Shellen Out

So That's Why Everyone is Smiling In Paris...

I've always enjoyed Parisians in the past and found them to be warm (especially after making an effort to speak their language), but on this trip, the Parisians have been so nice and smiley that it was starting to freak me out.

My new friend Roel speculated that it might be because the dollar is down and Americans are worried about terrorism, and thus not travelling like we used to. That's certainly true... you see a lot fewer American tourists in Europe these days (and a lot more Chinese and Italians).

But a woman I met at dinner the other night gave another reason: In July, the mayor of Paris started a "be nice to tourists" campaign. Apparently Paris ranks high as a popular destination, but dead last in friendliness and travel comfort. So, to keep tourism up, the mayor has sent flyers out to businesses, taxi drivers, etc. with instructions on how to be nice to tourists.

I have to say, it's definitely working. Even the French teacher that guided a few of us around was surprised by how warm all of the metro workers and waiters have been during our visit.

So come to Paris! Before the rain completely dampens their spirits...

Hello Humex, My New Friend

At last... the moment you've all been waiting for: I have just started the washing machine in my Paris apartment. This must be what it's like for guys when they step into the laundry room of their college dorm for the first time. I've been totally frozen in front of it for days, but I'm out of clothes so it's the moment of truth.

Arrived in Paris on Wednesday and have been fighting a relapse of my flu since then. Though I did manage to go on a Paris Walks Hemingway tour and a trip to Versailles with four fantastic characters from the walk - a 60-something Texan gentleman who's straight out of a Sherlock Holmes novel; a soft-spoken 50/60-something mom from New Hampshire, her lively 50/60-something advertising exec friend from Northern Cal, and a lovely French English teacher in her 40s who's been helping us with everything.

Paris is incroyable... they're going to have to pry me out of this little rooftop flat with a sharp baguette. It's on a street right in front of the Pompidou Centre (I can actually see part of it from my balconies), so it's about a 10-minute walk to Notre Dame.

The weather has been great... a bit of rain, but otherwise cool and sunny with big puffy clouds. And for some reason, all of the inhabitants of Paris seem to have taken happy pills. From the corner grocer to the woman at the metro office, they're all freakishly smiley and glad to help. My new Dutch friend Roel says it's because American tourism is way down since 9/11 and the fall of the dollar. Whatever it is, I'm grateful.

So far, I've learned how to tell when we're about to get a big downpour (ah ha ha - you may have ruined one baguette, French weather, but I'm on to you now!) and according to the French English teacher, my accent is pretty good. If only I actually spoke French.

My favorite new things: the French jazz station on the radio, BBC Prime, Picard (if the frozen section of Trader Joes were its own store, it would be Picard), Woolite, the gorgeous English-speaking pharmacist who gave me my cold medicine, and the 30 pounds I'm going to lose walking up 7 flights of stairs while the elevator is broken.

I seriously need to fix my Friendster and MySpace pages. Here are the last two messages I've received:

"Not bad... I'm actually impressed. Ayt - you're KEWT!"
-A teenage guy from Manila named Rob

"I just blew beer through my nose reading your profile - your fuckin hilarious!"
-Some middle-aged biker from City of Industry

Apparently those blessings from the nuns don't extend to my romantic life. Figures.

P.S. I think I finally found Mel Gibson's house, and I'm pretty sure Sting is putting on a show there right now. I wish I had binoculars.

I can't figure out if this is irony or just the Catholics being cruel:

This weekend, two larger groups were scheduled to stay at the Serra Retreat: a wine appreciation group and a men's Alcoholics Anonymous group. Their tables are right next to each other.

It's hard out here for a priest (or pimp... whatever).

It must be really tiring to be a priest. Not only do you have to deal with church bureaucrasy, you're on call all the time for your "flock." And they depend on your for everything!

If you lead a secular life and have issues, you pay a therapist; you talk to friends; you read books, take a walk... basically deal with the problem yourself. If you're seriously religious, you depend wholly on your pastor/priest/minister to tell you what to do. Holy responsibility.

I think that's yet another reason they should let females become priests. First of all, I know a lot more women than men who would be comfortable with the idea of never having sex again. Second of all, women LIKE hearing people's problems, whereas poor Father Phil has resorted to pasting a bunch of feeble biblical and secular quotations onto a Word doc because he just doesn't have the patience to deal with PT's problems.

Speaking of PT, she's not all bad. Just like so many religious people I've met... she doesn't really read anything but religious texts and publications, and she doesn't know anything about the outside world.

For example, at lunch, some fat Australian asshole was trying to chat her up using Christianity to build common ground. He's a Mormon, so he started out by assuring her that "a Christian is a Christian," whether Mormon or Catholic. It's still all about Jesus.

