Život v Cizine (was La Vie Expatriée)

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Réjouis-toi, Marie

Notre-Dame is showing another "opera of images", like the Lumen de Lumine, Lumière née de la Lumiére show I saw in January. This one is based upon the Akathist hymn, a Byzantine hymn to Our Lady.

This one was not quite as successful, in my opinion. It is projected from behind onto a sheer screen. But this time of year at 9 PM, it's still light, so the windows and sanctuary were visible through the screen, and the double images gave me a headache. In addition, the English translation (where it existed) stood in serious need of proofreading. It seems that Mary bore in her womb a "bake," thus serving as a sanctuary for "Gog," who is a friend of "makind".

The images were lovely, though (if only I could have seen them better!), and the music was splendid. And there was only one occasion on which a barbarian decided to take a flash picture.

After the show, I wandered along the Seine a little and watched the bateaux mouches go by.

I'm going to have to take one of those boat trips sometime soon. Before I leave Paris.

Labels: bateaux, Notre Dame de Paris, opera, Paris

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Fontainebleau

This week's little excursion was to Fontainebleau, about 1/2 hour (by train) southeast of Paris.

The trip and Avon, where the station for Fontainebleau is located, are not particularly interesting. The suburbs of Paris through which the train passes look largely industrial; it doesn't get pretty until after Melun. As for Avon, I suppose I really shouldn't judge by what I could see from the bus, but I certainly didn't see anything that made me want to linger.

The château has been there since the 12th century, and was used and renovated by kings and emperors through the Second Empire in the 19th century. Most of what remains now was built on what François I^er put in place in the 16th century, but very little is in an "original" form. There are rooms where the ceiling panels are from the time of François I^er, but the panelling on the walls dates to Louis XIV, while the furniture is from the reign of Napoleon III. (In fact, one of the artists who worked on the restoration painted DeGaulle and one of his ministers into some of the trim in the Hall of Trophies, so you could even argue that the renovations continued right on up to the Fifth Republic.)

The main approach to the Château is now across the Court of the White Horse (named for a statue that's been gone since the 17th century); also known as the Court of Adieux, since it was from here that Napoleon made his farewells before going into his first exile.

The audio guide that's included with the price of admission to the Château is very good, and quite complete. The guided tour, on the other hand, was pretty much a waste of time. It mostly covered rooms that are also done in the audio guide, and the tour guide was uninspiring. She seemed more interested in getting the tour over with.

The gardens are lovely, through: spacious and green, with lots of fountains and ponds. I don't quite get what's going on with the topiary cones, though.

The carp pond in back of the Château has this little pavilion in the middle, where the King could entertain his mistress. One hopes that they remembered how well sound carries over water!

And a view of Fontainebleau from the far side of the carp pond.

Labels: Fontainebleau, France, sightseeing

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Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Musée Rodin

Last week's sightseeing trip was a visit to the Musée Rodin, one of my favorites. They had just opened a new exhibit, Le Rêve Japonais (The Japanese Dream), which includes both Japanese selections from Rodin's private collection as well as Japanese inspired works of Rodin.

I was not all that blown away by the exhibit, although that says more about my tastes than the exhibit. The reason I really visit the Rodin is to wander in the garden and visit my favorite sculptures. The Thinker, for example:

Or The Burghers of Calais, which is just heartbreaking:

The Three Shades I find fascinating: it's three of the same figure, just turned differently:

And of course, I could pour over The Gates of Hell indefinitely:

Labels: France, Paris, Rodin, sightseeing

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Saturday, May 26, 2007

Chartres

I took a little day trip down to Chartres on Wednesday the 16th.

It's an hour out of Paris by train, through some very green and lush country. Aside: each time I leave Paris, I return a little more dissatisfied with pavement and stone buildings.

The Cathedral is a prominent landmark: you can see it about 10 minutes before arriving in Chartres, and it's easy to hone in on once you arrive. It's also close enough to train station that I could easily remember how to get back!

