Paris Part 1: You Walk in Diamonds...
Crypte Archeologique at Notre Dame
In the square of the Notre-Dame Cathedral, under the selfie-stick wielding hoards in search of their perfect selfie selves, stands the inconspicuous entrance to an underground realm. This subterranean museum houses the remains of something altogether un-Parisian.
The remains of an ancient city, the city of Lutèce (Lutetia in Latin).
An assuming entrance: the gap between the stones
next to the second lamp post is the entrance to the crypte.A thousand years before Notre-Dame took shape, Lutèce was Paris's first incarnation, a settlement on an island in the middle of the Seine River. It was a perfect stronghold and a lucrative trading outpost. This museum explores this history, combining excavated material alongside 3-D renderings of the cathedral and, more distantly, the Roman baths that once occupied the "Île de la Cité." It's worth a visit.
(Video: Me messing with the 3D video of Notre-Dame. James filming.)
My mind wanders underground amid the ruins of Rome's version of Paris. A Paris that could have been. Rome, who planned to conquer the world and establish a Pax Romana that would last forever. They got halfway there. They built with that thought in mind.
What would Paris look like if they achieved their vision? Above me, in place of Notre-Dame tourists would take a dip in the ancient thermal baths. They could head to the arena on the outskirts of town. The remains of an arena still stands there. If Rome ruled, it might still stand in all its glory, housing football matches and gladiator combat. Would those tourists take the metro to reach it? Take a train? Would they pass an Eiffel Tower? Would a Mona Lisa hang in some alternate version of the Louvre?
But the Romans didn't plan for Goths and Dark Ages.
We all have Goths and Dark Ages in our lives, I suppose.
Above me in the square, a threadbare old man tosses crumbs to pigeons. Tourists snap his photo: this act earns him immortality. And he is not the first old man to earn immortality for this simple act. Others went before him. They fed pigeons, smiled at tourists, lived, and died. Other tourists, other pigeons in other times.
Other versions of me have stood beneath the street and pondered the great and small cycles of life as well. More old men, pigeons, tourists, and wandering writers will fill our places when we vacate them. I hope they appreciate the links between past, present, and future. It gives the space in which we exist a comfortable, worn-in feel. Not like old shoes. More like a diamond set in several different crowns -- repurposed yet eternally invaluable. In this vision, this version of all things that I cup in my hands beneath the street, the old man is a king. In front of his pigeons he casts flakes of gold.
You there, reading these words, can you see the motion of his hand?
There's beauty in the transient nature of all things. There's beauty in the vision you have for your life and yourself. At least there should be. Whether you feed pigeons, raise children, study insects, or rule kingdoms, you walk in diamonds and cup gold in your hands.
The Goths and Dark Ages may come. They may alter your plans. They may rob you, burn down your bridges, or give you cancer. Still, it's worth striving to build something eternally significant in spite of them. It will be eternally significant to you, and if life continues beyond this one, and I believe it does, all those pigeons the man fed, all the thoughts we weave together in the dark places and the light, all these stones that rose and fell and cracked and split, we shall find risen in glory on the other side of some final tomorrow that few have glimpsed but none have seen.
So beats my heart beneath the streets of Paris. So run my thoughts beneath Notre-Dame. There in Lutetia, the city that was, is, and will be.
In the square of the Notre-Dame Cathedral, under the selfie-stick wielding hoards in search of their perfect selfie selves, stands the inconspicuous entrance to an underground realm. This subterranean museum houses the remains of something altogether un-Parisian.
The remains of an ancient city, the city of Lutèce (Lutetia in Latin).
An assuming entrance: the gap between the stonesnext to the second lamp post is the entrance to the crypte.A thousand years before Notre-Dame took shape, Lutèce was Paris's first incarnation, a settlement on an island in the middle of the Seine River. It was a perfect stronghold and a lucrative trading outpost. This museum explores this history, combining excavated material alongside 3-D renderings of the cathedral and, more distantly, the Roman baths that once occupied the "Île de la Cité." It's worth a visit.
(Video: Me messing with the 3D video of Notre-Dame. James filming.)
My mind wanders underground amid the ruins of Rome's version of Paris. A Paris that could have been. Rome, who planned to conquer the world and establish a Pax Romana that would last forever. They got halfway there. They built with that thought in mind.
What would Paris look like if they achieved their vision? Above me, in place of Notre-Dame tourists would take a dip in the ancient thermal baths. They could head to the arena on the outskirts of town. The remains of an arena still stands there. If Rome ruled, it might still stand in all its glory, housing football matches and gladiator combat. Would those tourists take the metro to reach it? Take a train? Would they pass an Eiffel Tower? Would a Mona Lisa hang in some alternate version of the Louvre?
But the Romans didn't plan for Goths and Dark Ages.
We all have Goths and Dark Ages in our lives, I suppose.
Above me in the square, a threadbare old man tosses crumbs to pigeons. Tourists snap his photo: this act earns him immortality. And he is not the first old man to earn immortality for this simple act. Others went before him. They fed pigeons, smiled at tourists, lived, and died. Other tourists, other pigeons in other times.
Other versions of me have stood beneath the street and pondered the great and small cycles of life as well. More old men, pigeons, tourists, and wandering writers will fill our places when we vacate them. I hope they appreciate the links between past, present, and future. It gives the space in which we exist a comfortable, worn-in feel. Not like old shoes. More like a diamond set in several different crowns -- repurposed yet eternally invaluable. In this vision, this version of all things that I cup in my hands beneath the street, the old man is a king. In front of his pigeons he casts flakes of gold.
You there, reading these words, can you see the motion of his hand?
There's beauty in the transient nature of all things. There's beauty in the vision you have for your life and yourself. At least there should be. Whether you feed pigeons, raise children, study insects, or rule kingdoms, you walk in diamonds and cup gold in your hands.
The Goths and Dark Ages may come. They may alter your plans. They may rob you, burn down your bridges, or give you cancer. Still, it's worth striving to build something eternally significant in spite of them. It will be eternally significant to you, and if life continues beyond this one, and I believe it does, all those pigeons the man fed, all the thoughts we weave together in the dark places and the light, all these stones that rose and fell and cracked and split, we shall find risen in glory on the other side of some final tomorrow that few have glimpsed but none have seen.
So beats my heart beneath the streets of Paris. So run my thoughts beneath Notre-Dame. There in Lutetia, the city that was, is, and will be.
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