Jul 10, 2012 | Travel
How much butter is in a single piece of croissant? The answer: ignorance is bliss. Sitting in Paris’ la Maison Angelina, the question is not ‘to eat or not to eat’? It’s how many do I eat? But the real treat of the visit is Angelina’s hot chocolate, so rich, decadent, and internationally acclaimed, that many have said it is the best in the world. Yes, one does not go Paris to lose weight.
This indulgence in a cup, however, is too indulgent, that I would recommend moderation. And I’m an avowed chocolate lover. Sharing is ok, in this case. The main message from this café girl is, stop by Angelina if you’re in Paris. It’s quite an experience. Decorated like the inside of some palace and lit by a sunroof, the ambiance is perfect for a brunch-type of outing, although I’m sure dinner there would be just as delightful.
But by all means, France is a pastry heaven, so walk in to the ubiquitous boulangeries.
Musée du Louvre is obviously famous because of that lady in the painting. Tourists visit by the droves to take endless snaps of paintings and statues, which quite frankly, mean very little after the exit door. But if you go southwest from the Louvre, across the Seine River, there’s another splendid museum that will give an entirely different experience, guaranteed.
Located on the bank of the river, Musée d’Orsay is a brilliant transformation of what used to be Gare d’Orsay, a train station operating in the early 1900s. But the edifice is a mere treasure box that houses a most impressive collection of impressionist paintings. It is currently my absolute favorite place in Paris. Standing in front of masterpieces by Monet, Manet, Degas, Van Gogh, Cézanne… it just does something to your soul. They were truly, truly brilliant. I wonder what it’s like to live inside their heads for a day. I love Edgar Degas’ ballet paintings in particular.
Cameras are not allowed inside, which, I think, elevates one’s appreciation of the arts. All you do is look and be awed. The classy atmosphere created by this restriction is particularly enjoyable. On a side note, the éclairs on the 5th floor café are also very good (the chocolate ones).
Quite serendipitously, I read this quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer just last night in a book I’m reading
, which eloquently captures the essence of artistic experiences.
Interpreting is generally one of the most difficult problems. Yet, our whole thinking process is regulated by it. We have to interpret and give meaning to things so that we can live and think. All of this is very difficult. When one doesn’t have to interpret, one should just leave it alone. I believe that interpretation is not necessary in art. One doesn’t need to know whether it is “Gothic” or “primitive,” etc., persons who express themselves in their art. A work of art viewed with clear intellect and comprehension has its own effect on the unconscious. More interpretation won’t lead to a better understanding of the art. One either intuitively sees the right thing or one doesn’t. This is what I call an understanding of art. One should work diligently to try to understand the work while looking at it. After that one gets the absolutely certain feeling, “I have grasped the essence of this work.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Eric Metaxas, Bonhoeffer, p. 51-52.
I came away with this: the art is a crucial component of humanity.
Looking out from the clock on the 5th floor of Musee d’Orsay.
Vaux le Vicomte to Versailles is like d’Orsay to the Louvre. Less tourists, smaller in size, but just as grand and classy. Château de Vaux le Vicomte is somewhat of a precursor to Versailles. It is the castle that inspires the architecture of the royal palace. Located an hour outside Paris in the countryside, the castle stands in front of an expansive garden, all lit by candle lights on Saturday nights. It was simply gorgeous.
Of course, social class divisions are evident in the architecture, with the separation between the “upstairs” area, where each room is ridiculously decorated, and the “downstairs” kitchen, 18th century equivalent of a humungous garage, and even jail cells to detain, perhaps, trespassers or criminals. Also, with no electricity, the place is dark. I wonder how life was there centuries ago.
If you have a lot of money, you can have a wedding there, like the formerly married Eva Longoria and Tony Parker. Please invite me.
The Eiffel, the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, Sacré-Cœur, and Notre Dame are all grand and magnificent, but this time in Paris, I was struck by these three.
Aug 24, 2011 | Travel
There are a few meta-narratives of my trip to Honduras, including true education and service. This is another one.
One of the reasons why I wanted to go on a mission trip was to experience discomfort. A perspective on how varied the life paths of humanity on this earth is always a good antidote against insularity. We need reminders that the daily trials and difficulties we face, especially in the modern world, are usually petty ones. They are often luxurious trials, meaning that we get to experience them because of the tremendous privilege and luxury that come with them.
Interestingly enough, ten days in rural Honduras did not bring me to a point of discomfort. I was, in fact, completely comfortable with all the logistical arrangements throughout the trip, as well as the slightly unexpected occurrences. No electricity – absolutely liberating. Cold showers – no problem. I still showered twice a day. Damp bed, water dripping from the roof during your sleep – didn’t kill me. Washing clothes with hands – tiring, but I could get used to the exercise. Fruit flies crowding your breakfast – fine. Professional ants crawling up when you sleep and leaving many bites – annoying, but I’d trade everything else with that. Visiting people – loved it.
Moreover, the people there are very friendly. Life works, even without the conveniences of modern lives, because “a man’s life consists not in the abundance of the things which he possesses.” I admired how much they work with their hands and I’m close to coveting their lives when I think about my much more sedentary lifestyle. The smiles and waves people give when you pass them by made me think what a luxurious life actually means.
