All the single ladies
The other day, as I was running around my neighborhood desperately trying to find a place to fax the list of what was in my lost suitcase to Air France (side note - La Poste wanted 17€ to fax my document. That is scandalous I tell you. Scandalous!!), I came across a random little church squished between two buildings. The doors were open, and I figured a few minutes in a religious building couldn't hurt my suitcase quest, so I stepped on in.
The sign outside had said it was a Catholic church, but once inside, I wasn't so sure. The sanctuary was filled with all kinds of weird little statues - including this one, with a pile of papers overflowing at its feet:
I was curious as to what it could be so I moved closer and saw this sign:
Ahh...That explains the abundance of paper. If you're looking for a husband, you just need to go pin a note to the foot of this statue, and Saint Bonaventure will help you find a husband. (Single women, take note).
I took a peak at a few of the letters - most of them were actually kind of sad or desperate sounding:
Especially this one, who was asking Saint B to help her (estranged) husband see clearly and come back to the family fold, instead of continually trying to divorce her.
Here was another statue near the altar. (The more you "honor" me, the more I'll bless you). My dad was Catholic and that was always one of the things I really disliked about the Catholic church - this whole underlying idea that you need to "pay" in order to be in God's favor.
And then randomly, on the way out, there was this:A homage to Michael Jackson. WTF? What on Earth is that doing in a church?? I showed the pics to C once I got home and he said "That's not a church, that's a cult". I'm thinking he might be right.
Labels: Life in Paris