When visiting the cathedral, Malcolm Miller's tour is a must (at least for Anglophones). He's 73 now, and literally wrote the book (Chartres Cathedral). He's been giving tours twice daily (noon and 2:45) during the spring and summer at the cathedral since 1956; during the winter, he tours and gives lectures. I took his tour on my first visit 20 years ago. Back then, he solicited tips at the end of his tour; now, at the prompting of the government, which wants to be able to collect taxes, he charges a 10€ fee up front. (Well, that's how he explains it, anyway.)

At the time of my first visit, the government had just barely started cleaning and restoring the stained glass windows. Now, twenty years later, they've made impressive progress, and I'd estimate that a good half of the windows (it looks as though all of lower tier windows, as well as the west and north rose windows and some other of the upper tier windows) have been done. Perhaps if I return in another 20 years, they'll all be done!

They've also started cleaning the outside: the north entrance is done, and the south entrance is about to be shut and cordoned off so that they can restore that one. The north entrance, all cleaned up:

I showed up for both tours, as did a few other visitors, so Miller very thoughtfully changed his spiel so that we wouldn't be bored. During the noon tour, for example, he walked us through the west rose window (left below), with its story of the Passion, the Nativity story, and the Jesse tree, going from left to right below the " rose"; during the 2:45 tour he walked us through the north rose window (right below), with St. Anne in the center, flanked by Old Testament patriarch below the rose. (We know it's St. Anne holding Mary, and not Mary holding Jesus, he explained, because the child's halo doesn't have the cross that marks Jesus. Not that you can pick up that detail from the picture.)

The dedication of the Cathedral at Chartres to Our Lady predates the trend of Marian devotion that started in the 12th century. As a result, when the king of France received a significant Marian relic, Chartres, as the nearest major church devoted to Mary, became the beneficiary of the Sancta Camisa, which is alternately described as having been the garment that Mary wore at the time of the Annunciation or at the time of the Birth of Jesus. When the reliquary was opened, though, it was found to be a length of silk that reportedly does indeed date back 2000 years.

The presence of the Sancta Camisa made Chartres a major pilgrimage center. Conveniently enough, it was also on one of the major routes to Compostella, another favorite destination for pilgrims. And so, in the pavement around Chartres, you can find these reminders of the past: mosaics of pilgrims and the shell of St. James, the patron of Compostella.

I didn't have much opportunity to explore the rest of Chartres. Like most French cities, though, it does have its war memorial:

Labels: Chartres, France, sightseeing

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Friday, May 25, 2007

Impressing French waiters

Things I've learned about impressing French waiters:

• Ordering an apéritif, especially a Ricard (an anisette), impresses them to no end. I haven't quite figured out why this is, but they really straighten up at that. Kir is also very popular, and is frequently a default selection when a restaurant includes an apéritif as part of its menu.
• Ordering cheese instead of something sweet for dessert also marks you as a force to be reckoned with. It's not a bad move at any rate, since I find that French desserts are pretty boring. Note: Those luscious, creamy pastries you see in the bakeries? They never make an appearance for dessert; the French don't understand why you want something rich like that after your meal. (But you do want something rich like cheese? Well, no one says this is logical.) Pastries make an appearance only at the French version of tea time, the goûter.
• Ordering a digestif, such as an Armagnac or a Calvados, also wins over waiters. Outside of Paris, ordering a regional specialty will especially endear you. I ordered Izzara (a green, herby Basque liqueur, kind of like Chartreuse, only milder) in Lourdes, and my (Basque) waiter immediately became my new best friend.

I've thought about trying to train myself to eat with my fork in my left hand, in the Continental style, but finally decided against it. Any attempt to masquerade as a native withers and dies the instant I open my mouth to speak, so why bother? Besides, as Miss Manners observes, "American table manners are, if anything, a more advanced form of civilized behavior than the European, because they are more complicated and further removed from the practical result, always a sign of refinement".

Labels: food, France, manners

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Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Musée d'Orsay

I'm not much of one for art museums. In particular, I don't much care for painting. It's just too flat for my tastes. I prefer more tactile art forms, such as sculpture and metal work. However, I've been hearing a lot about La Forêt de Fontainebleau (The Forest of Fontainebleau) exhibit, and I decided to head over to the Musée d'Orsay and check it out.

