Sunday, January 7, 2007

The Chapel of our Lady of the Miraculous Medal in Paris

I emerged from this Metro stop on Rue de Bac.
I emerged from the Rue du Bac Metro station here.  After walking out the Metro, you just have to find the Rue du Bac street sign and walk into it.  Coming up the stairs, it’s to your right.  The Shrine’s website will advise you to take this Metro stop but it would be easier to head for the Rue de Sevres station and then find Rue du Bac from there.  If you choose the Rue de Sevres route, your landmark is Le Bon Marche.  Rue du Bac is the street separating it’s two corners.
The nondescript gate to the Chapel premises is something you have to watch out for..
It’s quite a walk from the Rue de Bac Metro Station to this point.  (Probably a walk under 10 minutes.)  The shrine’s entrance is on the right side.  Unlike most Churches, you will not find a courtyard or a steeple visible from the street.  Rue du Bac itself is a two-lane street so you don’t have much of a line of sight and have to watch out for this entrance way.  I visited the shrine on my own because Alan had started working in the home office already when I went.  I just had to find it.
The Le Bon Marche walkway which is just meters away from the shrine.
This is the overpass between the two buildings of Le Bon Marche on either side of Rue du Bac.  Once it’s visible, keep looking to your right where the Chapel is.  If you walk past this, you missed the entrance.  You will pass many stores and other establishments walking the length of Rue du Bac.  The hustle and bustle near Le Bon Marche, however, is more frenetic, so you would know you missed it once you hit major street traffic.
The way beyond the gate into the Chapel
There is an information center on the right side once you enter the premises.  There are sisters who will be willing to help you out with any questions.  In fact when I was there, there was even a Filipino nun whom I greeted with “Kamusta po?”, although it was a different nun who attended to me in another window.  Various literature, from the history of the apparitions, the life of St. Catherine, how to pray the rosary, etc., are available for free.
The entrance to the Chapelle
This is the entrance to the Chapelle which is closed when a mass is going on.  Your best chance to participate in the Eucharistic celebration is to go up the tribune instead, whose entrance is on the other side across the way.
This sign across from the doorway to the Chapel tells you how to go up to the other levels
This is the directional sign to the higher levels of the chapel.  Walk up and you have a choice of the second or third level.
The stairwell going up
Be careful not to trip on the way up.  The door to the second level was already closed when I went up and there are guides who will tell you if you can still go in.  Otherwise, you have the third level where I went.
I ended up going to the third floor wing to hear the noon mass because the grnd flr was already full
This is a view from the third floor.  It’s a relatively small chapel and very new, but you are almost sure to see only Catholics here as it is a pilgrimage destination and not exactly a tourist spot.  Given the miracle of St. Catherine Labour and her visions of the Blessed Virgin, you have to be a believer to make this a stop.  I was fortunate enough to have caught the midday mass.
A view of the altar from above, with St. Catherine Labour's remains in a glass coffin on the right
This is the entrance to the Chapelle which is closed when a mass is going on.  Your best chance to participate in the Eucharistic celebration is to go up the tribune instead, whose entrance is on the other side across the way.
A view of the altar from the second level
After the mass, I went down to the second level and took this picture.  Only the center portion directly in front of the altar is open to the public.  The seating on the sides is controlled and presumably open only during Sundays or holy days of obligation.
The second level with a particular view of the third level wing from where I heard mass
Another shot from the second level showing the upper third level where I took the pictures looking down.
A view of the second and third level from the ground floor of the chapel
Finally, I made my way down to the main level.  It’s a solemn atmosphere although the faithful also take pictures.  You feel the solemnity of the place and there is enough room to make your way to the altar where two saints lie in perpetual repose.  On the right side where I was was the glass coffin housing the remains of St. Catherine whose body did not decompose.
The side altar
This is the side altar on the right side.
A view of the main altar from the sidelines on the ground floor
A shot of the main altar from the righthand side.  Postcards, literature and other religious items such as the medal in different sizes and quantities are available from a store just outside the chapel.  There is even a portion which is essentially operated on an “honor system”.  You get what you want and just drop your payment in a box.
Walking away from the shrine, this is the view you can expect if you come from Rue de Sevres
Walking away from the shrine, this is what you will see as you walk away from the Chapel and onto the Rue de Sevres.  You really have to seek it out because it’s tucked away in its tiny corner. 
 
