Sunday morning started bright and early. Group members were free to eat at their leisure, and we were set to depart at 8:30. Close to that time, we all loaded onto a motorcoach and left for the center of Paris.

Our first stop was at the Place de la Bastille. The Bastille has a vast and bloody history, but suffice it to say that this was the location of the beginning of the French Revolution. Even today, when there is a strike or a protest, it will generally begin here.  This was also the location where we picked up our local tour guide for the day, Veronique.

From the Place de la Bastille, we made our way through the heart of Paris. Our first stop was at Notre Dame.  This cathedral is simply stunning. I stood in front of the cathedral as Veronique explained the different meanings behind the various sculpted scenes located on the front of the church. One thing that I didn’t know until she told us was the original purpose for the sculpted scenes. During the Middle Ages, the average French citizen could not read. The scenes that were sculpted on the church were done so in order to share the Gospel. People could see the scenes and understand that there was a final judgement that all would eventually face. Pretty nifty, huh?

I did go into the cathedral, but I felt uncomfortable. There was a mass going on, and I am just not of the opinion that worship should be a spectator sport. After seeing a bit of the inside, I quietly exited. The group met back up, returned to the bus, and moved on to see more of the city.

We drove around taking in various places, but our next stop was at a park behind the Eiffel Tower.  We honestly didn’t stay very long, but we did get to take a couple of good pictures.

From the Tower, we loaded up and headed off to Versailles.  This town is only about ten miles from the heart of Paris, but it offers an experience sure to complement a visit to the City of Lights. Let me interject here that Sunday afforded me the opportunity to hang out with some different group leaders. Friday, the whole group was pretty much together, and I mingled and mixed with as many of the group leaders as possible. Saturday morning the whole group was together again, but on Saturday afternoon, we split up. I spent some time at the Louvre with one group, and when we left the Louvre, I spent time with still more group leaders. This particular group of leaders weren’t completely comfortable exploring on their own, but they had confidence in me. We had a pretty good night which you can read about here at deeperwater.com. Sunday afforded me the opportunity to hang out with a couple of the younger group leaders, particularly my two new friends Nate and Katie. Nate is a guy in his mid-twenties that teaches up in Pennsylvania. He and his wife are expecting their first child soon, and he is an all-around good guy. Katie is a native New Yorker who has moved out to Orange County, California, where she works as an occupational therapist. The three of us got to spend quite a bit of time together on Sunday, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly.

After lunch in the city of Versailles, we  walked across the street to the Palace of Versailles. Originally, this incredible palace was little more than a hunting lodge. Louis XIV greatly expanded Versailles and eventually moved his entire court there. His thought was that if he could keep them all together, he could control them better. Nate, Katie, and I joined part of our group as we walked through the royal apartments, but we quickly learned that we couldn’t hear anything that the tour guide was saying. Rather than proceed from room to room like cattle being herded to the slaughter, we skipped ahead of the group, enjoyed the chateau at our own pace, and then we made our way out to the gardens.

The gardens at Versailles are vast and simply breathtaking.  There was no way that we would be able to explore much of them by foot, but luckily, we had an alternative. We all chipped in and rented a golf cart. After waiting in line, we finally had our cart and a map of the gardens. We followed the map… mostly. We did have a time or two when we went in the wrong direction… but for the most part, our exploring was uneventful. A leisurely approach would have been nice, but we simply didn’t have time. Instead, we took the cart down to the far end of the map enjoying all the sites along the way. We then headed back up to the chateau to drop off the cart, and with only a minor navigation problem (thanks Nate!), we made it. WE even picked up a hitchhiker along the way - Sue, one of the TCs from EF, decided to join us.

After we had gathered everyone, we loaded up the bus and headed back into Paris. We arrived at l’Arc de Triiomphe. I sometimes complain about traffic, but I couldn’t believe what I saw going around the Arc. Imagine a roundabout with no distinct lanes and no traffic signs or signals. Now imagine that traffic is pouring into this roundabout from 12 (twelve) different streets… and you will have something of an idea of what the situation is.

