Barcelona

Before I begin, I should give the disclaimer that I will be posting twice on Barcelona: the city of today, and the city of The Shadow of the Wind (see plug in earlier post). Barcelona was beautiful... perfectly clear blue skies, a gorgeous stretch of beach, strikingly divergent medieval and modernist architecture, peacefully treelined streets, colorful characters on the Ramblas, and savory foods.

The city is beautiful from above. There are several vantage points from which to view the city: Montjuic (the hill topped by the castle/fortress and including the Olympic stadiums):

Tibidabo (a secluded area rising above the northwest corner of the city):

And our hotel room window (convenient, no?):

But even more intriguing is being on the street level with the sounds, smells, and people of Barcelona. The Ramblas, the central street in Barcelona's old section, is complete with shops, street performers, and a fabulous market:

Just off the Ramblas, in the Gothic Quarter, are beautiful, secluded plazas and a grand cathedral:

In the newer district, the Eixample, a master-planned community of the late 19th and early 20th century, are broad treelined streets randomly graced by creative, modernist buildings by architects such as Gaudi:

Gaudi, the prize of Barcelona and the modernist movement, is also responsible for the start of a grand and modern cathedral, one that is still under construction today:

Also designed by Gaudi is the famous Park Guell, a beautiful landscape (which actually reminds me a bit of the Texas Hill Country, except for the palm trees, obviously) dotted with creative structures and areas for live music:

Overall, it was a fabulous trip, and I highly recommend you go. Soon to come: the Barcelona of The Shadow of the Wind and Angel's Game. If you haven't read the books, read them, at least The Shadow of the Wind, and if you have read them, stay tuned...

The Miracle

Sorry for the prolonged silence... We've been in visa limbo, which I have intentionally named such due to its remarkable similarities to some of Dante's disturbing visions; you would not believe the waiting process! Admittedly, despite the delays and lack of information, I have actually rather enjoyed myself during the past few weeks, so I can't complain too much. Most importantly, we now know that we *should* (barring any bizarre changes) be picking up our visas on Monday, February 1 (we even have a real appointment!) and returning to Europe on Tuesday, February 2. Thanks to all who have entertained me during my stay here... I must say that I don't mind being a visitor in my home town! For the record, though, we will actually be heading to Barcelona for a few days for a conference, and then back to home in Paris. Anyone with particular Barcelona recommendations, feel free to send them my way! Oh, and here is my plug for The Shadow of the Wind (by Zafon) - a FABULOUS book set in Barcelona, full of mystery, intrigue, love, war... I highly recommend it to anyone and everyone.

Ok, on to the real subject of my post: the miracle of life. No, I promise that I will not give you a biology lesson (I prefer to avoid the awkward and uncomfortable when not necessary); rather, I want to share something that I have experienced this past week to which possibly only other parents can relate, but please keep reading regardless!

I've been memorizing scripture with a sweet friend for the past few months, and we've started memorizing Psalm 139. I know I've memorized little bits of it over the years, but let me just tell you what a MAJOR difference it makes to be memorizing it with Mr. Baby growing inside of me... Just saying these words:

You formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.

WOW - is our God INCREDIBLE or WHAT?!?!?! SO loving, SO caring, SO compassionate... And to allow us to be a part of that beauty as mothers.... I'm am simply in awe. So that’s my scoop for the day; I hope it at least got you thinking.

The Update

Well, we were right (I have to admit, I love being able to say those words!). "Mr. Baby," as Chris has now dubbed our still nameless unborn child, is a boy. Since, as I mentioned in my last post, there have not been any girls born in the Paxton line in several generations AND all the Ownbys and Duffies (my father and mother's sides) have boys first (and yes, I know that has no genetic bearing, but it has emotional bearing)... we kind of assumed it was a boy. We've been calling him "him" for the last 4 1/2 months, except when I would catch myself and try to say "or her" so that I would not gender confuse my child in utero (probably not possible, I realize, but something I thought should be avoided nonetheless).

While our little one was not particularly cooperative in the ultrasound, we did get one picture that I like very much. Please excuse the poor quality, and forgive my explanation (I can NEVER read these things without help - they just look like black and white blobs to me... so I'm going to explain for you). Imagine Mr. Baby is lying on his back. The picture cuts off on the left at about his belly button, and his head is about 2/3 of the way to the right (I have no idea what the white blob is on the far right). He is looking straight up, so we are looking at his profile; his little button nose is pretty easy to see. Just below the nose is a white blob above his chin; that's his hand. I'm not sure if he's sucking his thumb or just posing for "The Thinker," but the fist is definitely there.

