Monday, July 18, 2005
The thing is, we're home.
It's July 17, and I have no business having waited so long to tell you that the thing is, we're home. We returned safe and sound on June 29 to our house in Abilene, to our comfy beds, pillows, and cats, delighted to be back but sad, sad, sad to have left France. We were so glad to be home that we immediately left again for close to a week -- this time to the LeCroy 4th of July festivities in Dallas! By the next Wednesday, when we had once again returned to our house, I was so deluged in mail, work, phone calls, and stuff-I-hadn't-taken-care-of-because-I-was-playing-hooky-in-Europe, I never posted any more blog entries. So, I will attempt to post our last few days there, a wonderful week of serving at a soup kitchen in Lille, and then you won't hear from me except monthly or so -- and thus this blog will die, having served its purpose.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Language Difficulties
FERME AUX CROCODILES
So, Ken and I were driving (OK, he was driving, but at least I was awake!) from Avignon to Lille (a really long haul), and we saw this sign on the superhighway that said (in all caps)
SORTIE PROCHAINE
TROIS CHATEAUX
FERME AUX CROCODILES
(translation: next exit, 3 castles, closed to crocodiles).
Hmmm, we wondered… why are these chateaux closed to crocodiles? And is this really a big problem in France? And what’s up with this anti-croc species-ism? Are hippos allowed in castles? We thought and thought about this sign for close to a hundred kilometers, when, all of a sudden, Ken had a revelation and solved the mysterious sign: its correct translation was “CROCODILE FARM (FERME)” (which happened to be located near three gorgeous castles!
So, this translation error demonstrates the problems with language that one can experience overseas. Here’s another one for you: Amy, one of the students with Yann and Rita, is a bright girl who also speaks decent French; yet, when she arrived to her host family’s house and discovered that they had a cute rabbit (LAPIN), which she wanted to see and pet right away, freaked out her family who thought she really wanted to inspect the bread (LE PAIN) she would be eating while there!
And these are problems we had in French, a language we know. (BTW, there were some successes as well; Ken even preached a great sermon in French in Lille the last Sunday we were in Europe!)
You should have heard the amazing conversation I-who-don’t-know-any-Italian had booking our hotel room over the phone with an “I-don’t-know-any-English” woman. Ken and I drove (OK, he drove, but I was awake yet again) to Orvieto by faith and not by sight or confirmed reservation. When we arrived, both she and I were delighted
So, Ken and I were driving (OK, he was driving, but at least I was awake!) from Avignon to Lille (a really long haul), and we saw this sign on the superhighway that said (in all caps)
SORTIE PROCHAINE
TROIS CHATEAUX
FERME AUX CROCODILES
(translation: next exit, 3 castles, closed to crocodiles).
Hmmm, we wondered… why are these chateaux closed to crocodiles? And is this really a big problem in France? And what’s up with this anti-croc species-ism? Are hippos allowed in castles? We thought and thought about this sign for close to a hundred kilometers, when, all of a sudden, Ken had a revelation and solved the mysterious sign: its correct translation was “CROCODILE FARM (FERME)” (which happened to be located near three gorgeous castles!
So, this translation error demonstrates the problems with language that one can experience overseas. Here’s another one for you: Amy, one of the students with Yann and Rita, is a bright girl who also speaks decent French; yet, when she arrived to her host family’s house and discovered that they had a cute rabbit (LAPIN), which she wanted to see and pet right away, freaked out her family who thought she really wanted to inspect the bread (LE PAIN) she would be eating while there!
And these are problems we had in French, a language we know. (BTW, there were some successes as well; Ken even preached a great sermon in French in Lille the last Sunday we were in Europe!)
You should have heard the amazing conversation I-who-don’t-know-any-Italian had booking our hotel room over the phone with an “I-don’t-know-any-English” woman. Ken and I drove (OK, he drove, but I was awake yet again) to Orvieto by faith and not by sight or confirmed reservation. When we arrived, both she and I were delighted
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Lou Clement with Katie and Krista
I tried to rotate this picture, but I am blogging from Red River New Mexico and I do not have my photo shop program with me sorry. Just turn your computer monitor sideways!
