Another day in Paris: Arc de Triomphe, Eiffel Tower, Champs Elysees

It has been quite some time since I posted.  Then I've been having problems with getting posts published.  I THINK I have solved the problem.  We'll see if anyone gets this post.  This is my last day in Paris, but not the last post on it.  My experience on the Eiffel tower deserves its own post.  

These photos were taken on the Champs Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe, the River Seine, and the Eiffel Tower.

The Champs Elysees

Arc de Triomphe

View from the Arc de Triomphe

Atop the Arc de Triomphe

View of the Champs Elysees from the Arc de Triomphe

Underbelly of the famous Arch

Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold by C.S. Lewis

When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about the joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces? (Till We Have Faces)

Most people are familiar with C. S. Lewis' famous books, The Chronicles of Narnia.  If they haven't read the books, they may have seen the movies, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and Prince Caspian.  

Others may have read his Science Fiction trilogy, Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra and That Hideous Strength.

If you haven't read those books, I can't recommend them enough.  Especially if you're an adult and a huge fan of science fiction, I recommend Lewis' Space Trilogy.  I have friends who prefer it over his Narnia Chronicles.  

This review, however, is about a lessor known work of Lewis.  It is a retelling of the Greek myth, Psyche and Cupid.  When I was a young teenager, this was probably my favorite Greek myth because it was so romantic.  For those unfamiliar with the story here it is briefly:

Psyche is a young woman, the youngest of three daughters.  All the daughters are beautiful, but Psyche is the most beautiful.  In fact she is so breathtaking that men start to worship her and neglect the alters of Aphrodite.  Aphrodite notices this and determines to destroy Psyche.  She sends her son Cupid to earth to cause her to fall in love with a hideous monster who presumedly will eat her. 

 Cupid comes to earth and enters Psyche's room.  When he sees her, he falls deeply in love with her and instead of doing what his mother tells him to, he takes her away to a palace where he keeps her as his wife.

The catch is that for the time being, he only comes to her in secret at night.  She may not see who he is and has to have faith that he is truly a beloved husband that loves her.

Psyche is OK with this until her sisters come to visit.  They persuade Psyche that her husband is really a horrible monster that is planning on eating her.  They convince her that her only hope is to kill him in his sleep.

Psyche determines to do this, but when she lights a candle in order to see, she realizes that her husband is not a hideous monster but the manifestation of love itself, Cupid.  Cupid wakes to see Psyche looking at him, holding a knife and departs.  His parting words are, "Love cannot exist without faith."

Lewis takes this theme but turns it into a metaphor for something real and greater: an eternal love story between God and mankind.

The story is told through the eyes of a woman, now old, named Orual.  She wants her side of the story told because she believes that she is unfairly accused of what transpired between her and her younger sister, Psyche.  

Psyche and Orual are the daughters of a ruler of a pagan land, contemporary with the ancient Greeks.  They worship a goddess, Ungit.  Due to their father's inept ruling and drought, it is decided that Ungit wants a sacrifice.  Only the most beautiful and pure of heart will qualify.  Orual is disqualified because she is considered too ugly.  In fact, her father thinks her so ugly that she takes to wearing a veil across her face for the rest of her life.

Psyche on the other hand, is very beautiful.  Not only is she lovely to look at, but she is kind and compassionate as well.  She willingly goes as a sacrifice out of a sincere desire to help the people of her country.

For many days after Psyche is left alone on a mountain, Orual is sick and bedridden.  When she is able to get up, she rushes to the mountainside where Psyche was left.  When she arrives, she is surprised and delighted to discover that Psyche is alive and well, living on the mountain.

When Orual questions Psyche about how she is able to survive by herself on a desolate mountain, Psyche informs her that she is not alone.  She is married to the God of the mountain.  Orual demands to see her palace.  Psyche tells her they are standing in front of it.  Orual sees nothing but mountain and trees and decides that Psyche is crazy.

