Bad Girls

If someone were to ask me what one thing I would take from my travels these past two weeks, I would quote a friend of Francine’s, a Bernese shopkeeper:

My mom and I had done something wrong (nothing serious, but slightly funny or something – I don’t remember what), and Francine was recounting the story in Swiss-German to her shopkeeper friend. Then she looked at us and said in English “they’re bad girls.” Her friend said something in Swiss and gave a smirk – then translated:

“Well, you know, good girls go to Heaven; bad girls go everywhere.”
Francine: “Well, I think I’d rather be a bad girl.”

We had a good laugh. Or maybe a bad laugh.

And indeed, if Heaven is as depicted by Giotto on the walls of the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, I’m not entirely convinced I want to spend the rest of eternity sitting in a chair in the sky looking down on the world below. I’d probably fall asleep, or get painfully bored like I do in lectures that are way too long. And this professor is not likely to be so forgiving…

Would I be committing a sacrilege if I gave up my chair in order to go everywhere instead?... That is, if I even get one... hm.