Basically, I was not uncomfortable at all during this trip. I enjoyed every moment. Of course, it was a short one. But I’m beginning to wonder if I would be uncomfortable if I lived there. Perhaps being Indonesian helps, since I’ve seen and experienced worse.
I was wondering about what was going on. Was this a bad thing that I was comfortable? Shouldn’t something be pushing me more? Then on day 3 or 4, Raquel opened up to this text during worship:
“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.” 2 Cor 1:3-4.
How interesting. The source of comfort is God, and it is possible to be comfortable in any kind of difficulties. Then, because we have that comfort, we can comfort others who are in trouble. If that’s so, then I wouldn’t want to ever be uncomfortable.
Every good thing comes from God, and I believe it was a gift that I felt comfortable in the given circumstances. Perhaps my work was to comfort others who might not have been as comfortable. From that day, I stopped worrying about seeking discomfort and shifted focus to, as I could, comfort others.
As the trip went on and I was becoming more and more appreciative of the lifestyle there, if that was even possible, I realized that the discomfort that pushes me out of my boundaries does exist. But I wasn’t going to find it in this mission trip.
I realized that I actually am more uncomfortable in the life that I live now than in Honduras. It’s not about physical discomfort. It’s the mental and spiritual discomfort of being where I am right now, waking up pleading for God to give me strength to face each day. Perhaps that’s why God puts me in school. This is where my character is being grilled…
With that thought, the burden returned and I felt the heaviness on my shoulder. But Christ too drew near and assured that His yoke is easy and His burden light. He would be with me still and the same comfort can remain with me as the trip drew to a close and I returned to the US. Being on this mission trip was actually a relief from my discomfort and I felt eternally grateful that God let me experience a breather there.
Tasks uncommended, labor without recognition, is the lot of most of the world’s toilers. And in such a lot many are filled with discontent. They feel that life is wasted. But the little rill that makes its noiseless way through grove and meadow, bearing health and fertility and beauty, is as useful in its way as the broad river… The lesson is one needed by many…What we need to learn is faithfulness in making the utmost use of the powers and opportunities we have, and contentment in the lot to which Heaven assigns us. Education, p. 117.
Aug 24, 2011 | Travel
I wouldn’t know the desperation of one who is sick and has no access to doctors, medication, or any information on how to get better.
Inhabitants of Honduran villages and small cities mostly have low income. Doctor visits are expensive, so if you don’t have money and you’re sick, then the only option remaining is to live with your illness.
It is to relieve the pain of such suffering ones that the Adventist Church pays great attention to health and medical ministry, and that clinics are always an integral part of mission trips. It is to tell them the simple message, “God cares.”
Though the medical field is far from my calling and my knowledge of it near nonexistent, I did have one practical skill useful for this one-day clinic in Talanga that everyone on the trip got to participate in: massage. All credits go to CAMPUS Missionary Training Program.
This day was the pinnacle of my short, true education course. And that pinnacle of true education is called service.
My task was to give 5-min back massages at the booth where people learned about rest and relaxation as an essential part of healthy living. Damaris and Kelly, both full time missionaries with VIDA and the only Spanish-speaking individuals at the booth, would give a short explanation to those who came by. Then we would pray with each person before the massage. I liked that.
As my Spanish skill was just as nonexistent, I prayed that God would help me minister to this one person during each prayer. I prayed that my massage would be a blessing.
I wanted to be aware of every moment of the massage. I didn’t want to do it mindlessly, which, as I had learned in times passed, was very easy to do. Since I couldn’t speak or make friends with the people, I thought a lot instead.
We often minister to others by our words. But in the situation where verbal barriers exist, the Gospel still has many other avenues. For me, the only avenue that day was by touch.
At CAMPUS, massage was a means to make friends or ultimately invite people to Bible studies or meetings. That day, there was no more evening meetings to invite them to and I couldn’t say a word to them. The massage was not an avenue; it was the end. The massage itself was the ministry.
During the massages, I thought about the privilege of service. I asked God to help me show Christ’s love with each touch and help me do my best in serving this one soul. I joked with someone that I had the germs and sweat of the whole town of Talanga on my hands. But it really was a privilege to serve.
While the crowd for the booths subsided, many people still waited in line to see the doctors. The doctors, bless their hearts, were such assets.
As we waited for the doctors, a lady whom I had massaged before approached me, Ronny, and Kelly. She had something to say to me and via Ronny’s translation, she thanked me for the massage and expressed how grateful she was for it. Then she reached over and gave me a real hug. Ah, this was what Ellen White meant with “in our life here, earthly, sin-restricted though it is, the greatest joy and the highest education are in service” (Education, p. 309).
It was to me an affirmation from heaven that indeed what I prayed for was answered. You can communicate love, though fleeting, by your touch.
I was completely overwhelmed and wished I could say something more to her. I think I mumbled something unintelligible that in my mind meant “You’re very welcome.”
It’s pretty rare that you get to minister with just your touch; a ministry without words. Jesus too ministered with His touch and His touch brought healing. It was an honor to follow after the divine pattern.
