Paris – Day 2
20 Dec 2010 Leave a Comment
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Our second day in Paris was just as busy as the first. We traveled on the metro to Notre Dame following a brief lunch at the Louvre. When I walked in to the Cathedral I heard a strong voice in my mind… “None of this…not the stained-glass windows, not the prayer beads, not the statues, not the treasury, not the candles, not the saints, in fact nothing at all is needed to reach God.” I smiled broadly. Directly after this thought I saw a sign above an alcove that read, “Silence, please. Holy Place”. A glance inside the alcove revealed a couple of kneeling statues seemingly in solemn prayer, and a couple of coat racks full of empty hangars. Laughter spread my lips, as it would if I was seeing a child in dressy clothing too large for its small frame. Continuing my walk through, I was somewhat surprised to see a statue of Saint Joan of Arch. I had no idea she was a saint. I lit a candle at her feet, silently congratulating her on her previous reputation as a heretic and witch forgotten, and restored to badass status. While the insides of Notre Dame were beautiful, I saw more things denoting it as a tourist attraction than a sanctuary for the faithful.
These candles represent one prayer each. I was humbled by that.
After Notre Dame and a few other stops…
we made our way to the Arc De Triomphe.
We climbed all 284 stairs to the top of the second largest triumphal arch.
While below us, an eternal flame burns for the Unknown Soldier. This flame is lit every night at 8:30pm and fresh flowers are laid out around it.
Directly above the flame, the belly of the Arc.
The Arc is the centerpoint to several avenues that fan out around it in a large circle. This is one of these avenues.
You also have the opportunity to see the Eiffel tower looking a bit small. You can also experience the wind in your hair!
A little zoom and you get an idea of how beautiful it is lit up at night.
The street music here is moving and inspiring. So far I’ve seen a master violinist, a bluesy saxophone player, a quirky accordion player and a chanting vocal soloist. We always tip the street musicians and thank them for the use of their gifts. I appreciate the truth in their work. I know it must be difficult, but I know they love what they do when they are in the moment, creating.
Goodnight.
Paris – Day 1
18 Dec 2010 Leave a Comment
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These are some shots I took of things that made me go, “Oooh La la!!”.
Taken at a rest stop on the way to Paris.
Taken from the window of my hotel. I’ve always had a thing for breathing onto glass until it fogs up, then writing or drawing something. This was specifically done as a shout out to my amazing boyfriend back in Texas. <3
Aidan is pointing to something big and iconic…
Yep. Eiffel Tower.
Sugar cre’pe? Yes please.
It was delicious. The Caffe’ Cre’me is amazing, too.
This is my brother and his wife, Christina enjoying a Caffe Creme in our favorite place to eat, just two doors from our Hotel.
No matter how cold it is, flowers still bloom on the streets in Paris.
This blew my mind.
And it comes to meet another, much smaller pyramid at the bottom. Seriously…
Then there’s those bottoms.
*sigh* Such a blessing to have been able to see all that and much, much more.
And this was our dinner tonight at our previously mentioned favorite pizzaria. The old man that owns and operates the place has quickly taken a liking to us and has twice given us all free rounds of a delightful wine called Kier (or something like that). He gives us big hugs and kisses on the cheek. He also says I am doing very well with my french, though I think that is yet another kindness he has shown me. So thankful for him and his patient, loving soul. His food is to die for, too!!
Even the signs to the bathrooms are French. I love her fashionable hip stance. Priceless.
Thank you again for taking the time to join me on my travels. Much love.
Germany in Photographs
18 Dec 2010 1 Comment
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The experiences I am having are too much for me to put into words. I will simply let the pictures do the talking for the next couple of blogs. The following are pictures I took in Germany near and/or directly outside my brother’s home.
Outside the attic window
Things I loved on his street
ArtLoveMagic Lovemarks are native to the snow of Germany.
Thanks for keeping up with the blog and my travels!
