I was asked if there was a story behind the picture that I took of the tree growing out of the tombstone, and in fact there was a striking symbolism for me so I had to take the picture.
(to view the picture click on the Walk to Montemarte link to the right)
When I came upon this at Montmarte. I was walking along looking at all the crypts and tombs and suddenly looked up to see this site and was so caught off guard that I just stood there staring at this for a few minutes.
All I could think of was how powerful nature is and really how fragile and temporary we are. This unknown person's family had tried to alter nature by placing this stone slab on top of his resting place and placed another one as a monument to this persons life as a headstone. Whomever was in turned on this site, nourished the ground that produced new life, the tree.
Over time, the person and his family have returned to the earth, and the earth has spring new life, reclaiming the place, the person and the monument. Nature will win out, so we need to remember to take a moment and remember the power of nature and enjoy it's beauty and it's power.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
On the Brighter Side 2-17-07
Good Evening everyone,
In the past I have talked about getting out of your comfort zone. I still believe that we need to get out of our comfort zone to explore our potential. Like the great Jazz musician Herbie Hancock said, “Don't be afraid to expand yourself, to step out of your comfort zone. That's where the joy and the adventure lie.”
That being said, I have to admit that sometimes getting out of your comfort zone can have serious side effects.
A realization came over me last week as I was walking along the streets of Paris and realized that I was not pleased with the way I was behaving. You see I have gone way out of my comfort zone. I have temporarily moved to Paris and have dedicated myself to living as a Parisian. I have been wearing mostly black, and if not black, at least dark colors. I have taken to not looking people in the eye on the street, in the subway, and even in hallways. There is never an apology for bumping someone, and an excuse me, or here it is Excuse moi, elicits a blank stare and no movement at all.
I have been eating only French food, and reading French news (what little I can understand at least) and I have even been watching French TV. So why do I feel so out of sorts, I asked myself the other day. I am living in Paris for crying out loud. I walk past the Arch de Triumph twice every day. I can see the Eiffel Tower anytime I want. I am within walking distance to the best museums in the world. What is it that is making me unsatisfied?
On the Brighter Side
It was a raining the other day. Not too hard, just hard enough that you could get pretty wet. The temperature was obviously above freezing, but it sure didn’t feel like it. People were coming and going in somewhat usual manor, but with a more determined and hurried pace in order to minimize the time they spent in the nasty weather.
I had stopped to get some supplies on the way home and was just about to dash through the door and walk the final few blocks to the flat, where I knew it would be toasty warm and dry. A woman and her small daughter of about six or seven came toward the door from out of the wind blown rain, and without thinking, I pulled the door open for them and held it as they passed through. Several other shoppers brushed by me to get out the open door and head on their way. I stood, smiling, holding the door for several people, and at that moment I realized what was bothering me.
I had taken myself out of my comfort zone, and created an alternate being. The way I was behaving did not align with my fundamental beliefs. Being kind to others, to me is the first step in getting kindness given to me.
Sure you have to be careful in the city, no matter what city you are in. However, there is no need in abandoning your fundamental beliefs to fit in. The best quote to help me express this to everyone is as follows;
“This above all: to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day; Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), 'Hamlet,' Act I, Scene iii
Just stop and think about that for a moment. To thine own self be true, what could be simpler and more pure or more complete?
Maybe if you keep the best parts of yourself as you step out of your comfort zone, and it won’t feel as uncomfortable.
I have taken back some of the things that I need to make me who I am. I still wear mostly dark colors. I am still cautious about making eye contact on the street. But, I am being more me. I smile at people on the train. I say bonjour to strangers as the situation allows. I continue to hold the door for others, I help people with strollers lift them up the stairs of the metro, and I continue to………always look on the bright side of life.
Have a great week. Stay safe.
Robert
In the past I have talked about getting out of your comfort zone. I still believe that we need to get out of our comfort zone to explore our potential. Like the great Jazz musician Herbie Hancock said, “Don't be afraid to expand yourself, to step out of your comfort zone. That's where the joy and the adventure lie.”
That being said, I have to admit that sometimes getting out of your comfort zone can have serious side effects.
