We get up the next morning and Janise’s alarm didn’t actually set so we missed my master plan #54302...onto master plan #54303. We headed into the city for a little sightseeing and church. It was actually really cool. I don’t know how people get “lost” in Europe. Addresses are so easy to find. We decided to take some pretty little detours down a handful of neat little cobble stone alley ways before we figured out that the rod iron entrance to a beautiful courtyard, though unmarked, was in fact the destination of which we’d been searching. Tons of metaphors there but I’ll spare you…you can thank me later.
We could see the ever distinguishable “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” on the window, through which we could see a handful of people sitting in rows. A man looked through the window and, noticing my sign language for “where’s the entrance,” a huge smile spread across his face and suddenly the wall opened, revealing a doorway.
“English or French?”
Surprised I responded, “English.”
We were directed to an open room with just a handful of people spread among some 30 chairs. We sat in the second row and joined the rest in sing-hmming along to “Choose the right” without hymnals, directing our gaze up and forward toward a really nice, semi-large, plasma screen and listened as missionaries translated over an intercom. Two male. One female. Oh, translating during the mission under the pressure of getting the actual meaning of the talks correct. One male was admittedly better than the other and the female. The sister was more of a, “mmm…prayer is good…families are a blessing in our lives…we… need… to have… food storage…” and the first young man just stopped and goes, “wow, he’s talking really fast,” at which point another much more experienced picked up and seemingly translating word for word.
I miss translating during church. I hope that investigator at home SuXi is still there when I get home. That was fun! (The Sunday before I left I get a call on my cell from daddy as I’m walking out. I’ll be there in 2 minutes. Didn’t answer. Immediately the house phone rings. Daddy. Must be important. Answered. Sacrament is about to start and he was asking me to hurry up because we had a Chinese speaking investigator. I sat with her and quickly realized that she spoke nearly no English and understood even less. I got to translate word for word, and then just testified of things that I gathered she’d be interested in or needed—based off our conversations—when the talk topics turned to “ward council” and “worldwide leadership broadcast.” She didn’t even know who Jesus Christ was, so, I thought talking about single’s wards, the structure of ward council, and what bishopric members think when they look out on the congregation maybe weren’t the most inspiring and spirit welcoming topics. It was amazing!)
My thoughts for the day come from Alma 26: 35-37
“Now have we not reason to rejoice? Yea, I say unto you, there never were men [or women] that had so great reason to rejoice as we, since the world began; yea, and my joy is carried away, even unto boasting in my God; for he has all power, all wisdom, and all understanding; he comprehendeth all things, and he is a merciful Being, even unto salvation, to those who will repent and believe on his name.
Now if this is boasting, even so will I boast; for this is my life and my light, my joy and my salvation, and my redemption from everlasting wo. Yea, blessed is the name of my God, who has been mindful of this people, who are a branch of the tree of Israel, and has been lost from its body in a strange land; yea, I say, blessed be the name of my God, who has been mindful of us, wanderers in a strange land.
Now my brethren, we see that God is mindful of every people, whatsoever land they may be in; yea, he numbereth his people, and his bowels of mercy are over all the earth. Now this is my joy, and my great thanksgiving; yea, and I will give thanks unto my God forever. Amen.”
I love these scriptures and am so grateful for the scriptures in my life to help comfort, guide, and direct me and those I love and those I have yet the pleasure of meeting. I second the testimony of the Prophet Joseph when he said, “…the Book of Mormon [is] the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man [ or woman will] get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.”
I look forward to many many more opportunities “…to gain this divine witness from the Holy Spirit [and further understand]… that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world, that Joseph Smith is his revelator and prophet in these last days, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s kingdom once again established on the earth, preparatory to the second coming of the Messiah.” (Book of Mormon, Introduction page)
After church we had time for one “sight” and decided to walk through the streets, as opposed to a bus or subway, so as to absorb the essence of Paris on this chilly yet beautiful Sabbath morning. We explored the Louvre—there was a man playing “Ave Maria” on the flute at the entrance and there couldn’t have been a more serene ambiance.
