The Train Ride to Nîmes

I left this morning from Bordeaux to make my way to Nîmes (pronounced something along the lines of neem--but then again, I'm certainly not French, and honestly have no freaking clue how to really say it...stupid Americans). The majority of the train ride went well. No problems, just 5 hours of the train, tracks, and my ipod which, amazingly, did last that long. Like I said, no real issues, excepting that slightly sketchy time when the police walked very authoritatively down the aisle. I'm not sure what they were after, but I suppose they found it because they didn't come back.

I had made it to within 40 minutes of my stop sitting alone when we had a temporary detour at a forgetable station at which hords of people stepped on the train, and my solitude was lost...to a french woman...who had (apparently) five new designer scents...which she was fairly intent on trying...on the train...beside me.

Forty long minutes later, I had made friends with my companion (who did smell nice--no denying that) and found myself at my train station in Nîmes. I found my way to the bus stop and some 30 minutes later at the base of a hill which I had to trek to find my hostel. Exhausted and sweaty, I entered a hostel paradise--newly renovated, clean, English spoken--well.

I dropped off my stuff and headed into town by foot (which I reached a mere 30 minutes later).

Great weather, good hostel, charming walk--finally what vacation is supposed to be!

blessings.

jon.

The Roses of Notre Dame.

Yesterday was amazing. Finally, the weather improved. It was much less tempramental than it was the day before. In the morning, I ventured out of Paris to see the Chartres Cathedral. I had heard of the Cathedral for two reasons. The first was because of its famed stained glass windows (so famous, in fact, that the color Chartres Blue references them). The second was because of an annual occurance at Elon--the arrival of the Labyrinth. The Labyrinth that Elon uses is actually the template of the one in this Cathedral. And with as many times as I had walked it at school, I hoped to be able to do the same on the orginal. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to.

I didn't even realize where it was until I was practically standing upon it. It is in the heart of the nave. Spanning the width of the church it winds and curves its way to its center--a metaphor for the soul's journey in this life towards a spirital City of God. I meandered around the rest of the church, taking in the detail, and soon, I was back on a train to Paris--suprised at how quickly the afternoon had passed.

When I returned to Paris I made my way to Notre Dame (which, call me stupid--because I sure felt like it, I realized maybe 3 days ago means Our Lady. Duh. Ok. Moving on.) I reached the Cathedral and entered along with throngs of other tourists. Even in the midst of hundreds of people, I felt at home. I think this is a true power of the church. Millions and Millions of people united in spite of language barriers and nationalities. There is a common experience which connects us, in the way that many faiths connect their faithful. I suppose I just didn't recognize it until I really had the chance to experience it.

I left the Cathedral and realized that I had another hour or so to kill before I met some friends studying in Paris, so I went exploring around the cathedral and through a charming park beside/behind it.

And that's when I saw the roses of Notre Dame. Peach colored, pink tinted--smelling as sweet and fragrant as they ever would. Complete with the towering catheral keeping watch over its most delicate additions of beauty.

It all made sense.

blessings.
jon.

Goodbye Copenhagen, Hello Paris!

I have officially made it to Paris. After a whirlwind last week at DIS and in Copenhagen, I have moved on to more relaxing (or maybe not so relaxing) adventures.

It was a bittersweet farewell to Copenhagen and many much loved friends. It was an amazing semester, full of fun, some bumps in the road, and amazing people. It's hard to leave that. But then again, Paris is tempting--not to mention the prospect of going home.

A friend of mine, named Gretchen, summed it up pretty well in a letter she wrote for me to read during my wait in the airport. Here is some of what she writes about meeting again, someday: "And it's hard to admit that someday is really some day, and it won't be many even then. Denial that goodbye is goodbye, that I won't be able to bike ride at top speed to the s-tog [s-train] to see you again."

Someday is just some day, but at least it's a possibility. Not just a necessary polite saying, but rather a genuine--"I will see you again" thought.

