This weekend was interesting. Obviously. After getting back from a daytrip to Carnac and Vannes on Saturday, which are both really interesting and beautiful but left us all very tired, Courtney and I decided it was time for dinner. After a unique (okay, not that unique) series of events in which we kept postponing the meeting time, I hustled to the wrong meeting point, Courtney called me to tell me she was lost and powerwalking down the Rue de la Soif (the bar street), and we were told the vegetarian Lebanese restaurant was full, we ended up…at an Indian restaurant. Which is where the weekend first earned its permanent spot in my memory.
Our waiter served us little champagne glasses of something light pink as he handed us menus, which led to, “I wonder what that is. Courtney, will you ask? I wonder if it’s free. Courtney?” Fortunately, we were assured that it was white wine with cherry syrup and was in fact free. The waiter then brought me little samosa-like pastries with an accompanying centerpiece of carrot flowers on toothpicks, wedged into a tin-foil base. I was so excited to see pieces of carrot that big (It’s been a while!) that I had polished off three flowers when it happened. The toothpick wouldn’t come out of the base. Until suddenly it did, launching the carrot flower across the table in a high arc and into the mirror next to us, where it bounced and landed in some fake ivy. Oops. Then the waiter came to take my plate and said, “Those aren’t good!” with deep consternation in his voice when he saw I’d enjoyed the decorative vegetation. Double oops.
The meal finished with us waiting at our table for the check, then deciding we were supposed to go upstairs. Oh, but we weren’t. We stood awkwardly next to the cash register while the waiter tallied up our meal, then had a long, hushed discussion about correct change (not tips- you don’t give them here). I guess all this made him sympathetic, because when we handed him the money he said, “Thank you, that’s very nice of you.” Three strikes, and we booked it out of that restaurant, deciding we’d definitely earned the title “Stupid Americans” that night.
I’ve been going to a student Bible study on campus, so when my friends there told me that they all went to the same church, I was pretty excited to check it out.
Nota bene: Based on the title and first sentence, you’re probably freaking out. Let me tell you right now that it is NOT really a cult, they do love Jesus, and I was perfectly safe. Okay, let’s continue.
Sunday dawned, and Kylie and I took the metro to the end of the line, where we met some other students and the man whose family hosts the Bible studies at their apartment. We piled into their cars and drove about 20 minutes into the countryside before turning onto a dirt road and parking in front of a secluded farmhouse. We walked around to the back, and inside we discovered a modern-looking auditorium complete with Bible, fold-up chairs, and congregation. The service was good and the weekly potluck that followed was great, but Kylie and I were laughing the whole time at her mental image of us running out screaming and bleeding, robed in white.
I promise it was a real church. But the story is pretty great…
In other news, Gwen, my friend from high school is arriving tomorrow for a week-long visit!!! This is terrific, but unfortunately I've been feeling sick all day. Not terrific. I've cancelled everything I can to give me time to rest up before her arrival, but prayers would also be much appreciated and more effective! Thanks!