Because this is an exhibit that focuses on the setting rather than the artist, there was a wide variety of art, spanning both different styles and different media (oil, watercolors, pen and ink, even photography and film). As a result, I enjoyed it more than I had expected to.

After the exhibit, I wandered around the rest of the museum, where I found sculpture and some Art Nouveau pieces that are part of their permanent collection. These were even more to my taste, though I didn't find anything that I actively coveted. Well, maybe Fremiet's St. Michael, but what would I do with a life size St. Michael? No, much better to let the d'Orsay keep it for me.

Labels: Musee d'Orsay, Paris, sightseeing

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Movies en français

The movies I've seen most recently are both French biopics: Molière and La Môme. I was mostly able to follow along, although some of the argot in La Môme eluded me. I miss subtitles, though: it's a pity movies aren't captioned for the hearing impaired in the theaters.

Molière

This is more Molière's (early) life as if it had been a Molière play than biopic. Think "French remake of Shakespeare in Love" and you'll be on the right track. The premise is that 22 year old Molière is rescued from debtor's prison by a man with more money than sense who wants Molière's help in attracting the attention of a woman with whom he's enamored. Along the way, Molière encounters the characters and situations that would later figure in his plays.

It's an entertaining romp, although there's something of a disconnect between the script and most of the cast, who seem to be under the impression that this is a farce, and Romain Duris as Molière himself, who, though excellent, is far too intense and even tortured for the tone of the movie.

I suspect I'd have enjoyed this still more if I were more familiar with Molière's work. While I recognized some of the characters and situations vaguely, I'm sure that I missed even more than I caught.

It's slated for a (limited) US release later this summer, and it's worth checking out, especially for the French theater buff.

La Môme

La Môme is about Edith Piaf, who was known early in her career as La Môme Piaf (the Kid Sparrow). It's also due for a US release this summer, as La Vie en Rose. I can see why they didn't keep it as La Môme (in French), since that would be a little too obscure for Anglophones, and translating the title to The Kid might just get people all confused with the Chaplin (1921) or Willis (1990) movies. But, not that anyone asked me, if they had to go with the name of one of her songs, why in mercy's name didn't they choose "Je ne regrette rien"? That would have made ever so much more sense.

At any rate, Marion Cotillard is superb as Piaf. The movie itself is very episodic and jumps around in a seriously distracting fashion. Her daughter, who died in childhood, appears only briefly in flashback towards the end in a scene that you would miss if you blinked, and the Second World War apparently never occurred. The only way I could keep track of the "when" of the movie was by assessing how ravaged Cotillard looked in any given scene. I'm not sure what the director was thinking: a more straight-forward approach would surely have served his purposes as well.

Labels: France, La Mome, Moliere, movies, Piaf

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Friday, May 04, 2007

Sarko vs Ségo

I really didn't intend to follow the presidential elections all that closely: it's none of my business, after all. But all you hear in the streets, on the metro, or in the cafes is Sarko this and Ségo that.

On Wednesday, the night of the debate, the streets and cafes were empty. Everyone was home watching the debate. The bars were all crowded, though, and everyone was clustered around the TV: you might almost have thought there was a big soccer match on.

I watched most of the debate (French transcript here, or English excerpts here). It would never have flown in the States: it lasted 2 1/2 hours, without commercial interruption, and the candidates discussed actual issues in something more than 30 second sound bites!

I went in to the debates with a mild bias against Sarkozy and for Royal: he's too ready to make immigrants the scapegoat for France's woes and I rather like the idea of a woman president for France. After watching the debate, though, I don't see how Royal can win. Her ideas seem too scattered, and she proposes to pay for them by raising taxes, already the highest in Europe, still further. Although I must say that I thought her very courageous for saying so bluntly that she planned to raise taxes. That's something else you'd never hear in a US presidential debate! Sarkozy, on the other hand, seemed to have a solid grasp on France's current economic problems and concrete ideas on how to deal with them.

