To Edinburgh

We left Paris for London on the Eurostar, the high speed train that runs through the Chunnel. Getting through customs was a bit of an adventure as the British clerk had many questions for us – he seemed quite suspicious of an American couple traveling in Europe for three months. The trip itself was uneventful – much like a short airline flight (with about as much legroom). Fortunately the station we were catching the train to Edinburgh in, King's Cross, is right next door to St. Pancras so al we had to do was walk across the street and wait.

The trip to Edinburgh was quite nice. Initially we sat next to two older women, sisters, heading back to their farm in Yorkshire after a visit to their sons in London. They were originally from Belgium and came to England during the war. One came for nurses training and married a British officer and the other married a farmer. Because of their experiences their mother refused to let their younger sister come to England! Both of their husbands are dead and they are living together in Yorkshire. Their sons were quite concerned that someone helped them get their luggage at their stop which I did of course. They were a delight to spend time with.

After that we sat with a couple of ex-pat Brits who are living in Kuwait. He works in southern Iraq rebuilding the oilfields and she teaches in an English school in Kuwait. We had a lovely conversation with them ranging over politics, living abroad, education, etc. They were here visiting their children in Berwick upon Tweed. They graciously and generously shared a bottle of Bailey's with us and were delightful to spend time with.

It is always a treat to come out of Waverley Station in Edinburgh and see the castle – it is without question the best view of any station in Europe. It was chilly and windy and we had to walk around to North Bridge to catch the bus but it felt very, very good being in Edinburgh again. If I weren't such a Scottish Swede I would done quite the happy dance. When we got to Dalkeith we had quite the surprise – the grounds are being cleaned up and restored to their 18^th century look, which means that the shrubs along the path to the house are gone and the great bridge can now be seen from the library – the new Duke is having all the undergrowth and a lot of trees taken out. I was so surprised when I walked into the library and looked out the window – I just stared for a few minutes. It was such a surprise. I think when the project is done it will be quite a transformation but right all the heavy equipment is there, fences are blocking off sections around the house and it looks like the construction site that it is. They are also tuck-pointing all the chimneys so there is scaffolding up around the house. It was still lovely to be there again. I went out one day to the oak grove and renewed acquaintances with the old trees – some of them are 700 years old and it was my favorite spot when we lived there in 2003. I even did some tai chi by the tree I used to it under and read – quite a powerful place. The River Esk, which splits into a north and south branch just before Dalkeith, comes together at this grove and for Druids a river that comes together in an oak grove was a very holy, very powerfully spiritual place and you can, if you pay attention, really feel it. It is the most remarkable place of nature I have ever been and it is always hard to leave it.

 

The Paris Review

The week in Paris was not quite what I expected but that was more because of where I was at than because of the city. I arrived off a lousy flight – when was the last time a major airline ran out of toilet paper in one the restrooms? – and since I cannot seem to sleep on the plane by the time I got in at 730 local time I just wasn’t feeling good. I had taken a different flight than the rest of the group and so I needed to find them which in an airport like De Gaulle can be a bit of a challenge especially whne you don’t speak much French. Fortunately English is becoming the new Latin (i.e. the universal language) so I was able to get to the group meeting point and be on the shuttle to the hostel we were staying at. The Foyer is on the Boulevard St Michel right across from the Luxembourg Gardens in the heart of the university area. The Sorbonne, the Pantheon and several elite lycees (high schools) are very close by, as is Notre Dame. While I must admit to being put off ny the Roman Imperial architecture of many of the university buildings – despite the Liberté, égalité, fraternité inscribed on all of them, these are most definitely monumental imperial buildings – there are several small churches in the area which are quite beautiful and very moving to be in and this is the area that Hemingway lived in, that Joyce worked in – the bookstore Shakespeare & Co. is right across the boulevard from Notre Dame – and so I spent a good deal of time just walking through the various neighborhoods trying to get a feel of what it is like to be in Paris. I didn’t go to any museums until Tuesday simply because I understood that I was not in Paris, or indeed on this journey, to look at art or even really to be a tourist. I spent the time walking because I needed to reach some kind of understanding of what I was doing on this trip. I did get to the Rodin museum and Haiya and I spent Wednesday afternoon at the Louvre – after 3.5 hours we were both ready to leave – but for me the week was about getting my feet under me so to speak – getting my bearings in a new place, and really, a new life. I have left behind a very great deal and the week in Paris, I think, was about coming to grips with that, letting it go, grieving those things that needed it and preparing for the primary purpose of this pilgrimage that I have embarked upon.

On Friday, after most of the students had left Paris for their work sites, Lynn and I went to Chartres. This is a place that has had a large place in my consciousness ever since I took a class on medieval Gothic architecture my first year at Macalester – that would be January of 1977. In the class we read Henry Adams’ Mont St. Michel and Chartres which is his guided tour of the history of the medieval cathedrals in France from the Romanesque church at Mont St.. Michel through all the Notre Dames that were constructed throughout France in the 11^th-14^th centuries and ending up with the Thomas’ Summa Theologica. Chartres has the most beautiful stained glass of any of the great cathedrals – the blues are especially renowned – and since it is only 40 kilometers from Paris it was an easy trip to make.

