There and Back Again

Tripping Through

FRANCE

Hannah and I took a break from sunshine and evening beers by the stream to visit the far north of France where I grew up. We snuck into an old friend's wedding at short notice (great Salmon baked in Champagne at the reception) and saw quite a few people from my old church there. I spent a lot of time trying to remember names and taking messages for mum and dad but it was good fun. Hannah got to experience the 'Chti' accent, particularly when this fish-faced guy, the colour of the inside of an aubergine, pulled out his most obscure northern jargon and splattered it in Hannah’s face. “What noises is he making?” she asked me. Something akin to an enthusiastic duck call is the answer, though the content was pretty ordinary- “You don’t speak French do ya? She’s not from around here, is she?”. Terry Gillam would have happily filmed that scene, I reckon.

The wedding was good fun and seeing all those people reminded me of the life we led in this unique part of the world. It also made me realise the incredible twist of fate that led me to where I am today.

Who knows where/who I’d be if we hadn’t moved to NZ when I was 14. I shudder to imagine. And yet, a decade ago NZ was an unknown place to me. What then seemed odd and impractical (being ripped out of my then known world and social network) turned into the delightful existence that I know today.

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Now gather around children, as I segue into a magical story. I decided in May to go through the Bible as a narrative from beginning to end (I know- crazy right), and came across:

Joseph: young guy, lots of brothers- they don’t like him too much (he’s getting a bit big for his own boots they reckon)- so they sell him into slavery rather than kill him, which can get messy [notes Reuben, who’s not feeling too good about the whole thing]. Joseph is a great slave. He has some depressing times (prison and the like) but is promoted to the highest office in the land, just under the Pharaoh. A big famine comes to Egypt but they are prepared because yours truly (empowered by the Almighty) interpreted dreams predicting this would happen.

His brothers come to Egypt for food because they’re out (famine and all that). After they meet Joseph a few times he reveals himself as their brother. They get a bit embarrassed and remorseful but Joseph, tears in his eyes, embraces them and offers his perspective on the whole ordeal:

"I am your brother Joseph, the one you sold into Egypt! And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you. For two years now there has been famine in the land, and for the next five years there will not be ploughing and reaping. But God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance. So then, it was not you who sent me here, but God" (Genesis)

Now THAT attitude is unbeatable and I do believe, without a hint of fatalism, that God is sovereign over all things; that he has looked after us gracefully and mercifully and that whatever he does with us will be for his good pleasure. That’s good enough for me.

BELGIUM

Stopped for a pee. Cost us 50c each.

GERMANY

We carried on to Germany-a country which I’d heard so much about and yet whose soil I’d never trodden on- to see our friends Ben & Kirk. They live in a cool flat in Mannheim, which as you can see from the map is conveniently on the way to Switzerland. They took us to see Heidelberg- a sexy little fairy-tale town. We waddled under the rain through the medieval cobbled streets, past cabbage scented restaurants, up to the Heidelberg Castle- perched Alhambra-like over the town, then descended back down to the pub to eat schnitzel and drink beer. Interestingly, Asparagus is a big deal while it’s in season and they have whole menus dedicated to it.

I realised- as if this were an odd thing- that I spoke very little German, and quickly evolved from dankes and entschuldigungs into excellent Mr Bean impersonations.

Shop attendant- Halo!

Me- Halo! Tzen bitte.

Shop attendant- SchnifelishnaffenzuggenartVISAoderMASTERCARDneinundziebenartberg

Me- smile, quizzical grunt, 'Ya', broken-English-compromise- 'Here ygo, hohoho'. 'Danke. Danke'. smile, bow, exit.

German motorways are toll free (the French ones added up to over 70 Euros) and have sections where you can speed to infinity if you are so inclined. Infinity meant 140 kph in our little Corsa [whose radiator was hanging with wire from the farm] but it was good fun. Hannah read me the first of C.S.Lewis’ space trilogy “Out of the Silent Planet” while I held the wheel and drowned in my bum sweat.

SWITZERLAND

Switzerland was super-scenic. Mountains, lakes, chalets. Yum. We went to visit Hannah's friends at L'Abri community, near Aigle- which is South-East of lake Geneva. It is a fascinating place set up by an equally fascinating thinker- Francis Schaeffer.

We only spent five days there, but i found it really invigorating. There's a nice balance in the lifestyle and some cool, open-minded people. It's an intellectually satisfying place because there's room to think, critique, and opportunities to digest knowledge through dialogue- which is something I found lacking on my best Uni days. It's a nice neutral Christian-based environment (neutrality is Switzerland's forte) and you find a majority of Americans there who have been disillusioned by this:

and looking for something more real.

