I’ve just returned from a two-week trip to France. Hence, the lack of a post last week and the delay this week. While it’s fresh in my mind, I thought I would share some reflections on the experience beyond the usual travelog narrative.

History and the past

France, like all of Europe, overflows with history. Until recently, I was not aware of how significant the ancient Roman presence had been there and that many ancient structures remain. Standing beneath Pont du Gard, the towering 2000-year-old viaduct just west of Avignon (where we stayed), made it obvious that technology and building prowess were not a uniquely modern phenomenon.

But Pont du Gard was just one part of an equally amazing miles-long aqueduct carrying water from mountains in the north to Roman settlements in the warmer and drier south. The engineering was truly remarkable, but not perfect. The system needed to be tinkered with continually, along with addressing the inevitable natural deterioration.

All that was possible as long as the know-how and the institutional support remained. But as Rome’s empire waned, those resources dwindled and the aqueduct’s water flow gradually came to a halt. Today, Pont du Gard remains to tell that story and leaves us to ponder the message it might have for us about dependence on technology.

Christianity and the church

Throughout the Middle Ages, France often rivaled Italy as the center of Catholic Christianity. In fact, for most of the 14^th century, the papacy resided in Avignon, a small town in Provence that the church literally bought for the purpose when a French pope was elected. It quickly grew into a small city as walls were thrown up around it and a grand papal palace and cathedral were built.

Eventually, the Italian cardinals got their act together again, elected one of their own as pope, and brought the church’s headquarters back to Rome. Today, Avignon’s walls still stand and the palace remains, though devoid of its furnishings which were pillaged after the 1789 revolution. A papal summer palace outside of town is mostly a ruin, though its hilltop provides a great view of the Rhone river valley. The popes were a great boost for the valley’s wine business.

Learning this history, it was hard for me not to wonder what any of it had to do with Jesus. Nor was it hard not to see the seeds of the Reformation being planted, which followed two centuries later. It also made me more aware of how the church, and the Christianity it represents, really are fundamentally ancient institutions. Can they ever separate enough from that foundation to provide meaning in today’s very different world?

Modern travel and “sight-seeing”

If it ever was true, it has been a long time since “getting there is half the fun,” especially when it comes to international air travel. In addition to security (at least you keep your shows on now), there is immigration and customs to navigate, all with long snaking cattle-like lines. Then there is being crammed into a narrow metal tube for the better part of a day, flight delays, lost luggage (didn’t happen for us), and “jet lag.” And, of course, it’s expensive.

And yet, hundreds of millions of people are doing it, from all around the globe. France set a new record last year, topping 100 million visitors, and half of those went to Paris. Which means that during “tourist season” (which now is almost half the year) there are as many tourists in Paris as residents. From what we saw, there are people on the move, everywhere you look, all day long. We never experienced any hostility, but resentment has grown in some places against the tourist onslaught. Venice has banned cruised ships, for example, and Barcelona protestors have soaked tourists with squirt guns. And many say that the premier national parks in the US are being degraded by the tourist onslaught.

Of course, we went to Paris’ three most visited sights: Versailles, the Louvre, and Notre Dame. Navigating the network of guides and “skip the line” timed-entry tickets (online, on your phone, with so-so translations) is a challenge in itself. But nothing prepares you for the mass of humanity, literally from all over the world, which greets you at each location.

Each site is very different. Versailles is acres of over-the-top gold leaf royal opulence. Viewing it from blocks away you can see the revolution coming. The Louvre, Versailles’ palace predecessor, houses the largest art collection in the world, with work from the ancient Near East to pre-Impressionist Europe. And Notre Dame is, well, Notre Dame, but now shining in post-fire restoration glory.

At each location I wondered, “What are all these people doing here?” Are there really that many who are fascinated with French history, Western art, architecture, and religion? Or is something else going on? The epitome of Parisian tourist mania is, of course, Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. There is always a mob in front of it, but kept at a distance by guards and barriers so that the details of this small portrait are impossible to discern. What’s the point, since you can view it better online?

Several travel videos I watched before our trip warned of Parisian “Tik Tok locations.” These were places with reputations where you “had” to have your picture taken (to post on Tik Tok) or where you had to eat. The videos all said if you saw a restaurant with a line on the sidewalk, it was such a place. Go a block or two away and you’ll find better food and cheaper prices.

It has been said that for many people having experiences has replaced acquiring material objects. That certainly isn’t all bad but is it coming at the cost of trampling the world to death in pursuit of them? And I ask that fully aware of having just made such a trip myself (though it was my first overseas journey since I went to Germany as a high school summer exchange student). Are we better or more mature people as a result of these experiences, or are they too just “acquisitions” soon forgotten and replaced by new ones?

For myself, I would say this journey was worthwhile. Touching stones chiseled and placed by ancient slaves at the time of Jesus made that ancient world real for me in a way it hadn’t been before. Recognizing that despite its accomplishment, its imperial power faded away long ago puts our world in a unique, and sobering, perspective. Experiencing the soaring wonder of a restored Notre Dame is unforgettable, however many people surround you. As ancient, and even “outdated”, as it might be, nonetheless it is an expression of a spiritual dimension of life that can never be fully known or exhausted. And then there was the totally modern experience of zipping across France at 200 mph on its TGV highspeed rail. All these experiences and many more made me better aware of the wonders and challenges of this thing so easily taken for granted, which we call life.

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