After a few moments there at the Arc, we had about an hour of free time. Nate, Katie, and  I decided to head down the Champs-Élysées. We made a brief pit stop at McDonald’s, and a stop at one of the souvenir stands before making our way down one side of the street and then back up on the other side. Apparently, we walked right by Don Johnson and didn’t realize it. One of the other participants told us where she had seen him, and we walked right past the same cafe. I guess I should have paid closer attention!

Once we all re-gathered, it was off to dinner and Paris by night. I will have to post about that tomorrow, because I need to iron something to wear to school tomorrow. Bon nuit!

That lasted until about 2:00 or so. We gave all of the teachers a break, and then we met back in the lobby. Joel, our tour director, spent a few minutes going over basic French. After that, we left for the heart of Paris.

We took the RER into town and then the metro over to the Palais Royale station. Though we could have walked through the station and into the Louvre through the underground, Joel once again demonstrated his flair for the dramatic by taking us upstairs. We met above ground between the Palais Royal (the boyhood home of Louis XXIV) and the backside of the Louvre. After setting us up, he led the way through to the interior courtyard.

Once there, we were once again greeted with the juxtaposition that is so characteristic of Paris these days… a strange combination of the old and the new. On one hand, you have the magnificent architecture of the Louvre, but placed right smack dab in the middle of the horseshoe shaped building is the once-controversial glass pyramid.

The Louvre is the largest art museum in the world, and it is impossible to take it all in. I knew that my time there was limited, so I joined a group that was determined to see a couple of things. We made our way over to the Mona Lisa first. I am glad to say that I have seen it, but like many things in life that have been hyped, I was somewhat underwhelmed. Frankly, I was more moved by Michelangelo’s works at the Sistine Chapel. (Perhaps at least partially because Michelangelo demonstrated a bloody wicked sense of humor by having a snake bite da Cesena on his naughty bits!)

We then made our way over to the Venus de Milo, which should actually be called Aphrodite. The statue was amazing, particularly considering that it is over 2000 years old. The only thing that was disconcerting was that the foot that is visible under the draping cloth seems rather disproportionally large. You guys that come back with me in March will have to check it out and see what you think.

After that, the group that I was with wanted to go to the Hard Rock to get some t-shirts. I was all about that originally, but what supposed to be just a shirt run ended up being a dinner excursion. Frankly, I would have preferred to have gone to a local place rather than eat an overpriced American hamburger, but what the heck. The teachers I was with enjoyed it, and they seemed to appreciate my willingness to take the leadership. I would have enjoyed hanging out with some of the younger teachers, but it simply wasn’t meant to be.

We had planned to go to a jazz club in the latin quarter, but we spent so much time waiting on dinner that it wasn’t possible. Instead, we wandered around the surrounding neighborhood for an hour and a half or so. We strolled through some of the back alleys and arcades and really enjoyed the sites. As it got closer to 9:00, we made our way to the metro.

Though many of the younger teachers were getting together at the Gare St. Paul (gare = metro station), the ones I was accompanying wanted to return to the hotel. I rode with them part of the way, and then we parted ways. They came back, and I went to St. Paul’s.

There, I connected with the younger portion and the EF staff and we went to the Auld Alliance, a Scottish pub. I made my obligatory appearance, smoozed for a few as I enjoyed a pint, and then excused myself. Three of the others joined me, and we made our way back to Val de Fonetenay.

I came up here to the room, called home, and then logged in. Thanks to the joys of a Mac, I video-conferenced with my girls, blew them kisses, and told them goodnight.

And now, I say goodnight to you. Bon nuit!

