Paris. Easter Sunday

One might expect on Easter Sunday that things would be quiet. No, not the case. In the morning we went to the shops which were all open and passed by dozens of cafes all of which were crowded with people having their brunch. Although we could hear the tolling of the bells from Sacre Coeur, most people seemed to just take it as an ordinary day. Garbage was being picked up and the buses were running. One exception was the number of flower-sellers around the shops. Lily-of-the-Valley is very popular at this time of year being extremely plentiful and quite inexpensive.

Lily of the Valley, Lilacs and Peonies

Some few shops were closed, but not too many. We needed to find a Chemist and while the large one over the street was closed, our local one was open and, of course, the bakery was doing a roaring trade.

In the afternoon I decided to walk to the Butte while Virginia studied, only to discover that the funicular had broken down.

Le funiculaire ne marche pas

This meant a climb of several hundred steps and while we frequently walk down that many, climbing up them demonstrated very clearly that I was not the youthful athlete that I had never been anyway!

Climbing the stairs

Never again. Next time it happens I shall board the Montmartrebus and let it take me to the top, although going up on foot does give one a very nice view of the city and of the Carousel.

The Carousel

After having walked all the way to the top, I then walked all the way back down on the other side of the Butte.

The way back down

When I got home, Virginia had finished her studies and had gone for afternoon tea to our close neighbour and friend, a former French film actor. Hmmmm. He is a very attractive man about our own age who Virginia claims does more for her French in one hour than a term at the Alliance Francaise. I decided discretion was the better part of valour and just smiled.