The casual relationship of Europeans to ancient history.

The United States is not even 250 years old (as a nation). We have monuments and structures and places important to us, but they’re so young in comparison to the centuries-old histories of Europe. I’ve been thinking about the distinctions between PRESERVATION and RESTORATION, and the mass psychology of collectively cherishing or valuing inanimate objects. It’s fascinating to see people going about their everyday jobs and routines while surrounded by structures and relics that have existed for centuries...and in many cases skateboarding right next to them. There is something beautiful about the casual acceptance of these as important, yet in a comfortable way where they are also a simple part of everyday living.

Change

Lanessa locks up and we take our morning walk together. This feels like a ritual. What would life be like without beautiful little rituals? And…what would life be like if we didn’t make room for new rituals by letting others take sabbaticals?

The idea of “change” is something that most people - I think - are initially in favor of, as long as its not too specific, not too concrete, not too painful, and doesn’t require any action plans or deadlines. I love the way rituals can bond us together, like this one. This walk with my sister.

But it also makes me think of the destructive ways that hanging onto rituals and habits and ways of doing things simply because they’re familiar can bind us and bond us to lives that are familiar and comfortable, but are more lake than river. More static than kinetic. And there’s nothing wrong with the familiar and the comfortable…until it becomes muddied with the detritus and buildup and accumulation of things piling up in the same way, the same manner, over time, without change, without outlet, without fresh inflow.

I’m here because someone recognized the importance of me stepping out of the comfort that is our everyday existence. For a few weeks. It sounds very funny, to use the word “comfort” in terms of our day-to-day life, because it feels, day in and day out, so frenetic and chaotic and filled with so much going on. Nobody wants to not feel necessary or vital to the lives of those around them. How is my family going to survive without me there?

They adapt. We adapt. We practice resilience and stepping out in faith and confidence that we can figure new things out. Thank you, Becca, my longtime and long term Countess of Mt Norway, who was the engine behind getting me here…not just supporting or tolerating, but urging and actively making happen.

A train might be 1001 cars long, but it still needs an engine to move. I’m married to an engineer.

A book

There are a number of posters in the stations for Yuval Noah Harari’s new book, Sapiens, which I have not read. I’ve slowly been reading his 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, which Jonny demanded I read, and I have been provoked and moved by his observations. I’m not quite ready to read in French though.

Latin Quarter (Left Bank 5th/6th arrondissements)

I hopped off at the Saint-Michel stop not far from Notre Dame Cathedral. Bistro tables set up outdoors, people sipping espresso and talking animatedly. Sometimes things are exactly as you envision.

The river keeps stopping me. It’s so beautiful. It’s not that there’s any one quality that makes it pretty. It’s like a lot of Paris: it’s the casual way that something ancient and beautiful is embedded into the every day.

I love the way the embankments rise up to walkways of varying widths alongside. I love the dips under the many bridges that feel like little getaways. I can imagine Becca gently laughing at me: “…another one of your reading nooks Josey?”

I love the way that they’re both busy and tranquil.

A few notes on the Seine.

It’s around 480 miles long - eight miles of which is through Paris - and has a mean (average) depth of 10-20 feet. Its width varies from 100 to 660 feet. Swimming has been outlawed since 1923; should you violate this and hop in for a quick skinny, the fine is 15 euros, which in USD at this time would be just over $17.

The city lies astride the Seine, which is where “Left Bank” and “Right Bank” come from. During the summer, there’s plages (beaches) along the banks for relaxation and basking. There’s also 245 book stalls set up. The wait list to become a seller is eight years.

(Note: most of these stats are from the ParisCityVision.com website)

Notre-Dame Cathedral

People run from the word “tourist.” I cannot recall the number of times I’ve heard some variation of “I’m going to ______, but I’m not gonna do the touristy thing.” And then they go to “the touristy thing,” and get their selfies, but constantly feel the need to divorce themselves from the label of “being a tourist.”