After posting earlier, I went downstairs for the brief Tour Director Orientation. This is the first meeting that the  tour director holds with a group to brief them on the location of the hotel, making sense of the metro, etc. and so on. We then walked over to the RER station and headed off. We took the A train down to Nation (a station) where we got off of the RER and made our way to the metro. We took the #1 line to Hotel de Ville, the Parisian City Hall.

Once we exited there, I truly felt that we were in Paris. It looked like Paris, if that makes sense. We stood there for a while, and Joel talked about how the French and we Americans are more alike than admit. When it comes to forms of government, he is right. Though we count the UK as a great ally, we have more in common with the French style of government. After the civics lesson, we began to meander through Paris.

After a short stroll, Joel stopped us in an alleyway. He pointed out that the huge building to our left was completely bowing out in the middle… if you looked up the wall, it is obviously bulging. The reasons for this include the fact that the building is at least three hundred years old; plus, it was built on marshlands. As he prepared us to move on, he mentioned that around the corner was a 700 year old church (which he described as being “ten for a penny in Paris”) which had a rather whimsical fountain, the Igor Stravinsky Fountain, in front of it.

Whimsical doesn’t begin to describe it. It was incredible! It included such pieces as huge red lips with water shooting out, a snake with water coming out of its mouth, and a mermaid with water coming out of one nipple! What is astounding to me is that you find such modern (postmodern?) things right next to the ancient. On the other side of the fountain is the Centre Georges Pompidou which is an architectural wonder. It is the building that is famous for having the guts on the outside.

We then wandered around through an area that is home to a seven story mall (which Joel pronounces as mal). The interesting thing about the mall is that all seven stories are subterranean. After we walked past it, we saw the back of L’eglise St-Eustache (the Cathedral of St. Eustice). Joel gave a wonderful explanation of flying buttresses, then used me and three others to give an example of how they work to support the walls of the cathedral. I am hoping somebody can email me some pictures of that one.

From there, we walked over to the place which was the birthplace and original home of Louis XXIV. I think I got some good pictures of the perspective gardens there. We then made our way past the back of the Louvre, down to the metro, and over to dinner.

For dinner, we ate at a restaurant called Flam’s. It is a neat place though not as cool as the place where we ate last night. The food was good, and there was lots of it. They served a dish called flammekueche, a very thin bread (think ultra-thin pizza crust) with a cheese melted on top and various toppings. It is somewhat pizza-like, and there is a chance we will eat there in March.

After dinner, some of the group was simply too tired to go on, so they returned to the hotel. The rest of us went up to Montmartre, a huge hill here in Paris. The name literally means Martyr Mountain, and it is named for St. Denis, the patron saint of Paris. He was the first bishop of Paris, and many people became believers because of him. As a result, he was decapitated with a sword. Apparently, after he was beheaded, he picked up his head with one hand and then walked several miles… preaching a sermon the entire time.  At the top of the hill is the church Sacre Couer which is simply amazing. Also from the top of the hill, I caught my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. The Parisian skyline is breathtaking from up there.

After wandering around for a bit, we made our way back down the hill to the metro station. After riding back to Nation, we got back on the RER to head back to Val de Fontenay.

And now my little story for the day ends, as I am tired. Tomorrow will come early, and it will bring the business portion of the trip. We will spend the morning in conference until at least 2:00. After that, who knows? I am in Paris, and there is a world of possibilities!

Once the teachers arrived, we gave them a bit of info about the day, and then we let them check-in. Shortly, the rest of the group arrived. We got them somewhat settled, then we took them to a shopping mall located within spitting distance of the hotel.

The mall itself is okay, but my favorite two things about it so far are the place where we ate lunch and Auchan. We went to Flunch for lunch. Apparently, many of those who work in this area eat there daily. It is a self-serve type of cafeteria, and the food is pretty good. I didn’t get that adventurous… big surprise, right? I stayed with the pretty safe hamburger steak and some veggies.