It may just be a function of the neighborhood in which I live (with a young and largely immigrant population), but it seems to me that people are not so much for Royal as they are against Sarkozy (and quite vehemently against at that), and I don't think that the debate will have served to inspire much positive enthusiasm for Royal.

In Oral French class, we talked about the debate a little: almost all of us had watched it. The consensus: we found Royal easier to follow than Sarkozy. She spoke more slowly and repeated herself more. We didn't get into the politics!

Labels: debate, France, presidential elections, Royal, Sarkozy

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Thursday, May 03, 2007

Pilgrimage to Lourdes

My excursion the second week of Easter vacation was a trip to Lourdes; Lourdes is about 6 hours out of Paris via the TGV.

Now, I should say at the outset that Our Lady of Lourdes is not in fact one of my particularly favorite devotions. As far as Marian apparitions go, I'm much more of a Fatima (and rosary) girl, and I toyed with the idea of going to Portugal instead. But my "home" parish is Our Lady of Lourdes in Oakland, and it seemed silly not to take advantage of the opportunity to visit its namesake.

I arrived on Wednesday, April 18, and stayed, at the Hôtel Saint Etienne, until Sunday the 22nd. The Saint Etienne is very convenient to the sanctuaries, just a five minute walk away from the Porte of St. Michael, and the staff were all very pleasant and helpful. It's also cheap and correspondingly shabby. Clean, mind, but it could seriously do with some fresh paint and new carpets & bedding.

The Pilgrimage

I visited the sanctuaries Wednesday evening to check out the visitor information center and just generally get the lay of the land. The grotto and the Basilicas of the Immaculate Conception and of the Rosary are easy enough to identify, of course, but there's also the (underground) Basilica of St. Pius X, the Church of St. Bernadette, various chapels, receptions centers, meeting rooms, residences, special facilities for the sick (though no hospital per se), a Way of the Cross on the hillside and another in the prairie, and a "Water Walk" (cf the map of the sanctuaries on the second page).

I had arrived in time to see the 5 PM Blessed Sacrament Procession, which is followed by the Blessing of the Sick. Hundreds of people, most of them either in wheelchairs or even gurneys or else pushing them, following the Sacrament from the meadow alongside the river to the Basilica of St. Pius X. I didn't join, but just watched them pass.

The Baths

During the "Pilgrim Season" (roughly April 1 through October 31), the baths are open daily from 9 to 11 AM and again from 2:30 to 4:00 PM (except on Sundays and feast days, when they're open only in the afternoon). So, somewhat naively, I showed up at 9 AM on Thursday morning to find that they were already full up for the morning; the attendant suggested coming back at 1:00 to be sure of getting in for the afternoon.

Instead, I came back Friday morning. This time, I left my hotel at a little after 8 AM, getting to the baths at about 8:15. The "holding pen" was about half full, and was indeed completely full and late-comers were being turned away by about 8:45. (The sick at Lourdes on medical pilgrimage have their own entrance and schedules, although they're still bound by the opening times.) I suspect that if this had been the "high" pilgrim season, even arriving at 8:15 would have been too late.

A large group of Italian women had been among the first to arrive; they passed the waiting time in praying the Rosary. This provoked some mild, good-natured disdain among the French: they had no problem with the Rosary, mind, but they disapproved of the Italians praying aloud and disturbing the others who might have preferred to pray or meditate silently. "But that's Italians for you", murmured the attendant.

At 9 AM, proceedings opened with a prayer, and the ambulatory medical pilgrims were admitted to the baths while a first group of women was moved to the benchs lining the outer walls of the baths and the rest of us snaked forwarded among the rows of benches. As women left the baths, the women from the benches outside the walls moved inside, and more women were moved to fill their vacated benches, and rest of us repeating the snaking bit.

When my turn came to take a seat on one of the benches outside the baths, one of the attendants struck up a conversation. She had noticed that I had picked up an English leaflet (they're color-coded, which made it easy to spot), and asked if I were Irish or English. When I said that, no, I'm American, she wanted to know from where; from California, I said. -Where in California? -Oakland. Turns out she's from Burlingame, spending a few weeks in Lourdes as a volunteer.

