On France...the first of many posts
Hi friends. So I've been trying to write something about this trip I just returned from that you might have heard about? You know, France? And I'm having trouble. I can't get the words to say what they need to say to even attempt to convey how beautiful, relaxing, and life altering this trip was for me. So instead of trying once again to do that, I'm going to tell you why this trip was so important to me, how my perspective has changed on a few things, and a few random moments that stuck out as memorable for whatever reason. Many of those heart snapshots were not the iconic moments I expected. They were random small moments that for whatever reason made the trip seem so real.
First, I have wanted to go to France since I was maybe 6 years old. I have no idea why the idea of France buried itself in my heart, but I'm not kidding. I was in first grade in my class one day with Mrs. Linville. For whatever reason, she told us about this place called Paris, France and this big tower called the Eiffle Tower, and that was it. I said to myself, "I need to go there!" From that moment on, I was hooked. It had become the place for me to go one day.
I grew up in Laurens, South Carolina. It was and is the standard for small towns in the South complete with mill closings, a distinct social hierarchy that placed me solidly below the upper echelon, and a communication network between neighbors that was terrifying with the speed of which it could tell my parents where I'd been and who I'd been with before I ever got home. It was a place that I never felt like I belonged to. I'm not disparaging it at all. It's a nice town, and I had the best childhood. It was just one of those things that I knew about myself. I did not belong there for the rest of my life. To me, France was the dream. I studied French in high school and college when my mom tried to convince me that Spanish was the more useful language for me (She was right. I didn't care). It was that thing for me that I hope everyone has; a lifelong dream.
So when the Saturday morning for us to leave for our trip finally arrived, I was actually the tiniest bit sad/uncertain. I was leaving to do this thing I'd been waiting decades for. It was becoming a reality which was amazing, but it was also goodbye to the dreaming, the wondering, and the planning. I knew that I would never have this kind of experience again. I can go back to France one day, but it won't be that first trip of discovery when everything is new and exciting. I was ready to soak in every second of the trip. I knew there would be hiccups in our plans for the day, that certain things wouldn't go the way they're supposed to. I was totally ready to go with the flow and enjoy every moment that came my way whether it was the way I imagined it would be or not. I was determined to love the reality, not hold on to the dream anymore.
And how has my perspective changed? Well, after a week of unplugging (other than some Facebook posts and picture sharing), I've realized that I don't need to check my email every time I get a notification. I don't even have to receive email notifications! I turned off all notifications on my phone before I left, and I turned the sound off for the entire week. I got no dings. No whistles. No bells. Yesterday, I turned the notifications back on for my email. The a few minutes later, my phone whistled at me for a completely unimportant email, and I quickly turned them back off. It's okay to be one of those people that checks email once or twice a day at designated times. So I'm trying that out now. I think I'm going to love it. I've loved it so far anyway. No one has died. I haven't missed anything urgent. Although now that I think about it, I really do need to respond to one of those emails today...
Then I have this whole thing rolling around in my head about service. Y'all. The level of service on this trip was unbelievable. I've never experience anything like it. I'm a mom, a wife, a homeschooler, a Christ-follower. My entire life is about serving other people, hopefully with joy. These people on the ship taught me a huge lesson on what it means to serve. And these people love their jobs. No one can fake that level of happiness for so long. But I'll have to go deeper into that later.
Finally, some blurbs about the trip. These are totally random. First, the conveyor belt at baggage claims at Charles de Gaulle airports squeaks like tin whistle day at CC. I was having flashbacks of my little apprentice class on the first day of tin whistle. This also should have been my first clue that I'd have history sentence songs running through my head for days. Every time someone said 1789, I immediately went to "In 1789 in New York...". When Clemenceau was mentioned, "Clemenceau of Frane, Loyd George of England, Nicholas II of Russia..." became the running loop in my head. You get the picture. All those history pegs helped make the experience richer.
As we flew over France towards Paris, I could look down and see the lights of each little town. They looked like islands because there was so much darkness between them. No one was up driving around. It was magical. And then the sun started to come up. I was sitting in a plane watching the sun rise over France. That was when I was thankful to arrive in Paris at 6am, or I would have missed seeing France wake up. Soon after that was my first view of the Eiffle Tower from my little airplane window. It was simply perfect.
There are swans all over the Seine river. Lovely little bevies of swans float by with their long, s-curved necks. I mean, there were ducks and even a few geese, but the swans were everywhere, and they were so elegant.
The French have flowers everywhere. Everywhere. Every light post has an overflowing basket of flowers and greenery flowing down. Every walkable bridge has flowers spaced intermittently across it. Red geraniums are at every window opening. Most buildings don't have air conditioning because it would be ugly, and they don't really need it with their climate. Everyone puts geraniums at their windows and doors to help repel the flies from coming into the open windows. It's very practical and crazy beautiful to see. Now I need to plant geraniums all over my house. Red is already my favorite color (okay, it's tied with purple). Now I need lots of red flowers to remind of France.
The food...okay, nevermind about the food. I don't have enough space to start on the food today. I can't shortchange the food.
Finally, on the shuttle into Paris on our second day, we had Thiery, the guide. He was very quotable, so I'll share my two favorites of his. I'm not sure if the hilarity conveys here, but it was pretty funny. You have to read these in a French accent while imagining an almost imperceptible eye roll. You just do.
First, on the France and sports.