A realization came over me last week as I was walking along the streets of Paris and realized that I was not pleased with the way I was behaving. You see I have gone way out of my comfort zone. I have temporarily moved to Paris and have dedicated myself to living as a Parisian. I have been wearing mostly black, and if not black, at least dark colors. I have taken to not looking people in the eye on the street, in the subway, and even in hallways. There is never an apology for bumping someone, and an excuse me, or here it is Excuse moi, elicits a blank stare and no movement at all.
I have been eating only French food, and reading French news (what little I can understand at least) and I have even been watching French TV. So why do I feel so out of sorts, I asked myself the other day. I am living in Paris for crying out loud. I walk past the Arch de Triumph twice every day. I can see the Eiffel Tower anytime I want. I am within walking distance to the best museums in the world. What is it that is making me unsatisfied?
On the Brighter Side
It was a raining the other day. Not too hard, just hard enough that you could get pretty wet. The temperature was obviously above freezing, but it sure didn’t feel like it. People were coming and going in somewhat usual manor, but with a more determined and hurried pace in order to minimize the time they spent in the nasty weather.
I had stopped to get some supplies on the way home and was just about to dash through the door and walk the final few blocks to the flat, where I knew it would be toasty warm and dry. A woman and her small daughter of about six or seven came toward the door from out of the wind blown rain, and without thinking, I pulled the door open for them and held it as they passed through. Several other shoppers brushed by me to get out the open door and head on their way. I stood, smiling, holding the door for several people, and at that moment I realized what was bothering me.
I had taken myself out of my comfort zone, and created an alternate being. The way I was behaving did not align with my fundamental beliefs. Being kind to others, to me is the first step in getting kindness given to me.
Sure you have to be careful in the city, no matter what city you are in. However, there is no need in abandoning your fundamental beliefs to fit in. The best quote to help me express this to everyone is as follows;
“This above all: to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day; Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), 'Hamlet,' Act I, Scene iii
Just stop and think about that for a moment. To thine own self be true, what could be simpler and more pure or more complete?
Maybe if you keep the best parts of yourself as you step out of your comfort zone, and it won’t feel as uncomfortable.
I have taken back some of the things that I need to make me who I am. I still wear mostly dark colors. I am still cautious about making eye contact on the street. But, I am being more me. I smile at people on the train. I say bonjour to strangers as the situation allows. I continue to hold the door for others, I help people with strollers lift them up the stairs of the metro, and I continue to………always look on the bright side of life.
Have a great week. Stay safe.
Robert
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Travel log 02-10-07
After only a couple of weeks taking the train to and from work, I have already settled into the rhythm of the rail. Most times I travel to work before the sun rises and return to Paris in the quiet blanket of early night. I have noticed a few common things already on the ride that I though I would share with those that have not had the pleasure of repeated train rides. Many people have taken rides to or from someplace, but until you travel the same route over and over you can't relax and see what is really going on. One timers are too concerned with missing their stop, and the uncertainty of what the protocol is on the train to notice the beauty of the commute.
The trains here are pretty good at being on time, and this allows a timely exit from the flat to the street so as not to have to wait too long in the station. Although trains are usually 20 minutes apart, it does get cold even that far underground (about 3 stories for the RER). The draft that an approaching train makes is a little different than a departing train. the air is pushed ahead of an oncoming train out of the warmer, damp tunnels that cobweb under the city. An outbound train sucks the air from the station, to be filled with the colder air from the surface, giving anyone waiting a blast of cool dry air to brace against. I found out quickly that it is best not to stand near the entrance and exit tunnels, but to travel away from them and to stay back against the tile walls as much as possible.
Once on the train it is usually very easy to find a seat, as the bigger stops have not been reached yet and the early morning hour hasn't brought out the true Parisian worker, who has their travel planned down to the second so as not to arrive too early. The Parisians have to make an entrance, no matter what else is going on, when you arrive, you greet everyone individually, kiss cheeks, and shake hands before ever starting to settle in. So if you are the first one at work, everyone greets you, and you really can't get any work done anyhow, so you might as well time your entrance.
The horn on the train always sounds like it is coming from some place else, like anther train down the rail or something. This signals the doors closing and there is always someone that makes the last minute jump through the portal after taking their last precious drag from the cigarette they flick under the train at the last possible moment. The train pulls away almost instantly and it is a little startling to realize how quickly it picks up speed with the concrete platform only inches away. This is even more discerning when you are on a double deck train, sitting on the lower level, your eyes are even with the platform, giving you a great view of potential disaster and the legs of anyone left on the platform.