I realized today on the flight to Paris just how lucky I am. The quotation that I include on all my emails reads "In everything keep trusting that God is with you, that God has given you companions for the journey."
I was blessed to have those companions on this journey--people who listened and laughed, who opened their arms and gave me rest. I can't even begin to tell you the connections we've made.

In anycase, the goodbyes are finished and I am in Paris. My experience so far has been the train from Charles de Gaulle and the Metro. I found a great trio of international roommates who (through friend connections) have agreed to keep much of my stuff for the next three weeks as I travel through the south of France. After spending a couple of nights here, in Paris, I head to Bordeaux, then to Nimes for 5 nights (it's serving as a base camp for several day trips). Next I head to Barcelona to meet some Elon kids, then up to Nice (with a trip, I hope, to Monaco), then a grand return to Paris!. A full three weeks. Kinda backward seeing as though I took 5 years of Spanish and 0 years of French. But I'm trying. I just keep joggin my memory to remember Beauty and the Beast to see if I can learn anything about the language. No luck yet.

Before I leave you, I wanted to include one more thing that my friend wrote in her letter.

"Sieze that moment, damnit, run out that door with a water bottle, a rain jacket, open eys and heart. Try the smoked herring, go to Sweden at 8 am, and remember that you never lose all by loving, but you always lose by holding back."

That's the goal. Minus the smoked herring.

Thanks for reading, I'll probably send two or so more--one during the trip and one once I make it home.

Congratulations to all the seniors. You are going to be amazing. I feel it. As Paul Monette says "Go without hate but not without rage. Heal the World." I know you can do just that--heal the world.

blessings and peace.
jon.

ps-I will be making my return to Elon on 1 July 2006. Be ready.
pss-the picture is of me grilling out on my last saturday with friends...we decided to show the Danes what American food was all about. all I can say is (in true Grady style) S-U-C-C-E-S-S, that is how we spell success.

When I look back at my semester here in Copenhagen, I can't help but wonder--how did I get here? I did I end up typing on my laptop in my dads' office at 11pm on the night before I leave? How did four months simply disappear?

The answer is that they didn't disappear. They were lived.

When I first came to Denmark, I was constantly asked the same question--Why Denmark? My inital response was easy--English...it was my language and they spoke it too (for the most part at least). Not to mention it had an attractive program and a slight mystery surrounding it (I mean, really, who studies in Denmark?).

If you asked me that question now, I would have a very different answer. As a University Guide at Elon, I am often asked why I chose this school. I always make a point to tell the questioner that the reason I chose Elon and the reasons I stay at Elon are not always the same. The same idea proves true for my experience in Denmark.

I came to Denmark for a few reasons, but I stayed for a myriad (you like that vocab usage?) of other ones. I stayed for the two wonderful men that opened their arms to this stranger. I stayed for the people I met in airports, on buses, trains, and cafes. I stayed to reach out to people, and to be reached out to. I stayed to find rest for these pilgrim feet. I stayed to have a story. I stayed for the friends and the laughs and the memories. Memories that include:

-random airport meetings turned superclosefriends.
-night church and candles.
-nights of partying and nights of quiet
-Nyhavn afternoons
-Bike Rides around the Harbor
-Trips around Europe
-Platter Toilets

just to mention a few.

Now that I look back and wonder why I made it here, I have to wonder how it happened. I happened through endless readings, funny accents, and inside jokes. I happened through the people. I adore Copenhagen--the city, the charm. But what I really love (and will miss the most) are the people I met along the way. They made it fun when it was depressing. exciting when it was grey.

I think it' s easy, when adventuring on a journey like this one, to cut yourself off from other people. In doing so, you avoid the pain of having to say goodbye. I can't help but think, though, that living like that is limping through life. The Indigo Girls wrote a song called "All That We Let In." In it, they explain that "we are better off for all that we let in." They couldn't be more right.

