Leaving Lyon tomorrow for Germany. Gonna hang with good friends and change the channel on the language network.
Time to really mess with my brain. ;-)
Coming soon:
✫ Sj ✫
pau = finished
Without nary an announcement that this non-native could decipher, summer arrived and set up camp in every corner of the city.
Just two days ago, I was wearing the silk long underwear that my mom lent me as PJs; it was that cool at night. Now, I’ve taken the comforter out of the duvet cover. And I may not even need that (the duvet cover, that is).
Earlier today, sweat was running down my arms rivalling that of my experience in Cambodia five years ago.
Summer has arrived.
And with it are some of the most magnificent flowers. They can be seen all over the city in various public gardens.
And smelt . . . at the Parc de la Tête d’Or, next to the roman theatre, and in the rose garden near the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière. All over the city, the sweet odour of roses has been catching my attention.
Here are a few of my favs.
Enjoy!
✫ Sj ✫
around 2 p.m., after wandering around Lyon and ending up in Croix Rousse (one of two collines in Lyon, the one where people work btw), I realized I was hungry. Just then I saw a pizza joint and decided to check it out.
Below you can see what I ordered.
What I ate.
What I enjoyed completely. : )
I sat next to the window at a high two-top where I happily chomped on my pizza while observing the world outside.
That’s when she caught my eye.
Sitting alone. Also watching. Observing. Looking like a force of nature itself. Confident. Comfortable. Curious.
Three awesome Cs of uniqueness.
A woman with a presence.
In our world, youth and vitality is most often idolized. The absence of wrinkles. The presence of chic clothing. An air of not caring. And yet, in my experience, that very persona revolves around caring so very much what others think. Caring so very much that their very presence mirrors everyone else.
But here she sat with her hat and fluorescent sunglasses, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. And looking like no one else. Uniquely herself.
When I left the restaurant, I started to walk past where she sat when something inside me called me to stop. To turn around. Approach her. And say hello.
In much less time than it takes to spill one’s coffee–and then clean it up, I was sitting with her at her table having a lively conversation.
Was she confident? Curious? Comfortable?
She seemed to be. She certainly wanted to know all about me and why I was in Lyon.
Each one of us is so very important. To ourselves. To our families. To our friends. But mostly, to the world.
Because each of us creates a ripple in the world. Whether we realize it or not. Whether we want to or not. We do.
Last week Saturday, Josephine sent a ripple my way. A tap on my heart to stop and say hello. To listen. To simply be present with someone who an hour before I didn’t even know existed.
She reminded me of the protagonist in The Elegance of the Hedgehog (L’élégance du hérisson) by Muriel Barbary. Someone who’s enigmatic. Not at all as they appear. Someone who is completely oneself.
And yet, isn’t that who each of us really is? At our core? Uniquely ourself?
I think the answer to these rhetorical questions is a resounding, “Yes.”
And so for perhaps the millionth time, I feel the need to throw out the call to BE YOURself. In whatever way feels right to you. For no one but you can possibly know how it feels to be you.
So please, wear it proudly, that skin of yours. And if not for YOU, then for the rest of the world.
We need you.
Exactly as you are.
✫ Sj ✫
Practically ALL of Europe has travelled to France for the soccer competition.
Red, blue, and white can be seen everywhere . . .
This logo is EVERYwhere. Even on the toilet paper.
. . . in the cathedrals . . .
. . . and in store windows.
On a side note, I decided to stop at Starbucks today to have a real coffee. It seems that instant coffee with chicory is the café prefèré these days at French houses. In the way of going with the flow, I’m drinking it and also adding the cocoa meant for the 16-year-old Swiss girl who is also staying at this house. What I discovered this morning at Starbucks is that they actually have a separate reading room with complementary books to read. There was even a Harry Potter there en francais. Pretty cool for this Harry Potter fan/nerd. ;-)
You can check out her and Pedrata on YouTube. Be sure and click on the CC button for closed captioning.
is important.
Every
single
person.
That means
YOU.
That means
me.
That means
the person
who flipped you off.
That means
the person
who last gave you a hug.
Every
single
person.
Every
single
person.
How are YOU
going to show the next person you meet
how important he, she, or they is?
How are YOU going to let them know you care?
I want to know.
I want to see.
I want to hear
how this call to open our eyes
and hearts ripples across the world.
Because each kind word,
each smile starts with
YOU.
Be the light that you ARE in the world.
It’s time to shine so brightly
that darkness has no choice
but to disappear.
We’re going to see Moondog.
I’m not exactly sure what it will be, but I expect that it will be spectacular.
It takes place in an actual Roman amphitheater. For real.