Then - I kid you not - in the middle of talking about how great it is to be a compassionate Christian, he started bashing Muslims, saying they were godless, violent people who needed to be stopped. And she bought it!

After resisting the urge to pelt him with mashed potatoes as he walked away, I spent 10 minutes re-educating PT on why he wasn't a true Christian, because true Christians - like Jesus, people! - love and respect all people equally - even the freaking Muslims. Also, by the way, Islam reveres Jesus, too. This was a huge surprise to her.

Anyway, it's probably good I'm leaving for the sake of her Catholicism. I gave her at least two lessons in Buddhism already without her knowing... if I was here longer, who knows how much damage I could do.

I think the kitchen staff have adopted me. We were joined tonight by a big group of guys on an AA retreat, and I noticed the kitchen guys standing like sentries between them and me... very sweet. The one person they didn't manage to keep out was Peppy Texas, so I finally sucked it up and talked with her over Friday Fish.

Turns out she's here to get some guidance over what to do with her job. She works for her church, but feels like it's taking too much out of her. Father Phil has met with her a few times since she's been here, but he apparently told her she "deserved a day off today." Translated: Father Phil is tired of you.

Which left the job to me.

That's right... little ol' pro-choice, pro-premarital sex, pro-female priests, gay marriage and democracy me thought I'd see what I could do to help the poor Christian Republican.

Fortunately, her problem transcends religion: she seems to be an energetic overachiever with some martyr tendencies desperately seeking validation. I told her (in my rusty Catholic) that she needs to delegate and have faith in others, just as she'd hope they'd have faith in her. And then I helped her put together a church-based marketing campaign to drum up volunteers for her group. When I left, she said, "Wow, I can see the wisdom of Christ in you... thank you for ministering to me!" Nice.

I was feeling pretty smug as I went out on my post-dinner walk, but then, in classic Chris Shellen style, I walked smack into a cloud of those little flying ants, which covered my body like sprinkles on a doughnut. A little bug's life humility for me.

Nature has its drawbacks. A bee somehow made its way into my room and flung itself onto my desk, scaring the sh*t out of me as I was writing. Knowing I'd never be able to sleep until he was either gone or dead, I grabbed the bible, listed for the buzzing and basically smote him. But there's nothing in there about not killing bugs that sting like hell, so I don't feel that bad. Rest in peace, little pollen bug in my toilet.

Those nuns are a gossipy lot! A few days ago, I told one of them that my dad passed away, and today another one came up and wished me well on getting over my grief (her dad had died a few years ago, too). Still, sweet ladies... they all wished me a "blessed year ahead" before they left. If they have any sort of pull with heaven at all, I've got a great year coming.

I also found out that I got the best room in the entire monastery. I feel sort of guilty about it, really. Some of the other private retreatants were complaining about their bedrooms at breakfast, and I found out that they were sharing bathrooms between rooms; they were in hotter upstairs rooms that faced the parking lot, and they only had twin beds.

Even in my building (which I apparently shared with the nuns), every other room but mine has two twin beds... I got the only full. But then I guess I didn't exactly choose the monastic life. Plus I am here for a week.

My big question is, when I leave, do I tip the monastery maid? She's not a nun... just a sweet hispanic lady who would probably appreciate a little recognition. I'm just not sure if she'd see it as an insult or not. Hmm... maybe I'll put $10 or $15 in the donation box.

There are other non-Catholics at the retreat!

A new couple joined us tonight... fun people from the valley. They were a little cagey until I asked if they were meeting with Father Warren or one of the sisters and the guy said, "Well, we're not actually Catholic." I was so excited... it was like running into someone from Venice Beach after wandering around China for a month, wondering what everyone is saying.

The guy in the couple admitted that he felt a little out of place, too, but that "once you get past all the Jesuses, it's a wonderful place." Which makes me think that Catholics might be able to win a few more converts if they got a little marketing help. A little logo change; some new catch phrases; less blood and original sin...

I told the couple that a few of my Jewish friends had expressed interest in the place and the woman laughed. She said, "I'll bet they have a special guest room all ready for that! A life-size, porcelain, full-color crucifixion weeping blood and staring at you from the ceiling." I'm so sad they're leaving tomorrow.

I do have to say, though... most of the people I've met have been great spokespersons for the Catholic religion. With the exception of the peppy Texan whom I successfully dodged again at dinner, everyone else (including a very young priest and a very old Irish nun) talked about moving the church in a more progressive, interactive direction. I doubt they're jumping on the pro-choice/sex is okay! bandwagon just yet, but it was nice to hear opinions like that from the people spreading the gospel.

Okay... time to pass Mel Gibson's house again and then get back to writing.