Posted by PINAY NEW YORKER at 17:25:25 | Permalink | Comments (2)

Saturday, December 30, 2006

Jeannie et Adrien

Avertissement : Ce poteau entier a été à l’origine écrit en anglais et traduit par le traducteur de Google. Il fait un pardon littéral de traduction ainsi le Français, littéralement. J’essaye un poteau français au profit de mon jeune ami, Adrien, qui ne lit pas ou ne parle pas l’anglais.

Caveat: This whole post was originally written in English and translated through Google Translator.  It does a literal translation so pardon the French (literally).  I am attempting a French post for the benefit of my young friend, Adrien, who doesn’t read or speak English.

Une des choses que j’ai essayé de faire pendant mon dernier voyage en France était d’essayer et rencontrer une partie du peuple j’ai rencontré en ligne. Il y avait de Kala qui est un membre du groupe de Pinoy Expat mais qui était occupé avec une soeur des USA à Paris le même temps j’étais. J’ai essayé d’atteindre dehors à l’autre qui s’étaient arrêtés par Pinay New Yorker une fois avant pour s’enquérir de quelque chose que j’avais écrite environ. Alors il y avait de Jeannie, qui, bien que nous n’ayons pas vraiment projeté sur n’importe quoi concret, était réellement le seul que je suis parvenu à rencontrer.

Jeannie avait habité à Paris avec son fils Adrien pendant plus de dix années et avait de façon ou d’autre trébuché sur mon blog ici. Nous avons jamais vraiment placé un moment et un endroit mais l’avons maintenu flexible — il s’avère cela a établi mieux pour nos programmes. Elle a eu son fils dans le remorquage quand nous nous sommes réunis — un dix-année-vieux jeune homme dont les dispositifs philippins sont indubitables, mais dont le sang français est également évident. Un jeune garçon très beau en effet !

Le dîner fini chez L’Alsace, un des restaurants plus agréables le long des champions Elysees, Jeannie et moi a parlé au sujet de la maternité, de la maison absente et d’une future visite à Paris et pour elles, à New York. Un « Igorota » véritable par sa propre admission, Jeannie rayonne quand elle parle de sa maison aux Philippines : Baguio. Nous avons parlé comme si nous étions deux longs amis perdus qui ont trouvé un un autre encore, mais il est la première fois que nous toujours vraiment rai et yeux étendus sur l’un l’autre.
 
Adrien s’est patiemment reposé avec nous même si il ne pourrait comprendre rien sa maman et je disais dans le Tagalog ou l’anglais. Nous avons fait une affaire pour qu’il étudie l’anglais, et pour que je travaille à mon Français, de sorte que quand nous nous revoyons (si tout va bien bientôt), nous puissions parler entre eux. Il a souri qui le sourire beau à lui qui a montré une fossette espiègle sur son visage.
 
Jeannie l’a bien élevé. Il était well-mannered et très tolérant de nous même si nous prenions notre temps avec le repas et échangions des histoires. La mère et le fils sont inséparables, et elles étaient assez généreuses pour m’avoir apporté de nouveau à mon hôtel, même si je parvenais à obtenir Jeannie confus avec mes directions à la rue de Berri. Mais elle m’y est arrivé. Tout que j’ai apporté avec moi était le bagoong j’ai apporté — un collègue d’Alan qui a habité à Paris pendant des décennies nous avait dit son une demande était bagoong parce que le magasin philippin local ne l’a pas porté, et quand j’ai obtenu à Alan son bagoong, je me suis assuré que j’en ai apporté pour Jeannie.
 
