“Have you seen Oscar Wilde?” a British couple asks. “Not yet,” I reply. “But I stumbled over Marcel Proust and Edith Piaf.” And I mean that both literally and figuratively, as I step gingerly between the crowded headstones in Paris’ famous Père-Lachaise Cemetery.

Of the 20 cemeteries in Paris, Père-Lachaise is the most legendary. It’s also the city’s largest park, occupying several thousand acres of land. Approximately 2 million people visit each year, wandering along the tree-lined cobblestone avenues, often searching for a beloved author or musician. And the place is chock full of them, thanks to some clever, early public relations. The cemetery is named for Père François de La Chaise (1624-1709), confessor of Louis XIV.

The cemetery, in the 20th arrondissement, was established by Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, after cemeteries had been banned inside Paris in 1786 for public health reasons. Père-Lachaise opened in 1804.

This gravemarker can be found at Paris' Cimetiere du Montparnasse.

The urban planner Nicolas Frochot developed the cemetery and convinced local authorities to re-bury some celebrated and notorious folk such as French playwright Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, better known as Molière (1622-1673), and poet Jean de La Fontaine (1621-1695), making it the place for the rich and famous to be laid to rest.

Eventually Frochot even sold a burial plot to the site’s original owner, although for significantly more cash than he paid for the entire graveyard. Not much has changed since those early days; it will still cost an arm and a leg (well, both arms and legs) to be buried here today. But some things are de rigueur!

Spending time in any one of France’s historic cemeteries is a terrific way to “visit” world-renowned musicians, poets, scoundrels, politicians and other popular personalities. Okay, the down side is they are dead — but so what?! You can still have your picture taken with them. Photographers — paparazzi de la mort, as I like to call them — are crawling all over the place.

Yes, some get even down on all fours, looking for that perfect angle. However, I suspect they, like myself, are more interested in what’s above the ground than below. These celebrities are pretty laid back. They don’t run, hide behind sunglasses or newspapers, and they don’t throw temper tantrums, verbal barbs or painful punches.

Père-Lachaise can be compared to an outdoor sculpture garden of sorts, since a vast majority of the gravesites are adorned with exquisite, one-of-a-kind works of art. Tucked among the crypts, mausoleums and monuments are delicate stained-glass windows, unique sculptures, fine bas-relief and other art that rivals the works exhibited in some of the world’s best museums.

There are life-size portraits carved in marble; avenging, weeping and guardian angels; and faithful replicas of favorite pets. Hundreds of headstones bear insightful words of wisdom and/or tear-inducing tributes, some humorous, some poetic and some just a trifle mean-spirited.

It’s not all peace and quiet here among the deceased. Having read several accounts of occasional purse-snatchings, I’m wary of the few lone males skulking about the mounds of marble. I stay within shouting distance of small groups of people and watch my back. Ultimately, I have no trouble and am once again happily distracted by the details of an old soul’s final resting place.

There are flowers everywhere — fresh, faux, wilted and long dead. Small bouquets rest upon worn headstones, while single red roses are tucked lovingly into the hands of stone angels and pretty young maidens, their sad expressions forever frozen in time. There are other mementos scattered about as well — children’s toys, religious objects, candles, books and even hand-written notes.