For lack of a better term, I'll call today my medieval day. Being the history nerd that I am, I decided the best way to spend a free day was to explore the Musee National du Moyen Age (Middle Ages). From there, I wondered the 6eme and 7eme arrondisements in search of famous cathedrals. I wound up visiting Saint Sulpice and Saint Germain des Pres, two cathedrals in the general area. I was particularly excited about Saint Germain because it is the oldest Romanesque cathedral in Paris, built on the site of an 8th century monastery where the practice of archeology was founded. It also houses the remains of Rene Descartes, although his head apparently resides in a different location. As I was journeying, I reflected about our discussion yesterday, particularly the difference between a pilgrim and a tourist. The more I considered the issue, the more difficulty I had distinguishing the line that divides the two entities. On the one hand, I was literally journeying to houses of religion, the general destination for pilgrimages. And as a Christian, being in these locations had a good deal of symbolic meaning for me, a kind of restoration/rejuvenation of my faith. But my real reason for traveling to the cathedrals was not one of meditation and prayer; I was interested in the locales for their historical significance, for their architecture, their art. And I couldn't decide whether I was really on a pilgrimage or not. It brought me right back the to the conundrum I was experiencing yesterday; can a pilgrimage be defined by destination? Is it defined by one's actions upon reaching the destination? Does religion have to play a role in a pilgrimage? I had traveled hundreds of miles and chosen those specific locations to visit. Seeing the cathedrals was important to me, partly because of religion and partly because of my interest in the time period. I was living the part of the tourist when I was walking around, talking pictures and admiring. But I was also touched in a spiritual way, one that transcended simply arriving, snapping some shots, and calling it a day. Was I a pilgrim? Was I a tourist? Even now, I am having trouble deciding.

One additional note: I have begun to collect a piece from every cathedral I have visited (generally broken pieces of stone; I got some wood off of Notre Dame). I was really excited when I grabbed my piece from Saint Germain because I loved the idea that it was a piece of stone that had been laid over a thousand years ago (the walls of the nave were built between the 10th and 11th centuries). I was so taken with the concept that I was holding a one thousand year old stone. Then I realized that the stone was probably much older than that, possibly hundreds of thousands if not millions. Any rock that one picks up is comparably old. I was just amused by how my estimation of the stone's age began when it was built into the cathedral, even though that stone had thousands of years of history before it was chosen for the building. Being a part of history makes the stone so much more engaging and almost mystical, even though it technically has little to distinguish it from any other rock in the world.