Entertaining Angels... or Lost in Paris

November 8, 2013
Just when I begin to think my sense of direction is beginning to become more stable and/or that I have all the gadgets and maps I need to keep me on the straight and narrow, I decide to test it. The first time I came to Paris a friend recommended this little box of maps. 50 adventures; each on a card with directions and where-to's. I vaguely remember using it successfully one time when I was in a neighborhood I was relatively familiar with. Then the box got tucked away with my other out of date guide books and it has remained there ever since.

Before I left for this trip to Paris, my good friend, Sharon R, (who's spent many hundreds of hours wandering the streets of Paris) left me a care package with some metro tickets and a stack of small books including a replica of my 50 adventures on foot. I left most of the other books home, because I'm discovering that I don't tend to use phrase books and such when I'm traveling (except maybe before bed or when I'm in my apartment wishing I'd known the perfect phrase to charm a waiter or store clerk).

Since I trust Sharon implicitly, I decided to pull out a map today for inspiration. It was a rainy day here and my friend, Christine, left this morning. After we had breakfast, I snuggled back under my covers where I snoozed and dreamed and planned my next adventure.
Pere LaChaise cemetery was calling me. I'd been there before and loved strolling through the aged headstones, listening to crows cawing, and the clip-clop of footsteps on the cobbled pathways.So I decided to follow the walking tour for Pere Lachaise.

Mistake. Big Mistake. I quickly (but not quickly enough) remembered why I quit using those maps. They don't have sufficient instructions for the direction-impaired person (like me). They start out with instructions like "Walk down rue des..." but they don't tell you which direction (or even left or right out of the metro) and as I've learned "down" is often a matter of interpretation, particularly for the traveler whose internal compass may be out of kilter. There are no distances like "3 blocks" or "2 miles". It's just "go this way" and then the next direction "turn right at the stairs"... Aargh. Do you know me? I need more than this, People!

Needless to say, "down" was out of kilter on my intuitive senses and I walked a mile or two before coming to a lovely park (Parc des Buttes Chaumont) at least 1/2 mile North (i.e. farther away... my guess is "down" meant "south" in this case) from the recommended Parc de Belleville.

By this time it had started to rain even though the forecast said it would clear by this time of day and as I became more and more lost and the rain poured harder and harder, I, of course, needed to go to the bathroom. I consoled myself by saying how lovely the park was (and it was) and convincing myself that I was on an adventure (which no doubt I was). At some point, I also realized I had all my worldly resources in my bag (except my passport) and if anyone decided to grab my purse, I'd be without cash, credit cards, or cell phone. None of this helped to ease my nudging bladder.

Let me just say, I do believe in miracles and I've also been known to step behind a well-placed bush if need be (although not in Paris). This is when a miracle occurred. I exited the park and found a public toilettes. That wasn't the miracle. The astounding thing was that it was in working order and there was no charge. Indeed a functioning toilettes is a miracle in Paris where you can walk blocks and blocks for a public designated bathroom only to find it's out of order or that you do not have the correct change to enter.

Once my brain was more clear (yes, this evidently corresponds with my bladder), I tucked into a phone booth a la Clark Kent-style and checked my map to verify I was going in the wrong direction. I had gone "up" instead of "down" rue des Pyrenees... so I turned around, determined to not be deterred. Back on the correct path, I crossed the dozens of so-so window dressings in this outlying neighborhood and considered ducking in to buy some scissors for collaging (and protection, if need be).

None of the stores called my name and I was on a mission to find the "right turn" that my walking tour map suggested. At some point, my stomach started to growl and I realized it was 3:00 in the afternoon and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. A sweet corner boulangerie beckoned my attention and I popped in for un palmier, si'l vous plait. With provisions in hand, I continued my mission, watching very closely at each right turn for "the" staircase. Impossible, I cursed to myself until I stopped and stood on a corner. I think this is where the second miracle happened.

A young woman started frantically talking to me in french and I knew enough to know she was asking for directions. I tried to dissuade her that I was not the person to ask, but she insisted on my help and shoved her iPhone into my face with the address she was trying to find. We were on the right street, that much I did know. When I looked at the number, I chuckled inwardly because finding street numbers can be a real challenge when you need them. Since, I was not exactly invested in the search I decided to give it a try for this stranger in distress.

I looked across the street and voila there was a number... then voila there was a second number next to it, so I knew which direction to point her in. I didn't use words like "up" or "down" but instead used my handy pointer finger and sent her on her merry way. In the next moment, I turned around and voila again, there was the staircase, I'd been seeking.

This encounter reminded me of a story I heard recently from poet and storyteller, Deena Metzger. Deena talked about what I call "entertaining angels unaware." We see it across cultures in various forms. The story of helping a beggar and finding it was Christ or Buddha or an angel in disguise. I don't know if the young woman I met was any of those things, but I do know that when I stopped worrying about my own predicament and allowed myself to tend to someone else, my situation became better.

"Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it." Hebrews 13:2

The situation became better, but the map was still bogus. Thank goodness I had various other forms of survival and good strong walking legs. I finally managed to wind myself back to Pere Lachaise, having missed the promised "panoramic view" of the city and "casual wine bar" for the weary traveler. Sometimes a pastry, a potty, and an encounter with an angel is enough to make a day a success. Basic needs met. Basic beauty seen. Basic love received. Isn't that the pilgrim's way?

Comments

[kay]

i found myself sweating it out for you as i read this entry. what an adventure indeed!