It doesn't take long after the doors have closed for the warm still air to wrap around you and the rattle of the wheels and gentle rocking take effect almost instantly to lull you into a sense of comfort and security. A lot of people sleep, and even I have been able to drift off for periods. It is easier in the morning, while I am still sleepy and knowing that the last stop is mine, I have a pretty good chance of not missing my stop, so i relax even more.
On we travel through the dark tunnels. Occasionally there is a train in the station you pull into and you get to glimpse passengers going in the other direction. Blank expressions are the norm, as they pretend to not be doing the same thing. I always try and catch an eye for a second and if time permits, smile and nod and hope for some type of reacting, but usually none comes.
After a few stops we emerge from the underground and take to the surface and elevated rails that carry us over and under roadways. Unlike the U.S. there are no street crossings, everything is built to co-exist.
It is still dark outside, so the only way you know you are above ground are orbs of light that float outside the windows, sometimes above and sometimes below the horizon. Streetlights in unexplored towns and villages act as markers of your progress and the time of their passing gives judgement to your speed. The only hint of passing over a river is the flicker of light bouncing off the surface if there happens to be a building nearby. Rhythmic thumping and nondescript sounds lead to feeling of being trapped, but free and floating at the same time. Taking sideways glances, you see the flickering scenery reminiscent of an old stereophonic movie where a series of pictures is laced together to create a story. The occasional dip and twist of the track continues to rock the passengers gently. The jolt of a passing train is startling the first few times, as the pressure changes inside the train as the two massive structures whizz by each other pushing and pulling air along with them. Inside the stillness of the air returns and then the screeching of wheels marks another stop on the way. The warmth is intruded on by the opening of the door. The murmur of others, as they enter and exit the train is never disruptive.
After close to an hour we pull into the the my stop and just prior, I put away my CD's and gather my coat around me tightly, knowing that it will be colder here than in Paris. So begins another day. I often think of all those train songs, and now I remember again the magic of the rail.
The trains here are pretty good at being on time, and this allows a timely exit from the flat to the street so as not to have to wait too long in the station. Although trains are usually 20 minutes apart, it does get cold even that far underground (about 3 stories for the RER). The draft that an approaching train makes is a little different than a departing train. the air is pushed ahead of an oncoming train out of the warmer, damp tunnels that cobweb under the city. An outbound train sucks the air from the station, to be filled with the colder air from the surface, giving anyone waiting a blast of cool dry air to brace against. I found out quickly that it is best not to stand near the entrance and exit tunnels, but to travel away from them and to stay back against the tile walls as much as possible.
Once on the train it is usually very easy to find a seat, as the bigger stops have not been reached yet and the early morning hour hasn't brought out the true Parisian worker, who has their travel planned down to the second so as not to arrive too early. The Parisians have to make an entrance, no matter what else is going on, when you arrive, you greet everyone individually, kiss cheeks, and shake hands before ever starting to settle in. So if you are the first one at work, everyone greets you, and you really can't get any work done anyhow, so you might as well time your entrance.
The horn on the train always sounds like it is coming from some place else, like anther train down the rail or something. This signals the doors closing and there is always someone that makes the last minute jump through the portal after taking their last precious drag from the cigarette they flick under the train at the last possible moment. The train pulls away almost instantly and it is a little startling to realize how quickly it picks up speed with the concrete platform only inches away. This is even more discerning when you are on a double deck train, sitting on the lower level, your eyes are even with the platform, giving you a great view of potential disaster and the legs of anyone left on the platform.
It doesn't take long after the doors have closed for the warm still air to wrap around you and the rattle of the wheels and gentle rocking take effect almost instantly to lull you into a sense of comfort and security. A lot of people sleep, and even I have been able to drift off for periods. It is easier in the morning, while I am still sleepy and knowing that the last stop is mine, I have a pretty good chance of not missing my stop, so i relax even more.
On we travel through the dark tunnels. Occasionally there is a train in the station you pull into and you get to glimpse passengers going in the other direction. Blank expressions are the norm, as they pretend to not be doing the same thing. I always try and catch an eye for a second and if time permits, smile and nod and hope for some type of reacting, but usually none comes.
After a few stops we emerge from the underground and take to the surface and elevated rails that carry us over and under roadways. Unlike the U.S. there are no street crossings, everything is built to co-exist.