After lunch, we walked over to Auchan. For those that might read this before school, tell Mrs. Tidwell we have to check one of these out when we come back in March. Auchan is apparently France’s answer to Wal-Mart! It is pretty cool to walk around and check out all of the different stuff that they have… and all the stuff that is the same. Coke is everywhere, right?

I picked up a couple of things there, but I am sure I will be back. Heck, my mom goes to Wal-Mart daily, so I suppose I need to do the French equivalent!

We are off to spend the rest of the day in Paris…. au revoir!

Well, apparently, it wasn’t. I am pretty sure that Mr. Bauer didn’t teach us all the words that Pierre the Cross-Eyed Janitor used, but I got the gist of it. In what I can only assume was colorful French, Pierre the Cross-Eyed Janitor let me know 1) That my French sucks, and 2) He can’t read.

I finally decided to just guess. My first guess was a good one. I went down to the next station, got off, and followed the person in front of me. We walked out of the metro station into what could only be described as an industrial park. But look! There… it’s my hotel. The only thing standing between me and my hotel was a four-lane highway and a couple of walls. No big deal, right?

I went back into the metro station and bought another ticket for the metro… because you can’t get into the station without one and you can’t cross the highway without going through the metro station. I spent two euros to cross the freaking road. Oh, well… lesson learned. I have ridden that train several times this afternoon, and every time, I have gone out the right exit.

After meeting the EF staffers, I settled into my room and then went exploring. I went back to the metro station which is literally right across the street from my hotel. (The only way it could be any closer would be if it were in the lobby.) I took the RER back into central Paris, and then I took the metro several stops up. I got out, wandered around aimlessly for a while, and then decided to head back. It was no big deal, but I was proud of myself for not getting lost.

After a bit of a rest and a shower, I joined the EF staff for dinner. My group here consists of one group leader who is in management in the Boston office, a manager from the London office, three tour consultants from Boston, and another experienced group leader (more about him later). There are two other groups doing Paris O this weekend, and their staff joined us for dinner at a little restaurant in central Paris. My dinner was good, but the goat cheese salad was something I could have done without. It was an appetizer that I found not very appetizing. It was truly the less of the evils, though. The tour consultants on either side of me had frog legs and snails. If I could have sung “It’s Not Easy Being Green” by Kermit, I totally would have.

After dinner, most of the EF staffers went out for another couple of hours. I am feeling pretty wiped, so I came on back to the hotel. I have checked the email and written this… and now I am off for bed.

I’ll let you know about tomorrow!

As a teacher who has chosen to sponsor group travel, I have experienced many benefits. I have seen New York, London, and parts of Italy with many wonderful students. I walked around Stonehenge on my 35th birthday, and I spent my 36th in Rome with a group of friends… splitting a bottle of vino and smoking Cuban cigars. Today, I am experiencing another benefit of traveling with students. Today… I experience Paris.

EF is the company that I use for travel, and over the past couple of years, I have built a great relationship with the folks there. Vicki and Christine have been awesome tour consultants, and they have always pointed me in the right direction. When I mentioned to Christine that I would love the opportunity to help out at the regional conferences that EF hosts, she was quick to arrange that. Apparently, that went well because I was soon invited to Paris.

EF has a wonderful program for teachers that are new to international travel with students. Once a teacher has booked a trip and has students enrolled, that teacher qualifies for Paris Orientation, or Paris O for short. The teachers get to come and experience a tour first hand while learning from representatives of EF and experienced group leaders. At the end of the spring, I was invited to be an experienced group leader at Paris O.

This is why I was able to leave school early yesterday. I made a quick stop by Wal-Mart, then went to the Montgomery airport to catch a flight to Atlanta. Unfortunately, my Montgomery flight was delayed by several hours. Rather than taking a chance at missing my flight, I ran back outside, threw my luggage in the back of the car, and started driving up I-65 to I-85 so I could make it to Atlanta.