On entering the building, we found yet another row of benches lining the inside walls, facing a row of cubicles. The middle one was especially wide, and that was the one used, though not exclusively, by those in wheelchairs or gurneys. And we waited some more.

I finally made it into one of the cubicles. Stations for six, with chairs and hooks and shelves for clothing and other possessions, and six attendants were there. Another curtain separated this dressing room from the bath itself. One of the attendants took charge of me (the others being preoccupied with their own charges) and directed me to an empty station. She held a big blue cape around me while I undressed and fastened the cape for me from behind when I was done, plucked my glasses from the shelf and put them back on, and handed me my bra. The bath was empty right now, she told me, so I could go right in.

Passing through the curtain, I found three more attendants. One of the women, who seemed to be the "lead" attendant, took my bra from me and held the cape while the other two wrapped a thin, damp white towel around me and then the cape was removed. The bath itself was grey stone, set in the floor with steps leading in, and with a small statue of Our Lady at the far end. They guided me in, one attendant holding each arm. The water was icy: not just cold, but downright frigid. I had been expecting cold, but not like this, and I was startled into letting out a yelp. This was not an unusual response, but neither was it entirely acceptable, and I was gently shushed.

While I stood on the first step, trying to adjust to the water temperature, the lead attendant reminded me that I might want to pray. Oh, right: that's why I'm standing in this ice bath. The other two attendants guided me down the next step and further into the bath; the water was a little over knee deep. Would I like to kneel or sit, the lead attendant asked, or maybe kiss Our Lady's statue. I settled for a quick genuflection before kissing Our Lady's statue. Once I rose, they turned me around and led me out. They were very careful about not letting go of me: they take no chances on anyone slipping and falling.

The blue cape came back out and the towel vanished, and my bra went back on and was fastened. They're very practiced at this, and they were done before I even quite realized what they were about. (I think my brain was still frozen!) I returned to the dressing room, where my attendant once again held the cape around me while I dressed. Throughout, the attendants were very careful about protecting the modesty of the women in the baths: I don't think the most self-conscious of women could find any cause to blush.

When I left the baths, it was 10:30.

Candlelight Procession

Scattered about the grounds of the sanctuaries are stations holding candles and paper "cages" to protect the flame; the candles sold on the grounds cost 1€. You can also find candles at the gift shops; those candles are 0.50€. The paper cages for the sanctuaries's candles are gold, while the those from the gift shops are white, so it's easy to distinguish between the frugal and those willing to spend the extra money to support the sanctuaries.

The procession is led by porters carrying an statue of Our Lady in an illuminated box, flanked by other porters carrying torches. While the schedule says that the procession starts at the Grotto, in practice, it appears to start from the foot of the esplanade. It goes out toward the Porte of St. Michael and loops back around to Rosary Square. Some of those in the procession are in wheelchairs; I didn't notice any gurneys. There are also lots of canes and crutches. Some people carry two candles, presumably on behalf of someone who can't be present or sometimes for someone who can't manage both crutches and a candle. Once the statue gets to Rosary Square, the crowd is held back until the statue reaches the portico of the Basilica of the Rosary, and then the crowd is allowed to fill Rosary Square.

Many of the groups of pilgrims have banners; the banner bearers also take their final positions on the portico of the Basilica.

The Rosary is prayed during the procession. Each decade is announced with a brief meditation in each of the six languages of Lourdes (French, Italian, Spanish, English, German, and Dutch*). The Our Father and Gloria are prayed in Latin, while the Hail Marys are prayed in different languages (i.e., the first five Hail Marys of the first decade are in French, the next five in Italian, with the first five of the second decade in English, and the second five in German, etc.). A hymn follows each decade: mostly it's a hymn that's sung to the tune we use in English for Immaculate Mary, and the refrain ("Ave, ave, ave Maria; Ave, ave, Maria") is the same. At the refrain, the procession pauses, and everyone raises their candles. This gesture in particular moved me near to tears each time. It takes until about the end of the third decade or beginning of the fourth for the statue to reach its destination. The crowd is dismissed at the end with the Kiss of Peace. I found it all immensely touching. Indeed, it was immensely more moving than the bath, which after all is a largely solitary experience. I think that Our Lady must be pleased.

