Take 2

Of course, by this time I was really starting to miss my luggage. I had bought my shoes thinking about having to walk a bit, but I had not imagined that I would be wearing these shoes and walking miles and miles around Paris in them. After the first day or two, I began to get blisters on my toes.

Speaking of luggage, where was it? The airport gave me this nifty little automated number to call to verify whether or not it had been found. Usually, they say luggage is found within a day.

Not so with me.

But I had happily followed my mother's advice and had packed an extra pair of clothes in my carry-on, so I wasn't yet starting to smell. Unfortunately, I had packed my laptop charger with my baggage, thinking that I wouldn't require two to three hours of battery life in between home and the DEFAP. I was wrong, however (I must acknowledge, though, that I had also forgotten to buy an adapter to go between French and American voltage, so having my charger wouldn't have been much help at that point), and began rationing my computer time--turning it on just long enough to check my email, do any relevant google searches, and put it into hibernation mode again.

A couple of days after I arrived I met with the Ramos', missionaries from my home church in Minnesota who have a ministry to artists in Paris called La Fonderie. I had only met them once or twice, but they have been EXTRAORDINARILY helpful in securing lodging for the month of July. We decided to meet for lunch at a creperie (insert accent) nearby. Ironically enough, it was right on a street full of market-style vendors of fruit, cheese, meat, etc.--something for which I had been searching for two days. :) French food is nothing if not pretty (at least aside from sandwiches), so our eyes and our stomachs feasted on, in my case, a galette (a savory, brownish crepe [accent]) with chicken, onions, tomatoes, and camembert cheese. Delicious! It was folded very beautifully, but you could still see the filling inside. I wanted to pay for the Ramos' lunches(even prettier salads with salmon and brie cheese), but they wouldn't let me--until they discovered the restaurant didn't take credit cards and they needed my cash to augment their own. :)

Hmmm...what else did I see in those few days? Of course, Notre Dame! I went there initially because a) it is free and b) it is open later than most of the museums. I happened to get there right around 6h00 mass, and, I must say, it made me want to convert. Strictly speaking, the mass is reserved for legitimate parishioners (as opposed to tourists), but I figured that as I had forgotten my camera and did intend to worship (as much as I could), I qualified to transcend the innocent-looking barrier and sit down (*Note: for all those Catholics who may be reading this, I may get some of the terminology wrong in this section; if you are offended, please skip). The liturgy was sung by a woman who had to have auditioned, and accompanied by an organ. There is nothing quite like hearing music praising God reverberating off of rose windows, stone pillars a hundred feet high, and hundreds of statues and paintings. One hears the music fully surround you; it seems to mimic the presence of God himself. I think it even made the candles (lighted on behalf of the dead or saints) quiver, creating a mystical aura in the alcoves. I listened to the homily for a bit; as much as I could tell, it was about God's love in forsaking his divine nature and making himself man.

The second day I arrived, the Ramos' invited me to a gallery opening at La Fonderie. Little did I realize, however, what I was going to encounter. In some cases, it is very clear walking through Paris when one crosses out of one quartier to another; the architecture, people, and overall feel of the city changes. Well, as soon as I passed by L'Ecole de Beaux-Arts, I felt distinctly...out of place. The scent of money was everywhere, as people dressed in the most tasteful (and expensive) manner paraded the streets holding champagne and wine glasses. All the galleries in the quartier had opened their doors, and people were walking in out inspecting high-end works with an air that indicated this was not at all foreign to them. This, I found out later, was all part of Les Portes Ouvertes (The Open Doors), a weekend-long event in the arts neighborhood for artists to exhibit their work for potential buyers. Thankfully, my clothes were dark and slightly dressy, but even so I felt a little out of my depth amidst diamonds, Bordeaux, and coiffured dogs. The Ramos' gallery was small, but extremely interesting, as the Japanese artist was playing with the idea that all of us come from the East, according to the book of Genesis. She had made a north-south line out of sugar on the floor, so as people walked through the gallery, it would be scattered, reflecting that our modern conception of the polarisation of the eastern and western world are unnatural. She, as a Christian, also wanted to show the transcience of life, so all her work is designed to decay with exposure to sunlight and air. It was very interesting.