
All together now: “The French are glad tooooo dieeeee for LOVE!” And then cue Nicole Kidman hanging from the chandelier! Who knew Sia wasn’t the original, huh? I already told myself that the Moulin Rouge will be on the itinerary no matter what. Lo and behold, my friend’s flat is located in the same arrondissement just a few metro stations away! But I did not make it inside, unfortunately. The façade glowing bright red along with the windmill are still worth the trip, though.

To
prepare for your trip, you must go dressed up as Christina Aguilera dressed up
as a Moulin Rouge courtesan gone totally bad, so bad it made her grandma
holler. And then you must put Lady Marmalade on loop on your MP3 player while
practicing the only French you know: “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”
Unfortunately, not every Parisian you talk to will want to sleep with you
tonight, and Carrefour ran out of Christina Aguilera costumes. Just grab a camera
and go. Get off at Place de Clichy, line 13.

If
you want to see the show, it will cost you almost a hundred euros. Sorry, but
unless it’s actually 2002 Nicole Kidman lip synching to Madonna that I’ll see
in there, then I’m not interested. The feedback for the show online is kind of
mixed, though, but I bet it would still be quite an experience. For all of us
poor Christians out there, our Satines are going to have to wait until we
manage to get our hands on that 100-euro bill somewhere. When all else fails,
there’s always Montmartre.

Wow,
how misleading is that title. I talk about the Moulin Rouge for three
paragraphs, and then I segue to a totally unrelated topic. Gotcha. Sorry, guys.
It would have been fun to see what’s inside, but we’re poor. This is why that
club is located right next to Montmartre, because that’s where penniless tourists
take a stroll to console themselves after not making it to the club. I’ve seen
Amélie, but I’m not really a big fan so don’t quote me if I say that they shot
the film here. Perhaps? Hi, Google.

Another
highlight of this arrondissement is the Montmartre cemetery, which should
belong to the Creepy Paris article, but since you are already in the area I
think you should include it on your list anyway. Let’s not make things
complicated here. You would like to see the Moulin Rouge in the evening for it
to glow bright red, but the cemetery closes way before that. So I suggest that
you walk around Montmartre first, visit the cemetery, and then put the Moulin
Rouge right there at the end of your itinerary.

The
cemetery could still be seen from the bridge, but you have to exert extra
effort because of the bridge’s design. A camera with a flash would be your best
companion because it’s obviously dark there. The gates to the cemetery are
quite high and locked, but maybe you are a resourceful person who knows how to
sneak in without getting caught. I’ve had enough of the catacombs this morning
and I think cemeteries are way creepier anyway so no thanks, just count me
out.

The
Montmartre stroll happened right after that. The entrance to the village is
marked by a well-illuminated arch with the word Montmartre on it, so I guess
that is self-explanatory. The streets are cobblestoned and lined with small
restaurants and cafes, most of which are almost always full of people, locals
and tourists alike. Indulge your sense of taste and have a coffee or a meal
there. If it’s not your thing, I saw McDonalds and Starbucks somewhere near the
metro station. McDonalds, oh yes.

After
walking back and forth for quite some time, I noticed a giant structure with a
dome from afar, and like any other confused tourist not knowing where to
go, I tried to find the building. I found it, along with four African
immigrants who were obviously there to con the unaware. One of them will approach
you with a smile on his face as if you’ve been following each other on
Instagram for five years now. On his hand is a colorful string of yarn, a bracelet of
friendship he made especially for you.

I was already approached at the Eiffel Tower the day before. The guy was really
aggressive and kept on telling me DON’T BE AFRAID! DON’T BE AFRAID! I mean,
dude, you can’t tell me not to be afraid and be aggro at the same time, it kind
of defeats the purpose. And so I dismissed him by saying that it was
raining really hard and I had to find some shelter. As for this one at
Montmartre, I guess the rare good mood I was in that night made me more open to
human interaction somehow.

The
modus operandi? He will try to make small talk with you, catch your arm, then tie the lovely bracelet on you. His other friend will then approach you with a nail
cutter and give you a manicure. No, I made that one up. He will cut the loose
end of the yarn and now you have a colorful bracelet! And then they will flatly
ask you for money. Like, “Give us money.” I was, like, “I have no money.”
And they be like, “Look in your wallet, you have money.”
Dude,
you told me you’re from Kenya. You guys win gold at the Olympics for running. I’m
so not going to show you my wallet. And so you try to dismiss them with a
two-euro coin, but they be like, “You still have a couple of 20-centavos on the
palm of your hand.” And then you be like, “Fine, take all my coins.” And then
at one corner of the street, some random Caucasian will be looking at you, shaking his head. I don’t mean to be racist, but fuck those African immigrants.
They totally ruined my evening.
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