*Aside: I understand the other five languages, but how did Dutch get in there? I wouldn't have thought of the Netherlands as an origin for Marian pilgrims.

The Water

I don't think that "fetish" is too strong a word to use to describe the attitudes of some of the visitors to the water. At the taps, I saw some people with four and six 5-liter bottles to fill with water. In my literal-minded way, my first thought was "How are they going to get all that home"? Not to mention "What are they going to do with all that water"? In some cases, I'm sure they were collecting water for family and friends, but still...

I think that those who run the sanctuaries are also concerned about the possibilities of excessive devotion to the waters themselves. The little leaflet I picked up at the baths makes the point that

You can have a wonderful pilgrimage without going to the baths. Bernadette only washed her face (the miror of the soul) and drank "a little water".

The deep meaning of the water of Lourdes is inscribed above the place where the taps are located:

"WASH YOUR FACE AND ASK GOD TO PURIFY YOUR HEART".

They also have a Water Walk alongside the river, opposite the Grotto. Each of the nine stations of this water walk focuses on a different scriptural passage related to water.

But yes, I did bring home some water: I bought & filled a little bottle that holds about one fluid ounce.

The Movie

They don't show Song of Bernadette at Lourdes (at least, not on a regular basis). Rather there's a French movie that covers much the same ground, Bernadette. There's a little movie theater near the sancturies that shows it several times a day. It's a little sappy, but more authentic than Song.... There's a sequel, Passion of Bernadette, that covers her life in the convent. I would have liked to see that one, too, but it's only shown a couple of times a week, and I managed to miss both showings. Apparently, Lourdes pilgrims lose interest in Bernadette once the apparitions are over.

Sightseeing, Etc.

Within about a 1/2 mile radius of the sanctuaries, there's little beyond gift shops, hotels, cafes, and the usual tourist traps. Once you escape that half mile, though, Lourdes appears to be quite normal and really very charming. I took the Tourist Train to get a feel for the town, and visited the Chateau Fort with its Pyrenean Museum as well as the Pic du Jer with its funicula.

I also found a truly superb restaurant, Le Magret. I had been looking for something regional and non-touristy and this definitely fit the bill. While I was there, they were offering a foie gras menu: 7 courses (I think), all featuring foie gras de canard, even the ice cream and dessert. Yes, you can make ice cream out of foie gras, and it was amazing. The waiter was a Basque and entirely charming.

Slideshow

And here's a little slideshow (this will open in a new window).

Labels: Lourdes, pilgrimage, Pyrenees, travel

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Tuesday, May 01, 2007

St. Malo Vacation

We had two weeks vacation following Easter, so I took advantage of the opportunity to get out of Paris for a little while. The decision to visit Bretagne was somewhat arbitrary: all I knew was that I wanted to head for the ocean. The decision to opt for St. Malo (new window will open) was even more arbitrary: I can't recall ever having heard of it before. But it's on the coast and the guide books speak favorably of it and it's easy to get to from Paris. I thought about renting a car so that I could explore more of Bretagne while I was there. But the automatics were outrageously expensive, and I didn't much fancy the idea of learning to cope with a manual transmission. As it turned out, I managed to come down with a cold (my very first night even!), which seriously dampened my enthusiasm and stamina for excursions, so it's just as well that I didn't bother with a rental.

I arrived in the afternoon of April 10 and stayed until the morning of April 16. Easter week is a popular vacation time throughout Europe, so there were lots of tourists, especially from England (which is just across the Channel).

The walled city is all cobblestones, narrow, windy streets, and stone buildings. The parts of the city nearest the portes in the wall are the most touristy: restaurants, gift shops, and hotels galore. The gift stores aren't quite as homogenous as usual: some focus on Breton crafts, some on Breton food and drink, some on pirate (whoops, make that corsaire) trinkets. As you move away towards the ocean, it becomes more low key.