A hot debate ensues between Psyche and Orual ending with Orual demanding to know what the God of the Mountain looks like.  Psyche admits that she is forbidden to look at him.    Orual uses this piece of information to wedge a chink of doubt into Psyche's heart.  

Orual wants Psyche to return with her so they can continue to live as sisters.  She begs and cajoles Psyche proclaiming her great love for her and that she is living a lie and a delusion. There is no God of the mountain, and she is really living with a monster who is biding his time to kill her. Why a monster who would have nothing to lose would take so long and take such good care of his supposed victim, Orual refuses to explain.

 Finally, to prove her sincerity and ardor, Orual takes her knife and thrusts it through her own arm.  This so shocks Psyche that she agrees to Orual's demands.  Namely, to take a candle and look upon her husband to see if he is really a monster or not.

Pysche disappears to fulfill this.  In a moment, Orual hears a heart rending scream.  Not of someone who has seen a monster, but of someone who realizes they have lost the most precious thing in the world to them.  

For a brief moment, Orual looks up to see a huge palace and Psyche walking away, her hands covering her face, sobbing.  Then she sees a man walking up to her. He informs her that "Psyche goes into exile" and that Orual "shall know herself and her work" and "also shall be Psyche".

Orual interprets this to mean that she will share in Psyche's punishment.  She returns home, and shortly after, on her father's death, becomes ruler of the country.  

Unlike her father, she proves herself to be an able, just and wise ruler and her country soon prospers.  But she lives a lonely life, always covered with her veil because of her ugliness.

Interestingly, many of the women she knew as a youth, she realizes that after they married and had children, they no longer stayed beautiful but their husbands still were devoted to them.  She slowly comes to realize that she allowed her father's cruel words to determine her own value and self-perception.

In her old age, Orual comes across a shrine in a forest dedicated to the worship of Psyche.  She listens to the priest tell the story and realizes that she, Orual, is presented as the villain.  She explains that is why she has written her narrative.  So she can be vindicated.

But something happens as she writes the story.  She begins to see what she really did and the final part of the book ends with Oraul accusing the God but suddenly realizing what she actually did:

You stole [Psyche] to make her happy, did you? Why, every wheedling, smiling, catfooted rogue who lures away another man's wife or slave or dog might say the same. Dog, now. That's very much to the purpose. I'll thank you to let me feed my own; it needed no titbits from your table. Did you ever remember whose the girl was? She was mine. Mine." (292; Part II, Ch.3). 

And that is the crux right there.  Finally Orual admits to herself that she was angry with the God of the mountain for taking what she believed was hers.  That it cost Psyche her husband, her happiness, her life, mattered not at all.  She wanted Psyche back because she believed that Psyche belonged to her.

As she confesses her selfish motives a dawning revelation shatters everything she thought she knew and made her bitter.  Psyche never belonged to her.  She belonged to the God of the mountain.  She always belonged to Him.  She stole that which belonged to Someone else.

And not only that, Orual also belonged to Him.  When she finally gives up her selfish rebellion against him, she has a vision where Psyche returns to greet her at a river.  She looks into the river and sees that she, too, is as beautiful as Psyche.  She also is the bride of God.

The metaphor is that the original goddess, Ungit, is man rebelling against their true God.  Instead of having a relationship that is so deep and personal that it is compared to marriage with Him, they choose instead to worship and enslave themselves to something that is not real.  Their sinful nature makes horrible barbaric demands on themselves and others that they attribute to the goddess.

The writing of Till We Have Faces is in the formal, grave manner of ancient Greek stories.  The text is pure Lewis with all the perspicuity, charm and wit that all his stories contain.  One will need to read the original myth first, I think, and also understand the scripture:

For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name; and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth he is called. Isaiah 54:5

Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure”— for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints. And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are the true words of God." Revelation 19:7-9

Till We Have Faces is the last book C.S. Lewis wrote.  His inspiration was his wife, Joy Davidman, to whom he dedicated the novel.