I think my only disappointment, which may be too strong of a word, is that we were MUCH closer to having a girl's name picked out than a boy's name... but oh well, we have time. So, for the record, we have NO idea what we're going to name him, but once we decide, we'll probably tell you. In the meantime, I've had fun scouring Houston (for we are back in the US this week to finalize visas and other paperwork) to make my list of baby things we'll need. It is an interesting challenge to figure out the BARE MINIMUM of gear and equipment needed for Mr. Baby because we don't have any extra space in our little Paris apartment or convenient ways of getting things to Paris other than suitcases and extra bag airline fees. However, the cost difference (and variety) of baby gear here versus Paris is worth the trouble of getting it on this side of the Atlantic. So the quest continues, and my mom and I are having fun in the process. Other than that, not much going on. We still appreciate your prayers for our little guy, and we hope your new year is off to a wonderful start.

TBD Paxton

Well, the time has come for an update on our litte one. I know that's what most of you want to read anyway... TBD, as we have dubbed the child until we know more information and are therefore able to supply a name, will not be TBD for much longer. We have an appointment on Thursday morning to find out if we will add another boy to the ranks of the Paxton/Ownby clan or if we will bring an alien into those two families, otherwise known as a girl. For those of you unaware, there have been no girls in the Paxton line for several generations, and in my generation of the Ownby clan, the girls are outnumbered 3 to 1. Anyway, the important thing is that you only have two days left to vote on what you think Baby Paxton is!! So be sure to cast those votes quickly!

On another note (and in case any of you are wavering in your vote... though I'm not sure if this will help you decide or not), I have further information on Baby Paxton. Not only is TBD quite active, and has been for the last few weeks, but we have discovered a way to incite movement in the child... Latin music. Yup, that's right, our little white baby (and likely blonde-haired and blue-eyed, too) has got some definite Latin flair (I guess TBD still considers Houston home?). Rodrigo & Gabriela and the Spanish Harlem Orchestra have TBD either dancing or drumming away (we haven't decided which), regardless of the location or time of day... At least TBD shouldn't be a boring baby!

As for me, because I know I will simply have to answer this question via multiple emails from many of you if I don't share the update, I am hanging in there. It is definitely easier to put up with the nausea now that I can feel the baby moving; it certainly makes it feel more "real." And, thankfully, with some new medicine and a little more routine to life in France (it's taking awhile, but we're getting there), the nausea is definitely not gone, but much more manageable. I'm at 19 weeks today, so maybe there will be grace and I'll make it through the second half of this pregnancy without getting sick... We'll see. In the meantime, we are THRILLED about TBD and cannot wait to see the ultrasound on Thursday. Thank you for all your prayers!

Friends and Family

As charming as Christmas trees, lights, carols, and presents can be, I firmly believe that what truly make the holidays fun and special are friends and family. And, thankfully, we are very blessed to have fabulous ones. While I am sad to say that we only had one of each for our holiday season, our visiting friend and family made our season bright.

As I mentioned previously, Megan (yes, my former student and a dear friend) came to visit the week before Christmas. Despite my vomiting in the metro on the way to pick her up from the airport and a couple of days during her trip where I couldn’t leave the house due to nausea, we had a wonderful trip. There’s nothing like being with someone you love when you feel like crap (poetic, huh?). Anyway, I can’t express enough gratitude for how loving and patient she was with me… I am very blessed by her friendship and was very blessed by her visit.

We still managed to get in quite a whirlwind of Parisian sights: the Eiffel Tower,

the Rodin Museum (home of “the Thinker”), Napoleon’s Tomb, the Bastille and the Marais area (complete with the Jewish quarter, and no, despite Chris’s encouragement we did not break out into Israeli dancing in the streets…), Notre Dame,

Saint Chapelle (a 13^th century chapel with incredible stained glass telling the entire story of Scripture), the Conciergerie (a former palace and later prison where people were kept on their way to the guillotine), the Louvre (home of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, among thousands of other treasures), the Orsay Museum (housing famous impressionists like Monet, Degas, Renoir, and Van Gogh), the Tuileries Gardens and the Orangerie (home of Monet’s greatest Water Lilies), the Place de la Concord (where blood ran in the streets from the masses slaughtered under the guillotine),

the Arc de Triomphe (Napoleon’s ridiculously gigantic attempt to compensate for something), the Champs Elysees (home of Paris’s most elite shopping), and the Montmartre area (topped by the white domes of Sacre Coeur and bohemian home of the Moulin Rouge).