And it was very much worth it, in spite of the fact that the west front was covered by scaffolding because they are slowly cleaning and rehabbing the cathedral, so that the great rose window was not visible. But we walked the labyrinth inside and took a tour of the crypts and took some time to just sit in this place of great faith, endurance and power. You have to remember that most of these great cathedrals were built by itinerant craftsmen and the people of the community they were located in. The masons would come and shape the stones, the architects would direct the building and the community would provide hospitality and labor – the stones had to get to the site somehow. For the most part these people are anonymous to us and yet the buildings they created not only still stand but continue to draw people from all over the world. Adams did not pretend to understand the power of the Virgin – he drew a comparison to standing before the great electrical turbines of the World’s Fair in Chicago in the 1890’s’ – he knew they had great power but had no understanding of how that power was generated – but he understood that there was force in Her cathedrals. And there still is great force there - for the first time all week I felt calmed, relieved of some of the burdens that I had been carrying, some for what felt like a very long time. I do not consider my a Christian and certainly not Catholic but at that place neither were required – grace and understanding were there for all, freely given to anyone with an open heart and the willingness to ask.

A few days earlier at the Rodin Museum I stood in front of his famous Gates of Hell and relied that although it is a magnificent work of art, I found the theology it portrays to be profoundly distasteful to me and also simply and completely wrong. I don’t know if there is only sky above us but I do know there is no hell below us. The Divine – describe however you will, name it however you must – does not punish. What punishment there comes from us. Religion, as Rudolf Otto teaches us, is a responsive posture, a response to that which is completely and totally Other - the mysterium tremendum, a response to our prehension that there is something else active in the universe, something beyond our abilities to fully understand and describe in anything other than metaphor. Whatever hell there is, whatever purgatory there may be, these are things and places that human beings have invented for themselves and then place themselves there. C.S. Lewis once described hell as a rainy bus queue in London where the people kept refusing to get on the bus that would take them away from that place. What Chartres demonstrates, beyond any doubt, is that the Divine presence is infinitely patient, infinitely forgiving and infinitely welcoming. Hell exists only in us and as George Steiner has observed, Hell has been much easier for us to create on earth than its counterpart.

Our last night in Paris was spent at the Tour Eiffel – a very long time in line for tickets and transport to the top, but it was so worth it. The view of Paris and the Seine at night made everything else disappear. It is the most touristy thing to do in Paris but it is such a magnificent sight. It was a splendid way to wrap up the first week before embarking on the marathon of visits that begins next.

In Paris!!!

It's nearly midnight on Saturday - I'm sitting in one of the classrooms at The Foyer, which seems to be the only place to get a decent wireless signal, having come back from the first group meal. We ate at a (wait for it...) Belgian restaurant right around the corner because it is the only place in the neighborhood that can accomodate such a large group - there were 24 of us. I had an amazing (and large) pot of fresh mussels in a delicious curry sauce with a German beer made by the Cistercians and part of a chocolate mousse, since we are in Paris, for dessert. It was a wonderful meal, but the best part of the day was up in the Montmartre district, which is the old bohemian section (Moulin Rouge anyone?). We had been at the basilica Sacre Couer and were wandering towards the Montmartre cemetery when Lynn when we decided to have lunch in little park. There was a pastisserie (a French bakery specializing in sweets) and we ordered 2 almond croissants and a chocolate croissant. We filled our water bottle at the fountain - Paris has thee fountains for drinking and rinsing your hands that are quite unique - and we sat there eating the croissants, feeding the pigeons and generally feeling quite like Parisians before heading on to the cemetery. Montmartre Cemetery is quite large and has a bridge going over part of it. It would be a little disconcerting the have paid for a lavish set up(as some of these were) only to have a road built over it - rest in peace??? I was able to find the graves of Stendhal, Heine and Berlioz - Degas is also there but way on the other side and by that point we had been walking for many hours.

The flight was terrible - an oversold, totally packed flight, little sleep, a bathroom that ran out of tp and then I missed breakfast because I was in the bathroom. Finally made to The Foyer, had a shower, ate some lunch and generally felt better. We had a long walking tour around the Latin Quarter last night - some wonderful old churches and the Luxembourg Gardens are truly amazing - they make Central Park in NY seem both small and provincial. I hope to get back there and do some tai chi. I have taken a bunch of pictures and will get them posted soon (really!) but now I have to go to sleep. Tomorrow many of the museums in Paris are free and I am planning on the Louvre, even though it will be very, very crowded. More anon...

Nearly there....

24 hours and counting - we leave for the airport tomorrow morning at 10:30, flights at 2:45 (Lynn and students) and 3:45 (me) and then to Paris 9 hours later. Much still left to do (no surpise!). I'm still not happy with how my bag is packed - everything fits but there is no wiggle whatsover and I'm wearing the bulky bits of clothing so tonight I need to try yet again to get it right.

This is also my last day of work and that feels strange - after 8 years (the same amount of time The Bookpress was open...) I'm leaving my job at Univita and have no idea what I'm doing next (after the trip that is). There has been a lot of emotion around all the things that are ending and I hope I can hold things together through tomorrow.