Paris, France, 2015.

This is one place I’d always wanted to go, and I did it on a landmark birthday.

Oft touted as one of the world’s most beautiful cemeteries, this shaded, bird-filled oasis in the midst of one of Europe’s most metro/cosmo cities sits on 110 acres with possibly the most artists per capita in the world.

Wilde, Piaf, Bernhardt, David, Bizet, Chopin, Proust, Seurat, Duncan, Delacroix, Colette, de Balzac, Stein, Callas, Pisarro. The number of legendary residents at Père Lachaise is utterly staggering. It’s a final resting place fit for the likes of those who made some kind of blip on the radar of history. Peaceful, regal…and weird as hell.

My biggest regret of this visit was not bringing a map. While the grounds aren’t as large as you’d think, they twist and turn and climb and at times you’ll feel like you’re in a rat maze. The stately graves are packed together, looming and commanding and elaborate. But plan or not, you only need to wander around to have a memorable visit.

Père Lachaise was not always the belle of the graveyard ball. When it “opened” in 1804 Paris was not as sprawling as it is today; it was a hassle for people to get to and funerals were sparsely attended.

So caretakers devised a marketing strategy: if you bring them, they will come. The celebs, that is. Just like Scientology!

They arranged to have the remains of poet Jean de La Fontaine and playwright/actor Molière moved to the grounds. Soon the bodies of more and more luminaries were relocated here, and soon people began clamoring for plots so they could mingle with history-makers in the afterlife.

Now more than a million are buried here.

Of the many accomplished people within the walls of Père Lachaise, Oscar Wilde is possibly the necropolis’ most famous son. He’s buried under a head-scratcher of a tomb that is both cool and mysterious. Today, it’s protected by a plexiglass case because, for some reason, visitors like to slather on lipstick and leave big, fat kisses on the stone. Before the plastic, the tomb was covered in red and pink lip prints, and after, Wilde children boost each other up to leave a SWAK on the stone just above the reach of the protective shield.

A close second in the “famous residents” department is, of course, Jim Morrison. How did the Lizard King end up here, you ask? Well, in 1971, he was living in Paris after an unceremonious split with The Doors. On July 3, his long-suffering lady friend Pamela Courson found him in the bath, dead at age 27 from who knows what. Some say the effects of long-term alcohol abuse, some say heroin, murder, aliens. Either way, he ended up in Père Lachaise buried under a modest tomb that has since become a mecca of sorts for dirty hippies of all ages.

Don’t get me wrong—I like The Doors and all, but Jim was a crazy asswipe of epic magnitude (read No One Here Gets Out Alive for just a handful of legendary examples).

No matter, travelers make the pilgrimage to gift flowers, candles, cigarettes, flasks and other trinkets and terrible pieces of homemade art at the gravesite. They also routinely leave behind graffiti, on Jim’s grave and those around it. Incidentally, the current caretakers of Père Lachaise have been trying to get Jim evicted for years because they’re sick of constantly cleaning up after miscreants (and probably hooligans, too).

Some of the biggest superstars at Père Lachaise are the one-of-a-kind tombs with fascinating stories behind them. This is why I’m kicking myself for not bringing a map, because we missed some of the most unusual and outrageous in the maze. Among them: Belgian writer Georges Rodenbach, who is depicted in bronze breaking out of his grave; journalist Victor Noir, who is represented in statue as he lay after being shot (legend says if you leave a flower in his hat and rub his crotch, you’ll be married within the year); and actor Fernand Arbelot, who expressed a wish to gaze upon his wife’s face for eternity—and now does.

Here are a few more fascinating facts about Père Lachaise:

• It’s both Paris’ largest cemetery and largest park.
• It’s the most-visited cemetery in the world.
• Novelist Honoré de Balzac often referenced Père Lachaise in his stories, leading curious readers to visit (he’s also now buried there himself).
• Russian aristocrat Elisabeth Demidoff reportedly left a stipulation in her will that if a brave soul could spend one year locked in her mausoleum (with food and water delivery and waste removal, of course) that individual would inherit a vast fortune. It’s said that several have attempted it, but none lasted more than a few days—and one is alleged to have suffered a heart attack.

So, what exactly does it take to get your mortal remains laid to rest here for all of eternity?

A lot.

First, you have to have either lived in Paris or die there (regardless of where you’re from—like Jim Morrison). Next, you will probably have to get on a waiting list (it’s a popular place). If you’re lucky enough to get a spot, you may lease it for 10, 20 or 50 years, with the option to renew. Cost: about $6,500 per square foot. Most people go for the two meter plot at a price of about $12,800 for permanent residency.

If you want to go for the cheapest option, pick the 10-year lease on the two-meter plot. It’s only about $780.

And what if the lease is up, with no one around to renew? You’ll be dug up and either moved to a mass grave or cremated and your “parking spot” will be offered up to the next person on the waiting list. It sounds harsh, but hey, there ain’t a lot of room at the inn.

So it may not be in the cards to rest in this peaceful oasis forever. But that’s OK. Whether you go to bird-watch, find some famous graves or simply explore, you’ll discover that the entire place is a work of art in itself—and that’s something that only the living can appreciate.

Ed. note: I’d like to give a special shout-out to my dear friend Jennifer for humoring me when I said I wanted to go to a cemetery for my birthday. That’s the mark of one dedicated traveling buddy!