Then on Parisians and driving...
First, I have wanted to go to France since I was maybe 6 years old. I have no idea why the idea of France buried itself in my heart, but I'm not kidding. I was in first grade in my class one day with Mrs. Linville. For whatever reason, she told us about this place called Paris, France and this big tower called the Eiffle Tower, and that was it. I said to myself, "I need to go there!" From that moment on, I was hooked. It had become the place for me to go one day.
I grew up in Laurens, South Carolina. It was and is the standard for small towns in the South complete with mill closings, a distinct social hierarchy that placed me solidly below the upper echelon, and a communication network between neighbors that was terrifying with the speed of which it could tell my parents where I'd been and who I'd been with before I ever got home. It was a place that I never felt like I belonged to. I'm not disparaging it at all. It's a nice town, and I had the best childhood. It was just one of those things that I knew about myself. I did not belong there for the rest of my life. To me, France was the dream. I studied French in high school and college when my mom tried to convince me that Spanish was the more useful language for me (She was right. I didn't care). It was that thing for me that I hope everyone has; a lifelong dream.
So when the Saturday morning for us to leave for our trip finally arrived, I was actually the tiniest bit sad/uncertain. I was leaving to do this thing I'd been waiting decades for. It was becoming a reality which was amazing, but it was also goodbye to the dreaming, the wondering, and the planning. I knew that I would never have this kind of experience again. I can go back to France one day, but it won't be that first trip of discovery when everything is new and exciting. I was ready to soak in every second of the trip. I knew there would be hiccups in our plans for the day, that certain things wouldn't go the way they're supposed to. I was totally ready to go with the flow and enjoy every moment that came my way whether it was the way I imagined it would be or not. I was determined to love the reality, not hold on to the dream anymore.
And how has my perspective changed? Well, after a week of unplugging (other than some Facebook posts and picture sharing), I've realized that I don't need to check my email every time I get a notification. I don't even have to receive email notifications! I turned off all notifications on my phone before I left, and I turned the sound off for the entire week. I got no dings. No whistles. No bells. Yesterday, I turned the notifications back on for my email. The a few minutes later, my phone whistled at me for a completely unimportant email, and I quickly turned them back off. It's okay to be one of those people that checks email once or twice a day at designated times. So I'm trying that out now. I think I'm going to love it. I've loved it so far anyway. No one has died. I haven't missed anything urgent. Although now that I think about it, I really do need to respond to one of those emails today...
Then I have this whole thing rolling around in my head about service. Y'all. The level of service on this trip was unbelievable. I've never experience anything like it. I'm a mom, a wife, a homeschooler, a Christ-follower. My entire life is about serving other people, hopefully with joy. These people on the ship taught me a huge lesson on what it means to serve. And these people love their jobs. No one can fake that level of happiness for so long. But I'll have to go deeper into that later.
Finally, some blurbs about the trip. These are totally random. First, the conveyor belt at baggage claims at Charles de Gaulle airports squeaks like tin whistle day at CC. I was having flashbacks of my little apprentice class on the first day of tin whistle. This also should have been my first clue that I'd have history sentence songs running through my head for days. Every time someone said 1789, I immediately went to "In 1789 in New York...". When Clemenceau was mentioned, "Clemenceau of Frane, Loyd George of England, Nicholas II of Russia..." became the running loop in my head. You get the picture. All those history pegs helped make the experience richer.
As we flew over France towards Paris, I could look down and see the lights of each little town. They looked like islands because there was so much darkness between them. No one was up driving around. It was magical. And then the sun started to come up. I was sitting in a plane watching the sun rise over France. That was when I was thankful to arrive in Paris at 6am, or I would have missed seeing France wake up. Soon after that was my first view of the Eiffle Tower from my little airplane window. It was simply perfect.
There are swans all over the Seine river. Lovely little bevies of swans float by with their long, s-curved necks. I mean, there were ducks and even a few geese, but the swans were everywhere, and they were so elegant.
The French have flowers everywhere. Everywhere. Every light post has an overflowing basket of flowers and greenery flowing down. Every walkable bridge has flowers spaced intermittently across it. Red geraniums are at every window opening. Most buildings don't have air conditioning because it would be ugly, and they don't really need it with their climate. Everyone puts geraniums at their windows and doors to help repel the flies from coming into the open windows. It's very practical and crazy beautiful to see. Now I need to plant geraniums all over my house. Red is already my favorite color (okay, it's tied with purple). Now I need lots of red flowers to remind of France.
The food...okay, nevermind about the food. I don't have enough space to start on the food today. I can't shortchange the food.
Finally, on the shuttle into Paris on our second day, we had Thiery, the guide. He was very quotable, so I'll share my two favorites of his. I'm not sure if the hilarity conveys here, but it was pretty funny. You have to read these in a French accent while imagining an almost imperceptible eye roll. You just do.
First, on the France and sports.
"French are not so good at sports. We lovers."
Then on Parisians and driving...
"In Paris, you don't drive. You aim."
He was not kidding. I've never seen such calm, organized chaos in my life. But really, Charleston drivers would die.
Okay then. I'll stop now. When I stop staring at my screen, I'm forced to look at the dirty dishes and travel clutter that litters my kitchen and living room at the moment. And I really need to go to the grocery store. I no longer have my French chef waiting with bated breath to discover if I want the coq au vin or the pork tenderloin with polenta.
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