$8.52 on Kindle:

Further links:

Heroic Orual and the tasks of Psyche

Bride of Christ scripture

C.S. Lewis and the numinous of relationships

https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2072983-till-we-have-faces

Paris: Day two

No emails to share this time.  I'll just describe the photos and what I remember about them.

The Louvre

The Winged Victory of Samothrace:  Nike

Rodin sculpture inside the entrance to the Louvre

The Seine

You can see Notre Dame Cathedral in the distance.

Notre Dame Cathedral

The thing that struck me about Notre Dame was its powerful presence.

The park behind Notre Dame was a great place for lunch.  It also had free wifi.

Gargoyles

Inside Notre Dame

                        We were privileged to witness mass.

Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley

Halloween is over but who says I can't write another review on a scary book.  Besides, Frankenstein can't be said to be a "Halloween" book in the sense that those kinds of books involve the supernatural.  Frankenstein is not a horror book in that sense, but it is a deeply psychological, disturbing account of one woman's idea of humanity.

A young scientist, Victor Frankenstein, becomes obsessed with the idea of creating life.  He neglects his family, friends and himself for over a year until he finally achieves what he has devoted every waking hour to accomplish.

The moment his creature comes to life, Frankenstein is immediately horrified at what he has done.  He deserts his creation and tries to forget about him.  As time goes by, he becomes hopeful that his horrible creation has simply gone away.  He soon discovers his mistake when the creature murders his younger brother and frames the nanny, who hangs for the crime.

The creature eventually  approaches Frankenstein and fills him in on all that he's been doing since Frankenstein abandoned him.  What follows is the thrust of the entire novel.  The monster pours out his heart to Frankenstein.  The reader discovers that the monster is intelligent, articulate, eloquent and desperately lonely.  His yearnings and desires are the same as humans.  He longs to be loved and to belong to people.

But his looks make him an outcast.  All who see him are repelled by him.  Not only repulsed but develop an absolute hatred for him and try to kill him.  No one asks questions first.  They all believe he should be destroyed based purely on his exterior appearance.  This point is clear  when the monster meets a blind man with whom he has a conversation and who shows him kindness and compassion.  So it's not his personality or any primitive thinking or behavior on the monster's part that turns people against him.

The rejection and murderous antipathy against him enrages the monster and makes him desperate.  He demands that Frankenstein make him a mate so he will not be desolate.  This at first Frankenstein agrees to do but later destroys the woman creature before he brings her to life.  The reason is because he fears that together they would create a race of fearsome "uber creatures"  that could potentially take over the world.

In revenge, the monster kills directly or inadvertently, every family member and friend of Frankenstein's, including his bride on their wedding night.

What I find interesting is that it is not considered wrong by Frankenstein or anyone else to try to murder the monster (or "creature" or "daemon" or "fiend" as he is also called-but never "Frankenstein") based solely on the fact that he is grotesque looking.  But Frankenstein asserts that the reason his creation deserves to be destroyed is because of the crimes he has committed.  The monster did not commit any of these crimes until after his isolation and alienation drove him to it.  I'm not justifying what the monster did but only trying to point out the double standard.

Now that he is equally alone and desperate, Frankenstein's one purpose in life is to destroy what he made.  He hunts the monster all over the world.  The monster stays just out of reach, but not so far that Frankenstein gives up.

Both the monster and Frankenstein end up in the arctic regions of the world where they are discovered by the captain of an ice bound ship.  By this time, Frankenstein has driven himself beyond his strength and health.  He collapses and is taken aboard the ship where, dying,  he relates the entire story to the Captain, who is the original narrator of the book.

When he dies, the monster appears in the Cabin and confronts the captain.  Upon learning that Frankenstein's vengeful obsession has finally killed him, the monster bounds out of the window of the cabin and disappears...to end his own life?  Who knows.

Mary Shelley started writing this book when she was nineteen and it was published when she was twenty-one.  Her husband, Percy Blythe Shelley heavily edited the novel but an edition came out in 2008 that removed Percy's additions and contains only Mary's original story.  It would be interesting to compare.

