When we first headed to Père Lachaise Cemetery on New Year’s Eve day, it was closed for reasons of security. There was no mention of this on the website, naturally. And, naturally, the site that has the most logical name has no actual affiliation with the cemetery, so you have to hunt around and find it within the Jardins de Paris uber-site. Because, naturally, you’d look for information about a cemetery on a garden website.
We got our hotel guy to find phone numbers for us, and I called many times but no one answered, so we headed blind back out to the cemetery on January 3. It was open, and we swooned at the decaying beauty that enveloped us.
We couldn’t stop taking pictures. It was ridiculously beautiful, and so foreign to the American concept of one grave, one body.
Jim Morrison’s grave was there, of course, tucked away and cordoned off. I felt bad for the other graves next to his; no one paid any attention to them. I’m not big on the visiting of graves, as I prefer to see where famous people lived, not died.
We joked about how the cemetery must be a goth kid’s dream, but it really was an amazing place. I’m going to make a point of visiting cemeteries in cities and towns from now on.