An Explanation of "Almost Enough to Make Me Believe in Karma..."

I was too busy remembering what I had done over the weekend to explain the title of the post. To me, this resulted in a poorly-titled post, and so I'm rectifying that right now. To begin the post, I would like you to recall the story of the old farmer, reproduced here from NVCC's world religions class page. For a better-written tale see "Tao Living: Misfortunes and Blessings" by Derek Lin.

Seems there was this farmer who needed a horse.
He got his horse but it ran away.
His friends all said: "What terrible luck."
He said: "Good luck, bad luck, we'll see."
The horse came back with a harem of mares.
His friends all said: "What good luck."
He said: "Good luck, bad luck, we'll see."
His son broke his leg trying to break in one of the new horses.
His friends all said: "What terrible luck."
He said: "Good luck, bad luck, we'll see."
The king drafted all the young men into war,
except the Farmer's son who had the broken leg.
His friends all said: "What good luck."
He said: "Good luck, bad luck, we'll see."

From "Zen Shorts" by Jon Muth

Now, as this Taoist tale relates to my French journey, it goes like this: on Saturday, Lala and I had made it to the Saint Chapelle at about 16h45, and last entry wasn't until 17h30, so we thought we were good to go and had plenty of time. However, just as we got in queue, one of the workers closed the line. There was much consternation. What were we to do next?

As we were deciding, I decided to take a bit of rest because we'd done a lot of walking. I leaned against the wall of the Conciergerie building, and like justice raining down from above, a pigeon let forth its foul excrement upon my person. It must have been one magic piece of crap on the proportions of the magic loogie of Seinfield lore, because some of it landed on my forefinger, while some landed on my upper cheek. I have not had such a traumatic experience concerning minor hygiene/animals since the time that spider lept out of me from the blanket Reesie crocheted for me my first semester of college. I went as stiff as a board and frantically searched my purse for a handkerchief, uttering a constant stream of unintelligable vowels like "aah, ehh, ahh" (which all have very distinct sounds and sub-sounds, mind you). Once the handkerchief out and the excrement removed from my face, I could begin to think again and relaxed from the fight-or-flight burst of adrenaline that had dumped into my system.

Why universe, oh why did you close the Saint Chapelle and then send a bird - a pigeon nonetheless - to foul upon me? (Oh dear, I'm not even going to make the pun...)

"Alice in Wonderland" meets "Beauty and the Beast" tea ware.

Since we were still in front of the Conciergerie, and the Palais du Justice was right there, we decided to go check it out. The entrance to the Palais is shared with that of the Saint Chapelle, and even though we didn't have tickets, we told the guard we were going to the Palais du Justice. We got through security just fine, and then I set out on my merry way to find the entrance to the Palais, expecting there to be a lovely exhibit and place where we could wander around to our heart's content.

I walked around a bit, but no entrance spied I. Lala was eying the entrance to the Saint Chapelle. We had gotten through security, and it appeared there was not much more to do. There was another queue for the Saint Chapelle. We stood akimbo for a few minutes while we tried to determine if the people in line had tickets already, and then decided to pop in line. As we neared the entrance, indeed the ticket office was still open and bustling, and so our prospects and our hope brightened. As we were standing in line, we decided that getting to see the Saint Chapelle totally made up for the bird poop. However, distrustful as we are of the universe and good fortune, we wondered if there was some bad piece of misfortune just around the corner to balance out this bit of luck.

Upon reflection, I cast my mind to the day before and getting my luggage through the madness that is the train station of Saint Lazare. To get through the barriers (i.e. to get out of the station) you need to present your ticket, and I had thought I had lost mine. It took a good 15 minutes to figure this out while walking back and forth through a mass of people - not a fun experience. Lala agreed with me on this, and so perhaps Saint Lazare and the pigeon counted for two bad strokes of luck the universe had sent our way, and then getting to see the Saint Chapelle made up for it or put us one stroke ahead, and the universe owed us another good favour (perhaps that nothing else bad happen to us for a while, please?).

It's so easy to fall prey to superstitious tendencies, I thought as we sat in the Saint Chapelle and admired its beauty. We also wondered if karma was a thing where every good action must have an equal and opposite negative reaction, or if there was extra positive energy in the universe it would manifest itself as a piece of good fortune for the person it happened to be nearest. Tricky thing, karma.

Lala and me with the Saint Chapelle in the background. To the right of the frame is the Palais du Justice!

Anyway, we started wandering towards home. The following day, I expressed a wish to go to Church to Lala, and we discovered that the worship meeting was at 11h20 - and it was about 10h50 when we discovered this. I made the decision to go, it was worth even missing the first part of the meeting if I could be there for most of it, and we were on our way. As luck would have it, there was a gi-freaking-normous group from BYU-Idaho attending the meeting, and so the sacrament ran late and I was able to attend all of the meeting!

The rest of the trip was just good - Lala got a good sandwich and I got a latka in the Jewish Quarter, and even though the train to Charles de Gaulle wasn't running like it should have, I still made it to my plane on time, and life is just wonderful sometimes.