Wheh! I’m exhausted just recounting it all! We also managed two excursions outside of Paris (mentioned in the snow post): Versailles and Chartres. So… come visit me in Paris and I won’t let you miss anything!

The day after Megan left, my dear brother came to visit. Rhys has been living in Naples, Italy since July of this year, and he has not been able to see anyone in the family since he moved. Additionally, the poor guy has missed every Christmas with family since he joined the army over three years ago. Needless to say, we were THRILLED to see him, and so glad that it worked out for him to visit, especially because he could not get enough leave to go all the way to the US… but a trip to Paris for five days was easy! Even more fabulous, he came bearing gifts from his stores on base that carry American items: like chips and salsa. We were SO excited to have some chips and salsa… I can’t even explain.

Anyway, Rhys is not quite the tourist that Megan is (and don’t worry, I cater to each guest’s individual desires ;-), but we still managed to have a great time. We did lots of wandering around the city (being silly, of course),

and we did see the Eiffel tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre, Montmartre, and the Arc de Triomphe (think we look alike much??).

Plus, we also went into Paris’s catacombs – quite a creepy experience. You spend about an hour more than a hundred feet underground, walking through dimly lit tunnels,

most of which are lined with the bones of hundreds of thousands of Parisians taken from all the cemeteries in Paris in the late 1700’s when they decided that the cemeteries were full and sanitation was bad. Since there were tunnels all under the city from the mining that had taken place over the centuries, it seemed like a natural place to move all those bones.

The warning at the entrance to the tombs is great: “Stop! This is the empire of the dead.”

We also found a couple of English-speaking pubs (one British and one Canadian) to watch Liverpool games – a very important resource that we had not found before his arrival; thanks, Rhys! We spent one evening seeing Tom Harrel and his quintet playing jazz… Jazz in Paris – it’s worth it. And, of course, we had one solid 2 ½ hour French meal, which began with INCREDIBLE foie gras de canard (duck) and onion soup (Notice here it is merely "onion soup" rather than French onion soup... so what about French doors? Do they just call them doors? Food for thought...).

We had a blast, and I LOVE my big brother. I pray that you all had similar fun and joy with your friends and family over this Christmas season.

Let It Snow!

I have to confess that I was a bit sad a few weeks ago to see fun snow pictures all over the blogs of my Houstonian friends. It snows so infrequently in Houston, and although I have lived there basically my whole life, I somehow manage to miss it almost every time… But God was gracious and gave us a white pre-Christmas here in Paris.

I’m not sure if you heard, but there was quite a lot of snow. So much, in fact, that the Eiffel Tower was actually shut down for several hours one afternoon – something they almost never do because that thing is France’s biggest money maker. The overhead is almost nothing (think about it: it’s outdoors, there’s nothing really to renovate, and they’ve already put in the heavy-duty elevators that take people to the top), and tourists from all over the world pay exorbitant prices all day every day just to experience the biting winds at several hundred feet in the air. Now that I’ve said that, I must admit that I have been up in the tower at least four times, and I thought it was worth it every time. But that’s neither here or there. The important thing is, we had a LOT of snow (at least on Paris terms).

It began on the morning of Thursday, December 17, with enough snow to cover balconies and cars, but not too much staying on the ground (you know how it is in big cities… enough snow to cover the ground is rare). As the day went on, however, the snow even began to stick to the ground, and it stayed for a good four or five days. Our neighborhood was so charming in the snow:

Even more magnificent was my all-time favorite site in Paris (and possibly in the world) – Notre Dame. Unfortunately, I was home sick that day (when oh when will the pregnancy nausea go away?!?!), but Megan dutifully took some beautiful pictures of the great cathedral draped in snowy white:

The following day, the Tuileries Gardens were still a snowy wonderland, and we definitely felt the below-freezing temperatures as you can see by our pink cheeks and frozen smiles:

Sunday was really breathtaking, though, as we made our way an hour and a half outside of Paris to the little town of Chartres. Though Notre Dame de Paris is still my favorite cathedral I’ve ever seen, Notre Dame de Chartres definitely made an impression. In the late 1100’s, the church on that location burned down, burning with it (or so the people assumed) the “veil of Mary” – the robe she had supposedly worn when giving birth to Jesus. Much to their surprise, they actually found the veil unharmed when sorting through the rubble, a miracle that inspired great devotion and excitement in the people of Chartres. As a result, they built almost an entirely new cathedral on the same spot (a couple of walls were still standing after the fire) in a mere sixty years – unheard of for the construction of a cathedral; most take centuries. Even more incredible is that this cathedral, finished mid-13^th century, still contains 80% of the original stained glass, the greatest amount of Gothic stained glass anywhere. It was beautiful, and the town wrapped in a blanket of snow only added to the enchantment:

Finally, on Megan’s last day to visit, Tuesday, December 22, we went to Versailles, about 45 minutes outside of Paris. While by that point most of the snow in Paris had melted, Versailles was still covered, especially the chateau. I have been to the chateau three other times over the past ten years, but this was truly a new experience. The incredible gardens of Versailles, complete with hundreds of fountains and a man-made canal, were a beautiful but eerie wasteland:

Although the snow was just a few days early (it was officially all gone by Christmas), it was a welcome anomaly. And, since we don’t drive here in Paris, the only inconvenience was having to walk cautiously on the icy sidewalks – a small price to pay.

Shopping, Parisian Style

Now before you laugh, let me explain myself. As ridiculously stereotypical as it sounds, the French really do buy baguettes like this daily and carry them around. Of course, in their defense, by "carry them around" I mean that they take them home. However, since most people in Paris walk or take the metro, to take something home means to carry it around in public, sometimes for quite a distance. That said, it is highly entertaining to me to think that they live up to such a silly stereotype, and naturally, I joined the bandwagon with enthusiasm. Few things make you feel more French than carrying around a daily baguette.

Even better, we have discovered the Parisian's secret to gourmet, fresh food. At first, I was quite befuddled at how the French, who are notoriously obsessed with good food (anyone seen Julie & Julia? If not, I HIGHLY recommend it) managed to survive without HEB. They have grocery stores, sure, but they are small, have a limited stock, and in my humble opinion fall FAR short of the glory known as a "big, new HEB" - a place where, as I have told many, angels sing to me when I enter. No joke. Honestly, there are a few larger stores (though the bigger the grocery store, then more expensive it seems to be), but even those do not compare to the beautiful mega stores we have in the great state of Texas. Fortunately, when we moved into our apartment, my sweet landlord told me of an "outdoor market" that takes place every Thursday and Saturday morning, right around the corner from our apartment. There, in two long rows which stretch along the boulevard by our house towards the Eiffel Tower (and yes, you can see it poised above the market though, unfortunately, I missed it in this picture), I have found what I was missing:

Here, all the local inhabitants come with their "chariots" or "caddies," a little cart on wheels that you pull behind you, and do their semi-weekly grocery shopping. Here, butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers come to sell their wares. Ok, there are not really candlestick makers, but there are stands selling meat, fish, breads, cheeses, pastries, and LOADS of fabulously fresh fruits and vegetables. Better yet, the people behind each counter KNOW their stuff. I am dreaming of the day when my French is good enough (I'm making progress, but it's slow) to tickle the ego of the butcher by asking him what the best method of cooking the langue de vache (cow's tongue) or entrecote de boeuf (a cut of beef from its side, though I'm not of its US equivalent) and listen to his experienced response. He will hold the rest of the line, telling me how to cook it and what to pair it with... I know because I've been the next person in line and waited while he spouted off his expertise. I'm not quite ready to tackle that because I'm sure he would be able to read on my face that I could only catch half of his meaning, but someday... Speaking of which, if anyone finds a book that includes pictures and explanations of French meats (their sources, cuts, and meaning), PLEASE let me know. Actually, one organized by type of food (cheeses, vegetables, meats, etc.) would be glorious. I can use a dictionary, but I have to look up each word as I come to it, rather than being able to study the science (or art, as they might call it) topically. Keep me posted. I must admit that the butchers are both the most interesting and the most disturbing:

But for those needing more aesthetically pleasing sights at the market, there are stands with gorgeous produce and fresh flowers:

I am definitely warming up to this method of shopping (despite the below-freezing temperatures at the market the past few weeks). Just for educational purposes, I should note that there are real shops for each of these things, as well. There are boulangeries/patiseries (bakeries), boucheries (butchers), charcuteries (delicatessens), fromageries (cheese shops), and so on. However, to shop at all of those different places is a day-long process, whereas to shop at the market takes an hour or so and is SO much fun. It is rather crowded (the first picture above is more true to its nature; the rest were taken late in the day as it began to clear out a bit), but it is worth the bustle. The food is unbeatable, the scene is memorable, and the people are so stereotypical that I can't help but smile each time. This, my friends, is true appreciation (admittedly borderline-obsession) of food.