Ou seule un sourire

I was in Paris for the day a while ago and whilst there I walked past a beggar bearing a sign reading “Un piece, un ticket de restaurant, ou seule un sourire” – “A coin, a restaurant coupon or only a smile”.

I think that's probably going to be more successful than some of the snarling rottweilers beggars in London sometimes accessorize with.

We have a distinctly romance-less begging culture. In Prague, beggars assume a position bending forwards on their knees with their elbows on the ground, holding their hands up in a cup shape in a sort of semi-religious pose of supplication. It looks awkward and uncomfortable, and perhaps works on the basis of utterly lowering their status in the eyes of passers-by, making them more inclined to throw a coin their way.

God Loves You *update*

{This is an update for this post: http://justaplotofearth.blogspot.com/2009/12/god-loves-you.html}

So, yesterday I had an hour and a half to kill, but no cafes to go to because it was the Bank Holiday and everything had closed already.

So I decided to go to Victoria train station to sit in their foodhall bit and do a bit of reading. As I was going up the escalator, I happened to turn around, and behind me was God Loves You man.

I was fairly surprised.

I told him I knew him and explained why; it took him a while to place me but I think he eventually did. We went to a table and sat down. There was a family next to us delighting in a KFC chicken bucket who looked a little taken aback. His denim jacket was much more torn than in December, and his hair a little longer and more knotted, but aside from that, he looked much the same. He didn't smell at all and his hands were only slightly grubby.

And so, he has big news: He is off again this week to Israel, hoping to complete the pilgrimage he attempted last year. He showed me the Eurostar ticket, tucked safely between the pages of his Bible. It was a new Bible, the Jewish Bible, and he had underlined, highlighted and annotated it comprehensively, mainly in blue and pink. This time, he says he will either make it to Jerusalem, or come back in a box. He is going through several Muslim countries with his Jewish Bible and a Jewish Bible quote written on his backpack. He laughed and said that they're going to kill him. I think he quite likes the idea that there is an end in sight, of some sort.

As we were chatting, I noticed a tattoo peeking out from under his right sleeve. I asked him what it was of. Disconcertingly, he proceeded to partially undress, and showed me a fantastic inking all the way up his arm and shoulder - patterns intertwining around three dates and a face, and the letters RIP, with a name emblazoned below. They are the birth date, death date, and cremation date of his wife. She was 23 years older than him and died of cancer in 2002. She wasn't religious but had been becoming interested in it close to her death, but he had told her it was a load of bollocks; this was, of course, before his conversion.

There's something rather charismatic about him, something knowing; the way his eyes crinkle at the sides and his willingness to talk about how many sugars he likes in his tea (about 12 as far as I could see) as much as about the Mark of the Beast. I worked out that he's about 44, but you couldn't work that out just by looking at him with his overgrown straggly hair and beard, and slightly stooping gait. He said he tries to eat as little as possible.

He has lots to say about religion; not all of which I could follow due to my own lack of Bible knowledge. He believes that no matter how Godly one's life is, if one doesn't observe the Sabbath (on a Saturday) then one's back is turned on God. He calls the Catholic Church the Harlot Church, says that Jesus was the same as the angel Michael, that there isn't a heaven and hell as such but different realms of sleep until the Second Judgement.

When he talks about this, although it's hard to follow, it's not like the ramblings of a mad man; more like how any intelligent person might speak about something they've only just understood and feel passionately about.

I suppose I won't encounter him again; hopefully he'll make it safely to Jerusalem and live out his days as a sort of holy man there.