by Karen Henrich 

During my first three months in Paris to conduct research for my tour company and determine if Paris is as cool to live in as it is to visit, Cimetière du Père-Lachaise was high on my list of must-see attractions. Of course, my suspicions that Paris is indeed the endlessly fascinating, livable city of my dreams were confirmed, but that’s another story entirely. Back to where illustrious dead people live. Since Père-Lachaise is slightly off the well-trodden tourist track in the 20th arrondisement, it seemed to drop further on my list.
 
Then one day my French roommate (I’ll call her Monique) learned that one of her distant half-brothers, Philippe, had passed away and was to be buried at Père-Lachaise. Of course, I offered to accompany her for support but I have to admit, I could barely contain my morbid excitement. I was going to the famous burial ground not as a wide-eyed tourist searching for Jim Morrison’s grave, but to a real, live funeral!
 
On a hot day in May, Monique and I set out first on the RER and then the metro with vague directions, only to arrive late at the cemetery’s funeral home for the open casket viewing of the body. No offense to Philippe, but I wasn’t sorry to miss it. I have had more than my fill of viewing the dead bodies of people I didn’t know in Catholic school, thank you very much. Attending the funerals of students’ relatives in the church attached to our school was de rigeur. Oh yeah, Catholics do love their funerals and the grieving process.
 
After quick greetings and introductions, we were whisked off into cars and proceeded to drive through the hallowed gates of the cemetery.
 
Nothing I had read or heard adequately prepared me for the site of the thousands of tightly packed stone tombs of every description and size. Fascination and curiosity cut through the family’s grief as we negotiated the numerous cobbled lanes and tree-lined avenues to get to the chapel. Being inside the sacred gates of Père-Lachaise is like being in a mini-city filled with smaller replicas of giant monuments, like a Petite Paris.
 
As per usual in Paris, we had to wait almost an hour for the hearse to arrive. While maintaining an appropriate demeanor of somberness, I curiously took in details of our surroundings. To my left was a jaw-dropping family tomb resembling a 30 foot high Notre-Dame, complete with gargoyles and saintly-looking statues. On and on the structures went — each tomb more uniquely designed than the next — outfitted with sculptures, artwork, stained glass windows, alters and elaborate wrought iron work.
 
And everywhere you looked, there were tourists — with  huge cameras swaggering, water bottles hanging from daypacks and maps open. On this day, that just seemed wrong.
 
Adding to this less than idealistic picture of ever-lasting peace and quiet, we were reminded that all of this grandeur could not exist century after century without a good deal of maintenance. As the hearse wound its way down the magnificent chapel street, slowing to let curious tourists cross, the disturbing din of maintenance crews cut through like the devil in mad pursuit. Weed-whackers whirred,  hammers pounded and lawn mowers plowed.
 
The ceremony in the chapel was beautiful, complete with the hauntingly soulful chanting of the priest and a back-up singer/pianist. We then followed the Père-Lachaise burial crew, with coffin in tow, to Philippe’s eternal resting place. No gargoyles or artwork here; just a beautiful, simple slab of thick concrete on top of a raised grave with an engraved plaque. And that, I was told, cost the equivalent of a nice Paris apartment — about 1 million Euros. And the plaque is extra! A rich brother had anteed up the huge sum to secure this coffin-sized spot for 20 years.
 
If none of the family members renew the lease, the coffin is removed and the gravesite is up for grabs since there are only a few vacant plots left. After that, someone either has to ’sell’ their plot or start adding higher levels to the tombs of families willing to share their ancestors’ resting grounds. Hmm, sounds like a situation a greedy heir or heiress could capitalize on…
 
No doubt about it, Père-Lachaise is one of the hottest real estate markets on earth.  But I had to wonder why the brother felt compelled to lay out such hard-earned cash to house a dead body? After all, it’s the soul Catholics worry about most,  not the body. I could certainly think of many other things to do with that sum of money–like buy a nice Paris apartment!
 
As was revealed, the brother wanted Philippe to have a better eternal life than the sad, troubled, lonely one he had led on earth. So sweet. And how wonderful that he cared that much for Philippe to pay him this honor.
 
I rest my case. I only hope that Philippe will be able to bask in the fleeting attentions of the hundreds of thousands of tourists who gawk on by, providing him with the acknowledgement and attention he was missing in his mortal life. And Jim Morrison et al, you’ll have to wait for me to pay homage to you, some other day.
 
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Karen Henrich spends her time between Paris and Vancouver, Canada, running a tour company for women (www.NuitBlancheTours.com). She is constantly on the look-out for cool Parisian sites to see and memorable experiences to be had. She also practices the fine art of finding ways to creatively stretch her tragically low Canadian dollars when in Europe.

Published November 17, 2005 in BonjourParis.com - Largest content site about Paris for expats and English speakers