cataphile anonymous

earlier this week i had the incredible chance to get into the quarries of paris. the vast network of tunnels and rooms and strange, forgotten things that extends beyond one's strength to walk was an experience that has sat with me for days now; and i must confess i feel slightly obsessed with all things underground.

i didn't quite know what to expect before going into the quarries (often referred to as catacombs which is a bit misleading as only a part of the tunnels was used in this purpose), nor had i much information about them in general. i did have some kind of guess as of how it might be having visited similar places in other countries, but in retrospect i must say that any assumption i might have had was completely misplaced. and in all honesty i do understand that it might not sound that mind-boggling, going into underground tunnels; and yet that is exactly what it was.

apart from the excitement and haste of getting into the tunnels, the experience as a whole was almost meditative. everything is different once you're 30 something metres underground; the darkness, how the air feels, how everything sounds and how the lights of the torches reflect from the crystal clear water you come across with every now and then. and i can't even begin to comprehend the amount of history that nests in these endless tunnels; when our cataphile guide pointed the wall behind which was located the bunkers of the french resistance during the second world war i could not help but to be fascinated, and when in the catacombe part of the network the countless amount of human bones in messy piles emerged from the complete darkness, it did make me think the lives of those people and how the world would have been when they were around.

and the fact that this all and more just sits there, this whole word of its own, under our feet all the time; it is so detached from everything that is your daily life and it is so incredibly interesting. once you're down there the world above ceases to exist, and you sort of lose your sense of time, distance and place; in some way it condenses your own human experience into the present moment and present moment only. there is nothing else than the quiet tunnels full of darkness, and as surprising as it may sound, it feels almost comforting. and then, after hours and hours in the darkness, when you eventually surface and are almost violently pushed back into the everyday world with all the lights and noises and smells and what not - you do look at it differently, at least for a while. and of course, when taking the metro home in your dirty clothes and wet shoes, grinning like an idiot for a good part of it - the everyday world perhaps looks at you a bit differently as well. 

and i have to say - before i went in i thought that it would probably be a one-time experience for me, that it would be the kind of thing that once you've seen it, it's enough. but, and you might have guessed this, i do think i was mistaken.