Quand nous avons séparé nous avons déjà fait des plans pour un daytrip à Bruges en Belgique — pendant la fois prochaine ! En attendant, Adrien et moi en ont étudiant pour faire. Si tout va bien quand nous nous réunissons encore, nous pourrons parler entre eux sans traduction de Jeannie.

One of the things I tried to do during my last trip to France was to try and meet up with some of the people I have encountered online.  There was Kala who is a member of the Pinoy Expat group but who was busy with a sister from the US in Paris the same time I was.  I tried to reach out to another who had stopped by Pinay New Yorker once before to ask about something I had written about.  Then there was Jeannie, who, although we didn’t really plan on anything concrete, was actually the only one I managed to meet up with.

Jeannie has been living in Paris with her son Adrien for more than ten years and had somehow stumbled upon my blog here.  We never really set a time and place but kept it flexible — it turns out that worked out best for our schedules.  She had her son in tow when we met — a ten-year-old young man whose Filipino features are unmistakable, but whose French blood is also apparent.  A very handsome young boy indeed!

Over dinner at L’Alsace, one of the nicer restaurants along the Champs Elysees, Jeannie and I spoke about motherhood, missing home and a future visit to Paris and for them, to New York.  A genuine “Igorota” by her own admission, Jeannie beams when she talks about her home in the Philippines: Baguio.  We talked as if we were two long lost friends who found one another again, and yet it’s the first time we ever really spoke and laid eyes on each other.

Adrien patiently sat with us even if he couldn’t understand anything his Mom and I said in Tagalog or English.  We made a deal for him to study English, and for me to work on my French, so that when we see each other again (hopefully soon), we would be able to talk to each other.  He smiled that handsome smile of his that showed an impish dimple on his face.

Jeannie raised him well.  He was well-mannered and very tolerant of us even if we took our time with the meal and exchanged stories.  Mother and son are inseparable, and they were generous enough to have brought me back to my hotel, even if I managed to get Jeannie confused with my directions to rue de Berri.  But she got me there.  All I brought with me was the bagoong I brought — a colleague of Alan who has lived in Paris for decades had told us her one request was bagoong because the local Filipino store didn’t carry it, and when I got Alan his bagoong, I made sure I brought some for Jeannie. 

When we parted we already made plans for a daytrip to Brugge in Belgium — for next time!  Meanwhile, Adrien and I have some studying to do.  Hopefully when we meet again, we’ll be able to talk to each other without Jeannie translating.

Posted by PINAY NEW YORKER at 14:43:16 | Permalink | Comments (1) »

Friday, November 24, 2006

Airport Notes

Written on the way to Paris

We were delayed for an hour and a half on board the plane, and when we finally taxied to position, we had 10 planes ahead of us so it took us a while to finally take off.

I like take offs and landings more than the actual plane ride.  It’s the child in me, I guess.  I get all caught up in the whole sequence of the plane creeping into position, revving up and mestering the energy to finally make a run for it, and then as if by magic, it lifts it behemoth of a load off the runway and charges up into the sky.

I like landings because they mean I’m finally where I was heading to, and you can’t help but feel a sense of quiet admiration for the men at the controls who bravely head for the ground and pull this huge machine to a progressive decrease in speed.

I’ve started reading READING LOLITA IN TEHRAN.  I’ts not an easy read because the author is an academic who tells us the story of informail literature classes she conducted with a select group of female students in her living room.. yes, in Iran.

Dinner was served two hours late (which was actually 3 hours delayed considering the wait before taxiing) and breakfast an hour before landing.  The sun is shining in front of us as the sky is begining to turn a lighter shade of blue.  There is a patch of land below.. Paris is not far ahead.

Posted by PINAY NEW YORKER at 12:38:43 | Permalink | No Comments »