First Friday

Friday we went back to Notre Dame de Paris. On the way we stumbled across a tower dedicated to St. James, which reminded E of her time on Camino.

Every first Friday a service is held at Notre Dame for the veneration of some relics of the passion: the crown of thorns, a piece of the true cross, and a nail. These relics (and many others) were brought back to Europe from the Holy Land in the fourth century by St. Helena, the mother of Constantine (by the way, Evelyn Waugh, one of my favorites, wrote a great novel based on her life). The relics of the passion were eventually brought to France by St. Louis, who built the Sainte Chapelle (!) to house them. We've got to go there. But now the relics are kept in a side chapel of the cathedral, under the care of the Knights and Ladies of the Holy Sepulcher of Jerusalem, who were present in full force and regalia to guard the relics while exposed.  

Afterward we walked across the bridge to the Isle de Saint Louis and down its charming main street where we got an espresso before going back to the cathedral for mass, which was followed by more viewing of the relics, guarded by more Knights and Ladies of the Holy Sepulcher of Jerusalem.

The relics are almost certainly not the actual instruments of the passion, though they are definitely the relics which St. Helena brought back in the fourth century and St. Louis obtained in the thirteenth. Even so, sitting in Notre Dame for over an hour, waiting to approach the relics with the large crowd of other believers, and eventually making it up to the relics themselves, gave us a good opportunity to contemplate the passion as a physical and historical reality, and to think sorrowfully of ours sins, which required such a sacrifice.

We've visited a number of other churches since we arrived: Notre Dame des Victoires, St. Gilles and St. Leu, and St. Germaine d'Auxerrois. And we're beginning to get a sense for French piety. Our impression so far is that it's very reverent and very sweet. For example, I saw a young man blow a kiss to the virgin and child in prayer. The popularity of St. Therese of Lisieux is making more and more sense.

Saturday we did some more exploring of our neighborhood. We walked down to the Bibliotheque Nationale de France, where E will take up residence next week, and visited the shops and gardens at the Palais Royale nearby. The French have this thing about tidy gardens, you know.

We still haven't discovered the famous cafe culture we've heard so much about. In fact, we haven't found a single place where we could drink coffee for cheap and use the internet for free. But we won't be reduced to Starbucks in Paris.

Pilgrimage

Our blog title is taken from a giant sign we found hanging outside of Notre Dame de Paris.

The phrase means "the way seeks wayfarers." We had no idea why it was there, or why the square outside of Notre Dame was covered in a bunch of tents when we arrived on the night of January 1, intent on attending mass and possibly seeing some medieval things too. According to the cathedral's website, the phrase is taken from Augustine and is a reference to the Christian life of pilgrimage. In the case of Notre Dame, the phrase is part of its celebration of its 850th (!) anniversary, which coincides with the Church's year of faith. In our case, it suits both because of our interest in the medieval past of Paris, and because we hope to make our travels into a pilgrimage of our own. The way seeks wayfarers: it found us!

After standing for a while in a line that wound around the block, we realized that it was for "visite," whereas the side of the entrance marked "messe" had no line at all. In we went, and heard (without a lot of comprehension, admittedly) sung vespers, got directions from a French church lady, and attended mass. Standing in the slightly smelly, crowded, cold environs, not understanding the details of the language despite more or less knowing what was going on, in a thirteenth-century church, I felt I had quite a bit in common with some of my medieval forebears. So our pilgrimage began where many good pilgrimages end: in a cathedral church on a feast of Our Lady.

Then we walked home along the Seine, in the rain.

Nous arrivons

We packed everything we'll need into just two suitcases--one big one and one carry-on--a backpack, and my purse, and off we went. My wonderful parents drove us to the airport 20 minutes from their house, which is about a billion times better than taking the subway for 2 hours to a New York airport, lugging baggage on public transit. And we managed to be in a row with huge amounts of leg room:

So it was about as good as an overseas flight can be. Of course, we still didn't really sleep.

When we arrived, it was the new year. The RER train from the airport into town was free, the gates open. It was pitch black outside at 8:30 AM, and the only other people on the train were travelers or tired party-goers: all in all, pretty surreal. Even as the sun began to rise as we walked (in the rain) to our apartment, no one was on the street.

Our apartment is tiny, but real (a relief since we found it online), and in a perfect location.

That is the only room, and the bed pulls out to sleep both of us. There's also a bathroom and a tiny kitchenette, and a wall of French books belonging to our literature-professor landlady. On the other hand, things that were not here when we arrived included: a seat for the toilette, any trash can, and any towels. Weirdly, towels are super expensive here--whereas wine and nice cheese are cheap! But the apartment is cozy, and we quickly furnished it with baguettes:

Many bakeries (and fruit-sellers, butchers, sidewalk cafes...) are on a busy pedestrian street near our place, which is decorated for Christmas:

As well as a sight that was all too familiar to those of us who have spend some time in the Bronx:

Now that we're recovering a bit from our jet-lag and have succeeded in negotiating some daily tasks like grocery-shopping and rent-paying, the question is: how many days are we allowed to be tourists before getting back to work? It's grey and raining, but Paris is still beautiful this way...

Bonne année!

Introduction

This is us:

We used to live in New York, where we are both graduate students (though I assume anyone reading this knows that). But we left the city, and this sad face:

And moved to Paris for my research, which will also take us to Normandy and Rome. We are quite excited about the museums, churches, and libraries that wait for us there. And also the baguettes:

 
While I make exciting discoveries in archives, T will walk in the footsteps of Aquinas and think deep thoughts, and perhaps by the end of it we'll both have dissertations well underway. At least, that is the plan: how it works out, and perhaps rather more, what we do when we aren't working, this blog will let you know.

À tout à l'heure!