So, here's to all those that some how made it in to my heart and, by some Grace, let me into theirs.

Take these memories with you, and remember who we were. These were some of the best days of our lives.

blessings and my love.
jon.

Mother's Day

I find myself sitting on my sofa-couch, suddenly bombarded by the realization that it is, in fact, Mother's Day--the Hallmark holiday created to remember mothers and boost sales of flowers and gifts in the slow month of May. I can't be too cynical, however. Some of my best memories surround the holiday. I remember going up to Crawfordville (Pigeon Creek if you've ever seen the film Sweet Home Alabama) and waiting patiently as my Aunt Jane pinned a red rose bud on my lapel--the rose for my mother, red because she was still alive. I remember the first year my dad had to wear a white one because his mother had passed.

But more importantly, I remember the little memories that give reason for the holiday. I remember waiting for mama to pick me up from Ms. Carrie's after she left work. I remember trips to Fayetteville--from Dunkin' Donuts to MJDesigns and seemingly every place in between, we seemed to own that place. I remember sitting at the upright in our living room and singing hymns that she loved and played (quite beautifully I might add). And decorating the house for Christmas--white lights. I always wanted multicolored. Little did we know that 7 years later, I would be the one pushing for the classic white while she would be arguing for the colored ones. I seem to recall visiting shut-ins with homemade cookies on every holiday. My mother has a way with older folks--she just talks and talks and they listen and talk..and somehow, everyone ends up on the same plane--I'm here for you and thinking about you. I won't forget you.

I remember a terrifying car ride towards Conyers where somehow I had worked up the guts to tell my own mother that I was gay. And that the love she met me with was staggering, overwhelming and amazing.

More recently, I remember her driving to Crawfordville one morning just to hear me sing in a little Baptist church (the one she got married in). I never did, it was the day my Aunt Jane got really sick--she never was the same. But mama was there. I remember watching mama take care of my aunt as she entered her final year--like a sister, though there was no blood. It wasn't about that.

I recall awaking every morning since my first day in college to my daily email from my mother. When I wouldn't respond in a week or so, she'd kindly ask if I was still alive--translated in motherspeak-- "write me now." At first I found the emails a little overwhelming, but now, if I don't have one, I wonder what the matter is, why I don't have one, and even find myself growing a little disappointed not to hear the news from home.

I always look forward to seeing her, even though she thinks I don't want to ever come home. And when I need advice or sympathy or motivation or hope, she is always the first one I call.

Call me a mama's boy, or a sap, but the fact is she's my mama. I miss her like crazy and love her like whoa.

Thanks, mama, for everything. I wish I could be there to hug you and spend the day with you and eat some of your damn good fried chicken, but I suppose that will have to wait until June 9.

I'll be home soon.

To all those women who have so kindly subbed for mama when she was in Atlanta, and I wasn't: I can't help but remember the times when you hugged, supported, pushed and, yes, even nagged, me to do the right thing, move on with my life, or simply be happy. To you, I have to say thanks too. I love you all.

And to my two dads who have opened their home and hearts to me the past semester, and been both mother and father--you guys are awesome.

oh, and dad--don't worry, you'll get your time when June rolls around. If you're nice that is.


blessings and love to mama.

jon.

The Perfect Day

It is 12:26 pm and I am beaming. It has been the perfect day in Copenhagen and probably one of the best days (if not the best day) I've had here.

Firstly, I should note that the icing on the cake is that I am currently chatting with my dear friend LB (from Elon) for the first time in nearly 2 months online.

The day started of with a late morning wake-up (which are the best kind) and an amazing shower that felt wonderfully clean. I ate left-over frikadeller (if you've been to Denmark, you know...if you haven't, request it...amazing) for breakfast then made my way to DIS to do work. Right, check. Work? On this day? Try again.

