Ah, Paris. Paris in summer. The great landmarks are all on offer. Regardez l'Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, Les Champs-╔lysΘes. All those sidewalk cafΘs, all those expressive shrugs, Bizet, every second middle-aged woman blessed with the haunted eyes of an Edith Piaf, the driving executed with suicidal style. Is it something about the French, or is it merely non-French cultural inferiority that can make the visitor wary of appearing too obviously a tourist?
Anyhow, off we march to Notre Dame, the great early Gothic cathedral on the Ile de la CitΘ, and, as they say, the heart of Paris. Building began in 1163 and continued for almost 200 years. This majestic Roman Catholic cathedral has witnessed the progress of Paris from an early medieval town to a world capital. Revolutions have taken place, kings have fallen. Napoleon was crowned Emperor in Notre Dame - well, crowned himself - in 1804. The French kings were always crowned at Reims although the Plantagenet Henry VI, already king of England, received the French crown here in 1430. The church so inspired Victor Hugo he wrote Notre Dame de Paris, his epic about the hunchback and the poor of Paris. Set in 1482, it was published in 1831, 170 years ago this year. His intention was to draw attention to the cathedral, which by then was neglected and architecture, the less impressionable moan about the queues - which move surprisingly quickly. But if you really want to get a vivid, living sense of the place, bring a child. "This is Quasimodo's house," announces ma petite fille. "You know, from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Look up on the roof, the towers, those stone things, they're called gargoyles, they're stone but they come to life in the video. They can talk, they're really funny." Merci, Monsieur Disney.
Other children around us are thinking the same way. Sounds like Disney is pretty popular in Germany as well. So a majestic gothic monument, albeit still a working church, is a guaranteed hit with six-year-old Disney fans - and you were dreading the "Mommy, I'm bored/tired/hungry" complaints. Not if you'd seen the video. So I'm standing in the rain feeling like a hero as my delighted child smiles up at me and asks: "How did you know where to find it? Does Quasimodo still ring the bells?"
Multiculturalism is thriving in this particular queue as a breathless English youth rejoins his north of England family with a large consignment of supplies from le McDonald's. "Gross," observes a style-conscious New Yorker who, even if she might frequent said emporium back home, is certainly not about to do so in Paris. Another American, part of a group of expensively dressed tourists, says something about Charles Laughton. "Do the bell thing," says a woman in a Katharine Hepburn trench coat and they all laugh.
The cathedral itself from the outside is immediately identifiable. The surrounding cityscape is not. "Where are all those pretty pointy houses from the movie?" Ah well, that was 15th-century Paris, this is more than 500 years later. Such is the allure of Notre Dame, the disappearance of the medieval houses so beautifully drawn in the video is instantly acceptable.
Then, joy to any parent who selfishly wants to investigate the great church, "Mommy, can we go inside?" Yippee, merci beaucoup, Monsieur Disney.
It is dark and dramatic despite the number of awestruck tourists, like me, wandering about with cameras. Best equipped for dealing with the poor light are, as usual, the Japanese. Many small candles are burning, lit by the faithful. A man kneels on the floor before the statue of Joan of Arc. He begins to sob. The cathedral is a tourist attraction, entry is free, but it is a place of prayer. Whenever the noise exceeds a certain level, a ghostly voice from the great beyond hushes and calls for silence. It works on the children, and most of the adults.
Notre Dame is reassuringly uncommercial in a commercialised world. People have come here to look at a famous old church. Several sections are cordoned off for prayer. The couple who sit down to eat sandwiches, zipping open two cans of Coke, cause a minor sensation. "Excuse please," says a man in a business suit, "you think you are in a railway station?" Look up towards the great rose windows in the transepts and it is easy to forget the other visitors. The place is so vast, you could imagine Esmeralda the gypsy girl hiding out here, except you wouldn't be seeing her today, there's too many people. I hate heights but we'd like to go up on the roof. Is the spirit of Quasimodo still tending the bells? It would be wonderful to wander about the cathedral at night with only the ghosts for company.
The wide central aisle, the scale of the vaulted ceiling, the arches, the passageways, side altars, pillars, look more or less as they do in the Hunchback cartoon. Those Disney animators are deservedly acknowledged as masters but having previously thought the depiction of Notre Dame was impressionistic though beautiful, I now see how accurate it is. Sacre Bleu, who needs a guidebook? Out in the drizzly light, it takes a couple of seconds for the eyes to readjust, and a bit longer to deal with the traffic roar that seems to have become so much louder.