Fritzl Unfound

Richard Erickson's Paris Journal - Freelance Correspondent to the Paris Pages
All images copyright (c) 17 April 1995 Richard Erickson - used with permission

Paris:- Easter Monday, April 17, 1995 - Easter in Paris is for hardy souls. There is so much to see in so short a time; and the weather is foul. That means it's twice as good to get into a Paris restaurant. What a temptation to linger; for the cheese, for the desert, for the coffee, coffee with cognac - of course - maybe even two. Then it is hard to get your coat to go out.

Breezy west wind today, masking a high temperature of 14 degrees. The restaurant may not be heated but it is out of the wind and there's a lot more cognac where the second one came from. Easter only happens once a year in Paris so that means that the third postprandial cognac should sensibly be postponed for another Easter. Back to the breezes and the schedule: out of the restaurant and up the hill - to Montmartre.

The first thing you will notice is that several thousand other people have had the same idea. Not just at Easter, but every day. Maybe a few more at Easter; who knows? All around you hear the sound of the European community, the world community I should say.

If you are looking for Fritzl, do not bother looking for somebody dressed like a Bavarian. On special days, or even workdays, Fritzl may dress in what you may think as 'costume' at home; but when he is visiting Paris Fritzl dresses just like you and me, like everybody in the world. Which, in the weather that is here, means dressed more or less for an angling expedition in the North Sea.

People and cars squeeze through the narrow streets of Montmartre.

Up the hill then, to Montmartre. Some go in taxis but walking is probably faster, for the roads are winding and narrow, and clogged with people walking. Some will take the Funiculaire if they've come from the direction of metro station Anvers; but walking up all the stairs starting at Place Saint Pierre, is probably just as quick - and good for clearing the head after that second cognac. If you come from any other direction, you will go - up - the hill that is Montmartre. There are two main things on top. The Basilique du Sacre Coeur and the Place du Tertre.

The Basilique is where you can rest after being in the Place du Tertre. Also there is a tremendous view of all Paris from the steps of the Basilique. It can make you think several things: Paris is pretty flat except for where you are, the colour of Paris is fairly monochromatic, and Paris a a big place even though you can see only two-thirds of it, not including the suburbs.

The Place du Tertre has nearly no view at all. It is a small 'place,' almost like a 'cour.' The rue Norvins is the only entry and exit. At any time of the year, not just at Easter, this little square is full of two types of people. People who want to sell paintings and drawings, and people who want to look at people who want to sell them paintings or drawings. It is an outdoor artist's studio.

Like a studio, the artists paint or draw while you watch; but it is like a gallery too, because you can buy what you see being done. Do not worry, it is all regulated. There is only limited space so all the artists have to have city licences; and a sign on the wall says the prices are what is marked on the price tags that must be displayed - so no haggling. This is art, in Paris; not an oriental bazar - if it was a bazar it would have a roof on it and you wouldn't have to be constantly ducking pigeons who can't make up their tiny little minds whether they are landing or flying off to.... a 'better' landing spot.

So there it is: Montmartre. There is a lot more - come in September or October for the grape harvest - yes - but, there is a schedule to keep. There is a plane, train, or bus to catch. Yes, a bus. A nice big, warm, air conditioned, stereo music, three toilette, auto transmission and air-suspension with ABS, double-decker, fun fun fun on the autobahn, nearly private, road cruiser; is waiting to take everyone back to....someplace that isn't Paris. Some of the buses are waiting nearby just down the hill, in the boulevard de Clichy, around Pigalle. I'm sure Fritzl knows where his is, even if I couldn't find Fritzl this Easter.

Come again Fritzl. Send a postcard first.