A predictably but uneventfully long flight got us in to Charles de Gaulle Airport by midmorning today. We cleared immigration in record time, with no questions and scarcely a glance from the agent as we entered France for our first visit. We caught the train from the airport into the city, made one transfer through the single most circuitous metro station I’ve been in, and resurfaced at the Franklin Roosevelt station on Champs-Elysees. A couple of blocks down the street, toward the Arc de Triomphe, brought us to the Marriott where, courtesy of Michele’s accumulated Marriott points, we’ll be staying gratis the next two nights.
We’re back at the hotel getting ready to call it a day. We–by which I mean Michele and me–slept little or none on the flight, and after traipsing all the way down to Notre Dame and back, we’re beat. Add to that my absurd idea of running eight miles in Cameron Park yesterday before church, supposing it would make me weary enough to sleep on the plane last night, and you get the picture of my run-down state now.
Aside from taking in the sights and sounds as we walked about, our afternoon was spent at Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle. I scarcely know what to say about either of them. I always sense that I’m better off remaining silent before great beauty, for words never get the sight and experience of it right.
That said, Sainte Chapelle struck me as the more beautiful of the two, but Notre Dame seemed more prayerful. The piercing light of S.C. is simply to much to bear; it felt overwhelming and I felt exposed in the brilliance of the light–so much so that I could not pray, but could only sit in mute amazement. I realize that my admission of being less prayerful in that setting may reflect on the inadequacy of my capacity for prayer more than on any deficiency of the architecture. Nonetheless, I found that Notre Dame nurtured in me a much more prayerful disposition within its walls. The balance between sweeping upward gothic lines and vast space everywhere above, and even more so the balance between brightness and shadow, fit the human condition as it I know it.
Tomorrow’s plan is to visit the Eiffel Tower, the Paris Natural History Museum, and the Basilique du Sacré-Coeur. For now, though, rest and sleep lie before us. I can’t wait for La Ville-Lumière to grow dark, quiet, and peaceful.
