Saint-Chapelle: Miracle of Light

In the center of Paris there is a small Gothic chapel called Saint-Chapelle.  You have to know where to go, you won't stumble across it.  It is inside the Palace of Justice, through a security check and up a winding staircase.  Jon and I had seen postcards of the interior stained glass windows and sought it out at the end of a long day in the Louvre.  We arrived half and hour before closing and found out it would cost us 10 euros each to get in.  We nearly passed it up.
But after entering the lower chapel, and making our way up the cramped stairs we were met by a masterpiece of light and color. It was similar to the feeling of entering the Sistine Chapel and suddenly discovering what all the fuss is about.

  The small chapel has no walls, just huge windows all around you.  And each of the tall windows are made up of huge areas of stained glass, in bright colors, depicting hundreds of individual scenes and beautiful designs.  Someone likened it to "standing in crystal".  It is well worth the visit.  Even Adolf Hitler visited this chapel before the war.  It didn't stop him from bombing the very place just a few years later.
The chapel was built by Louis IX in 1241 as part of his palace and a place to house some expensive holy relics he had acquired.  But the windows don't look old, and although most are original, they have obviously been restored and cleaned.  I can see my 10 euros were well spent.

I was curious as to how such a beautiful glass building could have been preserved for 800 years and still look as rich and regal as when it was built.  I found that the glass windows had been removed and stored away twice, and for very different reasons.  After the French Revolution, since the building was associated with royal excess, the stained glass was removed to turn the chapel into a more practical storage facility. Then again, the windows were removed to protect them from the bombing of Paris in WWII.  It is staggering to think of the painstaking work of making this magical building, but to take it all down and put it back together again is even more amazing.

Paris: A Trip Down Memory Lane

My first visit to Paris was in 1989, when I was starting out as a teacher in SW England.  We had two weeks off for Easter holidays and so I took off to France with the only other member of staff without a significant other. This was pre-internet days, and so there was no planning involved, we just headed south by train to catch a ferry across the Channel.  All went well until we hit bad weather and the ferry was diverted to a little known port in northern France.  We deboarded where there was no town and no railway station. Not knowing what to do, we accepted a ride with a lorry driver to the nearest town. We found a hotel and two nice men invited us out for dinner.  Over the 'escargot', we learned that they were headed south to meet up with their wives for a holiday. At that point we considered it wise not to accept their offer of a lift to Paris, and took the train.

Arriving at Paris' Gare du Nord station was a little intimidating, but we did as all visitors did in those days, headed for the nearest "Tourist Information".  They asked us how much we wanted to spend, phoned a hotel and sent us on our way with a map.

We ended up in an old hotel with a large bedroom with a bidet, and toilet down the hall.
During our stay in Paris we met with three challenges that we were not able to overcome.
1) No one spoke English.  Whether they understood us or not, the Parisians refused to communicate in anything but French.  All signs and directions were in French only.  And although my traveling companion  claimed to speak French, she was reduced to tears and became a nervous wreck.
2) The Metro was utterly confusing.  We could not find out how to pay for tickets.  We did not know where the trains were going, and there didn't seem to be any handy maps.  One stranger took our money and we hoped he was buying us tickets.... we did end up with tickets, but we didn't know where to.
3) There was nowhere to eat.  I know that sounds crazy to anyone who has visited Paris recently, but we walked and walked without finding anything like a take-away or family restaurant. We ended up buying bread, cheese and wine from a bakery, and survived on that during our stay.

 The weather turned nasty, and I had not brought any suitable clothes.  The thought of queuing for 3 hours in the cold rain to go into the Louvre was not appealing, and we decided to head home instead.  Paris had beaten us this time.
Even the trip back to England was memorable. There were no seats on the train, so we traveled  on the floor and passed the wine bottle back and forth.   We tried some sight seeing in northern France while waiting for the ferry, but the cold weather drove us into a cafe where we drank coffee and rubbed our frozen feet.
How different from visiting Paris nearly 30 years later! Now we fly, by far the cheapest way to Paris, and book a hotel on line. We research and plan itineraries before hand and follow other travelers' advice. Paris speaks English now and has embraced its tourists as a necessary evil.  The city's eateries now reflect all the ethnic groups that now reside there.  The Metro is easy to use and there are now three entrances to the Louvre to help with the crowds. Visiting Paris today is certainly more enjoyable, but less of an adventure.