Training in Lille
We’ve joined up with Yann and Rita Opsitch and four ACU undergrads to participate in an ecumenical outreach program in Lille, France for our final week here. Here’s what we’ve learned so far: most French people are very suspicious of organized religion and are (rightly, in my opinion) disgusted by the disunity they see in its many sects and factions, all touting correctness. This project on which we’ve embarked combines the efforts of many churches, Catholics and Protestants together working simply to show unity and to serve the people of Lille (in this case; the project occurs in several other cities as well). We serve free food to hundreds and hundreds of Lilleputians (I must find out what people from Lille are really called!), and, while of course we will answer any questions about Christianity any people might have, we are not here to pull a “bait and switch” on them, but rather to encourage a feeling of goodwill toward the churches here and Christianity in general. Katie and Krista are very happy with their assignment; they’ve been tasked to kitchen duty, preparing six hundred or so “barbecue sandwiches” per day (but they’re nothing like Harold’s, believe you me), cutting tomatoes, slicing baguettes, washing and preparing lettuce, etc. They like this job because (a) they’re good cooks, (b) they’ve already made some friends in the kitchens, (c) they’re together, and (d) they (mostly) don’t have to speak French (convenient, since they only know the following words and phrases: bread and cheese, yes and no, hello and goodbye, cat, turtle, otter, and duck, my name is…, I don’t know how to speak French, and apple juice). We think that Ken and I will be trading off with the students between kitchen duty and meet-n-greet with folks. Now to see if it all goes according to plan…
(more on this effort later)
(more on this effort later)
Ciao!
Arrivederci, Italy! We’ve had a wonderful time here in Italy. There’s so much more to see and do, but I’m glad that we’ve stayed put and just “been” in Breme. Grazie to the Willits family. We’re so thankful for your wonderful home. And we know we’ll be back, because we threw our coins into the Trevi fountain. Which reminds me of superstitions – we have learned of a few new ones on our trek. Ken learned two in Russia: first, if for example you forgot something back at your house and you returned to get it, you would definitely look in a mirror before leaving. Or how about this one? You never hear whistling at all; it’s considered in very poor taste. Why? Because if you whistle, I will lose some money (or vice versa).
Mont St. Michel
Dear Abbey
Neither Ken nor I had ever visited the unbelievable abbey of Mont St. Michel. I am happy to report that we have corrected this oversight now, and it was well worth the effort (and it took a bit of fortitude, since we’re tired and it’s kind of far away in the region where Brittany and Normandy intersect, around 5 hours drive from Lille). I hope that Gayla, webmistress extraordinaire, will be able to show you a picture of this place somewhere in the vicinity of this blog entry, because it’s awesome, not in the way we overuse the word awesome for a fun pair of shoes or a friends’ garage band playing, but in its real sense, inspiring awe and questions, not the least of which is how did these folks ever build this fort in the first place? Mont St. Michel is the ONLY place in France never to have fallen to invasion. And no wonder: anyone trying to overtake Mont St. Michel would have only a brief period of time in which to do his business per day. The abbey is spectacular, rightly called “Le Merveille” [The Marvel]; its church, scriptorium, and refectory in particular were most impressive to Ken and me. We went over around 10:30 this morning when the tide was low, and we left the island again around 5:00 P.M. before high tide rolled in again. We couldn’t resist returning again for night-time views; my pictures, which I just finished downloading, are pretty spectacular if I do say so myself. Of course, it’s just as Katie said, “Mom, if you just had a cheapie disposable camera and you aimed it roughly in the direction of Mont St. Michel, you could not only get into photography school, but the folks there would think you were brilliant. There are no bad shots.” She’s right. We stayed in the town of Mont St. Michel for a mere 69.50 euros, in a nice two-story hotel suite; compare that to staying on the island for around 300.00 euros per night! Ken and I used a little of those savings, however, and took over an hour selecting my souvenir of this trip to Europe, a small-to-medium-sized tapestry wall hanging and a little pillow replicated from one from the William the Conqueror days. I think it will look great in our living room. It reminded us of the other tapestry (even smaller) we bought when we were newlyweds 21 years ago and visited the France section of the World’s Fair in New Orleans, so that was fun too.
