We found ourselves in Montmartre, the neighborhood high above Paris. For those who remember the film Amélie, it will seem familiar. Montmartre is like an island encircled by small streets, none of which take you directly to the heart, or Sacre Coeur- a basilica and church. We climbed the hill through Place St. Pierre, a beautiful park. The place was crazy with tourists, mostly American. All packed into about a square block in front of the church. It's always a little funny how embarrassed a person can get when mingling with compatriots in a foreign land. We couldn't help but shrink a little when overhearing things like: "they really need to ring their bells more often."
But once you went around the structure, the crowd thinned considerably and the building was much more impressive from the back. The complex was more elaborate. For a time, it was basically just the two of us back there. We even had to use the self-timer on the camera to take our own picture since there was nobody to ask. 
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| The obligatory statue man looking fetching in copper. |
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| The back ramparts |
oooh, scary
We hopped on the train and went to the St. Martin Canal to check out the Bobos -- the bourgeois boheme they're called in Paris. Basically yipsters, or like everyone who lives in our hood in San Francisco. Some day the process will work in reverse, but for now every place you are encouraged to visit is the new Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
We treated ourselves to some sweets from a boulangerie in St. Martin. A pistachio escargot bread (the shape, not the snail - that would be yuck!) and an apple one. Sweet and delicious. a little too sugary for Ned, just right for Mel.
Ned bought this can at the local Monoprix supermarket yesterday to enjoy after a long day of trekking. A quick calculation puts its alcohol content at the equivalent of an entire six pack of Bud. Not a thing to be trifled with, the nuclear bomb of canned beers. It did not disappoint ;).
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