Paris Underground

I've always had an urge to explore the underground of Paris. I've been asking all my friends about it in hopes of getting invited to a party or event down there, but no such luck. So I had to do it the tourist way by visiting the Catacombs, a large underground cemetary dating back to the 1700s. I waited for over an hour in a long line. My feet were frozen by the time it was my turn, but my enthusiasm was still strong. After descending 184 narrow, winding stairs, you walk through a small shaft that took years to chisel out in the 1700s. Immediately, you can smell death.

Over 6 million people are buried here. But they're not in coffins. Instead, their bones are stacked amongst each other in a delibrate, artistic way. I wondered whose job it was to create these walls of bones that seem to go on forever. Did they enjoy their work?

I also wondered how all the bodies were decomposed before being stacked together. I know some of the bones came from other cemetaries, allowing enough time for flesh to melt. But many people were buried here right after death. My mind wanders as I explore the caves.

I have a sudden urge to touch the bones, although it is clearly forbidden. So I skim my finger gently across a skull. Pretty smooth. Feeling a little more bold, I gently lift up a leg bone. A chill takes over my body and I realize it's best to just leave it alone. So I continue the 2km walk through the never-ending vallée du mort.

I got my fix of the Paris Underground, but I'm still going to seek out those legendary Cataphiles, the local Parisians who explore the uncharted, where no tourist has gone before.