All my Love,
Deborah
The Tedious Life of an Amazon Diner Rider
16 Dec 2010 Leave a Comment
Today began as any other day. Me, sitting in an airplane departed from Texas with my fuzzy snow boots on, mentaly and physically preparing myself for the european metric system to freeze my ass off, centigrade-style. After being in the air for a tich over 9 hours I’m typically ready to have a hot cup o’ joe, then land in Germany to visit my brother and his family for the holidays.
My mother and son have very much the same daily routine as I do, so this time we decided to trek the monotony of euro-trip life together.
Perhaps it would give us a fresh look at things, or give meaning to our quarrel with the man behind the counter at Hertz Rent-A-Car who does see our reservation but is overbooked and thanks us for waiting patiently for 2 hours outside the airport McDonnalds. Yes, traveling together today proved to breathe new life into driving an hour from the airport to our destination without any clue as to how to work the very European navigation system in the car, nor any prior knowledge about the country’s highway rules, national language or variable signage. For instance, did you know that the only people who cross the streets via crosswalk are slightly pear shaped men who wear nothing but smugness and straw hats??
The first diner we visited while in Europe was obviously built from the inside out to appear older than it is. Each grinning American tourist or US Armed Forces Member is invited to come in and play ‘pretend nostalgia’ eating their imitation diner staples and peering around at Hobby Lobby style pin-up art of Marilyn Monroe.
If God ressurected Ms. Monroe for a shared meal at Sam Kullman’s and invited her to sit opposite Him in one of the squeeky, red-glitter bar stools, I believe she would feel like a wild cheetah far removed from her life in Africa and thrust into a cage with a well-meaning Zoo keeper, a few rocks, and a dead, over-processed hyena carcass served up in a plastic bin to eat. There wasn’t one thing (as far as I could tell) that was actually antiquitous in the whole place, but hey… I was an Amazon along for the Diner Ride.
The Almond Coffee was full bodied and bitter like so many time-worn housewives that once were fairly smooth with nuts. It was accompanied by odd, brown little creamer cartidges that meant well, but lacked the strength to drain my mug enough of its oily pigment. It needed no sugar, so I gave it none and drank it only to half-mast. Mourning the actual American 50′s diner coffee I had, I think, too brashly left behind.
My hopes are high for our next Diner encounter. I blame the abnormalities on the fact that we were there at roughly 11:00 am German time, though that time truly represented 4 am to these jet-lagged Texas natives.
After all, Diners are their very best past a certain hour, without sunbeams barging in and smothering your menu with lustre. I aim to greet the next Diner candidate with a slow, friendly handshake post sunset.
photos and blog by Deb Driscoll.
Queen of the Diner at Midnight
14 Dec 2010 5 Comments
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photo by Carolyn Collins
The Diner’s heat is out and it’s 30 degrees outside. I have to eat my toast and scrambled eggs quickly before they assume the same chill temperature as the room. Hiccups. I always seem to get them after the first bite or two. Someone told me once what that meant, but their explanation escapes me now, hiding somewhere in between cold neuron flashes. As I hold my breath and body still for 20 seconds to ward the hiccups off, my attention shifts to the tiny television above the last green glittery booth on the left. The “Undisputed Queen of R & B” is on screen answering queries from a mass of huddled bodies outside a bright, shiny mall. The following question is posed from an adoring fan that has undoubtedly waited outside for hours for this chance:
“Mary, you are always so fashionable. What is your favorite accessory that you’re wearing right now?”
Answer the “Queen”: “Gotta be my shoes!!!!”
Her excited exclamation is lifted on-high by a unison of concurrent squeals. The sounds rise from several more surrounding fans who must think it’s totally acceptable whilst in the presence of the assumed Queen of anything to squander a televised moment on the mundane. The utterly empty in lieu of the inspiring.
I tip back the rest of my coffee that fought but failed to retain its heat, and site unidentifiable green specks inside the bottom rim of my mug that were previously hidden by the liquid I’ve just consumed. I conclude that I am more a Queen in this moment than anyone who talks about shoes on TV. I nearly finish my plate before the chill takes its toll, and my mug has just been refilled by a kind smile with mismatched earrings.
All hail, Queen of the Diner at Midnight.
Deb Driscoll, photo by Jen Sulak
