Sunday, March 16, 2014

Silly Reya

Some days I look forward to my trip to Paris with every ounce of my being. The city, the river, the parks and that big tower, you know - the food, wine, history - and especially the camaraderie of friends from DC who will also be there, and the company of a friend who lives in London, who is coming over for a day. What is not to love about it? It's a dream trip. I've been strongly called by Paris for more than two years.

Except, I fret about it, too. Because fretting comes naturally.

Also I wonder why I'm going, other than the have fun part of course. It's going to be a difficult week astrologically. Maybe it will be a great time to get the hell outta Dodge during the precise grand cross of April/May 2014. The week might turn out to be as much about leaving DC as it will be about going to Paris. Who knows?

I'm guessing the spiritual aspect of the trip will involve communing with my ancestors, in particular my Aunt Edie who lived in Paris from right after WWII until her death about ten years ago. Also, Paris is the City of Light. What do I always say? Let there be light. Hence I will take in the magical light. Is that a soul retrieval? I wonder.

There's something, too, about testing self confidence, a quality that my spirit and animal guides, particularly Grandfather Eagle, have encouraged me to develop for many years. Paris can be an intimidating city.

I want to be respectful even knowing that I will make many a cultural mistake. It's inevitable that I will laugh too loudly, or miss the cues of body language that would usually help me understand appropriate behavior. I will murder the French language, of course. My clothes, my manner - everything about me - could, conceivably, offend the delicate sensibilities of the Parisians.  I understand! I have to contend with tourists all the time. I don't blame them for wanting to visit Washington DC, but dealing with them can be so annoying. It's very hard to share the nation's capital with the rest of the nation - the rest of the world, in fact.

I'm sure that sharing Paris with the world can't be a whole lot of fun either. Hence I'm trying to figure out what to wear, I'm practicing my French phrases and so forth.

I hope not to slink around in shame because I'm an American. I hope to stand up straight, walk tall, remember to be polite. This is the best I can do, and if I can do this, that would be nice.

This is the kind of thing I worry about at night. Silly Reya. Silly, silly Reya.


  1. Your time there will be short, like a dream.

  2. A week will be a long dream for me. I hardly ever leave DC for that long. But yes I bet when I get home it will feel like a dream. Cool to think about!

  3. You are being very silly like you say. You are the epitome of class...

  4. It's normal to be worried before a trip! I always worry a little before I travel. But Parisians are MUCH friendlier and more accommodating than the world gives them credit for being. I've never had a problem in Paris, and I murder the language too. The point is, we TRY, and I think that's all they want to see -- an effort on our part to work with their culture. You know?

    I am looking forward to seeing you!

  5. You'll be a charming visitor! Most of the time, I enjoyed the D.C. tourists. It was fun to tell strangers about the cool museum exhibit that nobody goes to see, or where the FBI building was, or, "Yes, that WAS the President waving at us!" (I got to say that once, in the first Bush administration--the older George liked the tourists, and regularly was driven slowly down the street, waving at the summer visitors--a big departure from Reagan.)

    Parisians will enjoy your enjoyment of Paris.

  6. Interesting. I've been reading a book of essays about France, and Paris is much addressed. The writer was a French correspondent for the New York Times, and it's a little dated but it's providing me with some insight.

    Know what I think? Based on my fantastically limited knowledge of the subject, and based on my limited day exploring Paris years ago because of a layover, I think the Parisians are gonna dig you. I encountered not one rude person in Paris. I think -- and this is coming from people I met in South Africa and Botswana (where I was headed) that it's because I did not behave like a typical American, nor look like one, apparently. You're avant-garde. Parisians love that.

    Excited for you!

  7. I love every one of these comments! Thank you!