the detour - part 1 (KTM -> Paris)

Many of you may already know that part of our December and January were not actually spent in Nepal.  In fact we were in Europe.  Admittedly it was a fair detour (watch this space for the full 'how on earth did we end up in Europe' low-down).  But before I forget let me share our adventures:

Something to with the chaos leading up to our 'detour' and the fact that our airline was called 'Spice Jet' caused uncontrollable laughter as we bounded up the steps aboard the plane.  I'm pretty sure we were laughing well into our flight until the fatigue of the preceding months finally caught up. When we arrived in Delhi O Delhi, though braced for all the India-ness of India, we were shortly over it after encountering a couple of power hungry officials.  So we decided to leave our visa issues til Paris and press on out of the airport into Delhi...

First impressions of India:  Cool taxis!

what the???

Having become the lazy travellors we are, we only ventured as far as our hotel room for our first night in Delhi.  Awed by the television (the first proper sitting for several months) we dined in bed on daal makni, korma paneer and naan, eventually fell asleep watching 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade'.  The next morning, we had enough time to notice a few interesting things, such as 'Aayran Fruit Juice...'

Next leg: Riyadh (the sandy capital of Saudi Arabia, whose name ironically means 'gardens' - two things I recently learned), we looked out the window and saw...sand...and then a grid system...and then an airport...

We were only in Riyadh for 9 hours and didn't leave the terminal, yet still managed to locate a Nepali and leave him with some 'good news'.  I won't lie to you though, I was relieved to be out of there.  It felt like the twilight zone.  

When we arrived in Paris, we were excited!  I felt in a way that I was a naughty child who had run away from home and as soon as my parents would find out, would be whisked back to the third world.

But in any case we were there...

And after a customary luggage haul we arrived at Guy Moquet. We asked for directions and ashamedly answered 'no' when asked if we spoke French.  Interestingly we were not eye-balled or rudely dismissed, rather very nicely shown the way...And so unscathed we arrived at Margaret's apartment building.  At this point we (or perhaps I) stared in wonder at the possibilities of breaking in as Margaret had already left for the morning...We heard some unintelligible noise from behind us and realised it was Margaret's lovely neighbour trying to convey a message...in French...

Side point:  Why did I never learn this language again?  It is a million times easier to learn than Nepali...We had so many conversations about how much French there is in English...or is it the opposite way around?!

Back to story:  So after another nice French lady helped translate, we were in and luxuriating in Margaret's unbelievably visually pleasing apartment (red toilet seat included).

Our first day we spent 'oooing' and 'aaahhhing' as we passed by gorgeous patisseries (cake shops), boulangeries (bread shops), fromageries (cheese shops), even their butcheries are beautiful!  Believe me, after holding our breathe as we walked passed our local goat butcher in Nepal everyday and swearing never to eat meat again, French butcheries seem out of this world!

Palais Garnier
(a couple of English words the French have stolen...perhaps)

La `Seine

La Piramide Inversee

some trees I liked

Alana playing our dinner

 We made our way slowly down to the Seine, and after stopping for a glu-vein (warm spiced wine), then warmed ourselves in Shakespeare & Co. bookshop.  Deciding whether to buy the Ethan Hawk (since when is he a writer?!) novel, or Onegin took longer than anticipated, and when we emerged night had fallen.  We slept early that night and so did not meet Margaret till the following morning.

I emerged in my colour-stained pjs as she was sitting demurely sipping her coffee, reading her daily text and generally looking beautiful. Nothing has changed there.

Margaret

Margaret is a tall, beautiful, vivacious, English sister, who after falling in love with Paris 15? years ago, picked up her life and moved there.  She now serves as a wonderful pioneer in a Tagalog congregation where she towers in her gorgeous heels above the Filipinos brothers and sisters. Yes, truly unforgettable.  Years ago she and her family were neighbours with mine in PNG.  Mum tells me how she never lost her style witnessing around Port Moresby in her high-heels and beautiful self-made threads - > She's my inspiration to serve where the need is great, and look great whilst doing it!

After a quick 'what's happened in the last two year and half years' debrief, Margaret was out the door, off to her English classes and then to her Bible studies.

We then set out (via the boulangerie) to Musee D'Orsay to dwell for a moment among the Impressionists and savour the Noveauness of the Art Noveau...

