This story is about surviving an international trip without money.
October 15, 2015
Paris
Paris has a population of 2 million, but 12 million are employed there and commuting daily to the big city. Only 50% of its citizens own vehicles. These cars are tiny because the people are petite in size; they are slim and wear beautiful, colorful coats and tie their scarves in unusual twists and turns. Their shoes are equally fashionable, boots, tights, gloves with stylish hats. Just as you watch them, they observe us.
I’ve been to Paris several times, but this trip was an eye-opening experience. Suddenly the streets had bigger vehicles like SUV’s and fancy, high-end sports cars. These vehicles belong to the transplants from Middle Eastern countries. They stay at the five star hotels because they most likely own them; the Four Seasons George V, one of the most luxurious, is owned by a prince from Saudi Arabia and Bill Gates.
Only 50% of the French own their own apartments; the minimum rent runs 1,200£ per month and the average salary is 2,000£. Of the 67 million citizens, 70% are Catholic but only 10% are believers. What does that mean? The French have lost their way with God and the outcome is evident.
France’s countryside is breathtaking, but you can’t help noticing the nuclear cooling towers sharing the grazing grass with the cows. Eighty-nine percent of France’s electricity comes from nuclear reactors; in fact they produce so much that they sell it to Germany as well.
The Stinking Soup
Our first day was uneventful, settling in and most of the day was lost with a nine-hour difference. Craving French onion soup, several of us went on foot looking for a quaint restaurant. Reading the menu outside the cafe, it read French onion soup. We sat down and wasted no time in ordering the authentic soup.
I made sure the waiter and I had no miscommunication, nothing lost in translation. He assured me that it was the real deal. My mouth was already savoring the baguettes buried under the melted, charred cheese oozing in fresh-cut onions from a French garden. As the waiter was approaching, the steam from the soup was reaching my nostrils and it smelled funny. Again I asked, “French soup?” Nodding my head, “yes.” Again the waiter said, “yes, yes.” Well, he was right; it was cheesy soup but it was goat cheese. My first bite was sending hateful messages to my brain. The second bite was even worse. I could not stand the gamey smell, and the taste was the biggest food letdown of the year.
My friend Natalie and I could no longer put up a facade, so we paid the bill and left. The worst part is this: the soup accompanied us all the way to the hotel, belching most of the way.
The Forbidden Metro Ride
Day two started with a meeting with Joanne, our leader, collecting our passports and instructing us not to use the metro. Four of us, including Father Leonard from EWTN, had our hearts set on visiting Sacre Coeur at Montemarte. We looked into taxi fares, but it was going to run 50£. We did not want to spend that type of money. The metro, on the other hand, was only 3£. We all disregarded the earlier warning and decided on the metro, and we were not going to share this information with Joanne.
I felt like a local on the metro and was surprised to learn how effortless it was to use.
Sacre Coeur Basilica
Sacre Coeur Basilica has over 200 steps to climb and is known for its perpetual adoration of the Holy Sacrament. Adoration is a form of prayer before the Exposition of the Holy Eucharist. It is a prayer of the quiet that many Catholics practice. The Basilica’s Grand Organ is by far the best I have ever heard. The sound is so sacred it pierces your soul and makes you feel like you are entering the pearly gates. We stayed and prayed for all the requests from home. It was indeed a most holy experience.
The Metro Passengers
We stopped for lattes and crepes filled with rich, dark chocolate, then headed back to the hotel. I offered to pay for the metro tickets, and, as I was handing them out, Father Leonard was speaking to a local priest and introduced him to us. In the distraction as I was putting away my wallet, I zipped up my purse and we boarded the metro. At every stop more and more passengers were boarding. Many students were loading and unloading; it was uncomfortably cramped and impossible to move.
As a group of French students exited, I called out for them to be careful. A young man turned back and. in a mocking voice. repeated what I said (he was a suspect). We were almost at our exit when I noticed my purse was unzipped. I quickly rummaged through it looking for my wallet, but it was gone! Father Leonard attempted to calm me down, “Wait until we exit the metro to take a better look.” Sitting on a city bench I unloaded everything out of my handbag. But still no wallet; two credit cards and all my euros and American money gone, and it was only day two! What happened? I knew I zipped up my purse. Did that smart mouthed kid lift it from the metro ride? Only God knows.
Mike
I had to make a call to Mike back home to break the bad news. He had to cancel my cards. This was a Marian Journey with hectic travel plans of one-day stops, so it was impossible for him to wire me money.
The Dinner
Dinner that night was most unpleasant. By this time Joanne had gotten wind of our metro adventure. With every bite came a deserving reprimand. Seriously, even dessert was not spared the lecture. Father was texting me to lift my spirits, but it did not work. This incident did not take away from my spiritual blessings of the day. The only thing that saddened me was the crystal rosary that I purchased in Lourdes; it was in my wallet.
One Hundred Dollars
Father Leonard gave me a 100 dollar bill, and I promised to pay once we got home. There was some sort of problem with the French not accepting American $100 bills due to counterfeits. So I had to wait about a week later to go to a bank. Not having money for a shopper like me was a hard lesson in humility. No rosaries, holy medals, or shoes. It was painful to pass shoe stores. I dared not ask anyone for a loan for something material.
St. Catherine Labouré
The following day we were on the Rue du Bac to visit the Church of St. Catherine Labouré, an incorruptible. An incorruptible means that after a body is exhumed it is found to be intact; it did not decompose. In 1830 St. Catherine experienced visitations of the Blessed Mother and was given instructions to design a medal of Mary that is known as ” The Miraculous Medal.” This medal is a simple sign of the inner devotion the wearer has to Mary and her Son Jesus (Rev 12:1). St. Catherine’s body is located on the right side of the main altar of the church. We prayed there and stayed awhile to take in the holiness.
The Meals
I could not purchase food, so I packed part of my complimentary breakfast for lunch. Our ministry had practiced this for as long as I can remember; we even bring plastic bags from home for our lunches. We do this not only to save money but because most of the time our schedule is so hectic that we have no time to eat.
The autoroutes in France offer easy access to restaurants/gas stations, and the food is really quite tasty and fresh and the lattes are wonderful. Most of the time Father Leonard treated me to a latte. These stops are similar to our rest stops but much better equipped. From Paris we journeyed on to Lisieux!
My Prayer
Dear Lord, I thank You for all Your wonderful provisions. Adapting to travel without funds was teaching me to depend on You for everything. Amen.
