Visiting the Paris France Catacombs is likely among the most morbid and scary tours you will ever go on. I had no idea what I was in for – especially because I did it alone – which I do not recommend.

The Paris, France Catacombs are an ossuary created in the tunnels of former quarries in the late seventeen hundreds outside of Paris.

Fun fact: An ossuary is a container or room to place the bones of dead people. This one is styled as “the largest ossuary in the world housing the remains of several million Parisians.”

When they created the catacombs, people were dying in droves and they needed someplace besides the nearby Cemetery of the Innocents to put the bodies.

The History of the Paris Catacombs

To fix the problem of stench and death, they exhumed the corpses in Saints-Innocents cemetery and later cemeteries and moved them to the unused quarries. In time, the bodies were just bones so to save space, quarry workers artfully positioned the bones in pleasing patterns along 2.7 acres underground.

Tickets to the Paris Catacombs

The sign over the door “Arrête! C’est ici l’empire de la mort” (Stop: this is the empire of death) does not inspire my confidence that I’ve made the right choice in visiting here alone. The line to get into the catacombs wraps around the building and moves deathly slow. There’s a reason for it. Smarter people than I bought skip-the-line tickets.

In my experience, “skip the line” tickets aren’t worthwhile because typically, when you approach, they say, “all of these people are skipping the line.” But I recommend you buy them for this.

Making the wait even longer is that the ticket takers wait a full five minutes in between groups. The entire system seemed very French to me. Which is to say, it made no sense at all, but I would come to learn the logic if you’d call it that.

While purchasing my ticket, the agent seemed dismayed that I only wanted only one ticket.

I’m accustomed to the questioning of my solo status. “Just one?” “Only you?” “Will someone be joining your party?” No, this party is for ONE.

The English / French translation between us was dismal, but I did manage to get ONE ticket for one person to go into the Paris France Catacombs. They dismissed me with a wave of their hand toward the small, tight winding stairwell. I assumed I had to go down to meet my guide.

Entering the Paris Catacombs Alone

I proceeded down this tiny little winding stone stairwell and kept going down, down, down. Turn, turn, turn, my hand bracing the wall as I went to counterbalance the steepness of the steps. Not that I could have fallen, it was too narrow; I’d have only been jammed in until someone came along to unlodge me.

It was taking forever to find the end, so I picked up my pace and wondered with dismay if I’d be required to also climb back up all of these steps at the end. The likelihood of an elevator seemed dim.

I was getting nervous and thought perhaps I misunderstood and wasn’t supposed to go down this long stairwell. I stopped midstep and debated heading back up to clarify.

But I’d already come so far, surely the stairs had to end soon, right? Famous last words.

The 131 steps go down the depth of a 5-story building. It seems longer when you’re alone and don’t know how far you’ll be going.

Finally, at the bottom, and I find myself in a narrow, low-ceiling tunnel with a weak light at one end.

Inside the Paris Catacombs

“Hello?” I shout.

Where is the guide? Where are the people?

“HELLO?” I bellow. Only my echo responds.

I wasn’t alone long because claustrophobia quickly joined me. I’m 5′ 2,” but the passageway is so short and narrow I could touch the sides with my elbows and the ceilings with my hands.

Again, I debate going back up the stairs but doubt my ability to make it all the way now that I can’t breathe. After a minor existential crisis, I forge ahead to find a guide.

The Paris Catacombs are Unguided

You can only go right, so I slowly start walking in that direction, careful not to lose sight of the stairwell.

“Hello? …. Hello is anyone down here?”

I expect that there will be someone just around the next bend. Why they’re not answering, I can’t imagine, so I creep cautiously forward. Panic is starting to rise in me. None of this seems normal.

Why am I in this underground passageway? I ask myself questioning my choices.

I see a light ahead and speed walk toward it. I’m now hyperventilating and near tears.

The chamber of bones in the Paris Catacombs

There aren’t words to explain my horror and mortification, let alone the maddening chaos in my head.

Realization dawns on me. This tour is self guided and I am a proud party of one.

“You idiot!” my brain is screaming at me. “You’re down here alone in a garden of the dead in a tunnel that could potentially go for miles, and you’re ALL ALONE.”

The tunnel is actually about one mile long. It’s also the fastest mile I have ever run in my life. I wish someone from the Olympics would have been there because I’d have a medal around my neck right now.

The catacombs and the ossuary

The Catacombs are divided into two parts: the ossuary and the crypt. The ossuary is the part that contains the bones and it’s Intended to be beautiful.

Artfully arranged bones and signs that depict the cemeteries and sections where particular bones came from mark the various sections. Entire walls are made of bones. Decorative features are made of bones. The ground I walk upon is covered in fragments of bones. The light was dimly lit by infrequently spaced bare bulbs. It smelled of musty earth and, I hate to say, something that can only be described as dry human bone.

As I walked onward, the tiny tunnel opened up to vast bone chambers and gave me a chance to breathe.

I started to wonder what would happen if I had a medical emergency. Like a heart attack? I could see that happening. Maybe they shove you into the wall. (This is how panic attacks start, in case you’re wondering).

I eventually bumped into another group who had been lingering for a long time taking pictures (teenage girls can do this for hours). Already over 30 minutes into my solo adventure, I resented finding them now. Where were they when I needed them most?

The Beauty of Paris Catacombs

Despite my dramatics, an ossuary, like a grave, is intended to be a beautiful place to honor the dead. When they were created, people were less fearful of death’s remains, and to visit a place like this would have been no different than visiting a cemetery. Today, our aversion to death makes it more morbid than it should be.

Still, I was thrilled to find the steps leading outside and I pranced the 100+ stairs and exited onto a Paris city street, squinting and blinded by the light with 20 years less life in me than when I entered.

I felt like Gollum when he finally left the cave, but my only “precious” was the fun memory I’ll always have of my visit to the Paris France Catacombs.

Make your own memories: visit the Paris Catacombs: 1, Avenue du Colonel Henri Rol-Tanguy (place Denfert-Rochereau) 75014 Paris, France.

Read other stories about France here.

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