I looked up the origins of Prometheus.  In Greek mythology he was a titan who brought fire to the human race.  For doing so he was punished by being chained to a rock where an eagle would come and devour his liver every day.  Prometheus also came to symbolize the human quest for scientific knowledge when it over reaches itself.

I am not sure what Shelley's point was in writing the story (other than her dream and the writing contest she participated in one night in Geneva with her husband and other writers).  She was not a Christian but she seems to implicate God in some respects.  Is she saying that man's fall from Eden was due to their Creator's rejection of them? Is she saying man shouldn't try to play God?  

Does she believe in the human soul or that life can be created without it?  Did the monster have a soul?   If there is no soul, then what makes murder wrong?  You've simply turned an animate life form into an inanimate one.  What makes life valuable?  Surely more than the need to simply preserve the human race.

What she does successfully portray, either intentionally or not, is humanity without mercy or compassion for the desperate or the fallen.  Frankenstein's abhorrence of his creation seems to be based on the presumption that he himself is not fallen.  The Bible says all are desperately wicked. Romans 3:23

I compare this to the life of Jesus who forgave even the most sinful when they fell at his feet in repentance. 

If Mary Shelley's book typifies secular philosophy then even though it maintains a certain moral code,  it certainly provides no hope for those who can't keep to that code.

.99 on Kindle

The Fountain Head and Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand Guest Post: Joshua Wilfong

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  A friend of mine asked if I had ever read Ayn Rand. I said, "No. Wasn't she a proponent of the "elephants should rule the ants" philosophy? I asked him if he had read her books and what did he think of them. The following is his response.

  
  

  The Fountainhead focuses on personal talent and individualism. The protagonist is a talent visionary architect who refuses to adapt his designs to meet cultural norms. This works because he is a genius. The establishment is painted as lazy and lacking creativity.

  I always worry about this kind of encouragement of self direction. It works great if you are a genius but most of us are not. Her main point is the ability of a single human to succeed on their own merit and without support from society. This sentiment was echoed in other works of the time such as "Rollerball" (a movie about a sport player who was so good he didn't need a his team to win, and how he was hated for it).

  Her main Characters are examples of the spectrum of submission to society. Some wish they could be Roark (the architect) or fight him but, all represent levels of personal compromise (some simply lack talent and can only survive by copying established ideas).

  In the end all of Roark's horrible actions are validated by how talented and smart he is.

  Atlas Shrugged echoes some of these ideas on a corporate and national scale. The title discusses what would happen if the titans who hold up the world shrugged and walked away.

  Topics such as subsidies for companies that can't compete are discussed. The heroes are innovators who work hard to protect their businesses from overtaxing by the government and weak competitors who cry for "fairness."

  "Looters" is the term for people who break down monopolies or demand "fairness" in business. Nationalization is taken to extreme examples. The idea is that a business must fight to stay on top and if another can do it better then, naturally, the first will go away.

  Overall, Rand's examples are unbalanced and do support the Elephant idea you mentioned. I enjoyed cheering for the brave, smart, handsome heroes as they fight convention and an overbearing government. But, the untalented are cast to the side and there is little room for compassion. It fails to satisfy my Christian pallet.

  
  

  This is the first time I've posted a book review on my blog about books I've never read. If you have read these books, please share your opinions. 
  
  Joshua has his own blog where he kept a travelogue of his time in Antartica. You can visit it at: MacGuffin Hunting

  
  

Paris: First day

The following post is from an email I sent family and friends while in Europe.

Window in our hostel room

  We flew in to Paris a bottle of shampoo, bottle of lotion, and tube of sunscreen poorer. Going through security in the Basel airport, the man at Air France looked sadly at me and said "ne pass pas."   I didn't even think about the security.  If we had taken the train we would have been allowed to keep our humble articles of hygiene.  Oh well.  As usual, Derek got patted down before being allowed to board the plane.  I told him the security personnel take one look at his pecs and can't resist. (My, what beeg muzzles you have, beeg boy!)

