Le Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourvière

Today, I woke up at the late late hour of 2pm. I'm still getting used to reading that as 14:00 on the clock! I lounged around most of the day reading my last English book, the Time-Traveler's Wife, enjoying the beautiful weather and the calm breeze winding it's way through the trees above me. I'm in utter disbelief that I'm here, still. I walk downstairs and see a plate waiting for me to eat outside on the patio and lunch on the stove. I ate my lunch and spent the afternoon reading outside. In the early evening, I was invited to visit the Basilique Fourviere with my lovely hosts. I said yes almost immediately! I've been jumping at any opportunity to tour the area and see more of the sites that are brand new to my eyes. I'd seen this church from a distance while we were in the car and commented on how beautiful it was, so I guess that inspired our visit. I wasn't sure what to expect- I didn't know if we were attending a service or just visiting. I was excited for either opportunity. I cherish moments in the car as well for the air condition, so while I'm always excited to arrive at our destination, I also enjoy the little reminder of home that I don't get inside most buildings! We arrived at the Cathedral and I saw many tourists, so I was a bit relieved that I wouldn't have to feel like the lone foreigner in a large group of nationals! We parked the car and started the short walk up to the front of the Cathedral, me taking pictures all the way and yet still trying to pretend that I'm not foreign! I don't think that was much of a success. I saw off to the side a beautiful view of the entire city of Lyon and made a mental note to return and take pictures. Upon our arrival at the front of the Cathedral, an Asian priest asked if we could take his photo a certain way in front of it. Being the only fluent English speaker in my small group of 3, the task was passed to me. It was then my turn for a photo-op, and then we ventured closer, me taking photos all the way. There was a Mass in session so we weren't able to go inside yet, so instead we trekked down to an area behind the Cathedral where the area to see the entire city was. I was squeezed in amongst some other people who had also taken this opportunity to see the city from this view, and my lovely host and hostess, Fabienne and Gerard, were telling me about the city and the things at which I was looking, both in English and in French. I noted the Saone and Rhone rivers, and the Town Hall and Universities and the school at which Fabienne is a teacher and countless other things in this beautiful city. The view with the city in front of me and the Cathedral behind me was definitely something exquisite to behold. As I'm told, the story of Le Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourviere is that in the 19th century, there was a horrible epidemic, and the people prayed that if it ended, they would build a Cathedral in honor of it. And so it did end, and this Cathedral was built. I was also told of the Festival of Lights that occurs in early December that remembers this event. So we took a walk down the hill a little ways onto a bridge that overlooks more of the city, and saw in which direction is Paris and other noteworthy locations. We walked back up the path, me snapping pictures whenever I saw something remotely interesting, and then we saw her! High above, with her back to us, was the golden Lady for reverence of whom the Cathedral was built. She faces Lyon in all her golden glorious splendor, and I was anxious to be able to see her from the front. So we walked in the hot hot sun and cool shade until we reached the front of the Cathedral, and I found an ideal location to take the picture. We decided to stop in and have a cool drink to alleviate some of the heat that seemed to be radiating from our very bodies. A small cafe beside the Cathedral provided just the comfort we were in search of. We took our seats outside under cover of the shade and joined the small crowd that gathered there on a quest for the same sort of refreshment as us. The bells in the great Cathedral began to ring out for all to hear, signifying the end of Mass. A few more people came into the already crowded cafe and many people strolled the surrounding property, in search of that perfect angle to capture a photo of the golden virgin. As the bells tolled for several minutes, the waitress scurried around attempting to satisfy everyone's drink orders and clear tables at the same time. After many promises of returning soon for us, she finally took our order. The only thing in the world that I wanted at that moment was an ice cold Coke to quench my thirst. I know that water would be the most healthy thing, but there's something about Coke from an ice-cold glass bottle that completely satisfies my thirst every time. We only had to wait a short time for our refreshments, and while we waited I observed the other weary souls congregated in this small area for a drink. I've noticed that some people seem to look more like caricatures of people than the real thing, like the old man who was sitting further down on our table with the most prominent nose and lower lip I've ever seen in my life. He "tsk'd" impatiently when the waitress set their check down. Everyone seems to be a traveler here, whether they are French, Italian, Asian, or American, everyone has come together to see this beautiful place. It's something we all have in common. So after we finished our drinks and had our fill of bird and people watching, we rose from our seats and made our way towards the Cathedral once more. Now that Mass had ended, we were free to roam the inside. I did not feel that it would be appropriate to take pictures of the inside, and even if I did they would not have come out well enough for the viewer to grasp fully how you feel when you're inside. The smaller room was beautiful and colorful and everything you can think of in a small chapel. There were people towards the front meditating or praying, and in the back there was information posted on the wall regarding how the history behind the Cathedral, all etched in stone and marble and illustrated wonderfully. There was a small stand with Candles that were in honor of the Virgin Mary. Several were lit and there was a sign that asked for a 2 euro donation to light a candle to venerate Mary. I stood in awe of the room and its artwork and its stories. We left that room and moved towards the front and center entrance, towards the room that I had not entered before since their was a Mass in session. As I entered it, I realized that had I been in awe before, it was nothing compared to how I felt about this room, now. It was much bigger, with two large marble oblong bowls on marble stands on both sides in the back containing Holy Water. The artwork on the wall was colorful and golden and ornate and grandiose...every word that you could imagine. The walls were lined with confessionals and a few people were seated near the front- whether they were waiting for another service to begin or just praying as well I'm not sure. We began to follow the path around the room and I noticed more stands with candles to venerate Mary, each asking for donations of 2 euros for the candle and one asking for 4 as the candles were larger. History is etched on these walls and the high ceilings and portrayed better in a manner that makes me understand much better than any history book ever did. I feel at peace here, and it seems that everyone feels the same way. There's hardly any photography going on with the exception of someone taking a picture on their camera phone, but it's as though people sense that a flash would ruin the somber and worshipful atmosphere. A priest walks the aisle, stopping for anyone who requests his attention. A little boy on the far side of the great room drops something and it echoes loud and sharp on the wooden benches and stone walls and he cowers behind his mother in embarrassment, but attention is quickly brought back to the huge stained glass windows and the golden walls and the stories these pictures are telling. I don't want to leave this peaceful haven too quickly so follow Fabienne slowly around the room and she stop stops to point out certain things that are "tres jolie" even though it is all "very pretty" in my opinion. We stop after we have made a full circle of the room and Fabienne lights a candle for Mary and places it on the stand with many others. We pause for a moment so that I can read something and then carry on, out the back door and back into the sunlight. It's almost blinding compared to the inside of the Cathedral and it's dim lighting, which is mostly cast by candles. I realize that our tour is over and we must leave this place now, but I know I'll be coming back. It's too beautiful to only see once.