Our Lady of Paris, known commonly as The Notre-Dame Cathedral is a tourist spot. There’s lots of tourists there, and I am one of them. Or, as I have anointed myself, “a visitor.” Multiple times now, I’ve found myself in the vicinity of this stunning medieval Catholic cathedral. There to marvel at the construction (and reconstruction) of this French Gothic-style ode to the Virgin Mary that was started in 1163.

Old

1163 AD. That’s almost a thousand years ago. If that doesn’t make us rethink those plastic straws and disposable toys and the way so much of what we use today is built to fail…

There’s something mysterious, magical, and humbling about walking through the shadows of what was so exquisitely constructed so long ago. I imagine the thousands of feet trudging to carry mortar and rock, the thousands of hands cutting, placing, carrying, the brains envisioning and problem-solving and all working together to build something beyond themselves and beyond their lifetime. A monument to the divine.

I’ve never visited the great pyramids of Egypt, or many other architectural or engineering marvels from ancient times, but these cathedrals have stood out to me as different for one reason. Perhaps it’s naive, but it’s the idea that unlike many other structures over the centuries, these cathedrals were built with some sense of community and togetherness, as opposed to slave labor. I know, there’s more than a few similarities between slavery and serfdom, yet there, still, according to my surface readings and studies, seemed to exist a shared purpose in leaping in together as communities to raise these to the heavens.

They came together to build 200 foot cathedrals. Today, we have parents vandalizing school board meetings because they’re angry at being forced to wear masks at indoor public meetings during a pandemic.

I long for common ground as a society again. Common sense community.

Square Rene Viviani

I’m by St. Julien Eglise, a small structure with adjacent small flowered square and garden area with benches, where I am now sitting, and watching other people watch other people, and perhaps watching me.

Sainte-Chapelle Cathedral

So many police! With semi auto assault rifles! They appear to be centered around St Chapelle, but I can’t believe how many there are.

I later realized this is in the same area as Palais de Justice, 13th century monument and national police headquarters. The trial of the 14 ISIS extremists behind the 2015 Paris attacks that killed 130 are being held here. Francoise Hollande, French prime minister at the time, will be testifying soon. Thus…heavy security.

Dauphine Square

Putting this on my list of places to come back to. Small triangular plaza across from Palais de Justice with restaurants, cafes, creperies, and a dappled side view of the 19th century structure through the trees and policemen. All les policier I’ve seen so far - and there have been plenty - have been male.

Lunch

Lanessa packed me a little lunch, otherwise I might have got something here. I’m going to get coffee and pastry elsewhere in the Latin Quarter later.

Reminds me a little of Director Park in SW Portland. Except no ancient building with armed officers across the street. Does The Flying Elephant count?

Our Lady of Paris (Notre-Dame Cathedral)

I spent more time here than I figured, considering it’s closed off for restoration after the April 2019 fire. But somehow I was incredibly moved not just by the magnificent building up close and the incredible vision and craftsmanship to begin building it a thousand years ago, but also by the incredible ways in which technology and modern tech is being used to restore the monument. Maybe I’m also a sucker for those “bringing humanity together moments” (maybe that’s why I like sci fi invasion flicks so much 😊).

Our Lady of the Mermaid

I bought my first non-Starbucks coffee in France. Americano, black, but I did take a little rectangle of sugar. It wasn’t great, but it was great. In a diminutive, non-venti size way. I imagined walking around the Cathedral with Dad and how much fun he would be as he examined their process and marveled at both the construction and the efforts to restore. He would have many thoughts and fascinating observations, I know.

My coffee was 2.33 euros.

Latin Quartier

I meandered through the boulevards and alleys and tiny streets, throughout the stores and stopped at a patisserie for a pommes des fruitage. Under three euro. The woman seemed exasperated that I didn’t have cash, but she generously let me pay and hurled a curt au revoir as I left and headed to...

...Le Bonbons au Palais candy shop,

which I want to go back to with Lanessa.