If Paris was the first place we had visited on our Europe trip, I would have gotten back on the plane and flown home.  The metro into town was crazy.  When we got onto the street I couldn't believe how crowded it was.  Worse than New York.  We struggled our way through the throng and finally found our hostel.  A very old building with uneven stairs and a sloping floor in our room.

 View outside our room.  Next to the McDonalds is a Turkish falafel shop.  I had my last meal in Paris there.  Wonderful way to end the trip.

I was feeling very discouraged, when a miracle happened.  We left our hotel and looked for a place to eat.  Next door was a pastry shop.  We entered...into a shop?  No...a heavenly place where people go to know what food truly tastes like.

I thought the Italians knew how to cook.  They know how to cook pasta.  The French win baking hands down.  Derek ate a chicken and ham quiche and some magical concoction that involved bread, melted cheese and more ham.  Oh my goodness!!!  The food melted in our mouths, to coin a phrase.

Our room.  The shower flooded the tiny bathroom the first time one of us showered. The shower nozzle was a rabid maniac possessing a demonic soul.  We learned to keep a firm grip on it while we showered or it would flail about like a snake on steroids.

(And flood the bathroom.)

 I had a salad that contained more ingredients than I could count.  Who knew a salad could be a three course meal? We were so full afterward, we waddled our way back to the Metro to go downtown.  But not before I helped steer a Russian couple in the right direction to their subway.  Traveling has done things to me.  One hour in Paris and I am already helping give others directions.

More photos outside out hostel

 And by the way, I don't know where people think Parisians are rude.  I still have two days to go and things could change, but all the French I have met have been very friendly.

Case 1:  After we got off the train from the airport that took us to downtown Paris,  we had to change trains underground. We were clueless.  Our directions said to go to train two on level two.  What level were we on?  Where's level two?  Up or down?  

I asked a woman next to me in my execrable French for directions.  She answered me in her execrable English which left us both confused.  Finally, she said, "Eh.  I take next train."

 She then grabbed me by the arm and escorted us up two flights of stairs and down a labyrinth of halls, through a turnstile (using her own ticket for herself-that cost her a ride) and brought us to the right train.  The whole time she gave us advice:  "Hold purse close.  Wherez map?  Keep. Put everything in purse, hold close etc.."

   She looked at me and smiled.  "OK?"

    We all said, "Merci beaucoup!"  

She said, "Cool!"  and walked back to her train, which I'm sure she missed and had to take the next one.

Case 2:  That night when we returned to the subway to go down 
town we were trying to figure out how to buy our tickets from a machine (we had metro passes but they started the next day.)  

Two young men came up behind us and asked us where we wanted to go.  They then held our hand, figuratively speaking, and walked us through the whole procedure.  Then off they went after they helped us.

"Merci beacoup!"  we called after them.

Legion of Honor museum.  Interesting to see how many Americans were awarded it:  Generals Pershing, MacArthur, and Eisenhower to name a few.

Case 3:  We're getting on the train.  A man had watched us study the map.  "You want to go where?"

We told him.  "Get off this train and go to the other side." 

"Merci beaucoup!"

Street next to Musee d'Orsay below.  In the distance, on the right is the bakery where Derek and I bought our lunch.  Next to that shop was a tiny store where I bought a couple of t-shirts.  I was dressed too warmly so I bought them to wear.  They had no dressing room but the lady who worked there brought two racks of clothes together and I changed behind them.  I'm not sure I would have gotten away with that in the U.S. but "Vive la France!"

Others helped us find the Eiffel Tower.  Interestingly, nobody knows what you mean when you say "Eiffel Tower".  They say "Tour en Fer".  Of course our horrible pronunciation probably didn't help.

In the Legion of Honor Museum

After seeing the most awesome Cathedral in the world, Notre Dame-and that's saying a lot because we've seen St. Peter's Basilica in Rome and the Duomo in Milan- and listening to a concert in front of Notre Dame, we made our way to the "Tour en  Fer".  We wanted to see it at night.  It was worth it.  When the lights first come on, they sparkle like a huge Christmas tree for several minutes before settling down and glowing in the night.  Can't describe it.  Gorgeous! (I don't have any photos  of Notre Dame or the Eiffel Tower for this post because I forgot to bring my camera that evening. However, I took photos when I returned to those places.  I'll show them in future posts.)

