Noel a Notre Dame de Paris

Posted on December 25, 2008

I awoke this morning with a kind of childlike glee at the idea of Christmas in Paris. I had no agenda, no planned excursion and no schedule to keep. I didn’t have to hurry and rush to this house or that, or follow any custom whatsoever. I love Christmas and all those things that go with it but for once, I was free to enjoy it any way I chose.

The day started off quite nicely, the way Christmas should. I’ve been constantly pleased by the effort and friendliness of everyone here so far and today was no exception. I was getting a late start when the maid came to clean my room. I told her it was fine to come in and take care of things as I was getting ready to leave. I hate to make them wait since they do have a schedule to keep and after all, it’s Christmas and they likely have things to do as well. It’s business practice at all Westins for the staff to say hello to you whenever you cross paths. It goes for every housekeeper, manager and maintenance person, regardless, and it’s really nice. I always say hello back to them as nicely as possible, since they’re making the effort. As I left I wished her a Merry Christmas, a Joyeux Noel in French and was surprised to see she was a little taken aback. She smiled and actually laughed a tiny bit, almost bashfully and wished me one as well, and thanked me. My pronunciation sucked a little but the point was there and it just made me feel good. At breakfast I wished my waiter the same (with better pronunciation) and he smiled genuinely and did the same. He’d waited on me before and remembered that I liked a little bit of milk in the coffee and offered it as I sat, then later when I declined another cup but was there for a little while, he laughed and made me take another one. He was right…it was perfect since the last quarter had grown cold. It seems like a simple interaction but I don’t take it for granted at all, especially since all our conversation was in French. Lots of people can talk, communication is something else I think.

With a belly full of scrambled eggs, coffee, a croissant and grapefruit juice along with a little fresh fruit to go with it, I decided to head out to Notre Dame. I had never been but saw it from the Tower and from the Seine River cruise. everyone says it’s magnificent and really, no one lied about that. I mistook Champs de Notre Dame for the Cathedral on the Metro map and went the wrong way, but it was easily rectified…and I got to use my metro pass to let an older woman into the station after the machine ate her money. She thanked me really kindly and my good day continued, despite being on the wrong side of town from where I wanted to be. Once more with my Golden Ticket and I was at the right station.

This is the bluest day I can recall since being a child in Maryland, when the cold night winds would blow snow drifts up to the 2nd story sills and leave everything crisp and perfect for the first morning light. There’s really no word for that color of blue but I understand what they mean by Sous la Ciel de Paris…Under the Paris Sky. It’s Christmas and the whole world seems like it’s waiting for me.

The Metro again. It’s all but empty save for a few people on their way to work or church and a man playing the accordion. I board again and head back in teh right direction. I’m in Paris on Christmas, heading to Notre Dame to attend Mass and hear the nativity. For a moment I stop and have that revelation that I’ve been doing it so wrong for so many years and I feel conflicted - sad for all those years I rushed around, insanely trying to get to this place or that, to please everyone on Christmas morn - happy just to be here now and know the difference…ecstatic to be alive. Walking into the cathedral, I vow that if I ever have children they will see this place if it still exists. They will have a chance to feel this and know what it’s like to stand inside history.For the first time I realize how fortunate I am, that despite some really trying times and hard things I’ve endured, I’m as blessed as a heathen can be.

If the laws of the universe hold true and all things in nature struggle toward balance, Notre Dame is the model for the equation. From the iced island air of the Idle de Paris with that perfect blue light of the cerulean sky above I walk into shadow and warmth, a stillness that almost stifles. Cold, odorless and erratic winds are replaced by thick, still incense transported on the murmurs of the faithful like some heavy blanket held above them and all around the intense light of the winter day is filtered through giant stained glass images of history. A plaque on the wall dedicates the building in 1163 AD. I do the math and realize this place stood 329 years before Columbus set foot on the new continent and for a moment I’m caught up in it all, time, war, peace, the chanting of the people in pews and the echoing voice of the priest in the Gothic arches above, history and the future, perception and perspective. Minutes pass before I realize I’ve been silently standing there smiling and crying.

I finish watching the Mass and decide to move around the back and see the rest. Silently scattered about the path patrons sit reverently in prayer among the almost too noisy chatter of tourists eagerly snapping photos and pointing and I actually curb the urge to shush them, even if gently. It’s strong but I’m just happy and at peace and can’t be bothered by them. Stained glass windows make patterns in kaleidoscope light on everything as the sun moves across the sky and I make my way ’round the perimeter, and all around I’m surrounded by the sounds of the Nativity, spoken reverently in French and carried across 845 year old walls by physics and Dolby Theatre Sound. That’s Paris as much as anyplace here: a harmony of the old and the new, LCD TV’s and stage lighting on 800 year old stone. Ritual illuminated in Technicolor.

I walk through that time portal once more, stepping into the present and the clarity of winter and can’t help but wonder if others felt the same. I hope so; while it’s certainly not wasted if it was on me alone, it’s not something I would want all to myself. Sitting on a bench, watching people come and go I wonder about this and a lot of things I thought I understood and I can’t help but think maybe far too many of us are in a mad rush toward the next thing we’ll use as a starting point for another mad rush, or worse, toward nothing at all. I smile and decide to just enjoy the rest of the day. You never really know about tomorrow.

I walk around the cathedral, taking photos and watching people. Not one argument, not one person yelling at another. No mothers scolding impudent little boys, no fathers with threatening looks for the mischievous. Just people standing, talking quietly and smiling in the cold morning light. On a bridge over the Seine a young woman asks me to take her photo with her camera, to get some of the city in it. I zoom wide and capture the Eiffel Tower behind her, the river below and she squeals when she sees it. It’s the best compliment a stranger can give me without knowing it. I found a bench on the bridge and just sat there and just enjoyed it all and thought some more about everything. I think my whole perception changed on that bench that morning. I would later realize that if Christmas was to be the day my perceptions would be challenged, New Years would be here soon enough to challenge my strength and the courage of my convictions. This would all become a positive turning point in my life.

The rest of the say was simple and beautiful. In front of a government building people ice skated in a makeshift rink, swooshing by, laughing and falling and just enjoying themselves. I took pictures of empty streets and paths, walked and watched. I just let the day be and didn’t force it. When I finally got back to the hotel I needed to pack and get ready for London the next day. I had dinner in the room and processed photos, wrote and talked with friends back home.

I spent Christmas very much the way I had wanted.