After lunch with two good DISers outside (yes, that's right, outside) I bought two oranges and sat on the steps of the Cathedral of Our Lady of Copenhagen eating them. The grooves in the columns there just happen to be the right size to cradle my back. It was wonderful. Sun, oranges and people watching.

I then attempted to do more work at DIS. Right, check. Work? On this day? Try again. I went to Nyhavn with my two dear friends Mike and Andrea. We sat by the canal and had a few drinks and simply enjoyed the weather. While we were there, I requested a jazz band to play "Georgia on My Mind," which they did. It was simply wonderful. Earlier in the semester, about two weeks in, some friends and I met at a jazz club. I was in the middle of my hostile stage of culture shock and just bitter. We were all talking when the band began to play "Georgia on My Mind" with the most lyrical musicality I think I've ever heard. I simply had to dance to it. Then, 3 months later, I find myself with a week and half to go and hearing the same song--no longer weeping, but lively and hopeful. Perfect.

Later, my friends Gretchen and Elizabeth would join us. Gretchen and I soon set out on bikes to ride around the harbor and soak up the sun. The water was the bluest it has ever been, all the flowers are blooming and the fountains running. We rode through an old fortress and sat outside on the grass in front of an amazing Anglican church for a while talking. Then we headed back to DIS where I ate Italian food and watched Harry Potter (the first one) with my Witchcraft class. No, really.

Next, I headed out for a glass of wine with two of my non-DIS friends at this great low-key place near my apartment. Granted on the way home, I lost my balance on my bike and fell--hard. But, considering that was my first fall in nearly 4 months, I'm saying I'm doing pretty well. (No, I wasn't intoxicated...athankyou).

I came home, and realized that I leave tomorrow for a conference in Spain.

Do I still have 2 papers to write, 3 exams to study for? Sure. But honestly, I couldn't think of a better way to spend the day.

Pictures to come.

blessings.
jon.

You Know You've Been in Denmark too Long when...

…you always prepare to catch the closing door if following too closely behind somebody
.…you think there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing
.… the first thing you do on entering a bank / post office / pharmacy / etc. is to look for the queue number machine
.… you accept that you will have to queue to take a queue number
.… your hallway is beginning to resemble a shoe shop
.… when a stranger on the street smiles at you, you assume that: a. he is drunk b. he is insane c. he is American d. he is all of the above
… silence is fun
.… it no longer seems excessive to spend 800 kr. ($140, £110) on alcohol on a single night in town
.… you know that “religious holiday” means "let’s get pissed."
… you use “Mmmm” as conversation filler
.… the word “yes” is an intake of breath
.… you have only two facial expressions, smiling or blank
.… you buy your own drink at the bar even when you are with a group of people
.… traditional dinners may not necessarily mean a cooked meal
.… you forget how to open canned beer
.… can’t remember when to say "please"and "excuse me."
… you will leave a pub if you can’t find a seat
.… you don’t mind paying the same for a 200-metre bus ride as you do for going 10 kilometres in it
.… you know the rules of handball
.… you don’t look twice at businessmen in dark suits wearing white sport socks
.… you start to believe that if it weren’t for the efforts of Denmark, the world probably would collapse pretty soon
.… you find yourself speaking part Swedish with Swedes
.… you find yourself more interested in the alcohol content than the name of the wine
.… you know the meaning of life has something to do with the word "hyggelig."
… you are very surprised when you receive compliments about anything - including your appearance or clothing
.… you’ve completely forgotten what a “date” is - no one ever comes to pick you up and unexpected gifts are very unexpected
.… you don’t think it is strange that no one ever comes by to visit without being invited, and you never show up at anyone’s place unannounced either
.… you wouldn’t dream of coming even 10 minutes early to a party. (Once around the block is always an alternative)
.… you find yourself lighting candles when you have guests - even if it is brightly sunny outside and 20 degrees Celsius
.… you offer people strange-tasting brown alcoholic liquids with their coffee in the morning!