I made it to Atlanta in plenty of time, and made my way through security. My wait at the gate wasn’t too long, and after I got on the plane, I realized that the flight wouldn’t be full. Apparently, other connecting flights were delayed as well.

Once I was on the plane, I originally sat next to a nice couple who told me in accented voices that they were going home. I took this as the perfect opportunity to practice my high school French. I rattled off a couple of sentences that I knew would make my high school French teacher proud, and they looked at me funny. I tried a couple of more phrases… to no avail.

The husband then looked at me in that special way that we reserve for only the truly special and explained (slowly and a little loudly, I might add) that they were going home to Norway… I told him I didn’t speak Norwegian.

I found a window seat that had an empty seat next to it and spread out for the next several hours. I usually sleep well on planes, but I didn’t last night. I probably got two or three hours sleep before my flight attendant woke up with breakfast. (For the record, she totally destroyed the stereotype of attractive flight attendants. She looked like one of the Oak Ridge Boys.)

After the plane had driven around and around Charles De Gaulle for a what seemed like a couple of hours, we finally were able to disembark. Getting through customs was easy enough, and my new luggage (the bright blue hard case from Heys) was easy to spot on the carousel.

I made my way to where the trains leave the airport and bought my ticket. The metro here in Paris has two parts. The regular metro is called just that… the metro. There is also a faster-super-duper metro called the RER. I had no problems getting the right RER into Paris, and I enjoyed the ride.

Once we were away from the terminal, three guys got up in the middle of the car and began to perform. Apparently, this isn’t allowed because they had disguised their equipment. The singer snuck in a speaker with a microphone on a short stand attached to a rolling luggage carrier, and his backup band consisted of two buddies both playing accordion. Believe it or not, it sounded just like music on a train coming into Paris should sound. Other characters on that train included Balding Guy With a Bad Combover Reading Printed Internet Info About Ballet (in a plastic folder he labeled “Interesting Stuff”), Pakistani Man, and a double for the Haitian Dude From Heroes.
I made the switch fairly easily, and I got on a train headed toward my hotel. The problem is, there are two different trains that head TOWARD my hotel, but only one actually goes to it. Being the smarter than average guy that I am, I figured I should get off at the stop before the trains go off in one direction or another and ask for directions. That Norwegian dude had to be wrong… surely I speak French well enough to ask directions.

Well, Pierre the Cross-Eyed Janitor at the Metro Station didn’t think so. You know how French people have reputations for treating Americans poorly? It is all Pierre the Cross-Eyed Janitor’s fault. He gives all the rest of them a bad name…

More to come later…

After a potty break, we wandered down Broadway, aimlessly making our way to The Broadway Theater, home of The Color Purple. Frankly, the main reason I chose this show was because Miranda wanted to see it. I picked up the tickets at the TKTS booth which is about a block from our hotel. We got a great deal… half price! Anyway, I went to placate my bride. I was absolutely amazed by the show. The movie is phenomenal, but the play adds the excitement of a live performance. The actress that played Celie is incredibly gifted, but my favorite was the actress who played Sofia. For those of you familiar with the movie, Sofia is the role made famous by Oprah (who, by the way, is one of the producers for the musical).

After the show, we wandered back up Broadway and back towards our hotel. We picked up a late night snack at Junior’s, and then came back to the hotel.

This morning, I slept late. There were no little girls to ask me if it was wake-up time yet, so I just slept. Miranda was up earlier than I was, and she went to one of the dozen or so Starbucks within spitting distance of the hotel. When she came back, we went trotting around mid-town. We ate some lunch, and then we were off to try to find a LensCrafters. We went to the one on 5th Avenue, and it was way-cool… but no glasses that I liked. We traveled uptown to a LensCrafters Optique, and I ordered a pair I like. They will be shipped within two weeks or so. We took a cab from the first LensCrafters to the Optique and from the Optique to the hotel… total fare and tips: $20. Total cost of glasses: $20. I sure am happy when Miranda gives me her free pair!

