Ile de la Cité And Ile Saint Louis After Notre Dame Fire

The sun finally returned after a seemingly too long absence and it was just what I needed to stroll around Ile de La Cité and Ile Saint Louis, a favourite walk.   The heart of Paris still revolves around Notre Dame!

Notre Dame from Le Pont Saint Michel looked eerily almost the same, even though minus her heaven reaching spire.   I guess whenever I would catch sight of her, my eyes focused on the twin towers facade and her flying buttresses.

The wholeness of Notre Dame remains mysteriously imprinted in my brain like ducklings to their mother or like a lost love. I pretend that I don’t really see the strange vacuous darkness behind the massive rose windows and that she is wholly restored again.

I exited le Cité metro this time to the unmistakable sweet smells of croissants that immediately set up a longing for one.  Looking up at the white pitched tents was the Fête de Pain that was always held in front of Notre Dame.

With the huge parvis(place) in front of the cathedral closed, they settled to a location nearby between the Marché aux Fleurs and the Prefecture de Police.

So I started my walk of course by going inside to catch sight of the Best Croissant of Ile De France awards, hoping they might be passing out free ones this year, which they never do.

I decided to forgo the croissants in favour of a possible ice cream cone from Berthillon later on.  The whole side street, Rue Cloître Notre Dame, that runs north of the cathedral is blocked from entering by policemen, with huge cranes in front.

I felt sorry for all the cafes and trinket merchants put out of business suddenly, that were used to throngs of tourists at all times.

The other streets and bridges though were still abuzz with tourists, edging in one another to get photos of Notre Dame.

I know the little side streets of Ile de la Cité well, having walked them many of time for their medieval flavour and historical significance.

This is sacred land, where Lutece began by the Celtic Parisi tribes who fished the Seine from the sloping meadow covered banks.

I like the corner view of Rue des Oursins where the ancient cafe de Colombe still stands.

On Rue Chainonesse, the wisteria vines practically covering the walls of Au Vieux Paris cafe are magnificent in bloom, when you can catch them.

I imagine the choir of Notre Dame still practices at 8 Rue Massillon, though now singing in their blue robes at Saint Sulpice.

The very narrow Rue Chartres is prettier at night lit by lanterns leading out towards the Seine.  I walk along the Quai aux Fleurs passing by the plaque where Heloise galvanised the tragic fate of Abelard and their love played out till their death.

I look sadly at the  Jardin de Notre Dame, now closed, where I used to sit lazily in the sun on a bench contemplating my life.  The trees did not look healthy at all, some with faded green, either heat damaged or in grief, like us all who love Notre Dame.

I went to the Memorial des Martyrs Déportation, an austere monument and grave with wrought iron spikes, a criss-cross reminder of the cruelness that life can be for some.  The small grassy park does offer some nice views of the Seine winding around Ile Saint Louis.

There is usually a long line in front at the Bertillon stand facing the back of Notre Dame, one of several on the island.

My intent was to walk along Quai d’Orleans, facing the Latin Quater then Quai Béthume to reach the back tip of the island.

The Polish Library at no 6, holds some original scores by Chopin, but I have never been inside.

I marvel at the view that Marie Curie had from her window at no 36, which was a fairly short walk across Pont de la Tournelle to her laboratory on the Left Bank.

The Square Barye park at the end of Ile Saint Louis is crowned with a huge sculpture and is a quiet place to sit.   I often would see sunbathers down the secluded banks below, some women topless thinking they were less visible except to passing boats.

Circling back of the northern side of the island, on Quai d’Anjou, facing the right bank, one finds the ancient Boulangers Guild, where the best baguette of Paris contest is still had.

Baudelaire one lived at no 17, where he wrote Les Fleurs de Mal(Flowers of Evil).   I pass by again the former residence of Camille Claudel further up on Quai de Bourbon, where her paranoia and psychosis lead her to destroy many of her works.

The main street of the island Rue Saint Louis en Ile harbours many quaint but overly expensive shops, beckoning tourists who don’t know any better.  There still is a decent fromagerie and boulangerie.

The restaurant Les Gauloises, Nos Ancestres is still there offering a  fill your belly type medieval-themed dinner.

Le Sergent Recruiter restaurant next doors has reopened as expensive as ever. Neither one would be on my list of sought out places to dine.

I gave in to having that Berthillon ice cream cone, well worth the money for an explosion of passion fruit that is only mildly sugared as I like.

Placated, I retrace my walk back over Pont Saint Louis to Ile de La Cite along the northern quai with views of the bar restaurant peniches(barges) parked along the other side that make for a pleasant stop for an aperitive.

Going along in the back of Hôpital Dieu and the Marché aux Fleurs, to the corner of the Pont au Change leading to Chàtelet.

This beautiful clock is the oldest one in Paris dating back to 1370.  It was meant to decorate the royal palace but now graces the corner of the Conciergerie, a former medieval prison, where Marie Antoinette spent her last days before facing the guillotine.

Continuing pass Pont au Change the views along the Seine offer the top of the Louvre ahead.  I turn left on Rue Harley which is in back of the original palace of French kings before the Louvre was built.

Place Dauphine is worth seeing at night more than the day, surrounded by soft lantern lights and cafes, like Paul which I went to during my student days.  Simone Signoret and Yves Montand called this view their home.

There were several chestnut trees in full bloom, flaunting orange spiked flowers.

Crossing Rue Pont Neuf is still as treacherous as it was for Pierre Curie, who was run over and killed by a horse-drawn carriage. On the other side is the tip of Ile de la Cité, called Square au Vert Galant.

I never liked to linger long there, haunted by my awareness that the head of the Templiers, Jacque de Molay was burned alive by evil king Phillipe Le Bel, whose wickedness was ended a year later by karma and by the predicted cursed fate left upon his family by the dying Demolay.

I walk back towards Cité on the left bank still lined with Bouqinistes whose owners wait patiently for buyers of their old books. Crossing back at Pont Saint Michel onto Ile de la Cité, where crowds of tourists are staring at Notre Dame and taking photos of her still standing.

The prominent gold gilded corner at 36 Quai Offeverie belongs to famed headquarters of the Paris police.  Nestled between this and the Palais de Justice is the opulent stain glass marvel of the world, La Sainte Chapelle, where you can take in lovely candlelight classical concerts.

The Palais de Justice with it’s blue and gold decorated wrought iron gate was the original first palace of French kings from the 10th to the 14th century. It later became a labyrinth of small rooms, long halls and ornate courtrooms of the Court of Appeals up until recently, when the court moved to the 17 arrondissement.

I go back to the Fête de Pain, succumbing to the irresistible smells of freshly baked puff pastries, baguettes and croissants wafting all around.

Canada happened to be the country of honour this year and a lady was frying up Beignets de Lynx, shaped like a huge paw then rolled in granulated maple sugar.

I ended up buying one to take home.  Cute enough to look at but disappointing as was too doughnut-like and lacked any distinct maple flavour.

The sun was still high in the sky at 6:30 pm, but it was time to get back and start cooking.  I left knowing that Notre Dame is in good hands, currently having her walls secured before any real restoration can start.

There is a top now to keep out the rain and the world awaits whether her spire will be replaced with a  replica or not.   During the meantime, she is still the most sought out star of the show and remains the heart of Paris, not only geographically but more importantly the soul and spiritual core of Paris.