The winding incline to the top of Montmarte, a vista point featuring Paris, brims with buskers and cafes, tourists and taxis. The two windmills (moulins), a variety of shops, and VanGogh’s residence (see photo with blue door) are stops along the way.
Wanting to see the views in daylight and darkness, we arrived at the top around 4 and headed down at 9:30. Sitting on the stairs across the sidewalk and beneath the cathedral, we watched the lights flicker across the city until it was luminescent from end to end.
In the cool night air, a man smoked a hooka; another man juggled a soccer ball on a pedestal; determined salesmen pushed Heineken, plastic toys, and “designer” handbags until two officers arrived. Suddenly, vendors flooded down the stairs into the night.
shewhodaresnothing 