We came back to the hotel since it was drizzling, and Miranda took a nap. I worked on a paper due Monday night in my Legal Responsibilities in Education Course, and then I went walking around the neighborhood. When I came back, Miranda was ready to go, so we went out and took the subway down to the East Village. We wandered around for a while before we finally found a somewhat decent barbecue place for dinner. Since it has been unseasonably warm all day, we decided to eat out on the sidewalk. After dinner, we walked over to the Orpheum, which had been within sight the whole time we ate, and went in to find out seats.

Once again, Stomp was phemonal! I have seen it twice before: once here and once in London. Tonight was different, because I have an indirect connection with one of the performers. David had told me to keep an eye out because a friend of his from college is in the production. Turns out that his buddy has one of the leads in the production. I don’t suppose Stomp really has a lead, but there are always two stand out characters. One of the performers usually stands out as the leader, and one of the others stands out as clownish type of goofball. The goofball is always my favorite… and tonight, that role was excellently played by David’s friend, Brad Holland.

After the play, we wandered back to the subway and took it to Times Square. We then wandered back to the hotel (with a stop by Junior’s, of course), and here I am… telling you about my day. Enough for now…

Okay, okay… so it has been nearly a month with no post. Quit your grumbling and complaining… at least I am on here now. Plus, it’s not like I have any regular readers or anything.

Anyway, on to the point of the post. Miranda and I left with the girls Wednesday night after a quick bite to eat at the Front Porch. We arrived in Pelham in about an hour where we spent the night with Miranda’s aunt Teresa and her family. She had graciously agreed to keep the girls for us while we spent the weekend in NYC, and we were happy to let her.

We left for the airport at about the same time we would have left for work / school, and arrived at the airpot with no problems. Security was a breeze, we ate a quick airport breakfast… high-quality cuisine, folks… then we boarded our little puddle jumper for a direct flight into LaGuardia.

The flight was uneventful. Well, until we started to land. Miranda is a reluctant flyer at best, and she had my hand in a death grip. Honestly, the last time she held my hand so tightly she was in labor. We landed safely, and had no baby in the process.

Note to my gentle readers who might be coing to NYC: don’t take a shuttle to Manhattan. I was a cheapskate who wanted to save $10 or so off the cab fare… and in doing so, I got a nice meandering tour of all of mid-town as Pedro the Wonder Driver dropped off everyone else on the van before bringing us to the Miford.

Checking in was a breeze. There was a line curving back and forth through those ropes that you see at Disney World. I don’t mind standing in a queu like that for a roller coaster, but there is no way I am doing it to check into a freaking hotel. I saw a big group over ot one side, and I began to wiggle through that group and making my way to the front. What could have been an hour and a half was reduced to 15 minutes.

After checking in, I left Miranda in the room and walked a quick block over to the TKTS booth to get tickets for tonight. I had lots to choose from, but decided on The Color Purple. Miranda was really wanting to see it, and I had picked Stomp for Friday night. I went back to the room, got my bride, and she and I went exploring. We ate a very late lunch at the best pizza place in mid-town, John’s. I am not sure, but I honestly think this place is in an old church. The atmosphere was phenomenal - complete with two large, brick, wood-burning pizza ovens right there in the dining area.

After a late lunch (early supper?), we walked over to Times Square and just began to wander. We walked down Broadway, and over to the Charmin bathrooms. Don’t ask… I will tell you later.

In fact, I think I will continue this little saga later. I slept in this morning, and it is now lunchtime. I am ready to get off the computer and go over to 5th Avenue. Miranda and I are eating on the way, and then I think we are going to do a little shopping.

One afternoon as we were walking along the heart of London, not far from Piccadilly Circus and the major shopping areas, I noticed something that I had only seen one other time since I had been in London. Standing on a street corner was a man who was passionately preaching to everybody and yet nobody in particular. Having been raised in the buckle of the Bible belt, I felt compelled to stop and listen. After all, you can’t just ignore the preacher, can you? That day, I listened only briefly as I flowed along with the rest of the human traffic.

