Finding peace in beauty

I wish there was a way to bottle the beauty of a place, the beauty that gives one peace of soul. The beauty of the ocean today, staring out at the horizon, watching the waves come in and then crashing against the shore. The beauty of a city that is just that--beautiful at every turn. I wish there was a way of bottling the bright sunshine that warmed us as we sat outdoors eating lunch at La Brocherie. A way of bottling the experience of not having a care in the world, of not having to stress about anything at all. Because God knows we live in a world that is constantly clamoring for our attention, 24/7. There is rarely any peace from the news that invades each waking day. The only thing I want to do while I am here on vacation in Saint Raphael is to walk along the waterfront promenade on the sunny days and watch the children riding happily on the carousel. The carousel is what I remember from the first time I was in this city--an old-fashioned carousel--the kind you would expect to find at Coney Island or other amusement parks in the early 1900s. Indeed, when I googled carousel in Saint Raphael, some links that were returned mentioned that the double-decker carousel 'was probably built in the early 1900s by Gustave Bayol of Angers in France'. Apparently, these types of carousels are not unusual in France. If so, how wonderful. I would love to see more of them in my travels. 

As I walk along the promenade, I can 'see' in my mind's eye what this city might have looked like in the early 1900s. It has an old-fashioned feel to it that I love. The promenade as it exists today seems new to me; I don't remember it from the first time we were here (around 2000 or so), but some type of walkway existed. I'm sure people walked along the water or gathered at the hotel restaurants for lunch and afternoon coffee. It's a wonderfully civilized way to live. I could get used to it. This website with its lovely photos will give you an idea of what the city looked like back in the 1920s and 1930s as well as in 2008: Saint Raphaël Promenade Saint Raphaël Visite 

Reflections on life in Saint Raphael

Yesterday was a lovely warm day in Saint Raphael. It seemed as though all the residents of the city made their way to the waterfront to eat lunch and to enjoy the warm sun. The waterfront restaurants were packed and patrons were chatting happily with their families and friends. We settled on eating at an Italian restaurant called La Bocca in Frejus, which was packed with people. Fréjus is the adjacent town to Saint Raphael as you continue walking or driving westward. It was nice to see and experience people feeling happy and relaxed. Our stay here in Saint Raphael has been very relaxing. We've done some sightseeing, but not much. Our days consist of eating leisurely breakfasts, hanging out at home for a while, and then walking to the city center to eat lunch or dinner. We walk along the promenade that borders the ocean, passing a large marina with a supermarket and restaurants, near where we live, and then following the walkway past the rocky and sandy beaches, the numerous palm trees, the resort hotels and apartments, and the many restaurants that line the waterfront. We often eat a mid-afternoon dinner, as the restaurants close after 3 pm. Some reopen for the dinner crowd, but not many, since this is still off-season here on the Riviera. We've done some small souvenir shopping and on our way back, we often stop at the Spar supermarket to pick up some groceries. All told, our daily walking mileage is about 3 miles, which is good for us. If I lived here, I would be out walking on the promenade each day, as many of the local residents do. 

People keep to themselves for the most part, but they are friendly when you speak with them. The waiters and waitresses are likewise friendly and service-minded. We've spoken with a few of them and they seem to enjoy their jobs. It's good to see. Many elderly couples own dogs that they walk with along the waterfront; the dogs are having a great time being outdoors and meeting other dogs along the walkway. Yesterday when we walked up to the Basilique Notre-Dame-de-la-Victoire , an elderly man stopped me on the sidewalk to tell me that I was very beautiful, and he repeated that to my husband who nodded in agreement. That made my day, I must say; it's not often I hear that anymore. We got to talking with him, and it turned out that he had been a taxi driver in Paris for over twenty years before he retired to Saint Raphael. He was originally from Portugal and spoke Portuguese, French and some English. We managed to communicate. It was so nice to meet him, and it reminded me of the nice elderly man I met on a Paris subway many years ago, who also chatted with me as best he could in English. When he was getting off the subway, he said how nice it had been to meet me, and then he said goodbye and that he would meet me in heaven. His words have stuck with me all these years later. 

