The comfort of escapism is a blanket that comes in many forms. One of these shapes is video games. They have been an integral part of my life and it all started with my first console: the PlayStation 1. It wasn't a regular PlayStation 1, but it was the new PSone with a (third-party) LCD. It wasn't anyone's in particular so we could say it was a family computer. Before I could understand the thing I'd watch my dad play Medal of honor: Underground for hours. There are two levels that remain etched in my mind: "Amongst the Dead (Occupied!)" and "Casablanca (Hunting the Desert Fox)." One of them is pretty obvious - "Casablanca" - because I'm of Moroccan descent, but the other one's location isn't as self-explanatory. It actually takes place in the Parisian catacombs. And the funny thing is that our guide, a seasoned cataphile, in Paris actually talked about how it is believed that the French resistance hid in the catacombs: bullet shells were found supporting this belief. She noticed me nodding in agreement and asked me whether I knew this already. When I said I did, she asked me how I knew: "Did you visit the Liberation of Paris Museum?" Unfortunately I had to disappoint her with my answer: "No, I saw it in a videogame." Luckily she was interested in which videogame and another person in the group guessed it was Assassin's Creed (my disappointment was immeasurable, but my day wasn't ruined). After this little interaction we continued our journey deeper down. Our guide took us through a restricted area where a quarry worker sculpted some building he saw during his imprisonment on a Spanish island.
Before we enter the bone zone we are welcomed by the infamous sign with the alexandrine: "Arrête! C'est ici l'empire de la mort." And it actually rings true. Were it not for the people being there you could've heard a pin drop. The more time I spent in the ossuary the more I understand cataphiles. It isn't only the silence that seems so attractive, but the sense of mystery definitely adds to that. Knowing that what I saw, was only one percent of the whole underground system of pathways and tunnels made me hunger for more. Unfortunately it is an illegal - yet tolerated - activity and I'm a little a babby that's scared of cramped spaces, so I won't be venturing in there anytime soon. I'll just enjoy the creativity and thrill form afar. The guide heard my significant other and me talking about the catacombs with much excitement and curiosity which only grew stronger after she told us there will be a "Kataloween" party later tonight. She is not attending the party because she doesn't like that kind of music (the kind of music was never explained). For the sake of pleasing my imagination, let's say the kind of music was jazz (on bones).
 |
| A lot of skulls break under the pressure of the weight of the femurs |
 |
| This wall had recently collapsed |
 |
| The quarry workers tried to make this look like a church |
For someone who loves cemeteries Paris really is the place to be. Unfortunately we only managed to visit one burial ground during our stay, but that just gives us an extra reason to come back another time. That one gravesite was the Montparnasse Cemetery. I must say this is one of the most serene cemeteries I've strolled through in a while. And I can't claim I was just lucky because our trip was from the 31st of October to 3rd of November, meaning All Saint's and All Souls' Day were celebrated during our stay. I took my little Olympus Trip MD2 (this camera's been in the family for more than 30 years, I think) with me and shot a couple of photos of the scenery. I love how all of them came out and it has definitely motivated me to capture more moments on film (seeing the quality of the scans did make me realize I should let the developer digitalize them). Unfortunately the camera might be broken because some pictures in the Louvre failed miserably. So I'm gonna have to get it checked out before I take it out for another adventure. In the mean time I can still use good "ol' reliable": my phone.
I think about my own funeral a lot of times. It's because I think it's a beautiful ritual. A horse drawn funeral procession will be my physical (we mustn't write off the idea of a hereafter) body's final journey before resting in my ornate tomb adorned with rose details and stained glass. In the pictures below you will find the grave of Charles Baudelaire. My reason for visiting his grave is simply because the refrain of his poem L'invitation au voyage" from Les Fleurs du Mal is somewhat of a mantra to me: "Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté, luxe, calme et volupté (English: There, all is peace and beauty, luxury and sensuality)." When I think of it I do actually imagine a locus amoenus; it's soothing.
 |
| The grave of Baudelaire amongst other family members |
 |
| The grave of Jean-Paul Sartre and his partner |
 |
| The family grave of Charles Pigeon with a statue depicting him and his wife |
When I went looking for Baudelaire's grave I had to ask for help, because it was hard to find. I asked one of the gravetenders and she was confused as to why I was asking her. For some reason she assumed I was here last year as well. This confused me of course: I wasn't there last year. She further explained that last year there was a girl who looked exactly like me and was even dressed exactly like me. How peculiar?
Thank you, and take care.
Comments
Post a Comment