At Chartres as a Pilgrim

We arrived here on Monday where I'm doing a workshop and facilitator training with Lauren Artress--Living An Authentic Life. We begin  by doing a Greek dance, move into announcements and then morning talks, divided by a coffee break, then our small groups.
--yesterday a tour of the crypt, today a tour of the cathedral--Lauren says we are tourists before we are pilgrims.  Tomorrow we become pilgrims as we walk the labyrinth in candlelight--we will prepare for that tomorrow and then also have an orientation, then rest--then the evening walk which also involves the crypt, but I'm not certain how. Lauren said we should spend tomorrow afternoon as if we're preparing to go to the Temple.
We are staying in the shadow of Chartres--a simple room, with large windows that open out to green fields and roofs of houses, and let in the cooling breezes.
I think of how I have been called to Chartres--that humanities textbook, that I crammed to learn to teach the class--then coming with Doug and Pat and Charles--mainly to see the stained glass and to climb the bell tower--we spent the day here--and, as I was tired from the bell tower, I sat down on a chair, head in hand, gazed at the floor and saw that labyrinth.
That was about 10 years ago, and since then, the labyrinth has been in my life both in Utah and in Colorado, where we just constructed a new one. and here I am as a pilgrim. Doug awaits upstairs, so I will take camera in hand to I hope post some pix here.
Holy time.
And Taize this evening.

I am taught to use the WC Asian style

Bless that Slovakian woman. When I went to the WC yesterday at the church, I was dismayed to see the little hole in the floor at the bottom of a very shallow basin. we were at the trattoria and had ordered. I went up to path, stared at the last stall, opened another to find it was just the same, and didn't both with the third, but, instead, walked back to our table wondering how I was going to make it the 2 or so miles back to our apartment. Doug then checked it out, but of course men have no problem with this kind of setup. But when he came back, he said that I'd have to be careful if I went, because when you flush, the water runs all over the floor where, of course, you're standing.  that did it.
Then I saw the young woman at the next table walk that path and come back after a bit of time passed, suggesting she has actually used the WC, so I got up my nerve and went to her table.
Do you speak English, I asked.
Yes.
Could you show me.... (pointing at the path to the WC)
Yes, come with me.
Together we walk the path, and when we get to the stalls,  she asks,
--Are your knees good?
---Yes (giving thanks for the deep knee-bends I do)
--Then, she says, you need to squat down--use the napkin you brought with you. then get up. You need to walk out, then reach in and flush--don,t worry--it's clean water, but it comes all over the floor.
--Are you Italian, I ask.
--No, Slovakian, but I've traveled in Asia a lot'
--Ah!
--Don't worry, I'll wait for you.
So I go in and squat and use my napkin, step out, flush, and there she is down the path waiting--reminding me to wash my hands in the outside basin with cool, flowing water. we walk back to our tables together.
Angels unaware.




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May 20: At Lake Como and Recovering

Actually we left on Monday, going first to Paris (arriving Tues), spending one night there, then forging onward to Milano, then grabbing a train to Como, then boat to Lenno, close to our village of Ossucio. I will soon (maybe in about 15 minutes, but I'm sleepy right now) post pictures of our 3-floor apt that overlooks Como. It is elegantly comfortable and our terrace looks right out onto Como. Today is our first full day of not having to get up early, not having to board some public transport vehicle, so we slept late, drank coffee with a nutty, brown, crunchy bread we bought yesterday at the town's super mercato. Our activity for the morning was to hike to the Santuario Beata Vergine del Seccorso, seeing the 14  little chapels along the way, constructed, to my best understating, between 14th and 17th centuries to counter the effects of the Reformation and display the mysteries of the rosary.  These are small chapels, unfortunately closed, but one can peak in the window to see surprising beautiful sculptures and frescoes depicting Christ's life from the Annunciation to the Assumption of Mary into heaven.  The trail is steep, and the chapels are scattered alongside of it.  Here is an example:

I took this picture through a barred window; it's Jesus as a child at the temple. Each chapel is sol elaborately outfitted, and as we drew nearer to the church, 400 m above sea level, we saw that at least two of them were in the process of being renovated. They are absolute jewels, and I do wish they would open. Dust clings to the statuary, the floors are crude. I have no idea who the artists were-will try to look that up.
At the top of our steep climb on this warm day, we find the church, but, according to a sign, I am not allowed to enter because I don't have on a skirt, although I am modestly dressed.
We sit in the warm sun for a while, then walk over to the trattoria for lunch, and I go to the WC, which, to my dismay, is a small hole at the bottom of a shallow basin--and that is a story that turns out wonderfully well, thanks to a young woman from Slovakia who speaks English, there with her Irish boyfriend, husband--that will be for the next post.
Health is holding up--sleeping excellently well. Off to Bellagio--the real one.

Excuse me! Stomach Ulcers???

When son Daniel, for whom I am the wicked stepmother, suggested that my stomach pains were probably "old age," I thought it was just another way to insult me. But, then, I though--well, yes--a 38-year-old would think that old age is a disease. For him, it was a statement of fact.
The people in the emergency room were wonderful, the pain excruciating to unbearable=my own emotional state going from "Do I have my affairs in order?" to "I'll probably wake up in the morning minus a gall bladder."
But no, after CT-Scan, x-ray, ultrasound, ekg, and endoscopy, I have 2 ulcers, not caused by NSAIDS or H Pylori. So I take all that medication that I've often scorned--why don't people just eat right--like me--I eat right.
Well, there you have--Daniel, dear stepson--diagnostician--Old age????