Journeys of a Pregnant Virgin

I just realized it has been a record number of days since my last entry. It's not that I haven't thought about writing or flattered myself that some friends might be disappointed when they check and I haven't written in a while. It has simply been a very busy time in every way. The schedule of lectures and seminars has been packed; I have been doing some work in preparation for the course in France; and most happily of all, I had a lovely weekend in Paris with Yvonne. In fact, having just read her entry about the weekend, it almost seems redundant to write about it because she wrote such a beautiful and thorough account of those days. But I want to describe a few of my own bead memories.

The last time I was in Paris was in October of 1983 just after I arrived in England to begin my doctoral work. Nellie and Ken were travelling in Europe at the time and generously gave me a weekend in Paris with them as my MA graduation gift. My most vivid memory is of sitting in the cafe at the Louvre with Nellie while Ken tried to see it all in one afternoon. I do recall that Nellie and I saw the Mona Lisa and spent an hour or two wandering through that enormous building, and then, like any reasonable human being, headed for the gift shop and cafe to recuperate from all that high culture.

This time my hope was to wander the streets for hours, look and experience (we did), sit in cafes and watch the Parisian life passing by in front of us, and write (after all, we are Anais and Simone, although Yvonne informs me she is now Colette. I think I will remain Simone, who was such an important figure for me). We did not do that but we did a lot, especially given the tremendous heat wave that swept over Paris on Saturday and Sunday. The Cluny Museum of the Middle Ages with its original tapestries of the Virgin and the Unicorn was stunning. Finally to see that archetypal image of the unicorn with its front paws in the lap of the Virgin as it beholds itself in the silver mirror she holds up to it, as in Rilke's beautiful sonnet, such an integral part of our work with Marion Woodman - and the sheer beauty and power of all the tapestries in the series, was very moving to me.

And the Rodin Museum. Yvonne has already described how we wandered through the sculpture garden and I felt compelled to keep putting my hand inside the beautiful large hands of the figures he'd sculpted and hold and caress those graceful hands, often curved with some kind of tenderness that touches me deeply. What a rare delight to be able to touch the sculpture rather than be warned off. I returned the next morning to walk through the museum itself and saw some of his more famous works but also some lovely dancers I had not known of. And thought of my favourite figure skating pair, Gordyaeva and Grinkov, among whose last great performances before his untimely death at 26 was my favourite of theirs: a stunningly choreographed piece based on Rodin's gestures and postures. I believe it was set to Rachmaninoff but I'm not sure. What love of the human body and all its gestures is evident in his work.

On Saturday night we met Frederique, my feisty, sexy Parisian Jungian colleague, for dinner, after sitting in the Cafe Flores, in honour of my namesake, Simone de Beauvoir, who used to write there every day from 9 till noon and 3-7 pm, and drinking the most expensive cold drinks of my life (20 Euros for two diet Cokes and a lemonade)! Frederique took us to a favourite restaurant of hers with excellent authentic French food and of course wine, at very reasonable prices. Yvonne, who is an expert on steak and pommes frites, said they were the best she'd had in a very long time. I had quail simmered with onions and cabbage and probably more butter than I want to know, but it was delicious.

What a delight it was. I have been trying to live frugally these months in Europe because everything is so expensive but what a treat to splurge on a weekend in Paris. We were both modest in our purchases, limiting ourselves to one pair of shoes each, despite traipsing through the Galerie Lafayette and finding much to covet. And we dreamed and schemed about renting a little apartment for three or four months sometime in the next few years, and really soaking it all up in a leisurely way.

Now I really feel it is countdown. Ten more days before Ursula and I leave for France, and then it's homeward bound. And - despite my wonderful European adventure, I do feel ready to be back in Vancouver and with Steve and dear friends and family again. Yesterday I had a rare spell of feeling a little bleak, but today I'm back in good form and looking forward to everything ahead this summer. And then, probably, to coming back in the fall for more, although only time will tell...