Have I ever expressed how the Louvre just might be one of my favorite places in the world? I remember last time I was in Paris I was only allowed 3 hrs to explore the wonders of it’s walls and splendorous beauty ever so gently and specifically placed to ornament it’s halls and grand rooms. The care and thought therein combine with spatial design provides the utmost perfection of art, artifact, and literary experiential environment. It’s another world really. Or maybe better put, the segway of all worlds coming together; all things circumscribed into one whole. The purest outward expression of the inner unity of this world, it’s people, it’s thoughts and dreams, with no limitation of time, geography, or barrier of language. For we all share the language of life and sight (either figuratively or literally). Three hours is nowhere near the time I could have spent there, but I cherished every moment of it. In my opinion, it’s the Mecca of all things beautiful and historically fascinating. I think I could take a week or more, if I had the money, to explore all its wonders. Maybe someday. Yes, for sure someday.
From there we saw the Eiffel tower and a few other things, grabbed a pastry, then hopped on the subway back to our hotel to prepare to leave. We got back to the hotel, grabbed our stuff and sat in the lounge until it was time to walk across the street for the train that this time will hopefully get us to Munich and then on to Budapest. Meanwhile, a woman came in and caused quite the ruckus. Through eavesdropping we soon learned that the maid had caught her stealing something and therefore wouldn’t let her use the restroom. She went and very rudely complained, denying all the way and then suddenly admitted to stealing, “but it’s not like I drank it or anything…you can just have it, or I can pay for it I guess,” like he was inconveniencing her by calling her out on stealing. She goes and uses the restroom and comes over to us and asks if we have 10 cents cus she’s 3 cents short so really it’ll be like we’re giving her 3 cents.
“No I’m soo sorry. We don’t have any change.” (I was being totally honest)
“What, yes you do, it’s just 3 cents, come on.”
“No actually, I’m really sorry but we’ve been only using our credit cards so we really don’t have any change.”
A look of absolute disgust smears across her face and she snaps, “Well, that’s very Russian of you,” and stomps off. As if that wasn’t hysterical enough, just as she’s turning the corner out of our sight, she pauses awkwardly, folds her left arm back and across her back, and pops that boney middle finger up and flips us off! What the!? Are you serious woman? How old are you? No wonder you’re traveling alone. For about 10 minutes after that she kept coming back our way to poke her head around the corner and send us daggers and pretty much stick her tongue out at us. Ok crazy.
We had a good laugh with the maid and the front desk guy and headed off to the station. We had already gone in and tried to reserve a spot on the sleeper for that night but were informed that that would basically be impossible. The man instructed us to arrive 20 minutes early and beg the conductor to let us on. We didn’t really know to what extent “begging” would take place so we went 30 minutes early. On the way in we stopped at an ATM. As Janise was withdrawing money I said hello to this adorable older woman standing to the side a little. She was dressed to the nines, had a couple different color hair pieces arranged in a very elegant manner fading from dark to blonde to lighter dark again, a push cart full beyond capacity with suitcases of every size, color, and shape, and a very obvious limp emanating from her left foot, and most importantly upon hearing us speak she exclaimed with mix of exasperation and cheer, “You speak English!” Fairly quickly into our budding conversation she shared her frustrations about how no one here would help her figure out where to get a wheelchair or how to arrange for someone to help her with her baggage. She’d spoken, or attempted to speak, with a number of different uniformed personnel and all to no end. Each merely displaying either complete lack of understanding or knowledge. Oh the French. I told her to stay right there and headed off on a crusade for “The Disabilities Office.” I shortly returned with success in my step and Janise and I accompanied her to her destination to assure she received the proper care. On our way we learned that she was an old time lounge singer and worldwide performer from Jamaica. She was on her way to somewhere in Germany from London. We dropped her off with a hug and dos baccos and were off to commence begging, wishing we could take the same train as her because she just seemed to have so much to offer, say, and teach.
Our begging was a success. There were two conductors to choose from. One, the French, older, tired, and grumpy looking. The second, a handsome young Germany man with a smile and daring blue eyes that I felt a perfect match for my best begging tactics. J We left Paris, finally, in the baggage car of a reportedly over booked train with a really smelly, sweaty French man decked out in camo from head to toe. It was sure to be an amazing 5 hour ride.
At least we got on.
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