Paris

Paris, the capital of France.

I had a very mild version of Paris syndrome (see here for a better description). Interestingly, not the very first time that I went there—this was with my father—but I believe on the third visit. The city suddenly appeared gross to me, dirty, full of obnoxious and arrogant people. A deep, complete, total disappointment of this place and its people. I can certainly understand it reaches traumatic proportions for delicate foreign visitors.

The most beautiful tribute to Paris that I know is Brel's les prénoms de Paris:

Et savoir que demain

Sera comme aujourd'hui

C'est Paris merveilleux

All tributes to Paris are tributes to love [1].

Notre-Dame

We never go to Paris without passing by Notre-Dame, the heart of France and one pillar of Catholicism, where the Crown of thorns has been placed by Saint Louis for safekeeping while the Sainte Chapelle was being built (as he died before, it seems the relics remained in the temporary location). Witness of the slaughtering of the wolves of Paris, defaced by Napoléon for his coronation, the resonance chamber for the Requiem of the last French leader, and, of course, the inspiration for a major work of French literature, it is the real symbol of our capital.

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Sacré-Cœur

A rather odd-looking church to crown Paris, it was built under Mac-Mahon following the popular uprising of la commune to reestablish moral order and monarchy. It is difficult to put it one side or the other: Kitsch or architectural masterpiece, perpetual adoration or touristic trap, national penance or national sin.

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  Le Sacré-Cœur (and Fabrice)

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  Closer view (with Elena)

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  The people up there.

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  From below.

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  Paris as seen by the Sacré-Cœur. On the right, hiding in eerie colours, the Tour Montparnasse,

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  that you see again here.

Visits on 2 August (2006) and then again on 16 February (2013).