Yesterday we went to check it out. The percussionist was amazing; yes, we eavesdropped on a rehearsal. Incroyable!
I think they’ve done this before.
Yesterday marked the completion of week one at ALPADIA in Lyon.
What does that mean exactly?
“Such as?” you ask.
Name at least 3 French présidents. I wrote Charles de Gaulle and Mitterand. A teammate wrote Sarcozi. (Must have been right because we got a point : )
Who is this French singer? Someone one of my teammates knew. Pas moi.
Who’s playing the guitar? Jimmy Hendrix
Etcetera.
We were to give our team a name. Three guesses what our team was called.
And on a side note: the French verb rater is a clue, BUT it didn’t really apply because in French rater means to miss or to fail . . . ;-)
So . . . with that I shall sign off. Enjoy les photos!
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Qlohq tous1
Not sure how much she’s learning; she may be waiting until we get to Spain since Spanish is her native language, but she definitely helps keep me on track.
For example, she just reminded me to set the timer on my iPhone so I don’t forget to stop and go for a bike ride.
Merci beaucoup, Pedrata!
Will do!
Sj et P out.
Bonjour Everyone!
I hope that all is well in your world.
The other evening while dining in Paris, I made a few observations.
First of all, as I sat there at the window alone, I happily watched the world go by. There was a man on the telephone on the other side of the street; he wore very large black headphones, and talked and talked and talked. But at another glance, I noticed that he listened, listened, and listened.
I saw a woman dressed very elegantly being pulled down the road by two little dogs. Little French dogs. Classically so. A matching pair of fur on tiny little dog bodies.
I saw a strikingly beautiful woman with midnight dark skin carrying bags of groceries.
I saw . . . I saw . . . I saw . . . ***
And then the cute, tiny waitress with black hair carefully clinging to her head as if it was afraid to stray came to my table with a stack of magazines.
? Quoi? J’ai pensé? Why is she bringing these magazines to me?
But of course . . . it makes others uncomfortable to see others alone.
Of course not EVERYone, but those who prefer not to be alone themselves.
That’s how we humans are. If we hate something, we think others do too. If we love something, we think others do too.
But is that true?
Of course not. Each one of us lives in our own little world privé. And in this private little world of ours, we see things, experience things, interpret things based on our conditioning, experience, etcetera.
And on this particular evening, when this cute, adorable, kind, and considerate person brought these magazines, I was grateful.
Porqué?
Because it gave me such a clear view of the world from others’ eyes. For I realize that as my world view has changed, as I’ve gone INside and been alone with MYself so very often in the past view years, I’ve changed. I’ve dropped so many things that used to weigh me down. Things that were important to me then, but aren’t now. Things that I carried on my back like a very heavy a sack. A backback of obligations. Things that I gladly carried then because i wanted to be a good girl, someone who was an active participant in this life as I knew it then.
But after she set those magazines down and quietly walked away, I smiled. Content. At peace. Recognizing the change and appreciating the change. And then . . . my eyes returned to the window on my left. The window view that I chose at a table for two. And but of course . . . said with a French accent, it was a table for two. For Pedrata was there with me. ;-)))
And . . . before I close and return to class, I think of a friend who’s a wonderful writer. And I imagine that she MAY be bothered by my use of incomplete sentences. Things like: content. Not, I was content, but just content, at peace.
But pour moi . . . it’s somehow more fun to write like that. To write as I think. As I speak. (that was one! ;-) And so I shall. For as I let those things drop to the ground, (or even rise to the sky), they simply disappear. Evaporate. Become no more. And I feel a peace that was previously unimaginable. But now there’s no need to imagine it. For it’s here to stay. A peace that’s absolutely unshakeable. And for that, I give thanks. Thanks with ALL of my heart and soul.
Alors, la clase va commencer . . .
A bientot et bisous xoxoxoxox
***
. . . a young girl running and laughing as she moved quickly down the sidewalk while winking at a man who strode confidently down the middle of the street . . . a man who I presumed to be her papa . . .
a man carrying two heavy packages of water, so heavy that his arms were extended by at least a foot for there was barely a centimeter between the bottom of the bottles and the cobbled sidewalk . . .
a black taxi which stopped right in front of the restaurant, just to the side of me . . . a foot that slipped out from behind the door finding the ground slowly and hesitantly . . . a sandeled foot on a woman who wore a trench coat tightly closed . . . the very same woman who removed the coat once in the restaurant exposing an elegant black dress with a V at the front that revealed even more . . . and a husband (presumably) with a paunch that extended well over his belt and a smile which stretched from ear to ear . . . ahh . . . I think he was also content, at peace.
Et vous? Qu’est-ce que vous pensez? What do you think?
Sj out