Although this is a blog about chocolate and adventures, I wouldn't feel right publishing this without a brief note on the recent attacks. If you'd rather skip directly to the travels and chocolate, please scroll down. :-)
I have little patience for those who mourn for the state of the world and speak of simpler, less frightened times: every age has its terrors and tragedies. The only thing that has changed is the level of visibility,
Most of us are relatively untouched by this tragedy aside from our Facebook photos.
Still, as heartbroken citizens of the world, we weep for the Parisians because they are our friends. But they are not the only victims, and this tragedy is far greater than the 127 lives taken on Friday.
As we weep for Paris, let us also weep for the hundreds of thousands of Syrian refugees, broken and destitute, who will now be denied much-needed asylum because of the abuses of one. Let us weep for the millions of peaceful Muslims across the world who must now, yet again, follow their faith into a place of persecution, prejudice, and fear. Let us weep for those who will use this most recent tragedy as selfish justification to retreat even deeper into the darkest ruts of their own prejudice, building their internal walls higher, further separating themselves from humanity, compassion, rational thought, and generosity.
I will not ask for forgiveness or understanding for the attackers; it's far too soon for that. Rather, I simply ask that each person, in their own way, find the courage and compassion to simply be kind in the wake of this tragedy. Boundless, foolish, immoderate, overflowing kindness. Let us throw open our collectives arms to the needy and destitute, recognizing that it is a far greater tragedy to willingly condemn thousands of Syrian children to destitution and death. Let us find it in our hearts to smile at the woman in the hijab; she needs your kindness far more than you need your anger, and right now she is the closest thing in the world to the Samaritan in the New Testament.
This is a dark time for Islam, but that does not make it or its adherents to blame. In the scheme of the world, there have been far more Christian and Jewish terrorists than Muslim ones.
We are each the last line of defense against our own inhumanity; some people lose that fight and shoot up cafes or teach their children hatred and intolerance. We don't have to, though. Let us find the strength to respond to injustice and violence with courage, justice, and kindness. May our outrage and fear not taint our humanity, and may we work through our anger and shock to find some kind of peace beyond this tragedy.
Peace, y'all.
And now, for your regularly scheduled chocolate post:
This is part 3 of 4 chronicling my two-week adventure in Europe. For more pictures and stories, take a peek at my Facebook photo album HERE.
I've only wanted to visit the City of Lights since I was, like, oh, I don't know... 12? This place has been calling to me from across the Atlantic since I've been old enough to tune my ears to those melodious French phonemes. I took two useless years of French in college, just so I could get my tongue around those beautiful syllables and somehow feel a little closer to the place where bread and cheese is a sanctioned lunch. This place that birthed impressionism. That was and is so beautiful, even Hitler's loyal commander and Governor of Paris, Dietrich von Choltitz, could not bring himself to destroy it, in spite of Hitler's order to level the city before letting it fall into Allied hands. Where butter and wine are major food groups, and, under the Tour d'Eiffel, we paid a man €2 to open our bottle of wine, and when we furtively asked if it would be ok for us to drink it on the street, he cheerfully chastised us, "Of course it's fine! This is Paris!"
I truly don't know what people have been talking about - I found the Parisians to be delightful, kind, and accommodating. Maybe it was my desperate but well-intentioned attempts to dredge up the fading remnants of my college French, or maybe it was our wide-eyed admiration and general footsore benevolence that bought us some goodwill. Regardless, the French people were very patient and generous, even coaching me gently through phrases and vocab mysteriously misplaced from my memory banks from long neglect.
We visited the catacombs, where, 130 steps below street level, 7 million deceased Parisians lay at peace in the city's old stone quarries. So many bones... It's easy, in the face of so many deconstructed skeletons, to forget that they each belonged to people who fought with their parents, hated peas, teased other children, bought plums and flour at the market, woke up to feed the baby at 3 in the morning, loved fresh bread, whose friends gave them playful nicknames and teased them about the way they mispronounced street names, longed to see the sea, fell in love, fell out of love, maybe buried their parents or children or friends, and in the end suffered all the indignities and fear of death themselves. Even their names are gone. These were full lives, far larger than the sum of their skeletal frames, and now all that's left of their multitude of unrecorded subtleties, quirks, phobias, and preferences is laid to rest in this simple and sobering labyrinth of humanity. This is no lurid, frightening exhibition of leering horrors, it is rather a respectful monument to the magnitude of death, and a powerful metaphor of how, both literally and metaphorically, we have built on the unknown and forgotten millions and billions who have gone before us. For, in the beautiful words of George Eliot, "... the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."
As the perfect send-off, on Sunday morning we attended Gregorian mass in the breathtakingly beautiful Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris - a living, breathing reminder that wonders from the 12th century can still be as transcendent and relevant today as they ever have been. Even as I got frustrated with the tourists milling about and taking pictures during mass (really, guys - you're giving tourists a bad name. If the sign says "silence," that refers to your shutter clicks and whispering), the music was positively ethereal, the voices of just four singers filling the cathédrale to bursting with all the marvelous help of the magical 12th century acoustics.
Even so, I have a confession: I did not eat any Parisian chocolate.
Maybe I was distracted by all the macarons, croissants, and baguettes. Maybe I was too busy stepping into a new patisserie every third block to try a new tart, pastry, or yet another croissant. Maybe I was too preoccupied with the fifth bottle of wine in three days, or our perfectly delightful hotel balcony, where we drank wine and talked and laughed in our pajamas until all hours of the night, or watching the Tour d'Eiffel light up like glittery lace against the night sky. Regardless, I don't know how it happened. I'm bewildered.
Fortunately, I had a backup plan. I never travel without chocolate.
So, when we found ourselves in a boat on the Grand Canal in the park at le Chateau de Versailles, I was able to pull out a bar from back home for us to munch on. Sadly, the chocolate was less than stellar, but Versailles made up for all chocolatey deficiencies. The gardens alone were bewildering in their beauty and grandeur, and the palace was staggering and swiftly overwhelming. One can only take in so much gilding and mythological imagery before gasping for the open air and seeking reprieve in yet another croissant.
Paris was everything I thought it would be. Every bit as beautiful and delicious and affirming as I have been anticipating. This place, pinned together with a powerful appreciation for beauty and an elegance of execution rare on this earth, calls to me. I am so incredibly grateful I could answer.
Item: Extra Strong Dark Chocolate
Percentage: 77%
Made By: Chocolove
Made In: Boulder, Colorado
Purchased At: Whole Foods Market - Arlington, TX
Purchase Price: $3.50
Review: Sadly, in the realm of plain, dark snacking chocolate, this one ranks rather near the bottom of my list. The texture is oddly chalky and tough, it doesn't melt nicely, and the flavor is uninteresting at best. I could blame that on traveling across the Atlantic in the bottom of my backpack, but I tend to think that's just the way it is; better than nothing, but just barely. I should have gone for another baguette instead.
MEH
With love,
- K
