Paris- 2004

Hard to believe we were in Paris this time last year (disregard the date on the photo-- I didn't notice that it was not set while we were there taking pictures, so all our photos are dated incorrectly). It's a beautiful place-- vibrant, alive, delicious! Just around the corner from our Hotel was the Rue Rivoli. Long, glowing red/orange lights were strung across the street as far as we could see. They had the festive air of Japanese lanterns, as they reflected beautifully off the damp streets.

The plaza in front of the Hotel de Ville had been turned into an ice rink, and skaters skimmed across the sparkling surface until late at night. The day we walked up the Champs Elysees was sunny and bright, and the Arc d' Triomphe was dazzling. We enjoyed creative window displays and varied architecture for many blocks before heading back toward our arrondisement.

Paris is cold in December! We warmed our hands with hot chestnuts every time we went out. One euro would buy a paper cone heaped with the warm, sweet nuts, pulled off the grill when we ordered them. The best ones were found in front of the BHV department store, across the street from our hotel, and next to the maker of delicious crepes.

We ate cheaply, but well. Breakfast was yogurt and juice purchased from a tiny grocery store and "refrigerated" outside our window on the window ledge, along with coffee from a nearby cafe. For lunch we enjoyed quiches, crepes, sandwiches, or pastries from small bakeries or street vendors, and for supper, more of the same, except for the days when we brought fruit, cheese, and chocolate back to our room to enjoy over a good book.

What does all this have to do with making time for things that matter?

These are the the sort of things that matter! The trip was a long planned celebration of Taylor's graduation-- he'd graduated from high school (homeschool, of course) and community college without much fanfare, and he will graduate from his four-year college in May 2006. He will be getting married only a week later, so any family celebration would have to happen before then.

He chose Paris for his celebration, and when inexpensive tickets ($212 r/t) became available, we jumped at the chance to spend a week there in the off-season. We attended the discount Friday night at the Louvre; walked miles each day, seeing historic sights-- Notre Dame, Place de Vosges, Ile d Cite, the Eiffel Tower, Shakespeare and Co bookstore, the Cluny museum, the Musee d' Mode, and the Musee d'Orsay, and the Jardin du Luxembourg, and much more. It is definitely possible to travel cheaply anywhere you go, and it is certainly worth it.

I thoroughly enjoyed spending one-on-one time with him; we got to practice our fledgling French; we took a lot of photos; and we made memories that will always be with us. I want to do something special and memorable with each of our children before they move on in life, because for me, building relationships and memories with family is one of the things in life that really matters.

Carpe diem!

Losing Context

I'm living in a snow globe today. Thick, soft snow is falling gently, silently blanketing trees, shrubs, cars. It's our first real snow of the season, and though we probably won't end up with more than 2-3", it's still a delight. I just hope the roads are clear enough for the guys to get home safely from work or school.

I had a virus last week, and spent a little time doing some light reading. Two of the books I chose were 80-100 years old, and as I read them, I realized that modern readers have little context for the type of conflict that consumed the characters in these novels. This lack of context can seriously affect our appreciation of the tales.

One of the books was a typical cozy mystery, and the main character, Miss Silver, is a Miss Marple-like older lady who knits while making sharp observations of those around her. I can picture her as I read, because I remember a pair of similar-appearing older ladies from my childhood. If I didn't have that context, though, the character would simply seem unreal, making the story unbelievable.

The second book presented a situation that I initially found ludicrous-- a cruel husband banishes his wife, and she is forced to take refuge in another man's house. She is so mortified by this that she spends most of the rest of her life in a convent. While this probably was an early version of a Harlequin-type romance, readers of the time probably had enough context to empathize with the character. I'm afraid I just couldn't get into it.

Sometimes "light reading" is too light to be worth the time and effort it takes to see into and through the cultural changes. I find it interesting that truly great literature-- Chaucer's Canterbury Tales or Shakespeare's plays, for example-- don't seem to suffer quite as much from contextual shift. Chaucer's Pardoner stands, century after century, as one of the most odious religious charlatans ever encountered, and Shakespeare's Lear inspires a gamut of emotions, from outrage to pity, as he wends his foolish way across the page. And is there any heart too hard to be moved by Jean Valjean in Les Miserables?

Great literature is challenging, but worth it. It is great because although costumes and accents may change, the deepest human emotions are evoked in a way that rings true across centuries. Lighter fare-- twinkies for the mind-- nourishes the soul about as well as junk food does the body. An occasional snack won't kill you, but a steady diet of fluff will rot the mind.

I'm over my virus now, and looking forward to weightier fare, both for mind and body. But it will have to wait until I throw a snowball or two!