I am climbing stairs built into a hill in the north of Paris to reach Sacre Coeur. A group of African men are yelling and pulling at us, but I keep walking and telling them no. Lindsay has been grabbed and one of the group is trying to tie a string around her finger. There are tons of them, and nearly every one has got a tourist in his mitts. I shout for her to come on and she pulls away from them. No doubt they would have wanted money and pestered her until she gave it to them.
We couldn’t take photos in the basilica, you’ll have to take my word for it. It is beautiful. The views over Paris from up there were the best I’ve seen yet.
You can climb to the top of the dome, but neither of us have recovered yet from that heinous climb to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, so we settled for exploring the basilica which is filled with statues and paintings and people. I think we spent more time outside though, and for that I am grateful because we are so high up and can see so far. I wish I knew this city better so that I could tell what I’m looking at and identify the jumble of buildings below my feet.