I love my neighborhood. We stayed in Montmartre on the last trip, too, and it feels really “mine” this time. Remember Villa Leandre? It did not disappoint in person, though I had to awkwardly wait on the corner for a Russian tour group to take their photos before I had it all to myself. Patience! I forgot how much patience goes into shooting. And how much covert lurking is needed to not look too tourist-y. I’m really good at lurking.
My landlord told me a brief history of the neighborhood on my first day here: When the Prussians invaded the city in 1870, they massacred the family that owned the moulins (the windmills) in Montmartre, and pinned their body parts to the fans, staining them red with blood. Years later when the first cabarets were opening, Montmartre, not being within the Paris city limits at the time, was able to open several bars and use wine from their own vineyards without paying the alcohol tax to the city. They needed a name that would draw attention, and thus the Moulin Rouge was born. Kind of macabre when you know the story behind how it got its name. I can see the famous red windmill from my terrace.
Other Paris Details of Note: I have a croissant every morning, I’ve already been to Ladurée, and the weather has been so beautiful I could cry. Why didn’t I do this sooner?