During the portion that I overheard, the man seemed to be speaking truth. He pointed out that each and every one of us must die, and after that, we come face to face with our very Creator. He shared that Jesus did not come into the world to send anyone to Hell but to save all those who would listen. He reminded those who might be hearing his words that there is one God, and there is one mediator between man and God… Jesus Christ.

At this point, I became distracted. A rather tall man became very irate with what the street preacher was sharing. He didn’t become irate enough to stop; however, as he stood waiting for the light to change, he shouted back at the street preacher, “Stupid Americans! Go back home with your Jesus!” He continued on with his tirade, but the light had changed, so I didn’t hear him as he was walking away from me at a steady pace. (For the record, I didn’t notice that the street preacher had an American accent, so I think it is curious that the irate listener assumed that he was an American. He didn’t sound like one to me.)

Several things stand out to me about this experience that lasted less than a minute.

First of all, I agree completely with the content of the message. That street preacher spoke truths that day, truths that are simultaneously ancient and relevant. His message was one of love, of compassion. If asked, I am sure he could have backed up his words using the scriptures contained in the large black Bible that he was waving around. So could I.

While I agree with the message, I have to admit that his method is somewhat troublesome. I don’t know, maybe he has had great results on that street corner. Maybe on other days, many have stopped to listen. Perhaps he has had the opportunity to pray with countless people from countless nations. For some reason, I kind of doubt it. The only reaction I saw was one of annoyance and anger. The only man who responded was repelled after his encounter rather than attracted to the Savior the street preacher spoke of.

Is the street preacher responsible for the way people react? Of course he isn’t. He is only responsible for being true to the calling that he believes is placed on his heart. Let me be sure to state here that I am not judging the street preacher, nor am I questioning his calling. God Himself may have spoken from a burning bush with instructions for this guy… it wouldn’t be the first time. And God has called many men to do many things that have been considered foolish.

I just happen to think that if the street preacher was called to reach those around him with the good news, he could have picked a better method. The message is timeless, but the methods are not. Perhaps in another time or another place, preaching on a street corner would bring about positive results for the cause of Christ. I am not sure that is the case today.

I know that during my time in London, I made one friend whom I have already mentioned here. I showed an interest in Dalia because I genuinely was interested in her… it wasn’t hard to fake. I talked with her because I wanted to know her better. During a few short days, our lives intersected. I opened up about my life with her, and she shared about her life as well. As a result, I think she probably cares more about my thoughts on Christ than any one of the listeners of the street preacher. Why? Because she knows that I care about her as an individual.

So what is my point? Well, for starters, I think relationships are crucial. If you are a believer and you intend to have an impact on your world, you need to start loving people. Open up your lives, your homes, your hearts. Not so that you can win them over to your side, not so that you can take them to Sunday School, and not so that you can take them to fill up your pew on Bring a Friend to Church Day. Love them simply because it is the thing that you are called to do… you remember that little commandment that Jesus said was the biggest… “Love God and love people.” Love them purely, with no hidden motives. As you do so, you will have many opportunities to share with them the eternal truths that have impacted your life, and because of your love and concern for them, you will have credibility.

Secondly, be willing to compromise your methods. The message is timeless, but the methods aren’t. The world is a changing place, and if the church wants to reach the world, the church needs to change as well. Many of our churches are stuck somewhere in the 1950’s. Others label themselves contemporary and think they are trendy, but many of them are stuck in the 1980’s. You have to respect the Amish. At least they are honest when they say that they prefer the methods of a different era. The American church is like the Amish in denial. We think we are riding the wave of relevance, but all too often, we simply aren’t.

So what methods should the church embrace? To be honest, I am still working that one out. I am not really sure about what the church is called to do, but I am fairly confident about what I am called to do.

