Traveling abroad through film often the next best thing to being there

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For me, there's truly NO PLACE like Paris. Its street life and energy is infectious -- and I got to travel there via the "big screen" earlier this week by catching "Paris" at a Chicago cinema.
For me, there's truly NO PLACE like Paris. Its street life and energy is infectious -- and I got to travel there via the "big screen" earlier this week by catching "Paris" at a Chicago cinema.
I love this statue, which stands majestically in Place de la Republique, one of the most famous and busiest squares in Paris. This 19th century statue stands as a monument to the history of the French Republic.
I love this statue, which stands majestically in Place de la République, one of the most famous and busiest squares in Paris. This 19th century statue stands as a monument to the history of the French Republic.

I’m not usually a big moviegoer, but I am a sucker for a good foreign-language film. Yes, I’m a bit of a snob – I feel a bit smarter sitting and watching some artsy independent film rather than, say, “The Transformers” (not that there’s anything wrong with that if you liked it!). But since I don’t get overseas nearly as often as I’d like, I figure forking over $10 or $11 for a two-hour onscreen journey into another culture is a fair price to pay.

Knowing how passionate I am about overseas travel, friends and colleagues constantly quiz me: “So where’s your next foreign trip? I know you’re on your way somewhere.” For the first time in a long time, I’m staying put—mostly because I’m out of vacation time and am forcing myself to stick to a serious budget (for reasons I will share in this blog before too long, I hope). But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give up globetrotting. Instead, I’m doing it right here in Chicago—no passport, visas or trips to O’Hare International Airport required—and am traveling by way of the big screen. 

Just this week, I checked out “Paris,” a lovely, wonderfully written film starring Juliette Binoche that was shot—of course—in Paris, my absolute FAVORITE city in the entire world and the one place I’d happily live if told I could never go anywhere else for the rest of my life.

For me, this was two hours of latte-sipping bliss, watching the film’s characters stroll the city’s picturesque streets; hang out in its cafés, stand in its apartments and gaze down at the beautifully laid out streets below. The film showed the interconnectedness of a wide range of Parisians (and Africans across the sea), making clear that sometimes “real life” is more dramatic than anything we can imagine. Of course, the film made me long desperately for Paris, to buy some extra American Airlines frequent-flyer miles to top off my account so I can fly there later this year.

But in lieu of dashing off to O’Hare to catch a flight after the film, I treated myself—as I often do when I go to see a French-themed film—to an early dinner at La Creperie, a cozy bistro-like hideaway just across the street from the Landmark Century Centre Cinema. A favorite spot of mine that’s been owned for nearly 40 years by a French-American couple, it gives me a way to extend my would-be French experience for another hour or two, complete with a great glass of vin blanc and an incredible savory crepe of chicken, goat cheese and tomatoes.

No matter where you live, you can travel the globe without going far from home. If you don’t live in a big metropolis with great artsy movie houses like the previously mentioned Landmark Century Centre Cinema or Facets Multimedia on Chicago’s North Side, or the Gene Siskel Film Center in downtown Chicago, you can still rent foreign films from Netflix or Blockbuster, literally bringing the world to your door. (But if you DO live in the Windy City, the Chicago International Film Festival plays on through Oct. 22, allowing moviegoers to feast on films from Argentina to Kazakhstan to Uruguay and tons of places in-between.)

And that’s a whole lot cheaper than an airline ticket somewhere around the world, even if it’s not quite the same (or as much fun) as being there.

Say amen, sister: Get a spiritual boost by visiting houses of worship when traveling overseas

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My mom Gloria stands just outside the Rome Baptist Church during our 2007 trip to the Eternal City for our friend's wedding.
My mom Gloria stands just outside the Rome Baptist Church during our April 2007 trip to the Eternal City for our friend Monica's wedding.
A view from just above the entrance to the Rome Baptist Church, which stands in the charming Piazza San Lorenzo in Lucina, just off one of the poshest shopping streets in town.
A view from just above the entrance to the Rome Baptist Church, which stands in the charming Piazza San Lorenzo in Lucina, just off one of the poshest shopping streets in town.
Here's Holy Trinity Anglican Church in the gorgeous French Riviera city of Nice. This multiethnic congregation welcomes English-speaking worshippers from all over the world.
Here's Holy Trinity Anglican Church in the gorgeous French Riviera city of Nice. This multiethnic congregation welcomes English-speaking worshippers from all over the world.

I don’t know about you, but I’m often more psyched about going to church on the road than hitting a bunch of must-see museums and boutiques. Although mornings and I have never been friends, when I’m overseas, I make a point of finding an English-speaking service, whether I need to hop on a subway or bus or use my own two feet to get there. I enjoy the religious aspect of worship but for me, it’s also about experiencing local culture in one of its most authentic and expressive ways.