At this moment I have to say that I completely identify with the idealist in Woody Allen's 'Midnight in Paris'.  You cannot help but romanticise these passed eras shaped by Paris and wish in a way that you had lived in such a time too...

That afternoon we met up with a blast from the past in the form of a Frenchmen I had met in NYC a few years ago.  Damien is serving where the need is great in Paris centre.  He assures me if you see a map of France's territory there is a huge (ok, I don't know if he said 'huge' but a noticeable) red dot on Paris indicating a huge need...His territory (we found out later that evening) includes: Notre Dame, St Germain, the Latin Quarter and other popular tourist destinations.  After sight-seeing, I mean, witnessing, we headed back for blue champagne and salmon with hollandaise sauce at Margaret's -> you remember details like this when you have been living on the 'Daniel and the Three Hebrews' Diet' for 10 months...

Day 3:  Montmartre & Sacre Coeur

I love this statue

Day 4 we were somewhere near a famous arc when bumped into Damien and another crazy American (crazy in a good way -> the crazier, the better, right?...unless it's really crazy), Jamin.  Jamin is serving where the need is great in: Lyon (why didn't I learn French again???).  He has to leave the country every 3 months and so is forced to frequently spend weekends in a places like Morocco...

We bumped into them again at Damien's that night and met some other lovely French brothers and sisters...and even a nice Japanese brother...He was shocked at our Japanese (which consists of the words: 'scissor! paper! rock!', 'cute', 'cool', 'I don't understand', 'would you like something to drink?', 'what's the word again?', 'really' and 'yummy', oh and, 'soybean!' - special thanks to Misa-ji, Ai-chan and Ritz!

me and Prabina

The next day Margaret's Nepali Bible study Prabina came over which was lovely to have some Nepali 'kura kanne' (conversation) again.  Margaret met her one morning thinking she was Filipino and witnessed to her in Tagalog.  The poor thing had had one bad thing after another happen to her resulting in her having to abandon her nursing studies in England and move to Paris.  We had a nice chat, the highlight of which was asking how she enjoyed hell ('nadak')? - I meant to say the drama ('natak')...still room for improvement it seems!

 After Prabina left, we put on some heels and went to the ballet...And I am a changed woman!

Onegin

Before the idea of men in tights -> not appealing.  Now, (and I have to be careful how I say this) I would almost say that the men are the more amazing dancers to watch.  Let me clarify:  perhaps because they are physically stronger and their dancing is not inhibited by a tutu, it is pretty captivating (ok, too strong a word...but you know what I mean -> it's like mens' tennis vs womens')...I had to buy the book to understand the ballet though...

sky outside Le Palais Garnier 

That night I met some more cool Parisiennes, and the first person from Moldovia I have ever met...They played French techno, drove me to the Eiffel Tower and taught me the expression 'n'importe quois' ('whatever...')...

left to right: the Eiffel Tower, 'Radika-the-Moldovian',
random tourist, me, Camille, Clement and Jamin

Sunday we got up early and met Margaret's Nepali friend Maden for witnessing.  He is in a Hindi congregation, which means the common language they speak is Hindi, but they are witnessing to Punjabis, Pakistanis, Bengalis, Nepalis and I guess some Hindis too.  One of the French brothers carries three Bibles in the ministry: one in French, one in Hindi and one in Urdu - what's high-5 in French?!

with Maden (right) somewhere in Paris

Maden, having been in Paris over 20 years knows his topography and gave us a guided tour passed Victor Hugo's old quarters, through Place de Bastille (once home to 'La Guillotine') down to the beautiful Jewish quarter Les Marais.  It was only a couple of days until Hanukkah so everyone was buzzing and merry.  I really liked this area.

That night we earned our stripes as amateur plumbers and rewarded ourselves with French onion soup, foie gras and jazz...

The last day in Paris was technically spent in the Republic of India, ie. the Indian Embassy.  Many hours and Euros later we had our passports stamped, and re-entered 'Paris' shaking our heads and fists at the day's disappointment...Somewhere in the middle of the injustice I made my way to Canal St Martin...this was a consoling sight:

where's a stone to skim when you need one?

Next stop: Copenhagen...

*  'Daniel and the Three Hebrews' Diet' - Daal-bhat