Legion of Honor Museum

 At 11 PM we returned to the dreaded subway, although we were feeling more confident at this time.  Our tickets had expired and we had no more change.  Ethan was all for crawling under the turn stile.  Lisa was considering it.  I told them to stay there.  I ran up to level ground and looked around.  There was a gift store a block away on the corner.  I ran to the store, blindly picked ten postcards (only 2 euros, a steal!)  Brought them to the clerk and said, "Please give me change in coins, I need them for the subway."

Louvre across the Seine

The man behind the counter was a cutie and he knew it. He said, "Only for you because you are zoooooo zweeet!!!"

I said, "Thank you soooooo much!!"

He said, "You are welcome zoooooo much!"

Playground on the Seine

 I ran back down the street, down the stairs, to the subway where Lisa, Ethan and Derek were waiting for me.  We bought our tickets and prayed there were still trains running.  There were and we got home safe and sound and collapsed in our beds.  

This morning we filled up on croissants and excellent coffee and are on our way to the Musee d'Orsay and maybe the Louvre, depending on how we feel after the first museum.  At least Derek and I are.  Lisa and Ethan are spending the day at Paris Disney.  

Riverwalk by the Seine.  

Before going to the museum we found a small bakery shop down the street from the museum.  Derek got some kind of ham and cheese concoction and I got a baguette filled with three different kinds of cheeses:  Brie, Swiss, some hard cheese that was incredible, topped off with lettuce and tomato.  This baguette was about a foot long so I told Derek he could have what I didn't finish.

Didn't happen.  I ate the whole thing.  I couldn't stop.  Will I ever eat this well again after I leave France?  Doubtful.  Need to savor what I can.

 Like Venice, honeymooners like to place their locks on the bridges that cross the Seine and throw the key into the river.

After the museum, Derek and I walked up and down the Seine, talking and enjoying the scenery.  A woman walked by us, stopped suddenly, and acted surprised.  She picked up a golden ring off the sidewalk and looked at us.  "Yourz?"  she asked.

Luckily I had already read about this scam.  A person pretends to find a golden ring and you both agree to sell it and split the difference.  The catch is, you have to give them money as collateral.  Yeah, right.

I said, "No thanks" in my most sardonic tone and we walked on.

Musee d'Orsay.  It used to be a train station.  This is where the French Impressionist art is kept.  There was only one Manet.  The rest were on exhibition in Venice.  Grrr...

The Tuileries Garden.  It is across the Seine from the Musee d'Orsay and sandwiched in-between the Louvre and the Orangerie Museum where Monet's "Water Lillies"  paintings are kept.

Derek and I spent a good bit of the afternoon sitting in the Tuileries garden.  There's hundreds of scenic spots to just sit and breath in the garden scents, people watch and just enjoy the peaceful environment.

Derek told me that just sitting and talking for hours with me was his favorite part of our trip.  I think he enjoyed both of us being alone for a change.

 Me at the Tuileries

Scenes from the Tuileries

The Louvre

The entrance is through the glass pyramid.

After spending most of the afternoon at the Tuileries, I told Derek that I wanted to see what we could of the Louvre before it closed.  We had a two day pass but I knew the Louvre was big and we would need to see what we could today.  

 My son, the ham.  He just can't resist.

We had less than two hours but we managed to reach the Mona Lisa.  She's a very popular lady.  We worked our way through the tight mass of tourists and got our pictures taken in front of her.

It was strange.  I've seen so many prints of this painting that I had to remind myself that this time I was viewing the original.

Moi in front of the Mona Lisa or "Gioconda"

 Derek in front of the Mona Lisa

And the lady by herself.

Incredible first day.  We didn't see Lisa and Ethan until extremely late.  We all slept soundly in our little room with the uneven floor and flooded bathroom.