The view from the top of Montparnasse Tower- which only offers the prettiest view of the city because you don’t have to endure its very presence besmirching the landscape.

I don’t think that I need to expound anymore upon how much I like being here. Actually, I have no desire to do so at the moment since my brain is quite zapped from playing tour guide for two days. Unlike the last town, Paris has been a blur of a different sort; I wonder if I should be drinking more wine in order to stomach the large serving of tourists that are currently filling this city to capacity.

(This is an excellent idea…)

Okay. I have remedied that situation, so now allow me to post a few more things that only I care about.

My first real day back in Paris since 1998 and I had it all to myself. This is probably my favorite way to experience this city, since I can do things that are of little interest to the DaVinci faithful. You know what is coming: my summer of Olmsted cultural travel in the vein of Hemingway carries on.

What??? Did you know that he drove ambulances in World War I? This is true, so at least I can draw a military connection between him and my military research. Sorta.

So I spent my day wandering around Montparnasse. No longer the same place that it was in the early 1900s, I still wanted to witness first-hand the locales of many famous artists who lived there almost a century ago (and when I say “artist”, I am using it as an all-encompassing term). Here are many of my stops:

La Coupole

France wouldn’t be France without me wanting to visit an area and having it closed due to a strike or summer vacation. Such was the case for La Coupole, one of the primary cafes inhabited by EH and other notables. Although it was closed for summer renovations, a cursory glance inside didn’t offer much today that would seem to inspire great thoughts. No big shocker there; such is time. Nothing gold can stay.

27 Rue de Fleurus

Chez Gertrude Stein. Over the years she and her partner Alice Toklas hosted many artists, writers and critics at their residence. This home was transformed into a sort of salon/sanctuary for many, to include Hemingway. You can read about it should you ever choose to pick up A Moveable Feast. There’s not much to see, other than this simple placard posted by the door. I wonder who lives here now- and whether they are even interested in the great banter that must have taken place in their home.

Le Closerie des Lilas

Hemingway worked on the final draft of The Sun Also Rises here, as he would often come to this cafe to write and not be bothered. The bar inside is dark and very inviting for privacy, and only small bronze plaques and tiny pictures draw attention to the fact that anyone of note was here. 

Again, this place is largely gentrified. I am sure the modern day Hemingways now occupy cafes in far stretches of other cities, deliberately creating their masterworks so that one day envious pilgrims like me can stop by to see what the big draw was all about.

Do your own research if you want to see the scope of famous names that inhabited Montparnasse. Like this guy. Of course James Joyce would have lived near Hemingway. It only makes sense. 

My neighbors over the years? I am fairly certain that their likes do not bode well for me making any kind of a name for myself. I have neighbored up against plenty of thirsty sailors, which kind of lets me know what my fate shall be.

I finally arrived at EH’s house,located  just up the hill from Joyce’s residence. As I was taking my pictures, I was stopped by this Indian guy: “Excuse me,” he asked, “is this the Ernest Hemingway?”  I looked at him and thought (with my inside voice), “Um…yes- this plaque is definitely not marking the former domicile of the Texas rodeo clown Ernest Hemingway. “

Okay, I didn’t say that, but I did smile politely and tell him yes. The man became very excited, telling me where he was from and that he had done his English Master’s Degree on Ernest Hemingway. I told him he made a good choice, and rolled on.

One interruption in my quest for anti-military enrichment. I had to go up to Montmartre to meet a friend’s cousins for drinks. Occupying a small and murky bar, we had a great time discussing (en français) the finer aspects of Maupassant, Dostoevsky, Bukowski and horror movies. 

No really- it was fantastic, and the experience was probably more authentic than glossing over the gentrified portions of Montparnasse. While Montmartre has its own commodities of repute (hookers, Moulin Rouge, absinthe), I guarantee there is more literary thinking going on here than there is down on the other side of the river. 

At leat Evil Dead 2 is getting plenty of screen time.

Okay, last stop for this trip (yes, I know that I didn’t exhaust the list of places I could have visited):

Shakespeare and Company.

It’s no longer at its original location, but this was another haunt for many literaries as a place where they could buy or borrow books. It was also the first place that published Joyce’s Ulysses (you like how we have the Irish representing twice in my EH blog entry? Very nice).

I went in to the shop looking for a copy of Hemingway’s short stories, but alas they were sold out. Instead, I opted for a French author who was recommended by the horror movie guy in the picture above me. Sadly, it’s the English translation (this store specializes in English language books), so that makes me a bit of a slacker. Still, I am looking forward to reading it, and consider it my best souvenir so far in the city.

So Paris, I do firmly believe, you need to visit on several occasions before you can really settle in and enjoy it. The first trip (or two, or three), you spend running around checking all the tourism boxes.  It’s exhausting, and it almost feels like penance.  It does for me anyway. Especially in July.

I like the fact that I have been back here enough to know my way around and pick and choose random things that will keep me far away from Line 1 of the metro. There is still so much more that I haven’t seen, or even know about- but I know I will be back again before too long.

Il faut, d’abord, durer. 

Words to live by, words that set me out on today’s quest in the first place.