That church on the hill.

Saturday was sort of reserved for a rest day but when you're in one of the most amazing cities in the world thats never going to happen. After missing out on the 'chasse aux tresors' or scavengar hunt, we decided we would reward ourselves with a trip to Sacre Coeur. Sacre Coeur is a magnificent church situated in by far, one of the most touristy areas of Paris. After getting of the metro and walking over 300 steps just to get out of the metro station (no kidding, there were even rest areas for the old) we were immediately bombarded with the illegal immigrants who roam the streets.

While some are harmless and sit on the side of the street selling mini Eiffel towers or french flags (or an identical variation of the same thing, their creativity skills are seriously lacking. That and their marketing savvy, even I know that 10 people selling the same thing within 20 metres of each other is not the sure fire way to become the next Bill Gates). As we approached the fernicular (took a stab in the dark there, if its wrong I'll just pretend thats the french spelling), we were grabbed, literally by two African men. While trying to get away from them they grabbed on to our arms and started wrapping cotton around our wrists to braid a bracelet. We patiently waited as they completed braiding the bracelets until they got till then and started repeating over and over again 'akounamatata' (you get the drift right?) It was pretty freaky so we made to leave but they were yelling after us "donation, donation". So first of all they totally interrupt what we're doing, they force us to wait for them as they braid us a bracelet we don't even want and then they ask for a donation? Ummm, no.

We yanked the bracelets off our wrists and stormed off like the angry New Zealander's that we are (the storming didn't last too long, we were confronted by the daunting steps to the Sacre Coeur. I can't remember how many there are. Just, a lot).

By the time we got to the top it had started to rain (typical) and so we made a dart for the church along with the other 30,000 people there to check out the holy crib. It was pretty cool and although I have visited it before, its still special. This time I even read the noticeboards (but no photos, its not allowed, they actually have plain clothed officials just roaming about to tell people off, PDR I call them, the Power Drunk Relgious) and discovered that it took about 45 years to complete it! I have trouble with 2 hour long projects, let alone over two decades. Guess they didn't have internet in the late 1800's though. Maybe I would build a church to keep me sane. Wait out the technology-free era.

The rain soon cleared to make way for beautiful blue sky and we were able to grab some lunch and sit at the bottom of the steps, looking out over the Paris skyline (and the somewhat intrusive Montparnasse tower, a point of contention for the Parisians and a personal eyesore for me).

We even decided to explore and walked around a little bit but this was cut short with the realization that walking too far in any direction around this area leaves you in the ghetto. My suggestion is to walk 2km's to the left of the SC and pretend your in the slums of India, trust me, the comparison isn't difficult. We quickly left that area (for fear of getting mugged, raped or killed) and after getting completely drenched from the crazy, unexpectant rain we headed back for the metro (and the impending steps).

Nightime activity: my first Parisian party! More later. Bed.