The Airplane to Lourdes

I left California on Tuesday afternoon, clutching my new passport and freshly minted French long-stay visa, on a Paris-bound Air France flight.

The majority of the people on the flight were members of the Knights of Malta, a men's Catholic association. It's my understanding that members must have a sizable net worth to belong . . . at least that's what a nun who used to work in their headquarters told me.

The group was making a pilgrimmage to Lourdes. On the flight there were many people who had horrible diseases, invitees of the Knights, who were making the trip with the hope that they would be cured in Lourdes' waters.

One handsome teenage male was afflicted with a disease that had required the amputation of his hands and legs.

The woman I chatted with while waiting to board the plane had a badly disfigured face from multiple surgeries. She has a type of rare cancer that affects the soft tissues, so whenever she bumps her head, she develops a tumor. She had an amazingly upbeat personality; joking about how her passport photo was going to shock the customs officers because it was taken just five days after her last surgery.

When we exited the plane in Paris, the jetway was lined from the plane to the terminal with attendants waiting with wheelchairs.

To say the least, I had a very inspirational flight on the airplane to Lourdes.

If you're ever feeling down about your life . . . book a flight to Lourdes.

Je reviens . . .

I'll be back at the farm and blogging about my American adventures the 28th of April.

Yikes!

I'm at an internet cafe in Montana. I was in the middle of writing a happy blog post about having just been granted my long stay visa by the French government, when two of the cafe staff ran to the back of the establishment.

My internet access went dead.

There are three computers for the customers and I had been the only person on them. But when the computer went dead, I stood up to leave. A man I hadn't noticed before said to me, "I suppose we're going to fight over this computer."

I replied, "No, you can have it. I'm leaving."

He went to the counter and ordered a drink to go.

The clerk saw me leaving and took me aside to explain that they shut the computers off so this man would leave. He has been harrassing the female employees. The manager went to the bank and won't be back for an hour, and they can't kick him out without the manager.

The police have chatted with this guy, but he won't stop harrassing the employees. It's so bad that the manager makes sure that there is always a man working with the women.

The guy left. I left. I saw him walk around the corner, so I returned. Then he returned. He's sitting in the front of the cafe now, away from the computers. Hopefully he won't go postal and start shooting us.

Oh, how I miss la belle France . . . the Husband, Blanche, Beau, Biberon, Antoinette, Attila, les chats, les poules, and le coq!

Dear Anonymous,

Honestly, on this visit I've sometimes thought about running against Conrad Burns for the Senate . . .but then a really strong gust of wind blows grit in my eyes causing me to wistfully think of my little slice of heaven back in France . . . where there's no capital punishment, there's no theocracy, everyone has health insurance, the morning after pill is stocked in every high school infirmary, where people are allowed to freely take to the streets to protest without first having to obtain a permit . . . and then all political thought passes.

Vote for Tester, I'm sure he'll do a great job for Montana.

Scene of the Crime

Weirdness in the Red States . . . some war profiteer/entrepreneur came up with the idea to manufacture plastic yellow ribbon that exhorts the passerby to "Support our Troops." My old home town, and another one seventy miles down the road have the stuff tied around most of the street light poles.

In front of the National Guard Armory, they have planted large, wooden yellow ribbons with the names of the men who have been called away to duty painted on them. And this plastic"crime scene" tape is tied to the wooden ribbons . . . and around the large sign asking for people to join the National Guard.

Every time I jog by the place I think of the irony that the supporters of this war are using "crime scene" tape to urge us to continue supporting the invasion of Iraq.