Sacred Heart

The walk from Pigalle up to the Sacré-Cœur is like a religious pilgrimage, the God sat on its plinth at the top, a bowed giant overlooking the proceedings of its city.

Paris.

The stairs leading up to the monument at the final hurdle like open arms offering a knowing and welcoming embrace. As if to congratulate your effort by offering what it can in return. The most spectacular view of the city bound together like patchwork, threaded by roads and a river.

I had made this walk before but this time was different. On the cobbled winding streets leading up to Montmartre and the monument up top was a celebration on the streets.

It felt as if I had been thrust into a Venetian costume party. I’m not entirely sure what the celebration was for but along with the dancing and the music there were upturned oil drums burning wildly with fire and the area had its own heartbeat with the walkways becoming its veins. The same blood flowed through everyone present to the same rhythmic beat. Flames rippled the twilight surroundings like a Dali painting and time seemed to melt into a non-linear form. Or perhaps we just didn’t care.

Parched, we arrived. Overhead lights illuminated a street performer performing tricks with a football (soccer for those over the pond).Tricks that as a young boy I could only have dreamed of being able to do, even now I was in awe.

Our thirst was quenched by guys selling us icy bottles of beer that dripped with condensation on the exterior of the brown bottle much like the sweat on our brows. They couldn’t have looked more appealing. The atmosphere from down below was muffled up the top but kept vaguely alive with music and dancers with a lower mellow tempo allowing us a well deserved rest.

This was the after party.

By now twilight had faded to night and the glow of the cities streetlights began to coalesce into a warm radiance over the city below us. The night air was still warm but a coolness was beginning to edge its way over. This shift in temperature seemed to signal a shift in mood as chunks of the crowd began to dissipate. Day had ended but the night was just about to begin for some. Despite the ambience up the top we knew we had to head back downhill and be faced once again with the carnival atmosphere. To continue the party or to head back to sleep? Our spirits were lifted on our way back down and the choice was out of our hands.

The night had just begun and after all we were in Paris. It’d be rude not to.