Going again? Why?

“I should like to save the Shire, if I could - though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don't feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.” 
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Great movie! Over the next month I will be visiting Paris, Budapest, London, Sao Paulo, and checking in with my family in Sofia as well.  Far from being an adventure, or what might be seen as wandering, I find I am traveling for different reasons.
I am going to Paris with my husband for healing.  We are saying it is for Valentine's Day and for my Birthday, but really it is just a break from some of the stress we have been experiencing over the last few months.  It will give us something to look forward to, something to smile about, and a chance to put some worries aside.  Flights and hotels are booked, and hopefully the cold weather will have kept some of the crowds away.
I am going to Budapest to support my son who will be competing in an international school swim meet there.  Since we moved to Europe I have not had the chance to attend any of my son's school events, and I am glad this will be possible.  Also, my brother lives in the city and I find I am looking forward to seeing him and his wife again.  Wherever we live, it is not always possible to reconnect with family and friends because of our busy schedules.  It is an 8 hour drive, but I'm sure it will be worth it.
I am going to London to meet up with my mother before we travel together to Brazil.  This trip to Brazil is an unexpected bonus for me.  I will be going back to the part of the world where I began. This is where my parents' began their life's work, their reason for choosing to spend their lives in Brazil, and to a people my mother has continued to support over the course of 50 years!  This is one of the places that defines me, and I haven't been back there for over 30 years.  I will be reconnecting with my roots.
So my travels over the next couple of months will be more about reconnecting with and supporting people who are important in my life.  And as Frodo says to Sam, "I am glad you are here with me."

A Traveler's Nightmare

I do not think of myself as unique and when I run into passport and visa difficulties, I do wonder how many other people have found themselves in my situation.  The truth is that if you are a man and always lived in your country of birth, you will not have even imagined the story I write.
I was born Anne Taylor in Rio de Janeiro.  My parents got me a Brazilian passport at birth, as was legally necessary, and also registered me as British at the Embassy.  I didn't need a British passport right away, but was quite proud to have the dual citizenship.  I traveled to the UK for university on my British passport, and returned to Brazil on my Brazilian. No problem.
I got a job teaching in Brasilia as Anne Taylor.  When I got married I went to the British Embassy there and they issued me a new passport as Anne Jahnke.  The Brazilians make it much more difficult to change your name and I was forced to leave my Brazilian passport in my maiden name.  It didn't bother me then because I was on my way to Europe for my next job as Anne Jahnke.  My first son was born there to Anne Jahnke.
The problems began when, as a twist of fate, I returned to live in Brazil.  As my son, Jake needed a Brazilian passport, but he was registered as the son of Anne Jahnke.  As that is not my name there, I couldn't prove he was my son, and they wouldn't issue him a passport.  They wanted me to return to England and reissue the birth certificate in my maiden name.  I refused, and Jake never got to claim his Brazilian heritage.  Then I had two Brazilian sons whose mother is Anne Taylor.
I applied for a Green Card in Brazil and they issued it in my maiden name.  However, in the US, they seem to understand that people get married and change their names, so they issued my identification documents in my married name.  I became Anne Jahnke, the American resident.
But my name problems were not behind me.  My next job took me overseas to a location where they would only hire me as the name on my visa.  So I became Anne Taylor again in the Marshall Islands and had to travel in and out on my Brazilian passport.
My Brazilian passport needed renewing, and when I applied for a new one, they rejected the application on the grounds that I had not voted in the last general elections in Brazil.  They insisted I go to Brazil and pay the fine in order to get a new passport.  I pointed out that I couldn't travel without a passport, and they issued me a temporary one.
I never did go back to Brazil to pay the fine because my next job took me to Europe.  I became Anne Jahnke again, a EU citizen.
Now I needed to renew my EU passport.  My application was rejected on the grounds that I held another passport in a different name.  I cannot explain what it is like to find out that you will soon be without any passport.  Apart from not being able to travel, I was suddenly without a country, a name or an identity.  How can someone live like that.

Fortunately, I was able to get a passport.  By some miracle, I made an appointment in London and my application was handled by a man who was married to a Brazilian.  He must have understood my plight and, despite being aware of my second passport because I am in the system, he turned a blind eye and approved my application.
I don't think I will be so lucky with my Brazilian passport, and that one will have to go away.  Then I can finally say goodbye to Anne Taylor.