Love God and love people. In the end, isn’t that what matters most anyway?

OUr coach actually showed up late. The driver was supposed to pick us up, and then pick up the other group on the way out of town. That would have been logical as the other group was staying at a hotel that was on our way, but the driver picked them up first. His mistake put us behind schedule on a day that was already fairly busy.

The weather that morning was what I had always imagined London weather to be. In a word, it was grey. The skies were overcast, and though it wasn’t really raining, it was definitely drizzling off and on. After having several days of walking, taking a leisurely coach ride to Stonehenge was a welcome respite.

Unfortunately, the drive was not as relaxing as it could have because of the presence of Myrtle. Myrtle was our tour guide for the day, and she had a through command of a vast array of knowledge and trivia. I am not sure if she stopped talking the entire day. (If she did, she did so after I had already achieved information overload and tuned her out.) She shared with us all about Stonehenge on the way there, and frankly, I pretty sure she was reciting the details of its construction from her memory of the good old days. She was so old she could have very well served as a consultant on the job.

When we made it to Stonehenge, Dalia told us she was staying on the coach to make some more arrangements for the rest of the tour. (She was taking the two groups that were accompanying us to Paris the next day.) I told her when she finished with her calls, she had a mission. She needed to find me a Penhaligon’s.

Stonehenge was fairly impressive. I must admit that being kept at a distance was frustrating though certainly understandable. (During the years when people were allowed to approach the stones, many people did so with a rock hammer in order to take home a little piece of Stonehenge.) I thought about trying to convince the caretakers that I was a druid, but they probably would have insisted that I strip myself naked and paint myself blue before allowing me to approach the stones. I wanted to approach them, but not that bad.

After walking around the stones, we headed back to the coach. (Well, after the typical stop in the gift shop where my students once again did all they could to strengthen the UK economy.) I was hoping for a restful drive to Bath, but it was not to be. Myrtle’s knowledge was one again forthcoming. She continued to tell us about the local architecture, the history of the massive, white chalk horses, and I promise I am not kidding you… animal husbandry. At one point, she began to explain various breeding methods for British cows. By the time we reached Bath, we had learned about much more than just the history and architecture of the town.

The countryside was simply brilliant. The route to Bath took us through several quaint villages and through some beautiful countryside. There was simply too much to take in, so I tried to just enjoy it as much as I could. Bath itself was a beautiful town.

We split up for lunch after we arrived, and Dalia, Beth and I went for a birthday lunch at a local pub, the Rat and Parrot. (The pub itself was an okay establishment, but it is part of a chain. I would have preferred something more like the Horse and Groom in Windsor.) The food was slow in coming, but we eventually finished our lunch in time to make a speed tour of the museum surrounding the ancient Roman Baths.

On the way back to the coach, I saw my favorite sight of the town. There was an older middle-aged street performer that I had noticed earlier standing in the middle of pedestrian square singing while playing his guitar. As I approached, I noticed a little girl standing in front of him. As she dropped a coin into his cup, he began to make up a song to her.

“Thank you, my darling… thank you, my beautiful…
You are my beautiful… my beautiful little darling…”

As he continued singing, she bent over and began to pick up the rest of the coins had missed his cup but landed in his guitar case and place each one in the cup. Meanwhile, he kept on singing.

We traveled back to London in relative peace. On the way, Dalia informed me that she had, in fact, found out where a Penhaligon’s was, and dropped me off literally feet away from it. Beth went with me, and together we picked a fragance.

After Penhaligon’s, we tried to find Beth’s china, but to no avail. We went into a shop that carried her brand, but they didn’t have her pattern. We then joined the rest of our group for dinner at Harry Ramsden’s, a fish and chips place. I have to admit I was underwhelmed by fish and chips… we have them here in the states, too.

After dinner, the kids went in another shop or two before we made our way back to the hotel where the night passed rather uneventfully.