I have gone underground countless times in Paris, which is a sentence that surprises me to be writing. Most of the time, it was for my daily commuting on the Métro, but we also ventured through the sewers and the catacombs, both of which were many, many stairs underground. (Ironically enough, I am writing this blog from the top of the Tour Eiffel, possibly the highest point in the city that one can be.) From top to bottom, Paris has life bubbling at every point, especially under the surface. Let’s dive in, shall we? (...Get it?)
Some of the stations have this lovely architecture at the entrance!
The Paris Métro has been my primary way of traveling around the city. Every morning, I take a 40–45 minute commute to our study center. I begin my day underground, surrounded mostly by local Parisians on their morning commutes as well. The Métro is pleasantly quiet, and it has grown to be a lovely part of my day.
Underground, we travel through tunnels, the train gliding along tracks lit with dim lights. Around me, people are reading novels, listening to music, chatting softly with each other. The announcements on the train warn patrons of pickpockets and to keep their bags close to them. The speakers emit a beeping sound to warn that the doors are closing, and I laugh to myself as the noise is in perfect harmony with the Olivia Rodrigo song playing in my ears.
We are all on our way somewhere. Some have luggage, some have briefcases, some have backpacks. Some are with partners, with children, friends, pets. Others, like me, are on their own. But we are all traveling as one.
Long walkway in the sewers
Next to us, above, below, and around us are the sewers. We visited the Musée des Égouts de Paris, the Paris Sewer Museum, and, yes, we walked through the sewers. Not through the sewage water itself–I don’t know if any of us have the constitution for that–but through the tunnels that are above and around them, all connecting to each other. And, if you haven’t guessed it already, it smelled.
In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean saves Marius’ life by taking him through the same sewers we walked. They traverse underground, out of sight of the soldiers, Valjean carrying an unconscious Marius on his back.
We found a mural of Valjean carrying Marius through the sewers! Was so much fun to stumble across.
Hugo describes how Valjean sees daylight and, after a confrontation with Thénardier, escapes the sewers. He explains that this location is somewhere between the Pont d’lena and the Pont des Invalides, along the Seine across from the Gros-Calliou. Miraculously, the Musée des Égouts de Paris is located in almost this exact location. It may have been on the other side of the Seine; we were not 100% sure, but we were close enough that it felt too accurate to be a coincidence. I have to imagine that, when putting together the museum, the choice of location wasn’t lost on them. I like to imagine some diehard Les Mis fan was a part of that decision-making process.
The sewers were dark, smelly, and confusing. It felt like a maze–I never knew what awaited me at every turn (despite the clearly labeled signs for museum visitors). At some parts, you could look down through a metal grate and see the sewage water flowing below. Those parts, allegedly, were the worst smelling. Almost everyone came back from that section plugging their noses; I saw several people nearly gagging. (I had never been more grateful to have a poor sense of smell–I didn’t think it was that bad!)
Through the stench, darkness, and confusing turns, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Jean Valjean must have been going through down there. I was disoriented, and, for me, it was relatively well-lit, and they gave us maps! Not to mention, Valjean was carrying Marius on his back, facing exhaustion, and trudging through the water at times. Emerging from the sewers and seeing the outdoors must have felt like its own rebirth, a final saving grace.
The sewers certainly weren’t my favorite, but they did not leave me as unsettled as the catacombs did. The Paris Catacombs lie approximately 20 meters, or 65 feet, below ground level. By the time we reached the bottom of the staircase, I was incredibly grateful that I was not claustrophobic. We walked through dimly lit tunnels for about fifteen minutes before hitting the entrance to the catacombs which featured a warning overhead that spooked us, to say the least.
Suddenly, the enormity of where we were hit me. I read somewhere online that there are more people’s bones in the catacombs than there are living people in Paris currently. I don’t know how true that is, but the number of remains that have been moved and stored there is astronomical. It took us thirty minutes to walk through the publicly accessible areas of the catacombs, around corners and through tunnels; it felt reminiscent of the sewers.
Some of the bones were arranged in designs. Many had plaques that said which cemetery or what event the remains in that section were from. This was, for me, possibly the most interesting way to get a sense of the history of the city. Centuries of Paris history, told through millions of people’s bones stacked together 65 feet underground.
When I emerged from the catacombs, I had never been more glad to see daylight–and not just because of the 112 steps I had just walked up. Seeing the outdoors after being underground, whether it’s from the Métro, or the sewers or catacombs, always felt like taking a breath of fresh air, in more ways than one. So much life and death and history exists below the ground in Paris, and what a way to exist within this world.