A friend from work recently left on her first trip to Italy, and besides sharing the names of fabulous trattorie, ristoranti and shops, I suggested she stop into St. James Church, which I used to attend during my days of living in Florence. Introduced to St. James by artist friends Louise LeBourgeois and Steven Carrelli from my very own Grace Episcopal Church in downtown Chicago, I found this congregation a beacon of warmth, welcome and friendship. And while its Episcopal worship style is much more “high church” than at Mt. Calvary Baptist which I attended as a kid on the South Side of Chicago, it’s full of international people who speak English – no small thing when you’ve spent the rest of your week struggling through broken Italian! (I still get misty-eyed when I get its weekly e-mails and way jealous when I read about its “day trips” to Assisi and other historic towns.)

One reason I fell so hard for St. James was the soulful singing of the world-traveling Florence Gospel Choir, led by Virginia native Nehemiah Brown. Forget about that old American adage that “11 o’clock Sunday morning is the most segregated hour of the week.” Nehemiah had these Italians, Germans, Brazilians, and a few African-Americans singing gospel classics so passionately they might as well have been in a church in Philadelphia or L.A. (Check out one of their videos here.) And on Sundays when the choir sang, I was transported back to the South Side, where my dad Farnell was a minister of music at Covenant and Baptist churches for nearly 40 years.

Even if we don’t go regularly now, many – if not MOST – of us black folks grew up going to somebody’s church. Besides, even if you’re not super-religious, there’s something special and sacred about being in a house of worship – ANYBODY’S house of worship – even if it’s not a faith tradition you follow. 

It’s all about the idea of FELLOWSHIP, the bringing of people together. That’s why — even if you’re shy or traveling alone — it’s so neat to stop by the “coffee hour” or whatever gathering is held AFTER the service. It’s there you’ll meet church members, many of whom are expats living in their chosen countries and eager to chat about their overseas experiences. And you’ll meet fascinating fellow travelers who, like you, have found sanctuary in this same holy place.

My mom Gloria, a Sunday School teacher for more years that she’d probably want me sharing on this blog, and I love to do this. When in Rome for an Italian friend’s wedding last spring, we made our way to the Rome Baptist Church (no joke!) in a lovely small piazza just off one of the chicest shopping streets in the Eternal City. We sat in on a Sunday School class taught by a wonderful African teacher, met fellow students from South Africa, Nigeria and the States, and enjoyed a morning worship service in the same city where St. Paul was imprisoned, wrote letters that later became books of the Christian New Testament, and likely was martyred.

We did the same thing last fall before leaving Barcelona on a Mediterranean cruise. Taking a cab up this Spanish port city’s winding hills, we found ourselves at the small yet super-friendly St. George’s Church, an Anglican/Episcopal congregation filled with members from across the globe. Not only was this a church I would have been HAPPY to call home if I lived in Barcelona, but these were smart, well-traveled folks who were just as down to earth as any we’d ever met. (And coming on the heels of Barack Obama’s election as president of the United States, we found ourselves embraced by folks who just wanted to talk about the miracle America had just pulled off!) The service itself was spirited but deeply moving, bringing tears to our eyes as we realized the oneness of worshippers, no matter where they live or where their churches may stand.

Now that I think of it, I’ve checked out Holy Trinity Anglican Church in the French Riviera town of Nice. I’ve attended worship at London’s famed Westminster Abbey, where Princess Diana’s seen-all-over-the-world funeral was held. And any time I’m in Paris on a Sunday, I stroll past the super-posh Four Seasons Hotel George V to the American Cathedral in Paris, where I dream of worshipping when I’m someday living in the City of Light.

But in the midst of all the sightseeing in foreign lands, it thrills me to know that God is the same all over the world, that praises are going up in different languages and dialects and still reach heaven the same way.

And that, in the words of my former Baptist pastor, is something to shout about!

(Young) Americans in Paris and London: The Obama girls take Europe by storm

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Talk about a heavenly experience. Along with President Barack and First Lady Michelle Obama, Malia and Sasha got to privately check out the famed Notre Dame Cathedral this month during their first trip to Paris. All kids should be so lucky!
Talk about a heavenly experience. Along with President Barack and First Lady Michelle Obama, Malia and Sasha got to privately check out the famed Notre Dame Cathedral this month during their first trip to Paris. All kids should be so lucky!

I was thrilled to read last week that adorable young Malia and Sasha Obama would be joining President Barack and First Lady Michelle (and of course, First Granny Marian) in Paris and later London for their first European trip. It did my 40-year-old heart a world of good to know that these charming mesdemoiselles would be serving as America’s junior ambassadors to a continent obsessed with their glamorous parents—and one thrilled to see our formerly “you’re-either-with-us-or-against-us” nation back in the global mix.