Almost Enough to Make Me Believe in Karma...

Bonjour! J'ai passe' un week-end tellement merveilleux a Paris! That translated, "I had an absolutely wonderful weekend in Paris!"

So, I went to visit the wonderful Lala who is studying abroad in the City of Lights, and needless to say, best weekend ever. However, before I get into the events of this weekend, I must remark that on Friday as the taxi was bearing me through the misty Edinburgh morning to the airport, I was gripped with such a feeling of love for this city, I could hardly stand the thought that I was leaving it.

Bruntsfield Commons, a view which I see on my way to Church!

"The Meadows", with Edinburgh Castle in the background.

After all, who would want to leave someplace like this? The only thing that got me through it was the thought of seeing Lala, and then it struck me that I was going to Paris. Paris, where I can kinda speak the language. Those prospects made me happy, as the last countries I have flown to (Spain, Denmark, Germany) I have not been able to speak the language, or speak it upon arrival.

"French, a language that makes sense."

Friday afternoon, Lala came to meet me at the airport, and all that was wrong in the world was righted again because I was with one of my closest friends, and together we fought our way through the hordes of French people streaming in and out of Châtelet. Châtelet is indeed a nightmare of a station, as after we had disembarked the train from the airport, we realized that we needed the metro ticket to get out of the station. Silly me, I was too preoccupied with my baggage and extra clothing items to look after my ticket - there were ticket booths on the other side of the barriers, but no way to get to them. However, disaster was averted when I found my ticket in my purse, and then we proceeded out of Châtelet to fight the streaming hordes of Saint-Lazare.

After dropping off my bags at Lala's host family's home in Asnières (which is absolutely picture-perfect and so beautiful in a way that is so French-country-home-finding-itself-in-the-suburbs-of-Paris kind of way), we ran down to the local boutiques and bought some flowers and real French bread. La made me take a bite of the piping hot bread - I would find it no chore to live the rest of my days on warm French bread.

Next, we took the Metro back into the center and found ourselves right beneath the Tour Jacques across from Notre Dame. We had our first croque-monsieurs and walked along the Seine, watching the Tour Eiffel flash its little search light every now and again. We even walked across one of the footbridges across the Seine, where there were tons of "jeunes Parisiens" sitting, eating, drinking, and talking on the bridge. What else were we to do but join them?

La in front of a band performing on the bridge.

Oh right, we also walked to the Louvre at night, and through the archway that is on the other side of the Louvre.

Internally reliving my first trip to Paris.

After wandering the streets of central Paris for a while, we turned around, headed home, and had a good night's rest. Saturday morning we had a real French breakfast of bread, honey, marmalade, and hot chocolate. La wasn't kidding when she said that all French people eat is bread. It is truly a staple here.

Lala had to go to a meeting for one of her classes in the Musee D'Orsay, and I had never been to that museum before, so I came along for the journey. It was a glorious hour and a half spent by myself while Lala did her headphoned, guided walking tour with her class. I saw some real beauties, but for the sake of my reader's patience, I won't post them here.

After the museum, we made our way to the artist area around Montmartre, bought ourselves some fougasses, and then ate them on the steps below the Sacre-Couer. At Montmartre, I had my first taste of French ice cream: vanilla and strawberry, the perfect combination for the sweetness of French ice cream.

After Montmartre, we passed through the cemetery nearby for a few minutes, and then were on our way to the center again to go to the Saint-Chapelle.

Lala in the Saint-Chapelle

Us in front of the Saint-Chapelle and the Palais de Justice.

To finish the day off, we took a boat tour at that beautiful time when it's not quite afternoon, not quite evening, and saw the major sites of Paris, including the most recognizable attractions in the country, the Tour Eiffel:

After the boat tour, when dusk was just setting in, we went back to Asnières, got some food from the local grocery store, had a wonderful dinner of stir-fry halibut, soup, bread, and the most delicious store-bought fondant chocolat you could imagine (if what I bought was even a fondant). We read a bit, and made an early evening of Saturday night.

On Sunday morning, we had a bit of toast, and Lala was so gracious as to accompany me to the worship service of Church, which was really cool. I thought we were going to miss it, but the Lord was on our side. Afterwards, we spent some time at the Centre Georges Pompidou and explored a Catholic cathedral nearby. Lala knew of a good falafel shop in the Jewish Quarter, and so we went over there for lunch, and I got myself a delicious French-Jewish latke, which tasted like heaven on earth. If I lived in Paris, the Jewish Quarter would be my favourite haunt because of the shops and ambiance of conviviality.

At this point, we turned towards home and Asnières, as I still needed to pack and then be on my merry way to Charles de Gaulle airport. There was a bit of work to be done on the train line direct to the airport, so I had to take a little detour, but all was well, and I'm now safely back in my little corner of the world in Edinburgh.

Mom and Dad, I didn't even have to ask what courgettes were; I already knew.