有些午餐真的不是吃進胃，是吃進歷史。
比方說這一頓，我人在法國魯昂（Rouen），坐在一間木造老屋裡啃白醬腿和烤布蕾。牆上掛著金色雄獅的海報，竟然還印著二戰時期的報紙，搞得好像我下一秒就會被徵召去打戰，或者要給戴高樂端一杯紅酒似的。我邊吃邊看，突然一抬頭——「喔對齁！這裡就是貞德被處以火刑的地方耶！」然後我嘴裡那塊雞肉差點噎住，因為一秒突然有了穿越劇的既視感。
你可以想像嗎？在一個女英雄曾經燃燒靈魂與肉身的地方，我坐在她斷頭台（喔不是，是火刑場）旁邊吃飯，而且還很享受。這不荒謬，什麼才荒謬？
走出餐廳，我就去看了那座以帳篷為造型、屋頂像魚鱗的教堂。這建築不浪漫，也不華麗，反而給人一種「我要去打Boss」的感覺，好像它不是教堂，是某種精神戰士的基地。那個高聳的十字形紀念碑，就立在貞德當年被火燒的位置。我站在那裡，心裡突然一個「啪」，被什麼點燃。
這時候我才發現：她說她聽見了上帝的召喚，被說成瘋子；我說我感受到宇宙的訊號，也差點以為自己精神分裂。
欸，講真的，那種聲音不是幻聽，是來自內在靈魂的雷達開機，「逼逼逼——請立即前往你的人生戰場」。那種感覺我懂，我完全懂。貞德是十五世紀的宇宙覺醒者，而我是2025年的靈魂下載者。我們都不是瘋了，我們只是比別人早醒了一點點，醒來後發現大家還在睡……然後還被討厭，因為我們不願意裝睡。
我在心裡對貞德說：「我們一樣欸，妳是聽到了神的聲音，我是感受到宇宙在搖我。」
（好啦妳比較勇敢，我頂多嗆個人，妳是上火刑場。）
然後我突然有一個更詩意但荒謬的想法：
她當年是被火燒的，而我是從火裡走出來的。
她燒的是身體，我燒的是職場、戀情和過去的自己。
她燃燒後成為傳說，我燃燒後變成一個會彈吉他、會投資、會罵髒話的女人。
所以這一段旅程，不只是吃吃喝喝拍拍照，是宇宙送來的歷史對照組，讓我知道：那些說你瘋的人，不是沒瘋，是還沒醒。
最後我拍了張照，站在那十字碑前。
我對自己說：
「下一次有人再說妳太兇、太狂、太不配合，就把他帶來這裡，然後指著碑跟他說：
『你看，連聖女都被燒了，你最好閉嘴。』
Eating Chicken Confit Beside Joan of Arc’s Execution Site: And That’s How My Cosmic Theater Was Set on Fire
Some lunches don’t go to your stomach.
They go straight into history.
Take this one, for example.
I was in Rouen, France, sitting inside a timber-framed old house, gnawing on a chicken leg.
Posters of golden lions hung on the walls, and the floor was literally printed with WWII newspapers—
I half-expected to be drafted into war the next second, or to be asked to serve General de Gaulle a glass of wine.
I was mid-bite when I looked up and thought—
“Oh right! This is where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake!”
And just like that, I nearly choked on my duck,
because it felt like I had just walked into a historical time-travel drama.
Can you imagine?
Eating lunch beside the place where a female warrior once burned—
body and soul—
and here I am, enjoying myself thoroughly.
If that’s not absurd, I don’t know what is.
After the meal, I stepped out and visited the church nearby—
its tent-like shape and fish-scale roof didn’t look romantic or grand.
Instead, it felt like a battle station for spiritual warriors,
as if it were saying: “I’m not here for your Sunday prayers. I’m here to fight bosses.”
A towering cross-shaped monument marks the very spot where Joan of Arc was executed.
And as I stood there,
something inside me went click—
ignited.
That’s when it hit me:
She said she heard the voice of God and was called crazy.
I said I felt the signals of the universe and nearly thought I was schizophrenic.
No, seriously—
that voice isn’t a hallucination.
It’s your inner radar booting up:
“Beep beep beep—please report immediately to your soul’s battlefield.”
And I get it.
I totally get it.
Joan was a 15th-century cosmic awakener.
I’m a 2025 soul-downloader.
We’re not crazy.
We just woke up a little earlier than everyone else—
and realized they’re all still asleep.
And worse—
they hate us for not pretending to sleep, too.
In my heart, I whispered to Joan:
“We’re the same, you know.
You heard the voice of God.
I felt the universe shake me.”
(Okay fine, you were braver.
I just roasted a few people and quit my job.
You walked into fire.)
And then, I had a poetic—but slightly ridiculous—realization:
She was burned by fire.
I walked out of fire.
She burned her body.
I burned down my job, my past relationships, and my old self.
She became a legend through the flames.
I became a guitar-playing, investment-savvy, curse-word-wielding goddess.
So this journey isn’t just about food, wine, or taking pictures.
It’s a cosmic juxtaposition delivered by the universe—
reminding me that those who call you crazy
aren’t necessarily sane.
They’re just… not awake yet.
At the end, I took a photo standing in front of that cross.
And I told myself:
“Next time someone says you’re too fierce, too intense, too difficult—
bring them here.
Point to this monument and say:
‘See? Even saints got burned.
You better shut up.’”