I think about all of the nice, friendly and interesting people I have met on my travels in my lifetime thus far. With some few exceptions, my meetings with strangers have been positive, and I am always reminded of how traveling broadens us--our perspective, our look on life, our views of other cultures and people. I am a richer person spiritually and psychologically because of the traveling that I have done. The traveling that I have had the privilege to do. I am grateful every day for this privilege. 

Winter in Saint Raphael

Saint Raphael is a lovely small city on the French Riviera (also known as the Cote d' Azur or the Blue Coast) with a population of about 37,000 people. It has a rich history and dates back to Roman times when it was a resort destination for the Romans. We were here for the first time about twenty years ago after we had attended a scientific conference in Montpellier), and I remembered the impression it made on me. At that time, we decided to drive a bit along the Riviera and settled on renting a hotel room for a couple of days in Saint Raphael; the hotel was on the water quite close to a marina. As luck or fate would have it, the apartment that we've rented now for two weeks is right across the street from that hotel. I didn't plan it that way, but I'm pleased with how it worked out. What I remember from my first visit here was that the city had an old-fashioned feel to it that I liked; it wasn't glitzy or clubby like St. Tropez. 

Saint Raphael is an idyllic place for so many reasons. It’s the way the city makes me feel as I stroll along its harbor promenades or in the parks by the ocean. When the sun is out, the city’s beauty truly shines (that's often true anywhere in the world). The waterfront buildings and the palm trees scattered everywhere are simply charming. Among the many cities along the Riviera—like St. Tropez, Cannes, and Nice—I prefer Saint Raphael because it’s not overly touristy. It still welcomes visitors, but without the flashy, exclusive vibe of St. Tropez or Cannes, which seem geared toward the wealthy. Saint Raphael feels less commercialized—perhaps that’s the best way to put it.

That idyllic atmosphere creates a peaceful feeling that is often lacking in daily life. Of course some of what I feel is weather-dependent. Every city I've ever visited or lived in in looks lovelier when the sun shines. We arrived here this past Sunday and have enjoyed two sunny blue-sky days and one rainy day. Today is another sunny day and I'm hoping the rest of our stay will have more sunny days, even though rain is predicted for next week. The temperatures don't get much higher at present than about 50 degrees, but that beats hometown Oslo by a mile, where the temperatures are in the teens, much like Tarrytown and the Hudson Valley where I grew up. So even though it is winter here in southern France, it's a comfortable winter. We can walk outdoors in the sunshine for three or four miles each day, something that is difficult in the cold and often icy city of Oslo during the winter. I wish that Oslo would clear its sidewalks in a more efficient way so that everyone could get out and walk during the wintertime. But they don't. It's a crap shoot as to which sidewalks get cleared and which ones don't. So I'll take 50 degrees and clear sidewalks. I don't need much more than being able to walk outdoors to make me happy. On the rainy day we drove to Cannes along the coastal road but didn't stop there, and then drove on to Nice where we walked a bit. We visited the Russian Orthodox Cathedral (Cathédrale Saint-Nicolas de Nice), which was quite impressive. Nice is a fairly big city and very confusing to drive in. I prefer Saint Raphael as it is more navigable. One day I'd like to return to Nice to explore it, but then I'll live in the city and use public transportation to get around. 

I like being surrounded by beauty, the ocean, the crashing waves, the sunlight reflecting off the water. I like watching couples and retirees out walking along the waterfront promenade in the sunny weather. Many of them own dogs of all sizes, who revel in being able to run along the beach or just to walk along the promenade with their owners. I like being able to sit on the mosaic-tiled concrete benches along the promenade to soak in the sun, or watching the musical carousel spin. I like the feeling of not having to do much of anything at all. That's vacation. I'm grateful, as always, for the chance to experience these different places after the health issues I had last year. I take nothing for granted anymore, and so I live in the moment and enjoy each moment to the fullest. 