Mont St. Michel is one of the most amazing places I’ve ever visited in my life. I am so thankful we took the time to come here; I simply cannot recommend it strongly enough to anyone considering a trip to France.
Neither Ken nor I had ever visited the unbelievable abbey of Mont St. Michel. I am happy to report that we have corrected this oversight now, and it was well worth the effort (and it took a bit of fortitude, since we’re tired and it’s kind of far away in the region where Brittany and Normandy intersect, around 5 hours drive from Lille). I hope that Gayla, webmistress extraordinaire, will be able to show you a picture of this place somewhere in the vicinity of this blog entry, because it’s awesome, not in the way we overuse the word awesome for a fun pair of shoes or a friends’ garage band playing, but in its real sense, inspiring awe and questions, not the least of which is how did these folks ever build this fort in the first place? Mont St. Michel is the ONLY place in France never to have fallen to invasion. And no wonder: anyone trying to overtake Mont St. Michel would have only a brief period of time in which to do his business per day. The abbey is spectacular, rightly called “Le Merveille” [The Marvel]; its church, scriptorium, and refectory in particular were most impressive to Ken and me. We went over around 10:30 this morning when the tide was low, and we left the island again around 5:00 P.M. before high tide rolled in again. We couldn’t resist returning again for night-time views; my pictures, which I just finished downloading, are pretty spectacular if I do say so myself. Of course, it’s just as Katie said, “Mom, if you just had a cheapie disposable camera and you aimed it roughly in the direction of Mont St. Michel, you could not only get into photography school, but the folks there would think you were brilliant. There are no bad shots.” She’s right. We stayed in the town of Mont St. Michel for a mere 69.50 euros, in a nice two-story hotel suite; compare that to staying on the island for around 300.00 euros per night! Ken and I used a little of those savings, however, and took over an hour selecting my souvenir of this trip to Europe, a small-to-medium-sized tapestry wall hanging and a little pillow replicated from one from the William the Conqueror days. I think it will look great in our living room. It reminded us of the other tapestry (even smaller) we bought when we were newlyweds 21 years ago and visited the France section of the World’s Fair in New Orleans, so that was fun too.
Mont St. Michel is one of the most amazing places I’ve ever visited in my life. I am so thankful we took the time to come here; I simply cannot recommend it strongly enough to anyone considering a trip to France.
Clement Family
The Clements are well named
In Lille, we are staying with a family whose last name is Clement. This word means the same in both French and English, agreeable or pleasant. Pascale, Xavier, Quentin, and Lou are all terrific people, the kind of folks we would be friends with if we only lived close to one another—or even on the same continent. Their friends are fun and “tres simpa,” people with whom we enjoy spending time. One night, we all ate dinner together with some friends of theirs. Everybody at the table was/is a teacher, and the evening was filled with laughter. Lou and Krista had fun making the dessert, a delicious tarte made with cherries that they picked from the tree in the yard; Lou made a copy of the recipe, and we plan to make it when we return home. We made them a Tex-Mex meal (as best as we could using ingredients we could find here), and they exposed us to an even-better-place-than-Paul’s for pastries (although Paul can’t be beaten for the breads and mille-feuilles*). We also have internet service** and a fully-functional washer and dryer*** here, so we’re living rather high on the hog here. Their daughter Lou is 13, a perfect fit in the “Tween” world in which our girls live. Pascale teaches English, and she speaks perfectly as you might well imagine. Ken and I try out sentences that end up sounding like Tarzan trying to speak French (“we going to some dinner that night”), and she says sentences like “Furthermore, when I saw your now ex-President Clinton at the tennis match in Paris, he was surrounded by an entire entourage of bodyguards” (a semi-verbatim example). She came and worked hard with us two of the days we did the soup kitchen ministry. We have enjoyed her company so much, and we’re hoping for a visit from her and/or her family in the next couple of years!
*mille-feuilles
means a thousand leaves, and it is a pastry with a fabulously smooth cream and perfectly baked leaves of a pastry dough similar to that used in baklava. Fortunately, if I understood the baker correctly, there are no calories in this concoction, so I’ve eaten as much of it as possible.
**internet service
Thus, you can read this blog, although their .fr internet service doesn’t come with the “my-friend-Gayla-does-all-the-computer-work” program, so it’s a bit sluggish.
