All images Montmartre Cemetery
Like many Anglophone tourists, the first Parisian cemetery I visited was Père Lachaise. Spanning 44 hectares in the 20th arrondissement at the easternmost edge of the city, this is the resting place of a number of historical figures from France and around the world, including Honoré de Balzac, Frédéric Chopin, Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison, and Oscar Wilde. Unlike many Anglophone tourists, my first stop that chilly October afternoon in 2004 was not Jim Morrison’s grave; after paying my respects to Balzac, Chopin, and Piaf (and stumbling across Wilde at some point), my feet were getting cold, I had people to meet, and I had to get back to my tiny rented flat to change.
At Père Lachaise, the tombs are a design mishmash––you’ll find everything from Gothic, to Baroque, to Neo-Classical, to Haussmannian, to antique-style mausoleums there.
Cemeteries in Paris are kind of like the Louvre: there is so much to look at, so much mastery to admire, so much history to appreciate, that you can’t digest everything in one afternoon. You have to keep going back, really, if you’re to appreciate any of it at all. At Père Lachaise, the tombs are a design mishmash––you’ll find everything from Gothic, to Baroque, to Neo-Classical, to Haussmannian, to antique-style mausoleums there. There are lots of details to think about, and one could spend an entire day marveling at one single grave. But, aside from the impressive design and the list of V.I.P.s much of it’s dedicated to, is the sheer size of the tombs. That first time I explored a Parisian cemetery, I was renting a flat that measured 18 square meters––a little less than 200 square feet. It was all I could afford back then; and back then as I embarked on my Big French Adventure, it was perfect. But even so, I was aware of being space-deprived. Some of those tombs, or graves, I couldn’t think of as tombs or graves. They seemed massive, the size of small summer cottages. Sure, they were beautiful, but why did they need to be so big? What statement were they making here?
Since my status has changed from tourist to visitor and, finally, to expat, I’ve been back to Père Lachaise many times, and the cimitière de Montparnasse, down in the south of the city, too. My favorite, however, is the cimitière de Montmartre. Officially called cimitière du Nord, it’s located at the top of Paris, nestled between the edge of Montmartre (home to the Sacré Coeur) and the place de Clichy, in the 18th arrondissement. Much smaller than Père Lachaise, this place feels more humble, even if it, too, houses a number of celebrities at rest. The beloved French filmmaker François Truffaut is buried here, as are the writer Emile Zola, the ballet dancer Nijinsky, and the variety singer Dalida. There are a number of requisite summer cottage-sized tombs, and plenty of intricate statues––some fighting against the elements, some impressively realized, and some not so much. There are trees––lots of them––that, in their whispery-breezy way, welcome you to find a bench, take a load off, eat your lunch, read your book, write in your notebook … or simply sit back and enjoy where you are. Be at peace.
And then there are the cats. Everywhere, lounging flat-out, the way only cats can, on the hot sunbathed stone in the summer; prowling through the leaves in the fall; fighting for territory at all times of the year. They don’t let anyone get near them––well, almost anyone. The elderly ladies that arrive to clean the graves of their loved ones come equipped with fresh flowers … and kibble.
It’s here that I tend to go on my first official spring stroll. It’s also here where I wind up when autumn sets in. It’s never really planned––it just happens that way.
It’s here that I tend to go on my first official spring stroll. It’s also here where I wind up when autumn sets in. It’s never really planned––it just happens that way. I attribute it to the vibe of the place, and whether that is, in part, because of its design or not, I couldn’t tell you for sure. Cemeteries are supposed to be resting places, and the cimitière of Montmartre is obviously no exception. But for a cemetery, this one feels (to me at least) incredibly alive.
There’s something reassuring about that.
