Villers-la-Ville

Thursday, May 3rd was an epic day off. Hava Flave invited me to her school for lunch where we dined on Belgium's Panera Bread cousin and she gave me a quick tour of Louvain-la-Neuve. After a quick coffee and tea, she headed to class and I headed back from whence I came - the train station - to continue my adventurous day off. Off to the delights of Villers-la-Ville. 

Ready for a day of adventure

I took the train to Ottignies, got off and boarded another train to Villers-la-Ville. Once there I roamed around attempting to find signs telling me where to go. Ha! What good are signs that don't exist when you can wander around and see the lovely village and try to find someone who speaks English who can give you directions??? 

The train stop without a station...

At the intersection next to the tracks I chose to go right

And learned fairly quickly that I should've gone left. 

I  found someone who spoke English (ya gotta look for the youngsters) and was able to get directions from her and was on my way to the abbey. 

*****

In case you're wondering:

Abbaye de Villers is the ancient ruins of a Cistercian Abbey founded in 1146 A.D.  For a time-line of the history of Abbaye de Villers click on this link. Or click this link for more information. Even Wikipedia provides an further info that is interesting. So far these web-sites provide the extent of my knowledge of the place. There have been a few books written about Villers-la-Ville...but they're in French. 

*****

I've always been insanely curious about all things that are very old. I love the personal aspect about history. I think most people's view of history is that it's dull and boring, but the fact that actual souls lived out these lives in often different manners than we live today is fascinating to me. I love to imagine and picture what lives were like, and yes, I suppose I romanticize their lives to a certain degree. 

As a child growing up, when driving from one side of Oklahoma to the other, or when going on long family road trips, I always wanted to stop in the ghost towns that were just off the nicely paved roads that we traveled. I don't think I ever voiced these desires, but when sitting in the back or middle red upholstered seats of our black Suburban, I looked off in wonder at those dilapidated buildings as they flew beyond my vision, our Suburban carrying on to our intended destination. You can imagine then, since I was never able to physically be among those enticing ruins, what it might be like for me to have stood among the ruins in Villers-la-Ville.  

It was truly awe inspiring. Breath taking, even. 

Above is the abbot's palace.

Traditionally Cistercian architecture used only stone, 

but in the 1440's Abbaye de Villers started using brick.

There were several areas closed off by gates, deemed too dangerous to explore...

which of course makes them all the more enticing to me. Ugh. 

I love that in the picture above you can see what is left of what covered the brick and stone 

as well as some beautiful scroll work on top of the plaster.

Looooove this!

I believe this might be the square where the monks walked and prayed daily...not sure though.

And this is inside the sanctuary where the choir loft used to be.

I almost broke out in song, 

singing "Alas and did my Savior bleed and did my Sovereign die?", 

when someone else walked in and I kept my tune to myself. 

"The sacred vessels, vestments and books for worship were kept here, 

along with the relics held by the monastery (which were not on display). 

The storage niches can still be seen." 

Storage niches.

There was actually much more of the abbey to be seen, but I spent so much time just being there and soaking it all in that I didn't even realize that the property was much more extensive than what I was seeing. I was there for an hour and a half, but could have easily and contentedly spent two more. 

The atmosphere was incredibly peaceful. Before I left the house, Rebecca and Annie had said you can feel the prayers of the men on the grounds. I found that to be true. It does have a "sacred ground" feeling. I found myself thinking about that feeling on my walk back to the train. I didn't want to leave that peace. I wanted to feed on it and bask in it, however the Holy Spirit brought to mind that wherever He is, there is peace. I praise Him that the Lamb of God has made way for me to be in His temple always and forever. Man no longer needs a physical building to 'find' God. That peace doesn't have to only be found on the grounds of an old, forsaken abbey. That peace is found in Christ and through Him resides in me! 

 

A Story of Wet Paint

A comedy or a tragedy? Either way you look at it, this is a story of wet paint.

My day off was yesterday. The house was to receive the prince and princess again for prayer and the doctor was coming around the same time, so I wasn't sure I could be spared. I helped Rebecca with her makeup, hair and a few other random things in her bedroom. It looked like things would go smoothly without me so I prepared for my day off. I was already showered and ready:

And documented how I felt about going out alone:

So I posted a blog about out trip into Brussels and googled some things to do around Genval. I considered going here to Villers-la-Ville, the ruins of an ancient monastery, or to Brussels again, but this time on my own. :( I really wanted to see the monastery with my sister so I decided to go back into Brussels. So I stalled a little bit, was hungry so I walked down the stairs to go to the kitchen but the meeting was going on in the room between me and the kitchen so I was blocked...fine, decision made, I'm forced to go out on my own. I grabbed my things and headed out the door to the train station a little more confident than last time. I surveyed the platform, there wasn't anyone around as I was 20 minutes early and I sat down and waited for the train to come. So I sat on a chair and waited.

Along came a girl. A nice looking girl about my age in a tan trench coat for whom I removed my purse from the chair next to me so that she could know I wasn't going to bite her if she chose to sit by me. You see, further along down the line of chairs there were two separate signs taped to the seat of two chairs. I'd assumed they were both broken, therefore that left only a few chairs to sit in, and they were both to either side of me. I hoped she would find me friendly enough to take the stranger danger plunge.

She didn't.
She just stood to the chair next to me fiddling with her purse.
And then she touched my shoulder.

She motioned me forward with her hand on my shoulder. I sat forward and my shirt stuck to the back of the seat and pulled away slowly, wet paint (wet, red paint) attaching itself to my beautiful, newly purchased just before I came to Belgium cardigan. (Abby was with me when I bought it. Fun times. :)) I stood up aghast making small 'oh no' noises while the girl looked on sympathetically, realizing I didn't speak French at the same time. I motioned, asking if it was also on my pants. She pointed to my other shirt, so I took off my cardigan, put on my coat that I had deliberated for so long in my head about bringing, thankful that I had, and walked back to the house, thanking the kind girl as I left.

I felt pretty silly and kind of defeated. Apparently those two little sings on two of the seat further down the row were supposed to tell me that ALL the seats had been freshly painted. In no way did any of them look freshly painted. Probably because others like me had sat down on the other seats...maybe.

I got home, my red checkered cardigan in hand. Annie and Katina were eating lunch at the kitchen table, the royal guests had gone. I showed them my cardigan and went to the laundry room, stripped down and put my coat on. And took pictures, of course.

 I later found it to be on the inside of my jacket and at the waist hem of my jeans, as well.

How I felt as I went upstairs to change.

I planned to change and go directly back to the train station....but I ate lunch with the ladies and went upstairs to the family room for a nap instead. I slept for 3 hours.

After a 3 hour nap.

Katina found me then on the couch feeling sorry for myself that my intended day of fun ended up being a day in the house. She was so sweet and made me go outside to the patio saying that the fresh air would do me good.
                                          

Of course she was right. I read a sweet, encouraging and convicting message from a friend and came downstairs with a different attitude. I was able to have a really great conversation with my Mom while she worked at the office at DSC (where she is filling in for me while I'm gone) and

also had the privilege of speaking with C. Rush for a bit too. 

Today I showed my sad articles of clothing to the lot at the house and we all boo hooed over them and tried to figure out a way to get the stains out. (Any suggestions anyone.) L said that I should just return to the scene of the clothing crime and put red criss cross paint stains all over my cardigan. :oP

Ah well. So is life in a foreign land.