***washer and dryer
I have found, however, that European washers and dryers don’t work the same way as ours do in the U.S. The most astonishing feature here is an incredible ability to shrink clothing; mine, for instance, which fit very well a month ago when we left, are now at least two sizes too small. This technology could be put to good use if America were able to harness it, minimizing large pimples or rats for instance. I’ll think about some other interesting applications while I eat this mille-feuilles.
In Lille, we are staying with a family whose last name is Clement. This word means the same in both French and English, agreeable or pleasant. Pascale, Xavier, Quentin, and Lou are all terrific people, the kind of folks we would be friends with if we only lived close to one another—or even on the same continent. Their friends are fun and “tres simpa,” people with whom we enjoy spending time. One night, we all ate dinner together with some friends of theirs. Everybody at the table was/is a teacher, and the evening was filled with laughter. Lou and Krista had fun making the dessert, a delicious tarte made with cherries that they picked from the tree in the yard; Lou made a copy of the recipe, and we plan to make it when we return home. We made them a Tex-Mex meal (as best as we could using ingredients we could find here), and they exposed us to an even-better-place-than-Paul’s for pastries (although Paul can’t be beaten for the breads and mille-feuilles*). We also have internet service** and a fully-functional washer and dryer*** here, so we’re living rather high on the hog here. Their daughter Lou is 13, a perfect fit in the “Tween” world in which our girls live. Pascale teaches English, and she speaks perfectly as you might well imagine. Ken and I try out sentences that end up sounding like Tarzan trying to speak French (“we going to some dinner that night”), and she says sentences like “Furthermore, when I saw your now ex-President Clinton at the tennis match in Paris, he was surrounded by an entire entourage of bodyguards” (a semi-verbatim example). She came and worked hard with us two of the days we did the soup kitchen ministry. We have enjoyed her company so much, and we’re hoping for a visit from her and/or her family in the next couple of years!
*mille-feuilles
means a thousand leaves, and it is a pastry with a fabulously smooth cream and perfectly baked leaves of a pastry dough similar to that used in baklava. Fortunately, if I understood the baker correctly, there are no calories in this concoction, so I’ve eaten as much of it as possible.
**internet service
Thus, you can read this blog, although their .fr internet service doesn’t come with the “my-friend-Gayla-does-all-the-computer-work” program, so it’s a bit sluggish.
***washer and dryer
I have found, however, that European washers and dryers don’t work the same way as ours do in the U.S. The most astonishing feature here is an incredible ability to shrink clothing; mine, for instance, which fit very well a month ago when we left, are now at least two sizes too small. This technology could be put to good use if America were able to harness it, minimizing large pimples or rats for instance. I’ll think about some other interesting applications while I eat this mille-feuilles.
Nice wasn't so Nice
CAUTION: Falling People
Written and Exaggerated by Katie Cukrowski
Today we went to a topless beach on the French Riviera. The first thing we did was explore the shore. We saw a huge jellyfish and many smaller ones before adventuring to some mini cliffs. Krista saw a crab and, just as she was going to look at it, a huge wave hit the rock she was standing on, causing it to be extremely slippery. Suddenly she had slipped and was crashing down into the water below. During the descent, she bounced off three boulders before smashing into the rocky sea. I was still at the top looking helplessly at what I thought was my sister’s death. Struggling to reach her, I ended up getting stuck, postponing my hero attempt and rescue mission. After awhile, Krista reached me, and we went onto the rocky shore, seeing to both the broken toe that was turning greener by the minute and her thigh with its huge scrapes and gashes. In the end, she got bandaged up and is OK!
(a follow-up note from Karen two days later: Krista’s toe was not broken, but it’s true that she banged it up something fierce. And her thigh scrape reminds me of when my cousin Lisa fell down the Alps when we were 15 and touring Europe. Remember, Lisa? Ow.)