It is still dark outside, so the only way you know you are above ground are orbs of light that float outside the windows, sometimes above and sometimes below the horizon. Streetlights in unexplored towns and villages act as markers of your progress and the time of their passing gives judgement to your speed. The only hint of passing over a river is the flicker of light bouncing off the surface if there happens to be a building nearby. Rhythmic thumping and nondescript sounds lead to feeling of being trapped, but free and floating at the same time. Taking sideways glances, you see the flickering scenery reminiscent of an old stereophonic movie where a series of pictures is laced together to create a story. The occasional dip and twist of the track continues to rock the passengers gently. The jolt of a passing train is startling the first few times, as the pressure changes inside the train as the two massive structures whizz by each other pushing and pulling air along with them. Inside the stillness of the air returns and then the screeching of wheels marks another stop on the way. The warmth is intruded on by the opening of the door. The murmur of others, as they enter and exit the train is never disruptive.
After close to an hour we pull into the the my stop and just prior, I put away my CD's and gather my coat around me tightly, knowing that it will be colder here than in Paris. So begins another day. I often think of all those train songs, and now I remember again the magic of the rail.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Travel Log 2-4-07
Well, after my long day yesterday, I slept until about 9 AM. I guess I was tired. My original plan was to stay at the flat and take it easy, while doing laundry and some re-organizing of things. However, for some reason I remembered that it was the first Sunday of the month and that someone told me that the museums of Paris were free for the day. I couldn't resist it, I went on line and sure enough I found that it was true. After a quick breakfast and a note to my colleges about the discover, off I went. I decided that I would do the d'Orlay and the Musee d' Army as they were near each other and are pretty big so crowds shouldn't be an issue. Musee d'Orlay was first so that I could beat the crowd.
I was a bit shocked when I saw the Queue line, but it was moving so I got in line. The two ladies in front of me where a riot, they kept showing each other how to use their cell phones, I couldn't resist a picture. The wait was only 20 minutes and it was well worth it, after about 2 1/2 hours I had seen about half and was starting to get hungry, so I decided to go the Musee d'Army and find some lunch and see the sights.
As luck would have it, the Musee d'Army is not a national museum, so it was not free. Go figure, the Army museum is not national. Oh well. A quick consult of the map and I found that the Musee Rodin was right next door, I figured that it was worth a look and much to my surprise, it was free. Ten minutes in line and I was in, and again, well worth the wait. The gardens will be lovely in the spring and the sculptures are unbelievable. This is one of the must not miss items on my list for people when the visit.
Around 4PM I realized that I wouldn't get home in time to call Betty (sorry honey), but still had laundry to do and to catch up on my writing. So now it is 8PM, and the moon is out. I wonder what it looks like from the Eiffel Tower? One way to find out, see you latter, and watch for the pictures. As soon as I can figure out how to upload them, I have a ton to share.
Have a good week,
Robert
I was a bit shocked when I saw the Queue line, but it was moving so I got in line. The two ladies in front of me where a riot, they kept showing each other how to use their cell phones, I couldn't resist a picture. The wait was only 20 minutes and it was well worth it, after about 2 1/2 hours I had seen about half and was starting to get hungry, so I decided to go the Musee d'Army and find some lunch and see the sights.
As luck would have it, the Musee d'Army is not a national museum, so it was not free. Go figure, the Army museum is not national. Oh well. A quick consult of the map and I found that the Musee Rodin was right next door, I figured that it was worth a look and much to my surprise, it was free. Ten minutes in line and I was in, and again, well worth the wait. The gardens will be lovely in the spring and the sculptures are unbelievable. This is one of the must not miss items on my list for people when the visit.
Around 4PM I realized that I wouldn't get home in time to call Betty (sorry honey), but still had laundry to do and to catch up on my writing. So now it is 8PM, and the moon is out. I wonder what it looks like from the Eiffel Tower? One way to find out, see you latter, and watch for the pictures. As soon as I can figure out how to upload them, I have a ton to share.
Have a good week,
Robert
Travel Log 2-3-07
Wow, what a weekend here in Paris. Friday night a group of us got together and had dinner, too much wine, and some great conversation just down the street from my place. that made it really convenient for me to stay out too late and enjoy too much wine. We need to remember to set the alarm so those that need to take the train home can leave before they lock down at mid-night. I was home by one, and slept soundly.
