Churching:
In France, this entire concept is confusing and requires quite an explanation.
First, the first few Sundays we were here, Jessi and I went to an English-speaking Anglican service at a British church in Paris called St. Michael’s. It was good, very similar to the Episcopal services I went to this summer... including the Eucharist at the end. Now, not only had I forgotten (despite the many lessons) whether it is left hand in right or right hand in left (I blame the fact that it is backwards for me since I am a leftie), but I had also forgotten what you are supposed to say after the priest says "the body of Christ, shed for you" or whatever it is he says. This would have all been do-able, however, except that I ALSO found out I have mono... In the States, that is not a problem in my experience because you can get away with just dipping your wafer in the wine instead of drinking it. But maybe that is an Episcopal thing or maybe that is an American thing, because at this church nobody did that. And believe me, I watched hard. And because I saw nobody do it, and didn’t want to be the only one, I decided it would be better for me to not take communion, so as to avoid creating a mono outbreak in the St. Michael’s congregation. This too, was awkward, when the guy who was supposed to signal us to the front got to me and was like, "it’s ok if you don’t belong to this church, you can still go ahead." Very nice, but what am I supposed to say, "no, sorry, I am contagious." Awkward. But there is this awesome British priest at that church who I just want to sit and have tea with, because he seems like that kind of person. Plus he is old enough to be my grandfather, and I must have read too many mystery novels in my lifetime, because he seems like the perfect candidate to be a sleuth.
We found out about a Hillsong church in Paris, too. Hillsong is an Australian church that is huge there and I have heard some of the music and sermons coming out of their church, and they are pretty good, so we decided to go– it meets on Friday nights and we thought it would be in French and maybe a good way to improve our skills. So last week we went and it was really awesome. They had music more like my church in Atlanta, which was cool, AND the whole thing was bilingual. The music had lyrics in both French and English, and when the guy got up to speak, one of the guys from the band stayed on stage the whole time and interpreted everything he said into French. I am sure it was great for our comprehension having it in both languages, though it did mean that everything took twice as long because it had to be said twice. But it was a lot of fun, and I definitely want to go back.
Yesterday, despite all my misgivings and trepidation, I decided to brave Montmartre-Sacre Coeur. Sacre Coeur (Sacred Heart) is a cathedral on the outskirts of Paris, on top of a steep hill overlooking all of Paris. It’s kind of a Taj Mahal looking building from the outside, all white marble or something with round almost onion-domes, and after getting off the Metro, you have to take the Funiculaire to get to the top of the mountain. (If, that is, you have mono. If you were healthy you could probably walk it, since it is nowhere near as rough as the trails I hiked this summer. : ) ) So you get off the cable-car-esque Funiculaire and the church is right in front of you. I climbed the myriad steps to go in, and it was beautiful– all the art in it is mosaics, which is cool. But the first thing I noticed was that all the words in the mosaics and stained glass were in FRENCH, not Latin. Then I saw a sign that explained the cathedral was finished in 1914. I immediately deemed that fact lame, as the church is not even 100 years old (Notre Dame is 600 or something). But then I kept wandering and found a sign about how during WWI congregants gathered there to pray for Paris when it became apparent they were going to be bombed. 13 bombs were dropped on Montmartre (the mountain that the church is on) that night while they were there praying, aimed for the houses nearby and the church, and every bomb missed and no one was injured. Pretty cool. And the statues and cupola were also beautiful. The view was highly overrated– bird’s eye view of Paris in the daytime is nothing to write home about... just smoggy and crowded. At night I am sure it would be pretty, but it’s a supershady area and I would never go in the dark. Eventually I wandered back out into the bright sunlight, only to see a very very old Asian man with a white ponytail playing REM’s "Man On The Moon" on the front steps of the Sacre Coeur. I gave him all the centimes I had in my pocket just for being cool. The crypte under the cathedral is free, so I went down there too– it’s not a crypt, just another tiny sanctuary and the stations of the cross, and a few more reliquaries, which were cool. Most of them were full of bits of bone, but not labeled as to WHOSE bones they were. A few cardinals were buried down there too, but mostly pretty recently since it’s not been around that terribly long. Also, in the back of the main cathedral there is a statue of Saint Pierre holding the keys to Heaven... and EVERYONE that walked by rubbed his foot. Thoughts? I suppose I should look this up– it’s probably some well-known Blarney Stone kind of legend that I have just never heard of, but I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t do it, because the art history student in me screamed that that is terrible for the statue... but I am still curious. Next to Saint Pierre, there is also what looked like the Shroud of Turin– it was backlit on an X-ray style board with a face and a crown of thorns wound around the man’s head... But I thought no one had one with an actual face? Again, I suppose I just need to look it up.

That is Sacre-Coeur. From the bottom of Montmartre (literally, "hill of martyrs). It's some kind of weird melange of the Taj Mahal and Notre Dame... from the outside anyway.

And a random note: last night for dinner I had baguette with grapefruit marmalade, melon (some weird but delicious kind that has not made it to the US yet), prosciutto, comte cheese and capers. I have truly acclimated to this kind of diet well. Ha! But then last night I got a wicked craving for grilled cheese, so today my plan is to scour the city of Paris till I find cheddar cheese and some sort of bread that can be sliced instead of just torn apart baguette-style.
Bisous,
B