Paris When it Drizzles

I didn’t get enough sleep Thursday night because I procrastinated and waited until the last minute to do research on my practice presentation. Fortunately Friday was the last day of our methodology class. Our group presented on the Israeli airstrike on Syria and it went fine. After class it was drizzling out, but Cassie said she wanted to shop for some gifts for people back home, and I wanted to check out a store another girl had bought some cute stuff from, so we decided to head over to the St. Michel area.

We got a tad bit disoriented on the walk and stopped to look at the map just outside the metro. We hadn’t been standing there very long when a tiny little lady came up behind us as asked if she could help us with something. “I’ve lived in this neighborhood for many many years so I know where everything is!” She seemed really excited to help us, which was weird, so Cassie and I exchanged looks and then I told the woman where we were trying to go. “Oh! Of course! Just go turn left by the post office and it’ll be right in front of you!” She was smiling and really enthusiastic, so we’re not sure she was playing with a full deck, but maybe she just likes to go against French stereotypes. Anyway, we found a couple of really cute stores and had a good time strolling and shopping, even if it was drizzling and cold out. Cassie found what she wanted, and I found a really pretty dressy scarf and a stretchy headband. When we were done shopping we were both kind of hungry and damp so we thought it would be nice to get some coffee in a cafe. There was one around the corner from Sciences Po that Cassie had been wanting to try because whenever you order something there they bring you a bowl of pretzels and marshmallows. We went in and sat at a little table facing looking out on the street. I only got coffee and Cassie ordered a café creme because it certainly wasn’t a cheap place. The waiter brought out our bowl of pretzels and marshmallows and a carafe of water. I hate regular marshmallows, but these were flavored and sugared so even I liked them. Then came our coffee. It was nice to sit there watching the drizzle falling on the grey streets and the passersby while enjoying the warmth of the cafe and good conversation. It was one of those times when you just sit back and wonder at the fact that you are in Paris.

Cassie and her new roommate Carly were moving out of the student housing that afternoon and into their “apartment” and they were going to do it without taking a taxi so I offered to help. I didn’t have anything else to do and I figured it wouldn’t take too long to carry a few bags from one place to another. Oh boy was I wrong. The fact that it was raining didn’t make things any easier. First we went to the Cité Université to collect their belongings. There were four of us and we lugged the stuff down the street to the tram stop. We got on the crowded tram and rode for a long while. I was carrying my shoulder bag, Cassie’s shoulder bag, and two shopping bags full of odds and ends. Finally we reached the end of the tram line. From there we got off and walked through the rain to a bus stop where, luckily, the bus we wanted was just about to leave but let us on. Well...almost. The first three of us got on with all our bags, but before Carly could reach the bus with her heavy suitcase, the driver shut the door and pulled away from the stop and no amount of begging would make him stop. It wasn’t a huge problem since Carly knew what stop to go to, so we just went on to the stop and waited for Carly to come on the next bus.

From the bus we had to take the metro. By this point we were all thoroughly damp and water had soaked through my shoes. We made it down all the stairs with the suitcases and onto the metro. We were almost to the last stop when the train stopped in the tunnel and the lights went out. We all started laughing because that was just such a perfect thing to happen after the fiasco that had been our journey thus far. Luckily the power came back on quickly and we made it to the stop. There we lugged everything back up a bunch of stairs, through the metro station, and up to another bus terminal. The bus we needed however had a ridiculously long line and with all of our stuff we didn’t think we’d make it. The girls said their house wasn’t too far so we decided it would be just as fast to walk. Our small bedraggled band headed out once again into the rain. We crossed 4 lanes of traffic, walked over the Seine, down a ramp, onto a narrow sidewalk not big enough to pass anyone with cars zooming by and spraying us, up a hill, up a flight of stairs, until we finally arrived at the house where Cassie and Carly are staying. I don’t think anyone had ever been so happy to see a house in their lives. I was happy to help, but I think we all felt like we had just lived the Odyssey minus the Cyclops.

We got them settled in and rested a bit, but I was supposed to be meeting a friend for dinner so I had to head home. I decided not to wait for the bus back to the metro station, so I just walked back the way we had come. Of course, the rain decided to really pour down once I was crossing the Seine, far away from any sort of cover. The cold drops blew against the left side of my face and water soaked higher and higher up the legs of my jeans. Fortunately I love rain. I had my eyes closed and my faced turned to the sky with a goofy grin on my face, so I’m sure the other people walking by thought I was a lunatic. They may be right. It was just nice to have real rain for a brief moment instead of the wimpy drizzle that normally falls.

I got home much later than anticipated. Since it was our off week for young adults Bible study, I was going to go with another girl to Hillsong which meets every Friday at 7:30 and 9 in Paris. This week there was a special guest though, so she wanted to get there early and by the time I got changed out of my wet clothes and found the place, it was well past the planned time. We were trying to go to the 7:30 service, but by the time I got there, that service was already full. Full as in, maximum capacity, fire code limit. That’s a pretty funny concept for a church service. So I just joined the long line leading out of the building and down the street and waited for the second service. I was glad once again to have my iPod and a book to read. They let us inside into a vestibule to wait, and came by passing out water and were very nice and helpful. Hillsong, in case you were wondering, is part of Hillsong Church that started in Australia. They’re the megachurch whose youth group band, Hillsong United, is well known around the globe. They have two other main branches in London and Kiev, and not too long ago they started this one in Paris on Friday nights. It’s bilingual, but I was under the impression that it was mostly anglophones. I was surprised to hear more French spoken around me than English.

I had been in line behind these two college-age guys for a long time, one French, and one Chinese who was fluent in French, but I hadn’t talked to them. When they told us to head up to the sanctuary they turned around to talk to me. The French guy made some comment about having been in line for a really long time, but I couldn’t hear him very well because he was speaking softly and there was a lot of noise. I looked at him confused because I couldn’t hear him and so he asked if I spoke French. I figure he had seen me reading in English and wasn’t sure. I said yes, and then he asked if I came all the time to Hillsong. I said it was my first time and he explained that it wasn’t always like this, but it was because of the special musical guest. His name was Pierre and his parents live in the suburbs out of Paris so he tries to come to Hillsong whenever he gets a chance, but he was leaving on Sunday for Bretagne (Brittany) because that’s where he goes to school for IT studies. I was excited because he was the first French person I’d met actually named Pierre. We talked while we waited for the service to start. He asked why I decided to come to Sciences Po, and where I was from, and if I had found a church yet, etc. etc. He was very friendly, and it was really encouraging to meet a young French Christian because there aren’t tons of them.

The worship service was really awesome. It was all just praise and worship because of the special guest who is the lady who writes a lot of the music for Hillsong United. They had the words on the screen in english and french, but pretty much everyone sang in english. They translated everything spoken into both languages though. It was funny because the pastor of the church is Australian, and his accent was so heavy, that sometimes I couldn’t understand what he was saying in English and I had to wait for the French guy to translate it to find out what he had said. It was really powerful and high energy worship. It was awesome to see all these young French people down front worshipping God. It really gave me hope for the French population. Anyway I really enjoyed it, and it’s nice to know there is something else to do on those Fridays when we don’t have Bible study. The only bad thing was that the service didn’t get done til after 11 so it was pretty late by the time I got home. I definitely want to go back and see what it’s like on a normal night. I was really glad to see my bed when I got home because it had been a looong day. At least I got to sleep in on Saturday!
A bientot-
Lyndsey