A Paris Jewel

 


My first time in Paris was in 1963, when my father organized for me to spend a year as a bi-lingual secretary at a shipping business on Avenue de l'Opera. It was a difficult year for an extremely self-conscious 19-year-old six-footer. I towered above everyone on the Metro and was stared at wherever I went. I even had a shoe salesman tell me to, "Allez chez les hommes, mademoiselle," because he had never seen such big feet on a woman. 

But, the city's beauty was hard to ignore, and it was during my weekend sightseeing jaunts that I fell in love with the Sainte Chapelle. This trip to Paris with Grandson Leo marked my 22nd time of visiting it. Up until the 21st time, which would have been ten years ago on a "passing through" visit to the city, I was able to just wander through the Palais de Justice building to the inner courtyard, where this jewel hides, and be with a handful of others to marvel at its stunning stained-glass. In 2014, I had to stand in line and pay, but it was still not on the usual tourist trail.

Naturally, it was to be a highlight of our week-long trip.

On Friday, June 9th, I was dismayed to see the queues of people not even outside the chapel but out on the street in front of the Palais de Justice. Oh no, I thought, it has been discovered. I was warned that advance on-line tickets to anything in Paris was the way to go now, and so I had our timed-entry tickets in hand. My cane allowed me early entrance to the stringent security checkpoint (almost worse than TSA), but Leo and Scott had to stand in line with all the other advance-ticket holders. I rested my backside on the fence ledge and waited for them to join me. (It's standing for long periods that my bad feet and legs can't handle; I need to keep moving and queues aren't designed for that.)

It was then, when my heart had started to flutter at the thought of entering my most favorite building in the world, that something miraculous happened. Right in front of me, a group of young people suddenly started to sing, and not just anything, they sang one of my most favorite pieces of music for writing my battle scenes: Patrick Doyle's haunting Non Nobis Domine prayer from Kenneth Branagh's Henry V movie. The voices soared in that enclosed courtyard, and soon people in the Justice offices opened their windows to marvel at the sound. By the time Leo and Scott joined me I was crying. I floated into the lower level of the chapel with the melody still in my head. (Listen if you like!)

https://photos.app.goo.gl/y9KmVDFm9NkrTKdE6

Now, Leo had no idea what he was about to see, and every time I take someone else into the church I am thrilled by the reaction to this extraordinary feat of 12th century engineering. Leo looked around at the brightly painted pillars of the crypt and its pretty but not outstanding darker-stained windows, and knowing this was of great importance to me, he oohed and smiled and took photos. (Wherever we went, he took time to really look at everything and read the descriptions when they were in English. We were impressed.) After I felt he had had his fill, I said, "Would you like to go upstairs?" "There's an upstairs? What's that like?" I pointed to the spiral stone staircase by the door and said, "You go first or you'll be crushed if I trip and fall backwards!"

His long--and I do mean long--legs took the ancient stone steps two at a time, and I told him to slow down. "Are you there yet?" I called. "Nearly...." and then, "OH MY GOD!" floated down to me. Yes, I thought happily, he was there! I arrived to see him gawking in awe at those amazing sky-high windows, and my heart, still filled with the music from the courtyard, soared with them.
                                                                (More Leo in Paris to come!)









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