Written and Exaggerated by Katie Cukrowski
Today we went to a topless beach on the French Riviera. The first thing we did was explore the shore. We saw a huge jellyfish and many smaller ones before adventuring to some mini cliffs. Krista saw a crab and, just as she was going to look at it, a huge wave hit the rock she was standing on, causing it to be extremely slippery. Suddenly she had slipped and was crashing down into the water below. During the descent, she bounced off three boulders before smashing into the rocky sea. I was still at the top looking helplessly at what I thought was my sister’s death. Struggling to reach her, I ended up getting stuck, postponing my hero attempt and rescue mission. After awhile, Krista reached me, and we went onto the rocky shore, seeing to both the broken toe that was turning greener by the minute and her thigh with its huge scrapes and gashes. In the end, she got bandaged up and is OK!
(a follow-up note from Karen two days later: Krista’s toe was not broken, but it’s true that she banged it up something fierce. And her thigh scrape reminds me of when my cousin Lisa fell down the Alps when we were 15 and touring Europe. Remember, Lisa? Ow.)
Pater Familiae
Rome was beautiful; it’s breathtaking to be somewhere where so many places pre-date Christianity. We stayed in the heart of Rome, close to the Piazza Republique and accessible to everything. Ken’s Father’s Day present was getting to spend the whole day with the girls, since I got separated from them and didn’t meet back up until 5:30 at our car/hotel. It was the first time we didn’t have a planned place to meet if anyone became separated from the others (yes, Tara, I know you told us to have one!). What happened was this: even though we left pretty early for the Vatican museum line, it was still over a kilometer long (yes, you read that right!), so I left to send off my corrections to a book I edited while at the monastery and to send my blog update and pictures. By the time I returned (I had major problems sending my documents), K3 were in the museum, so I hung out at the exit, talked the guards into letting me in the back to find my family, missed them anyway, went to St. Peter’s, missed them again, missed their call to my cell phone, and…and…and… you get the point. Anyway, at 3:30, I gave up and went book browsing. Ken’s, Katie’s, and Krista’s day had gone similarly, filled with near misses as well. They had a great day anyway. We met up back at the car, and were we ever glad to see one another! I was delighted that the girls have such a great dad, so I wasn’t worried about them, just missed seeing part of Rome with them all.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Coliseum
Here is another view of the Coliseum, but it is not as good, because Krista or Katie aren't in it!
Saturday, June 18, 2005
All Roads Lead to Rome!
June 12, 2005
All Roads Lead to Rome
Actually, the autostrada leads to Rome, and that’s about it. Our experiences with Italy’s high-speed tollways have been mixed; they’re fast, but they’re expensive; they’re hard to find and hard to pay for unless you have a magic pass that only people who speak Italian seem to have, but the alternative is to go down quaint roads that occasionally have, no kidding, horse and carts on them. Plus, our standard Renault Megane station wagon doesn’t accelerate quite as rapidly as the Alfa Romeos we’ve seen flying by at what Ken estimates to be 135 mph. Yikes.
In Rome, we’ve taken a break from driving and have first, taken a tour of the major places and second, walked everywhere (with the occasional taxi or metro ride thrown in). It’s been lovely.
All Roads Lead to Rome
Actually, the autostrada leads to Rome, and that’s about it. Our experiences with Italy’s high-speed tollways have been mixed; they’re fast, but they’re expensive; they’re hard to find and hard to pay for unless you have a magic pass that only people who speak Italian seem to have, but the alternative is to go down quaint roads that occasionally have, no kidding, horse and carts on them. Plus, our standard Renault Megane station wagon doesn’t accelerate quite as rapidly as the Alfa Romeos we’ve seen flying by at what Ken estimates to be 135 mph. Yikes.
In Rome, we’ve taken a break from driving and have first, taken a tour of the major places and second, walked everywhere (with the occasional taxi or metro ride thrown in). It’s been lovely.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Souvenirs
Florence, Italy
The tackiest souvenirs I won't be buying include the boxers that are sold everywhere with Michaelangelo's David's genitalia superimposed in strategic places and the myriad tacky Mona Lisa stuff. So all of you back home waiting for me to bring these to you will just have to be disappointed or take your own trip.
The tackiest souvenirs I won't be buying include the boxers that are sold everywhere with Michaelangelo's David's genitalia superimposed in strategic places and the myriad tacky Mona Lisa stuff. So all of you back home waiting for me to bring these to you will just have to be disappointed or take your own trip.
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