The wind blows where it wants to...: New York has neon, Berlin has bars, but ah, Paris!

One of the things that was a major part of my fall break planning was safety. This has to be the case whenever you're traveling to, from, or around Africa. A lot of the places I went to go in Africa are not safe to go, whether it's because there's an alert in that country or because I'd have to travel through places that are unsafe. (Alas, Mali, I'll get to you someday.) This is a particular consideration if I want to travel alone. I would not travel through Africa alone. Europe, though, fine, I could go there alone, meet up with people various places, wander on my own, and be far safer than I would be in Africa.

Of course, right before I went to Paris a giant terror alert happened for France. Al Quaeda activity. This caused my mother to say, "There will be a sigh of relief on this side of the Atlantic though, when you are back in Africa," which I think is hilarious.

However, we encountered no terrorism, no issues having to do with terrorism, and even weren't delayed by strikes.

We got into Paris in the afternoon, and decided to get some tourist-y things out of the way, so we found our way to the Eiffel Tower. We did not go up, but we walked under it. In the airport, we'd decided to pretend we were frat brothers going to Oktoberfest (PARIS2010) as opposed to art students looking for culture, so Lauryn has a ton of photos on her camera of us making a ridiculous face (thus referred to as the PARIS2010 face) in front of famous things. From the Eiffel Tower, we navigated around that side of the river, going places based on, "Oh, that's pretty." We crossed the river to catch the metro to where we were staying, got lost and realized we were right next to the Louvre.

Our accomodations in Paris were particularly lovely, though I'm afraid I wasn't entirely truthful with my parents about them in the interest of "sparing probably unnecessary wor

ry". We found someone to stay with via CouchSurfing. CouchSurfing is a website that connects travelers with people interested in hosting travelers (for free). Often people offering up their couches (or spare rooms, or air mattresses) on CouchSurfing have also done a lot of traveling and are

particularly interested in meeting people from around the world. Cultural exchange. On one hand, you're meeting people online and arranging to stay with them which many people can find somewhat sketchy. However, the website itself has a lot of safety precautions in case, different forms of verification, feedback (like ebay), etc, and if you're smart about it, you're probably fine. I practically lived online for several years of my life (I still often feel more comfortable communicating via text than face-to-face), and have met many people online before meeting them in person, so this whole situation is something I feel comfortable navigating.

Our CouchSurfing experience was delightful. We stayed in a house in Neuilly-sur-Seine with 2 French girls, 3 German girls, and 1 Korean girl, all university students. (The French girl who was the one "officially hosting" us, Julie, has spent time all around the world, including a year in the US and two months in Togo, so we had West Africa in common.) At night, we'd all gather in the kitchen, drink wine, and have some of the best conversations I've ever had about cultural differences, about languages, about different ways of living. Delightful. We baked cookies for them our second night there, as thanks. My snickerdoodles, which were mysteriously gone by the next morning and there was an intense investigation over who ate them all. Julie asked me for the recipe. I'm quite proud. (And I've now baked on 3 continents.) Baking supplies cost us 7 Euros, which is all we spent on accommodation in Paris.

The next morning we tried really had to find a baguette. We kept finding restaurants, but just needed a bakery. At one point, we were noting how we must be giant failures because we were in Paris and couldn't find a baguette, and then a man walked past us carrying at least 25 baguettes. Peak of frustration. But eventually, we found a baguette. And it was good. We stopped by the Comedie Francaise for a bit, then headed over to the Sainte-Chapelle.

GUH. Go here if you like stained glass (and if you don't like stained glass, you have no soul). Took my breath away. They're restoring some of the windows at the moment but it was still incredible. Also there's a window that's about Job, and we all know me and Job are best friends.

After that, we went to Notre Dame. On our way we came across an accordion player playing "La Vie En Rose". Paris really loves being French. We got to Notre Dame, saw a giant line of tourists, and went to a different door barely anyone was using.

Then we walked into Notre Dame and I started crying.

Of course.

Why?

Well.

For the past few weeks, I've been enormously spiritually confused. I've been encountering a lot that I'm trying to make sense of, the "post-graduation" reality comes closer and closer, I've asked a lot of questions that have been met with silence. I know that I've wanted clear answers that God rarely gives. I know it's a sign of how small my faith is that I need such constant reminders. God gives not what we want but what we need. I walked around the cathedral. I sat in the nave for a long time, staring at absolutely unyielding arches, and feeling shut out from them. Wanting to pray for guidance, wanting to pray not to be left, but the only thing I can pray for, really, is God's will be done.

In the musical The Hidden Sky (where the sky is covered by the thick layer of soot so the sun is rarely seen and thus worshipped as God), there's a moment where the character Mede admits the fear that he many never seen the Sun again. Mede doesn't even particularly believe in the Sun as God - but still, the one time he saw the Sun, the sight of it was incredible and somehow made him sure of something. Someone once asked me, after I'd told them about one of my crazier "seeing the Sun" experiences, "How do you feel about it now? Are you afraid of it or craving it?" and I said, "Both. I'm both afraid it will happen again and afraid it won't." But in periods of silence we're just desperate for sensation. Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?

To give all your love (I just accidentally typed "life" trying to write that), and receive nothing - that is what it is to be a Christian.

I sat there for a good long while and came to no resolution, except that if I never hear God's voice again, I have still been given more than enough assurance and information to move forward, and for that I am forever grateful.

I also spent a lot of time by a crucifix. I did this in most of the churches I went into. There's something really obvious there that I'm still not fully getting.

Eventually, we left Notre Dame, and went off to explore the Ile Saint-Louis, next door, then walked down to the Luxembourg Gardens. Which were, of course, beautiful. Paris is gorgeous. It's not even fair how gorgeous Paris is. Everywhere you look. Lauryn and I would make sarcastic jokes about, "Oh, God, not something else beautiful. Can't I just see something ugly?" or "WHY are there so many attractive men around? It's terrible!" We then parted ways briefly - Lauryn went off to sneak into the Musée d'Orsay (no really), while I went off to the Musée Rodin, which was, of course, delightful. I stayed there until they kicked m

e out, by the end reading The Art Spirit in the garden, which also made me cry, for reasons having to do with hearing God's voice in different ways. Then

, up to St-Germain-des-Pres, the oldest church in Paris, where I lit a candle in gratitude, asked more questions, unsurprisingly received no answers, and prayed "Thy will be done," which made me feel refreshingly empty.