Here are some photos taken during our walks around Saint Raphael: 

taken at dusk 

a canal where the tide flows in and out during the day

the beach and the ocean

the garden park in front of the apartment complex where we're living

the apartment complex where we're living 

one of many palm trees

one of two old-fashioned carousels in the city

the guardian archangel Raphael who protects the city

a city with lovely architecture

more palm trees

the Hotel Excelsior where we ate lunch one day

French clergy and the latest sex abuse scandal in the Catholic Church

The Catholic Church was in the news again for yet another sex abuse of children scandal, this time in France (French clergy sexually abused over 200,000 children since 1950, report finds | Reuters). Over 200,000 children (some reports say 300,000) were abused by priests (and nuns) over the course of seventy years. The sheer number of children is staggering, and it goes without saying that these children must have suffered in silence for many years before the Church decided to do something about the global sex abuse scandals that have plagued it for many years now. All the victims deserve monetary compensation (large amounts of money); however no amount of money can erase the memories that these children, now adults, have. No amount of money can wipe out the feelings and knowledge of betrayal. Adults whom you trusted were not trustworthy. They were instead predators, preying on young children who were most likely told by all the adults in their lives to respect and listen to the adults in their lives.

Every time I read about another sex abuse scandal in the Church, it makes me angry and sad. My respect for the Church decreases; I don’t know when or if it will hit rock bottom. I hope it doesn’t reach that point. I hope that the Church manages to make the huge major changes it needs to make in order to survive well into the 21^st century. But it cannot have reactionaries at the helm if it is to undergo a revolutionary renaissance.  

Random thoughts:

I am fairly sure that the clericalism in the Church is not what Christ envisioned when he founded his church. Clericalism is a policy of maintaining or increasing the power of a religious hierarchy (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/clericalism). Clericalism exists to protect clericalism and the organization of the Church. It exists to provide careers for bishops and cardinals. It exists to protect the power of bishops and cardinals—its leaders. Just the word ‘power’ ought to flag the interest of all the faithful. It ought to get Catholics asking why it is necessary for the clergy to have power over anyone, especially since Christ was not interested in earthly power. He was interested in quite the opposite: ‘The first shall be last and the last shall be first’. Those who think they are important will be relegated to last place, while the unimportant will find their place with God. I say again for anyone interested in listening; Jesus Christ was not a clerical type. I doubt he would have been interested in sitting protected inside the Vatican. He was more the type to be wandering around speaking to people, meeting people, meeting the poor, challenging authority. I can bet that there are a number of clerics who don’t particularly like this picture of Christ.  

The Church needs to do the following: open its doors wide so that all the world can see inside it; end the mendacity that has defined it for so long; release priests from their vows of celibacy (or make celibacy voluntary) and allow priests to marry; and stop trying to control the sexual lives of its married and unmarried parishioners when it cannot even control the sexual lives of its priests who have taken a vow of celibacy. The Church has had far too much to say for far too long about how ordinary Catholics live their sexual lives. While most of the latter were trying to follow archaic and illogical rules (e.g. concerning birth control), some priests (and some nuns) were acting on their sexual proclivities for children exactly as they pleased, protected by the willing silence of the Church on the one hand and the unwilling and often forced silence of their victims on the other hand.

As a consequence of this criminal behavior on the part of clerics, ordinary parishioners should cease to support the Church financially. It can be a temporary cessation, but it is the only way to force change. Hit them in the pocketbook. Yes, it means punishing all clerics, but this is how we were treated in Catholic schools—the entire class was punished for the transgressions of one or two students. We had nothing to say about that; we were told to sit down and be quiet, to accept our punishment. Protests were out of the question. Clerics should do the same—accept their punishment. I think they will begin to look at the vow of celibacy and of poverty in a new way when donations are no longer running in, and that will be a good thing. I have stopped giving to the collections as of this month, and will continue this policy until I see that the Church treats its sex abusers as the criminals they are and turns them over to the police, as well as using its wealth to compensate the victims of such priests. I want the Church to use its vast wealth to pay through the nose for what it’s done to children. And if you think I’m being harsh on and judgmental about the Church, you’re right. I am. I’m angry, and there’s nothing wrong with my being angry. How I decide to deal with that anger is my prerogative; not donating to the Sunday collection is one way of dealing with my anger.  

