Day of the Dead

It was a beautiful, sunny summer day in the city of love. As I awoke that morning with the happy sun streaming through my windows, I thought to myself, what can I do that would capture the loveliness of this Parisian day? A walk down the Seine? A stroll through the Luxembourg Gardens? A bistro meal at an outdoor cafe?

...A trip to the Cemetery?

While the French are known for their "Joie de vivre," they certianly take good care of their dead.

I went to the Père-Lachaise cemetary to find the graves of famous icons buiried in the best city to live (and die in).

I had a map, but was able to find the graves easily by looking for the hordes of people, except at lonley Gertruide Stiens grave.

It was interesting to see the graves of famous icons, but it was even more interesting to see how previous passers-by had payed their respects.

Oscar Wilde's grave was covered in red lips and thank-yous, amists and ignored sign to respect the grave and not deface it.

Jim Morrison's grave, behind a barracade and surrounded by tattered tee wearing teens making their pilgramage, was filled with empty beer cans.

In contrast, Gertruide Steins grave was immaculate and plain, and although her partener, Alice Toklas is buired beside her, her name is carved on the back like a hidden afterthought.

The cemetary was also home to many heartbreaking Holocaust memorials, graphically depicting the pain that the Jewish had felt durning the occupation and the war.

Edith Piaf is laid in a nondescript black family grave, surrounded by a bunch of frenchies singing "La Vie en rose"

Finally I visited the famous composer, Fredrick Chopin's grave and thanked him for the soundtrack to my childhood.

It was the most famous people I'd ever seen in a single day...does that count?