Also, I passed the cinema and did a double take. The most prominent poster was for a 2020 Portland film that was acclaimed by critics and partially enjoyed by me, Becca, and our Older children: First Cow. It’s a quiet 19th century tale of a couple fortune-seekers in the Pacific Northwest and it has some beautiful moments and scenes…and is also a shared chuckle when I occasionally suggest that we watch it again. It is a film that many critics swooned over, but it is also one that many adults I know would fall asleep to within 30 minutes. We watched with an 11- and 14-year old who made it all the way through without complaining.

Perhaps it’s a strange thing for a parent to feel pride at their children “making it through” a film, but truth is, I am. It’s a film that requires attention and patience and an appreciation for the quieter moments and nuances of human relationships. I want our children to develop and have life-long appreciation for stories outside the thrilling and the fast-paced.

So when I saw the First Cow poster, I chuckled in community with my wife and kids. And I missed them.

Arènes de Lutèce

It’s hard not to get some shivers standing here on Roman remains going back to the1st century. An amphitheater that could hold 15,000 and once featured gladiators in combat, and today features kids playing some non-soccer game with a half dozen good natured playful adults and teens. An oasis unlike any other I have seen in a city.

What I loved as much as the site itself was the way all ages were playing together. Aggressively, competitively, joyously, deferentially.

What can adults do to be better leaders, mentors, parents, teachers, and guides?

Play with kids.

Seriously. Play with kids, and let older kids see, by our modeling, how important it is to play together.

Not just to be spectators. To be players and participants. There’s a time to be on the fringes and in the crowd. And there’s a time to be in the thick and with the players.

It was not difficult to envision my family here in the middle of it all.

I loved this.

Panthéon / Abbey of Sainte Genevieve

Panthéon comes from the Greek “temple to the gods”

This is hard for me to talk about, because this is where I was so overcome with the moment that I ate the remainder of the pastry I was going to give to Lanessa. I didn’t want to. But sometimes a moment and place collide and overwhelm you, and the only thing you can do is chew in silence and let the sugar calm things down.

I am truly sorry, sorry-ish, for this.

I couldn’t stop smiling thinking of my oldest son being here and comparing this late-18th century replica to the original Roman design. I’m certain he would find something to scoff at, as I’m sure he would also find something to be wowed about.

The kitty corner block behind held yet another monstrous work of Baroque, Romanesque beauty. As did the surrounding square, plaza, courtyard, and seating areas. I planted myself on the Pantheon steps and watched birds soar across people’s heads and head to roost far down the boulevard and past where that one Tower poked up through the clouds.

Train

I thought this might be the time I finally caught the elusive fast train, the TER to Orlean. But I couldn’t. So I settled on this. The slow one, RER C heading back. I scooted over so a French mom could be closer to the and her six and eight year old boys, faces painted with some sort of Halloweeny ghoul design. They are chattering away, and the fellow across from me is doing what I was trying to do this morning on the way in: sleeping.

My mom would love this. The whole thing. The trains. The walking. The people. The little moments. And she’s done it, and I love envisioning her being in these places.

Train, part deux

Heartbeat coming back down. Not one. Not two. Not three. But four. Four police / gendarmes doing ticket checks. Armored. Gulp. So, um, I paid for my mine correctly and everything, right?

It certainly seems like the police departments here don’t lack for a firearms budget.

Lanessa came back shortly thereafter. I suggested Indian from Kashmir and we headed over to order. But it was closed for another hour. We took the long walk home, which took almost twenty seconds, and began cleaning, chopping, and preparing onions, potatoes, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, lettuce, and tomatoes for what turned out to be a delicious curry-ish soup and salad from the amalgamation of ingredients. We settled in to watch and laugh at an Amanda Seyfried thriller, Things Heard and Seen, but kept taking breaks for conversation and to take phone calls on WhatsApp from Becca which left Lanessa gasping for breath and referring to her sister-in-law as “...one of the funniest people I know.”

It feels like I am missed the right amount by four-fifths of my family; there is a four-year old who doesn’t seem to have noticed I haven’t been around for several days.

In bed and asleep by 11.30.