For those who rant and rave about how much better everything was before, and that we need to return to the Church of old--we absolutely do not. The Church of old looked the other way when dealing with pedophilia and sexual abuse, as the French scandal clearly points out. Most of the abuse went on between 1950 and 1970, exactly around the time we were growing up. The Church swept most sex abuse scandals under the rug in an effort to preserve the organization, transferred the offenders to other parishes, got offenders psychological help if possible, and carried on as though little had happened. But they did not turn the offenders over to the police.  From 1950 until well into the 1980s, the Church was still mostly ‘traditional’ in its approach to most things, still strict about sexual matters, about birth control, about divorce—about most secular matters. I have no desire to return to the Church of old, steeped as it is in bygone traditions. Will reciting the mass in Latin prevent sex abuse scandals? If the priest does not face the parishioners while on the altar, will this lessen the number of sex abusers in the Church? Doubtful. While some traditions are good, others are not. Traditions such as unquestioning obedience to the clergy or not questioning their advice on marriage, divorce and sexual matters are impossibly dated and fated for the scrap heap.

Not all pedophiles act on their desires, but the Church still needs to weed out pedophiles as best it can, vigilantly. Pedophilia is not defined as a crime, acting on pedophilic desires is a crime. But the Church would be best served by ridding its ranks of pedophiles. A priest friend I know blames the sex abuse scandals on homosexuality in the Church. I do not agree with him at all. Homosexuality is not the same as pedophilia or sex abuse. There may be homosexuals who are pedophiles, just as there are heterosexuals who are—in the Church as well as in society at large. Weeding out homosexuals will not prevent the sexual abuse of children.

Most priests and nuns are not sex abusers, thank God. One thing that strikes me as rather odd, and that is that the majority of them are rather silent on this issue. I would have expected that they would protest more as a group within the Church, to church leaders. I would have expected more anger, more discord, and more opposition. That is also one way that the Church will change and grow into the organization it needs to be for its faithful. There needs to be room for dissent, debate, disagreements and discussion. The faithful deserve nothing less. In fact, the faithful are pretty much fed up with the sex abuse scandals in the Church. They are fed up with dealing with hypocrisy and betrayal, as well they should be. If the Church wants to hang onto its parishioners, it should make the changes it needs to make, and fast.

A miracle right before Easter

Photo shows smoke rising around the altar in front of the cross inside the Notre Dame Cathedral.

REUTERS

It is this photo of the aftermath of the Notre Dame cathedral fire that stays in my mind. The cross and the altar remained intact, and if that isn't an Easter miracle, I don't know what is. It is a symbol of hope, of life amidst death (of a building), and of resurrection.

God bless the fireman, clergy, lay people and anyone who helped save the artwork and historical treasures that were housed in this cathedral. It was so good to see that the cathedral will be rebuilt, and that donations are pouring in. Another miracle......People do care, they just need to unite around a common cause, one that touches them deeply. This one does, for many people, on many levels--emotional, historical, spiritual and psychological.

Tide rushing back in at Mont Saint Michel

I took a video of the tide rushing back in at Mont Saint Michel in France when we visited there in mid-July. It was a beautiful day to visit--blue skies and sunny. We had been walking on the beaches surrounding the island when the water began to come back in. It did not come all the way up to the island as happens at other times.

Visit to Normandy

Our trip to France this year took us to the northwest part of France—to Normandy. I’ve been wanting to visit this historical region for several years; it played a huge part during World War II. To quote from Wikipedia, ‘the Normandy landings (codenamed Operation Neptune) were the landing operations on Tuesday, 6 June 1944 (termed D-Day) of the Allied invasion of Normandy in Operation Overlord during World War II. The largest seaborne invasion in history, the operation began the liberation of German-occupied northwestern Europe from Nazi control, and contributed to the Allied victory on the Western Front’. On June 6, 1944, the Allied troops (American, British and Canadian) stormed a handful of beaches along the coast of Normandy in order to fight the Germans and ended up turning the tides of World War II. But it did not happen without a lot of bloodshed. The Allied troops landed on five beaches—designated Omaha and Utah (American troops), Juno (Canadian troops), Gold (British troops) and Sword (Canadian and British troops). We chose to visit Omaha Beach, which saw the most casualties. From a distance, the sands look almost reddish-brown, a poignant reminder of the blood shed on this beach. It runs for a length of 8 kilometers (5 miles); at present, it’s a public beach, open for all, and lined with several small restaurants and cafes. There are also some lovely houses along the road that parallels the beach. There are signs detailing the history of the beach and a couple of memorials. We walked along it for about two miles, and then stopped for some iced tea at one of the cafes along the beach.

