpe.  

We passed the tombs of famous painters such as Eugene Delacroix, the romantic painter, and such composers as Georges Bizet. It is very interesting that so very many of the occupants are not French. We separated to look for the grave of an  American rock star.  The formerly blue sky had darkened, and the wind began to blow as I passed a tomb with an open door. I'm sure it creaked! I turned to the right at the intersection of the pathways between the rows of graves where there was a barren tree with gnarled branches reaching into the darkened sky. I caught my breath and thought I heard a raven call.  I hurried on.  I was thinking it was about time to leave that place.  I am not fond of cemeteries. 

I passed an old man bent over a grave. It was such an ominous scene. I was sure he was up to no good.  But  he had dead flowers in his hand and there were fresh ones on the grave.  I looked at the headstone--Edith Piaf, the Little Sparrow.  Our hotel was in the neighborhood where she grew up singing on the streets.  The place was beginning to give me the creeps. 

I quickened my pace and met Claudette.  Somehow the place was not as menacing in her company.  Jim Morrison's grave was nearby.  Initially the grave space for the Doors front man was rented for thirty years, but before the thirty year lease was up his family bought the plot.  His grave is one of the most vandalized in the cemetery, although the vandals probably would not call it vandalization.  The trees near his grave are carved with graffiti.  It is one of the most popular graves in the cemetery.  My oldest son took a train from Marseilles one weekend just to visit. 

At last we had seen what we had come to see. That is to say I had seen enough. At the first cafe after leaving the cemetery I ordered calvados.  No, I don't like cemeteries, and I don't want to be buried in one!

The tomb on the left is that of Oscar Wilde

The last photo on the right is graffiti near Morrison's grave

Jim Morrison's grave is second from the right.