But politics aside, I was thrilled for these two African-American girls, ages 8 and 10, both getting a chance to experience what life is like outside the prism of the United States. Granted, these are kids of privilege. Even if their dad wasn’t the leader of the free world, they’re the children of extremely well-educated and worldly parents and had a chance to travel to Africa back in 2006. But as I’ve found over the years, there is NOTHING like foreign travel to open your eyes to the realities of your own country. I just wish I’d had the chance to discover this way earlier in life rather than starting in my 20s. I’ve certainly tried to make up for lost time, visiting nearly 30 countries since then!

Just imagine how different we Americans would be if we started engaging the world as kids the Obamas’ age. It sure would be hard for us to demonize folks in foreign countries as “the other” if we’d had a chance to stroll their streets and museums. Eat in their restaurants. Shop in their stores. Hang out in their parks and visit their schools. And the same would be true if kids from other countries had the chance to experience America in person, rather than through stereotypes and caricatures we export to them through popular culture. 

And while I think it’s important for American kids of all races to have such exposure, I think it’s especially key for African-American ones. Whether affluent or poor, so often they grow up viewing their lives through other folks’ lenses, never realizing that there are places where they can just BE without being constantly defined (and often limited) by their color. It’s a freedom that’s hard to explain unless you leave America’s shores and spend time in other cultures where being black isn’t immediately seen as a liability. Which isn’t to say that racism and discrimination don’t exist in Europe and elsewhere, because they certainly do. But you don’t subconsciously spend every public moment waiting for some racially inspired slight, and that’s supremely liberating in itself.

So good for you, Malia and Sasha, getting out there and exploring this big, fabulous world of ours. And it’s good for the world to experience THEM, as well.

"Obama: Savior of the world… and America?"

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This image says it all, doesn't it? Many French people I talked to seem to have as much invested in an Obama presidency as we Americans do.
This image from Dorothy's Gallery pretty much says it all, doesn't it? Many French people I talked to seem to have as much invested in an Obama presidency as we Americans do.

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These works from artist Cyril Anguelidis are part of the “Barack Obama President A United World” exposition at Paris’s Dorothy’s Gallery. The one on the left is titled “Super Oba;” the one on the right is simply called “Yes We Can.” Both have been used as posters promoting this stellar exposition through Jan. 26 — and they capture the world’s hope for Barack Obama’s presidency.

 

“Obama: Savior of the world… and America?” So read the translation from a recent front-page story on a French publication during my time in Paris, the second half of my solo 40th birthday adventure.

This headline may be taking the “hope” message to an extreme, but what a wonderful time to be an American abroad again. 

And what a great time to be an AFRICAN-AMERICAN out in the world.

Since the election of Barack Obama, who’ll be the United States’ first president of acknowledged African descent, folks all over the globe certainly see America in a brand-new light. FINALLY, by electing this black man, we lived up to the platitudes and ideals the nation had been claiming for more than 200 years. We all saw the celebrations beamed from ‘round the world on Election Night – people hugging and crying in Australia, dancing in the streets in Kenya, celebrating after staying up all night long across Europe. But until you’re out in these countries, meeting “real people” who continue to gush about our president-elect, it doesn’t quite hit you just how negatively America has impacted the world over the past eight years – and how much HOPE people have invested in his impending presidency. Just like many of us in the States, they can’t wait for Jan. 20! And we American globetrotters no longer have to be apologists for our country’s policies, or ashamed of our president.

What’s heartening to me as a Chicagoan that now, when I mention my Midwest hometown, the first thing people around the world say is, “OBAMA!!” It’s no longer about Michael Jordan or gangster Al Capone. No, it is the Hawaiian-born former senator who is truly Chicago’s, and the world’s, rock star. Back in May, I remember talking (in terribly broken French) to a housekeeper in my small Parisian hotel who was thrilled about Obama’s chances. My mom and I took a Mediterranean cruise in late November and met people in Italy, in Turkey, in Greece, who couldn’t be prouder of America’s presidential choice. Even an Indonesian waiter on the cruise ship beamed, knowing that Barack Hussein Obama spent some early growing-up years in his native land. This American president truly belongs to the world.