St Genis Les Ollieres

Well I'm finally in France! It seemed like a long time coming and now I have to sit back and try to comprehend the fact that I'm actually here- how cool is that! I've been too lazy to take pictures up until today so I don't have any of the city of Lyon yet, only of the town on the outskirts which I'm staying in until I find an apartment which will hopefully be next week. It's so peaceful here; I didn't even know such a place could exist. I'm sure the pictures can't even capture the mood of the area but it's an excellent location to recover from mono- that much is for sure. I'm already in love with the city and the surrounding area and I'm understanding more and more French everyday. I'm getting a lot of conversation practice at the house I'm staying at which belongs to my friend and her family who've been so helpful to me ever since I got here. I'll update more as more events occur but not much can be posted about apartment hunting that comes with pretty pictures, so for now I'll let these be the images of my life in Lyon so far.

i LONG to return to write so badly to this page- but actual responsibilities cloud my vision and I am forced to stay my imagination for the time being and keep my stories to myself...how horrible it must be for those who keep theirs stories to themselves all the time- surely they feel trapped by their life that is shared with none other. It's not necessary to broadcast your affairs but when you can find someone that you can share your heart with I think you should give it wholeheartedly and see what they give you in return. Be ready to accept gifts of insight that you could never have imagined yourself..
The monster I face today isn't a demon, I do actually get to write, but he is NOT my friend and our relationship will remain at this stagnant level until Wednesday when I get to breathe for a season and perhaps sit down here again and let my imagination take flight...

Rain

The rain is pouring down outside the window of my classroom in sheets. It's a beautiful sight… everyone's footsteps can be heard from the end of the hall squishing their way towards the door. The sound of the rain dropping outside the window sounds exactly like coffee percolating, and I became so excited when I walked through the door thinking some angel had brought us coffee on this oh so rainy of days! But as I frantically looked around and attempted to locate the saving lifeblood, I realized that it was only the sound of the rain hitting the drain pipe. Outside, inches of rain washed over my flip-flop clad feet as I made my way up the hills on my way to class. This is why I'm glad I didn't wear jeans, I thought. They would have been wet and sticking to my legs all day…instead my skirt will dry rather rapidly- already the spots are fading. And the rain caresses my bare legs and I forget about the heavy burden on my shoulder...