Saturday morning the sun was out and the temperature was a pleasing 9 degrees Celsius (that's about 50 degrees Fahrenheit). I decided to follow my original plan and go the Vincennse and walk. The #1 Metro takes you to about two blocks from the Floral Garden and as it is off season there was no charge to walk through. I took my time and strolled the pathways and imagined what the flowers will look like in just a couple of months. The iris' are already pushing up through the clay like dirt and parting the tender green grass that lines the walkways. There is a large playground there to keep the kids happy, filled with play sets that are no longer allowed in the States. There is even a spider web type of structure that is about 20 feet tall and shaped like the Eiffel tower for kids to climb. It looks like it is made out of elastic rope of some sort.
I consulted a map at the bus stop and saw that the large area of woods that I was told was there, was just a few hundred yards away, so on I went, past the Castle that was once the hunting lodge / home to some of the King's of France and entered Bois de Vincennes. I have no idea how big it is, but I walked for over 3 hours and covered about half of it. There was a slight cool breeze, but when you walked with it, and stayed out of the shade the sun gave the gift of it's warmth. I wore only my sweater, but learned early on to have my jacket in the backpack just in case. There is a horse stables there and I stopped and watch the youngsters practice their equestrian skill by removing cans from the top of one stick and placing them on the next one while at a full run. I ended my walk by cutting through the Chateau and the courtyard of the Cathedral and had a quick lunch at a nearby restaurant before heading back to Paris.
I did some shopping at the Printemps, a huge multi-building store that have six floors of merchandise. I think I saw all the floors and never came away with what I was looking for, a frame for a painting Betty had done for me, that I brought along. So I walked back about another couple of miles to the flat and grabbed my shopping bags and went to the Achen store in the mall near the Grand Arch in La Defence. Another hour of looking for groceries and the frame I wanted, and as I walked back through the mall to the train, all the shops closed up, so me and everyone else who was in the mall, and believe me it was crowded, jammed into the metro station and headed home.
I was exhausted as I talked with Betty and just after hanging up, I went to bed, and needles to say, I don't remember my head hitting the pillow.
Robert
Saturday morning the sun was out and the temperature was a pleasing 9 degrees Celsius (that's about 50 degrees Fahrenheit). I decided to follow my original plan and go the Vincennse and walk. The #1 Metro takes you to about two blocks from the Floral Garden and as it is off season there was no charge to walk through. I took my time and strolled the pathways and imagined what the flowers will look like in just a couple of months. The iris' are already pushing up through the clay like dirt and parting the tender green grass that lines the walkways. There is a large playground there to keep the kids happy, filled with play sets that are no longer allowed in the States. There is even a spider web type of structure that is about 20 feet tall and shaped like the Eiffel tower for kids to climb. It looks like it is made out of elastic rope of some sort.
I consulted a map at the bus stop and saw that the large area of woods that I was told was there, was just a few hundred yards away, so on I went, past the Castle that was once the hunting lodge / home to some of the King's of France and entered Bois de Vincennes. I have no idea how big it is, but I walked for over 3 hours and covered about half of it. There was a slight cool breeze, but when you walked with it, and stayed out of the shade the sun gave the gift of it's warmth. I wore only my sweater, but learned early on to have my jacket in the backpack just in case. There is a horse stables there and I stopped and watch the youngsters practice their equestrian skill by removing cans from the top of one stick and placing them on the next one while at a full run. I ended my walk by cutting through the Chateau and the courtyard of the Cathedral and had a quick lunch at a nearby restaurant before heading back to Paris.
I did some shopping at the Printemps, a huge multi-building store that have six floors of merchandise. I think I saw all the floors and never came away with what I was looking for, a frame for a painting Betty had done for me, that I brought along. So I walked back about another couple of miles to the flat and grabbed my shopping bags and went to the Achen store in the mall near the Grand Arch in La Defence. Another hour of looking for groceries and the frame I wanted, and as I walked back through the mall to the train, all the shops closed up, so me and everyone else who was in the mall, and believe me it was crowded, jammed into the metro station and headed home.
I was exhausted as I talked with Betty and just after hanging up, I went to bed, and needles to say, I don't remember my head hitting the pillow.
Robert
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