far above, but not too far away

samedi 26 avril 2008

I woke up early this morning to make sure I would get to Gare de Lyon on time.

To have major train stations accessible by a short metro ride is simply marvelous.  Certainly that doesn't exist in San Francisco.  Gare de Lyon, by the way, isn't in Lyon; it is in the heart of Paris, and it is beautiful.

There is something about arriving at a train station and watching and hearing the hustle and bustle of adults and children all around, the adults scrambling to track their trains and validate their tickets, the children chasing each other and seemingly finding every way to annoy their parents.  The smell of croissants and pains au chocolate permeate the entire station.  Lines of TGV trains extend beyond what the vision can perceive as it is temporarily blinded by the rising sun peeking out behind them.  The senses are stimulated beyond what a visit to the airport can conjure.

By the way, a few of you have asked if I am eating croissants everyday.  No.  I've had exactly one croissant in the past month.  Typically, I prefer pain au chocolate (I'm not a masochist nor do I have a strange fetish for sweets; pain is in French), roulé au myrtille (a very delicious blueberry roll), or viennoserie au chocolat.

But back to my journey that was about to begin at Gare de Lyon.  The ride at about 300-350 km/hr from Paris to Avignon would take a little under three hours.  There was no point in taking pictures; the speed of the train was too great.

Alim and I met Didier at the TGV station in Avignon, after which we drove into the ancient town of Avignon, which is surrounded by a "rempart," which, as you may have guessed, is a rampart.  Avignon is famous for a few things "Les demoiselles d'Avignon" by Picasso, "Sur le pont d'Avignon," which is a famous French folk song (notice my not so clever alliteration); and the papacy.

The Palace of the Pope was constructed in Avignon in the 14th century; it was the center of Christianity prior to its settling in the Vatican City.  Now you all know I'm not a religious person, but after a visit to the palace, it was even harder to contain myself.

The Pope and his entourage really lived in luxury beyond perhaps the king.  There were several towers and "treasure rooms" in the palace, conveniently located above and below the pope's chamber.  God only knows what kind of treasures these people held.  I couldn't help but repeatedly ask myself:  If Jesus Christ suffered for humanity and is a symbol of the religion, why do people so blindly accept that the Christian leaders should live in luxury?  Even if they don't accept it, why do they allow it?  Yes, I use the present tense correctly.  My classmate Giovanna, who comes from Rome, tells me that many residents of Rome scramble to make ends meet while the select few (or many in this case) are living luxuriously in the Vatican; unfortunately, this isn't something that Italians from other cities experiences.  Additionally, a classmate from Berlin revealed that Germans who identify themselves as Christians must contribute a percentage of their income tax to the church.

But then I thought: perhaps people don't want to wake up.  Perhaps they know very well what they are paying for their so-called religion.  We are, after all, only human.  We all make mistakes.  We all know we do things that we shouldn't.  Perhaps some of us feel that by paying and contributing, these mistakes can be erased and we can then deny that these mistakes were ever made.  After which, of course, we can do the same things over and over again.  Maybe that's why some of us proudly march on the streets telling one group they are sinners and another they are going to hell.  Is this the price and the message of Christianity?

I know not all Christians conduct their lives this way, and I know that the people I've described exist under all religions; it's just that the power and wealth of Christianity is simply incredible and... unreligious and anti-Christ.

After exiting the palace, I got the feeling that it was really a big closet.  I gladly walked out of it into a warm spring afternoon.  The spirits of the past, however, seem to have trapped themselves inside.

Not too far away in a foreign city, there is a far grander closet whose residents continue to trap, continue to control the present, the past, and very likely the future.

P.S. In the pictures, you see images taken from and around the Palais des Papes as well as Le Pont d'Avignon.  You are also blessed with picture of Saint Didier - notice the halo above him.