I found it very moving to stand on Omaha beach, looking out over the ocean, knowing that many of the American soldiers that landed here never made it home. They never had the chance to fall in love, marry, raise a family, have a career—all those things that we take for granted. Think about that, about how privileged we are, never to have known a major world war in our lifetimes (thus far). Being there made me understand why my father, who was stationed for three years in England during WWII, never wanted to talk about the war in any great depth. His job was to load bombs onto planes, which ruined his back for the rest of his life. I think he was just glad to get home to America and to move on from that experience. Sometimes he told us stories about his time in the army, but they mostly had to do with the discipline and routines that the soldiers had to follow, and were usually to illustrate a point or to help enforce the rules he and my mother set for us children.

I had a similar emotional reaction when we visited the Normandy American Cemetery afterward. This cemetery, in Colleville-sur-Mer, is situated on the cliffs above Omaha Beach and looks down onto the beach itself. It is the burial site of 9,387 American soldiers, the majority of whom lost their lives in the D-Day landings and subsequent operations. There are also Walls of the Missing, on which are inscribed 1,557 names of those who ended up missing or unidentifiable.

the reddish-brown sands of Omaha Beach

view of Omaha Beach from the American Cemetery

Our hotel was in Caen, an old and very historic city (of William the Conqueror fame). Our trip to Omaha Beach from Caen took about an hour each way, and our trip to the island of Le Mont Saint Michel took about ninety minutes each way. Caen itself was a lovely small city, easy to drive around in and to get to know. We visited the Memorial de Caen, a memorial and war museum dedicated to peace, and one of, if not the best, war history museums I’ve ever encountered. As my husband said, everyone should visit this museum because you will learn so much about WWII and the economic and social conditions in Europe that led up to it, about the rise of Hitler and the Nazis, the Jewish ghettos, the Russia front, and the Normandy invasions. It is an amazing history lesson and I highly recommend visiting it.

Le Mont Saint Michel, which is on the list of UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites, is a wonder to behold from a distance and up close. The island draws its name from the monastery at the topmost part of the island; below the monastery, there are stores and housing—nowadays those stores are tourist gift shops and restaurants. It is a steep climb to the top of the island, and a climb that one makes together with hundreds of other visitors; about three million people visit the island each year. What makes this place special are the tidal waters that both cut off and connect the island to the mainland. According to Wikipedia, ‘the tides can vary greatly, at roughly 14 metres (46 ft) between high and low water marks’. When the tide goes out, it can go out as far as 25 km, and when it comes back in, it comes rushing back in. So even though there is now a bridge that connects the island to the mainland, it can still be perilous to walk on the beaches surrounding the island because of the tide rushing in and because some of the areas on the beaches are like quicksand. It is recommended that you walk around on the beaches with an experienced guide. The Tour de France bicycle race started here this year, and it couldn’t have been a more beautiful place to start.

Mont Saint Michel from a distance showing the bridge out to the island

seagull modeling for photographers

the beaches surrounding the island 

tide coming back in 

flags at entrance to the Memorial Museum in Caen 

Paris in my mind and heart

Paris in my heart

The Paris that made the news this week is nothing like the Paris that I know and love. I've been there at least five times at this writing and hope to visit there again. Nothing bad that happens there will ever destroy the beauty and the spirit of Paris for me. I have only good memories of this beautiful city and those memories are what came back to me this week as I watched the tragedy that unfolded there. They help to block out the tragic images. These photos from my many trips captured some of those memories forever.

Seine River and  Cathedrale Notre Dame de Paris

Cathedrale Notre Dame de Paris

Notre Dame at night

Notre Dame at night

Jardin du Luxembourg

cobblestone path along the Seine

Eiffel Tower

Sacre Coeur church

a beautiful Paris alley

ceiling in Galeries Lafayette