Hey homes, watch that pocket

Dear France, your people are quite kind, as this was much to my surprise i apologize for the preconceptions i loaded upon you. Going to try not to do that again, i promise. Perhaps the love from the frenchies towards us is a credit to Obama love or the good looks of my fellow travelers - Rob and Jd. Needless to say our experience in the south of France was a blast and a large part is due to the people living there.

We began our trip in Barcelona and took down dinner at this fusion food joint called 'Me'. They put forth a crazy marriage of New Orleans and Thai styled cuisine that somehow worked and boy it went well with my belly. The owner sat down, handed out recommendations, had a drink with us (a Japanese beer consisting of green tea and well, beer) and gave us his views on American culture - largely generalized yet quite on target. We tucked in early for the night and got up to stroll through the city. It was a JD inspired day - full of interesting shops (including a 200 year old shoe shop, lunch in the market, and wide screen view of barca from parque guell - designed by Gaudi, one of the coolest architects to every go crazy with math, shapes, and well just the creative intelligence God gives us. The next day we flew out to Nice, a beautiful beach town in the French Riviera. Rob and I walked down the beach the following day in our speedo slash boy skimmpies and drew laughter from some un-cultured American girls. I'm not sure what they were giggling at... well, yes i am and they stroll was worth every stare and smile. It was quite liberating and i felt truly euro. We investigated the market - always a particular affair i enjoy to the utmost and Rob was identified as a "Guatamaltecan" or "Guatemalan" by a French artist seeking to find common ground and make a sell. We think it was the artist's go to Spanish phrase, like your parents flashing their proficiency in Spanish with "taco and enchilada" or my Japanese skills with the words "kamikaze" or "bushido blade" and Rob really is quite a handsome central American. After some time on the beach we bused over to Monaco and experienced the sheer decadence of Monte Carlo - there were yachts in the harbor that could feed Africa for a month from their price tags. Quite frankly i was bothered by the lifestyle set before us and i began to contemplate - perhaps millions look at my life and what i have been given asking, "geez is that truly necessary?"

The luck strained out there. Like a ball of yarn falling from our palms, striking the ground, and rolling across the old wooden boards our plans became strewn about the room - confused, laid to waste, and jumbled up. We learned that even the 'best' laid plans and intentions can be altered by the Lord. At that His plans no matter our perception is always the best plan. [Check out Shadrach, Mesach, and Abendego in Daniel 3:16-18] We whiffed on the bus to go back to Nice, woke up the next morning to rain (our 'beach' day off course) , could not find a bus route to Provence, and we soon found our proficiency in the french language leaving something to be desired. Our trio set of towards Marseilles instead, the city where God wanted us all along - we just did not realize it at the time. Finding an English speaker was like finding a raging forest fire in the arctic - simply not happening. I was 0-11 (yes i kept a tally), an all time low or high, depending on your point of view, in procuring an English speaking liaison - memo to Obama, "nice needs rosetta stone". Nah, it was actually curiously refreshing to run into a language barrier. We are so blessed to be English speakers and oftentimes we abuse this blessing and unfairly expect everyone to speak our language as we really make little or no endeavor to learn the tongues of other nations and peoples. We arrived in Marseilles after an ordeal with the train stations in France. Without a hostel or plans for the night a roof over the head was a big priority. Again, no luck there. So we turned to the best place - the body of Christ. Rob called Del, a friend and brother of ours, sharing the good news of Christ with everyone who will listen in Marseilles. I realized that i can be quite quick to give the Lord credit for circumstances i deem "awesome" and painfully ignorant that He works beautifully in situations i consider sub par. This was one of the said lack luster situations. It is easy to tell the Father thanks for what you feel is good and obviously very difficult to do he same when the going is tough. Job, a hero of mine, comments, "Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" I hope i can become more like Job with the faith and acknowledgment that God is the author of all things. Our stay with Del was incredible. Seeing the city through his eyes and his heart was humbling, challenging, and stirring. As i reached the top of Notre Dame du Gare, a cathedral resting high above the city, i realized the need for Christ amongst the millions in my sight. Let me hit you with some facts, the truth will pop you like Patrick Willis - there are more "christians" in the Congo than in France, Spain, and Portugal... combined. Off course it is difficult to look into the soul of men, surveys and box checks only reflect so much, yet this stat is heart wrenching. Del´s team has been in France for 9 years and only seen one person come to the Lord. He feels there our quite possibly less than 100 God fearing and loving people in the city. Talk about a ministry of patience and long standing love - and that one soul was more than worth those nine years. God is glorified by that, very much so. We ate some great pizza, indian food, hit the pub for the Champions League semifinal matches, and watched a good deal of late night American television - i have never felt so wonderful doing the norm once more, just kicking it with friends.

The following day brought a turn in our fortune. We plodded up Mt. St. Victory, a rock made famous (and rightfully so) by Cezzane a famed French painter. Being in nature was a treasure. Creation rocks and i love it all - the flowers, trees, grass, butterflies, wind, clouds, the sun, ripples in the water... all the features of the earth suggest something more powerful and point to the Lord - i like that. I sat at the top of that mountain and came to grips with where i was for a good while. Like waking a sleeping appendage up i felt the sensation of where i was. If your numb you can still move, you just don't feel the steps you might be taking. I want to be sensitive to where i am being led. We returned to the city, had a delicious dinner at Pasta Cozy, a wonderful joint, and again recommendation of our very own Rick Steve´s - Jd Stark - the boy can flat put things together. Bunking down was needed that night and rest was sweet. Easy to come by seeing we stayed in a military barrack themed hostel. That place was tighter than a wallet during the great depression. Tuesday my dreams, yes all of them for Europe, came to a sweet fruition. It was scooter time. Liberating it was, Jd, Rob, and I blasted out of Aix towards a vineyard in the Provence region for a tour and wine tasting. Kristina, the owner of the place (run by her fam clan for hundreds of years) put a stop to her day to show us her work. You could sense her joy in what she did through her willingness and eagerness to share. On the day, we got lost a few times, zipped through round-a-bouts, and well just looked silly. Anecdote here: asking for highway directions in France is hilarious, like a new born baby questioning parents about the theory of relativity. The process ends well for both parties - no one knows what it going down, just a copious amount of nodding and pointing.

We put the final touches on our tour by stopping back in Marseilles for a hike in the calanques, beautiful mountains tearing out of the Mediterranean off south France. I met Scott, Del's team leader, and a fellow member Jake - all incredible guys. We had some great talks about the church and christian lit (off course we chatted up John Eldridge and yes there were aplenty of jokes in regards to manliness). On the way home we detoured to Barcelona once more, where i got pick-pocketed. Im ok. No one was hurt except the guy who took my wallet. It is a wonderful story so ask me if you want to hear it. I enjoy telling it. So much so that i think it will eventually merit the 40 euros i spent to acquire it. It is incredible how much you can be taught be a moment like that.

I hope everyone is well in the states. I am excited to be coming home and especially pumped to see my beautiful parents in 13 days. Good luck to those working on finals and i eagerly await seeing many of you face to face.

yours,
ryan