During this birthday trip to France, I had incredibly thoughtful conversations with Europeans about Obama’s election, with them asking I had been “in the park” (my mom and I were!) on that magical Nov. 4th night in Chicago. It happened in Ventimiglia, Italy, where Ristorante Miramare’s young signore and I bonded over talk about the incoming president. In Villefranche, where a waiter at Le Cosmo Restaurant saluted me with, “Yes, we can!” after learning I was from the Windy City. I discussed Obama with my “magic hands” masseur in Paris. With a genteel older Frenchwoman dining next to me at famed tea house Ladureé. At Chez Vong, my favorite Chinese restaurant in Paris, where the waiters instantly piped up, “OBAMA!” after hearing my hometown. And during a home-cooked meal in Villefranche with three wonderful new friends from Ireland (on my 40th birthday, no less!), Olivia, Paddy and Grainne talked at length about our hopes and our fears for Obama’s presidency, one we truly believe can change the world. 

The global nature of this movement truly hit home for me at Dorothy’s Gallery in Paris. A tucked-away enclave in the bustling Bastille quartier , the gallery is owned by Dorothy Polley, an expatriate American who lives in France. During my stay in Paris, I checked out “Barack Obama President A United World,” the gallery’s second and marvelously uplifting “exposition” on the globe-changing election of this man. As you’ll see here, it featured paintings, photographs, sculptures, and even videos from 30 artists around the world — including African-American artist Ealy Mays — on the impact Obama’s ascent has had on the world. It should humble American leaders – and us as regular Americans – that the decisions we make and the votes we cast have more impact on our fellow world citizens than we’ll ever know. And that’s another reason travel is so key in this age of shrinking borders. Rather than just viewing the world’s reaction on CNN, we get to shake hands with it, discuss it, and see it up close in people’s hopeful eyes.

YES, God bless America!

Ringing in my fourth decade in (French) style

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 Is this place gorgeous or what? A seafront view of Villefranche, one seen by cruise ship passengers who disembark here for day trips on the French Riviera.
Is this place gorgeous or what? A seafront view of Villefranche-sur-Mer, one seen by cruise ship passengers who disembark here for day trips on the French Riviera.

 

The compact Villefranche sur Mer train station that transported me around the French Riviera (or Cote d'Azur, as it's called in French) -- and even across the border to Italy. The local trains were on strike during my visit, making for some challenging travel!
The compact Villefranche-sur-Mer train station that transported me around the French Riviera (or Cote d'Azur, as it's called en francais) -- and even across the border to Italy. The local trains were on strike during my visit, making for some challenging travel!
Villefranche became my base for exploring the Cote d'Azur... and one train-enabled day trip took me to the charming town of Antibes (shown here), as well as the larger cities of Nice and Marseille.
Villefranche became my base for exploring the Cote d'Azur... and one train-enabled day trip took me to the charming town of Antibes (shown here), as well as the larger cities of Nice and Marseille.

I don’t usually get hyped up about birthdays, but it’s not everyday you turn 40. And since I’ll take any excuse to take a foreign trip, I wanted to ring in this Jan. 4 somewhere abroad. Of course, I love Italy to death, am newly fascinated with Greece after stopping there twice with my mom during a 12-day cruise in November… but somehow, my mind kept drifting back to France. Paris is my all-time favorite city, but I felt like I needed to kick off this new year somewhere new. Different, yet romantic and ideally, Mediterranean. While reading one of my favorite twice-weekly e-mails from Adrian Leeds’ Parler Paris newsletter , I saw a listing for “Riviera Experience ,” an assortment of vacation apartments in the charming French Riviera town of Villefranche-sur-Mer, owned and managed by a super-friendly American expat named Shelley Benton. I checked out her Web site, drooled over the incredible apartments – and was immediately hooked!

Those who know me well realize that while I enjoy traveling with family members and friends, I’m equally fond of setting off on my own. And from the start, this 40th birthday getaway felt like one I needed to take alone. I’m thrilled about turning 40 (even though I must admit, it feels strange to type out the number!), and see the start of my fourth decade as a great time for introspection. It’s probably my last best chance to figure out who and what I want to be when I grow up. Do-overs have pretty much run out at this point, so I thought two weeks in a gorgeous place surrounded by folks who’ve long ago mastered that whole “work-life balance” thing was just what the doctor ordered.

While my trip began in Shelley’s to-die-for “Artist’s Atelier ” apartment, right in the center of vieux (old) Villefranche, all roads eventually lead me to Paris, which is where I’ll spend the last four nights of my turning-40 adventure. I’m renting another one of Parler Paris’ stunning apartments in the hopping Marais district, a place I’m sure will inspire and dazzle me just as this city always does.

Perhaps 40 really will be the “new 30” for me – but only if I get to take the hard-knocks wisdom I’ve earned over the last decade with me into my fourth. One thing that’ll certainly go with me into my 40s – a never-ending sense of wanderlust and desire to experience life abroad as often, and as authentically, as possible.