Refocused

Today I am refocused. Perhaps it's the coffee in my system, but it's a Monday so it's likely that a force more powerful than that is needed and at work. It began as any other unlucky Monday- I woke up and made breakfast for myself and my little brother, who continues to remind me that his 12th birthday is tomorrow and what he would like for breakfast then. I prefer to wake early because the morning, he is not my friend so I need extra time each day to laze about and get to know him all over again. I made my coffee and my lunch and a snack and a water bottle…at any given time I'm walking around with enough food and water in my bag to feed a small army. And then the problems began. My gas take was screaming to be refueled, and on the mile-long trip to the closest gas station, I managed to spill my coffee on the leather seat of my car and on my bag. Quite an accomplishment for such a short trip. So I arrived at the gas station, sold a kidney for just enough gas money to half-way fill my tank, and cleaned my small mess. No sooner had I pulled out of the station and gotten a little ways up the road then I realized I'd spilled coffee on my white shirt- twice! As I pulled onto the interstate, I fumed at the thought that I would have to wait for a while until I could fix it and by that time surely the coffee would turn into a stain. As I became increasingly angrier at my one ally in turning on me during my time of greatest vulnerability, I thought that possibly I could pour my water on my shirt and thereby keep the coffee from drying in and creating stains. So as I swerved across several lanes trying to save my shirt while in turn endangering my life, I imagined how humorous (in hindsight) it would be if a cop was unlucky enough to pull me over on this morning. Surely my temper would get the best of me and that would never end well. But as I settled in a single lane (and could almost hear the collective sigh of relief from the cars following mine) I began to feel better about this day…maybe it was the coffee rushing through my veins and curing the inner wounds of a Monday like a healing balm. But I think it was more than that- only God could salvage my mood on this day. The thing that began to turn my mood was that I began to imagine writing about these events, and immediately my day turned around. It was then that I realized how much of a relief it is to me to write…how calm I feel just when I plan to write- not to mention when I sit down to actually do it. As I'm writing now in my politics class, the guy who afflicts me with his endless comments isn't even such a bother when I write. It changed my whole mood around so much so that I had an extra bounce in my step when I put in my iPod (and decided it's time for a new one) and walked to my class. However I do tend to get lost in my own little world, and in the midst of the crowd I noticed the sweet taste of coffee lingering on my lips and without thinking began licking them slowly to enjoy what little was left of my pleasurable morning…only to notice a guy staring at me with a funny look on his face…and I realized I had been walking towards him and licking my lips seductively while not even realizing what I was doing. Such is life.

So I have a million things I could be doing, not the least of which would be preparing for another visit from the exam demon on Monday, but instead I choose to blog. I sit in my room full of boxes and clothes and random pieces of my life scattered about, draped on a Foosball table, a workout machine, and my antique bed frame with it's high ends. Dirty laundry is struggling to escape the confines of the white basket I've trapped it in. I of course will wake up in the morning and berate myself for not doing the laundry for I will have "nothing to wear"...at which point lightening will strike me for such a lie on a Sunday. I'm recovering from an enraging message from the institution where all my money goes, and suddenly I feel so small. I feel like a tiny, helpless frog looking up at a giant cyclist coming my way and being at the mercy of whichever way he turns his wheel. Who put this much power in the heads of a school and why are there so few lawful ways to fight the powers that be? But what can I do? It doesn't seem fair, but for my whole life my mother has drilled into my head the fact that life is indeed, not fair. So what can we do, the little frogs at the mercy of the cyclist? Should we form a union and defeat this monster that hands down judgment? Or should we accept these lessons as ways of learning, for future reference, how to deal with the Cyclists? Either way I'm highly angry. But who do you call when the reason for your anger is the one you did choose to call? What if your faith in the institution to do the right thing was useless? When I put my faith in something and it falls through, it's the end. There are no second chances for that kind of thing. So, contemplating all this, I stare at my laundry basket and my boxes and decide that I won't let this one thing ruin my whole day. I will be productive still, and if the powers-that-be have a problem with it, well THEN I will fight them.

It's raining again. Today, I tried my best to outsmart the rain. Not because I hate being rained on, because I actually don't. I quite enjoy it. I ran to protect my precious laptop because the zipper on my bag no longer functions as it should- or at all. So in order to protect my laptop I decided to spring (or at least MY version of a sprint which most likely doesn't match up with the general population's) across a clearing to a patch of trees, from which point I would be able to finish the seemingly endless journey under the protection of the leaves, which bore the brunt of the rain on my behalf. So as I began my sprint across the open grass towards the shelter of the trees and then my car, the rain came down harder. The moment I reached the shelter of the all-protective trees, the rain stopped. So I waited for a moment to be sure it wasn't a trick and the rain wouldn't restart just as soon as I left the watchful eye of the trees...and I scampered across the street to my waiting car, which, regardless of the pleasant temperature outside, was hot and stuffy. Not the most welcoming of situations after a long day at work and school. But such is life, I suppose. Obviously, my laptop is none the worse for wear, and neither am I. Except, perhaps, for the fact that I missed an opportunity to enjoy the rain without having to worry about my possessions. This is why they say that you shouldn't wrap your time and money up in possessions. So, someday soon, the weather owes me a pleasant shower when I have nothing to worry about! As I drove home contemplating the irony of the rain bullying me as it did, I grew sick of the music I've been listening to for days on end. Suddenly all I care to listen to is the really good stuff. The music you find in coffee shops and obscure places and latch onto because it makes you feel alive or at home or in love...or any other slew of emotions that comes to your mind when you find that music that truly hits home. Me, I love Dave Matthews Band and Dashboard Confessional...but more than that I cherish a playlist that was made for me and my cohorts during our senior year of high school by the one woman (other than my mother) who was most influential in my young life. It's an eclectic mix of music that lifts my spirits like no other. I feel at peace when I listen to it and at this time in my life when I seem to be in a state of frustration quite often, it's exactly the medicine I need.
But the real world hits, and as it turns out I can't actually blog all night long because the exam demon will strike again at approximately 11:30 am tomorrow, and I have precious few hours to prepare to defend myself upon his arrival...