I know this has been a long post and we're all busy people. But if it helps, I'm in the mountains in the South of France and you're on a beautiful island in the South Pacific. I think we've done well and deserve a good snooze. I'll leave you with a very funny clip by an ambiguous and witty character- Russell Brand. I read his biography last year and usually enjoy his comedy. He's a bit rude at times, so intermittently cover your ears if you're a bit sensitive [you will have to watch it once through to know when to block your ears so you're already in a bit of a conundrum... I recommend just watching it]. He deals with an incredible amount of issues in this one small segment. Please watch it. It will enrich your life.

This guy would have done well at L'Abri.

Ars Moriendi

THE SWAN (Rilke)

This drudgery of trudging through tasks

yet undone, heavily, as if bound,
is like the swan’s not fully created walking.

And dying, this no longer being able
to hold to the ground we stand on every day,
like the swan’s anxious letting himself down--:

into the waters, which gently accept him
and, as if happy and already in the past,
draw away under him, ripple upon ripple,
while he, now utterly quiet and sure
and ever more mature and regal
and composed, is pleased to glide.

Tragically, choosing the way in which one dies is a rarity. Instead, death seems to creep up on whoever,whenever, as if whimsically claiming any person by right. Death is the most natural thing and yet it feels like the most aberrant intrusion. Here's the story about the dead cyclist we found last weekend and the aforementioned tensions at work.

I’d never seen a dead body before. Not even the ultra-embalmed ones displayed in open-casket funerals. This one was real. Lying there, face down on the side of the road. We had been driving up and down the windy mountainous roads that lead back to Saint-Auban when we spotted him- his bicycle resting neatly at his feet; his helmet by his head. At first glance, Hannah thought he might be having a rest but to me he looked as if he were groaning in pain- the way he was laying on his elbows, face pressed against the ground, as if something were eating him up from within. I immediately pulled over and called out to him: “Monsieur, vous allez bien? Monsieur!” I knelt down by his faced and tapped him on the shoulder and cheek, still calling out, but I could tell he was dead. Blue. Empty. Still warm, but lifeless.

I pushed his shoulder up to turn him around and his zombie-like face let out a drool, then when I’d turned him enough that the pressure came off his lungs his body reacted by drawing in a big breath- which sounded like a violent gasp. I was so surprised I dropped him and his head fell heavily on the ground. His eyes stared up at the sky. I searched in vain for a pulse and called an ambulance from his cell-phone. Then, just as I was about to start CPR on his corpse, the pompiers (firemen/rescue team) arrived [They arrived as I was calling as they had already been dispatched- see next paragraph]. They could tell he was well gone but they started artificial respiration on him with all their gear. Next, a helicopter landed with medical experts who had a look at him but basically just diagnosed him as being dead.

Apparently, this guy in his late 40s had been cycling along when he felt pains and shortness of breath. He rested for 40 minutes before deciding to call a doctor. She suggested that they send the helicopter but the man didn't want to be a bother and decided to rest for a few more minutes. This didn’t feel right to her so she came in the helicopter anyway, but it arrived far too late. He must have been without oxygen for a good 20 minutes by the time I got there. Poor guy- he should have called for help straight away.

We carried on our way after the police finally arrived and asked some questions and for the rest of the evening my thoughts were constantly invaded with flashbacks of his face as I lifted it off the ground and his gasp as he looked up into the sky [I say ‘gasp; look; let out’ etc out of reverence for him but also because I don’t know how to talk about him as an inanimate object- lifeless as he was]. It was as if his soul were parting, upward into the void, as his body lay there, in those beautiful mountains. It felt natural in some way, but also wrong and perverse. I hated it.

I never thought I would pray for a dead man’s fate- but I prayed for God’s mercy on him that evening. In that moment, it still felt possible, as if he was still within the bounds of our space and time. They zipped up his corpse in a body bag but I couldn’t help but wonder where he was. And I imagined him, standing in front of his maker, and I wanted to defend him. I prayed for God to have mercy on him and grant him something solid, real and eternal; something to counter the abrupt and absurd end to his earthly existence.

I have no conclusion apart from- please, dear friend/whanau, whilst living in a healthy awareness of your own mortality, don't die (if you reach 90, i grant you permission). Thank you. Also, if you feel like something is fishy, call an ambulance (or fire services- as they arrive faster).

[+ buy some barriers (e.g. mouth piece). Hard work wanting to give mouth to mouth when their face is covered with blood or saliva]