History

I took commented tour offered by Le Petit Train de Saint Malo to familiarize myself with the walled city. And so I learned that in the 6th century, an Irish monk named Mach Low visited a hermit, Aaron, who lived on what was then an island. Over the years, "Mach Low" mutated to "Maclou", then to "Malo", and he apparently picked up a sainthood along the way. (Why our hermit friend Aaron got left out of the story was not explained.) The walls for which St. Malo is known were the brainchild of St. Malo's first bishop, Jean de Châtillon, in the 12th century. The buildings are all stone because of a royal decree following a fire in the 14th (?) century that wiped out 3/4 of the buildings. Jacques Cartier, who is credited with discovering Canada, is probably the Malouin best known in North American. However, the corsaire Robert Surcouf seems to be sailor of whom they are most proud. It's said of him that he trained very early at sea and embarked when he was 13 as a ship's boy, became a merchant-captain at 20, and at 22, in 1795, he started chasing the English vessels in the Indian Ocean and earned a reputation as a fearsome corsaire with outstanding spoils. When he was 23, he and his crew of 16 captured a English warship armed with more than 200 sailors. He became one of the richest ship owners in Saint Malo where he died at 54.

The commentary was delivered in both French and English, and there were a few differences in the commentary:

• Saint Malo was nearly totally destroyed during World War II and rebuilt in the original style. (It took over a year just to catalog the building stones.) The "lower city" was destroyed by the Germans. In the English version of the commentary, the "upper city" was destroyed as a result of Allied bombardment, the result of a mistaken assumption that there were Germans still hiding out there. (They were in fact hiding out in the Fort de la Cité.) In the French commentary, American and English bombardment were responsible.
• For centuries, St. Malo was among the richest cities in France. This was largely due to the activities of the corsaires (don't call them pirates*!), 1/3 of whose plunder went to the Crown, 1/3 to the ship owners, leaving the remaining 1/3, and a generous 1/3 it was, to be divided among the crew. In the French commentary, it was made clear that the English were the main involuntary contributors to St. Malo's wealth (with some relatively modest contributions from the Dutch); in the English commentary, St. Malo's benefactors remained anonymous.
  *"Corsaires" had official Crown permission to pursue their activities, hence distinguishing them from freelance pirates.

Day Trip to Mont St Michel

Mont St Michel is just a bus ride (well, okay, two buses: one to Pontorson, the train station for Mont St Michel, and a second one from the station to the Mont itself) away from St Malo. Leaving a little before 10, we arrived at about 11:30; the return trip was slated for 4:00. I was a little worried about being able to fill the time, but that turned out not to be a problem.

Pictures really didn't do much to prepare me for the reality.

The abbey seems to be all of a piece with the mont, as if it had been carved out of the earth itself. And the scale of it is immense: I have trouble picturing it as actually serving as a home to (how many at a time?) monks. I should think it would be very easy for a novice to become disoriented and lose himself for days at a time in its corridors and nooks. (I have the same trouble in the Louvre or Versailles, though, so maybe it's just a failure of imagination.) It's now "staffed" by about a dozen members of Les Fraternités Monastiques de Jerusalem. The men live in the abbey, while the women have a convent in the the town. They're responsible for liturgy and also conduct retreats.

I did the audio guided tour, which, while interesting, didn't yield any memorable insights into the abbey. I also attended the noon Mass. So, between the tour, the Mass, and a late lunch, I had only about 45 minutes for visiting the rest of the town, which was just about right. It's mostly the usual restaurants, gift shops and hotels. There are also innumerable "museums", but if you ask the people leaving them, they'll typically tell you that it's just a musty room with a few stray pictures and uninteresting displays.

Day Trip to Dinard

Another day trip was to Dinard, for no particular reason, except that it was just a 10-minute ferry ride across the channel of St. Malo Bay.

In St. Malo, the tourist season (though not the high season, which is July and August) starts with Easter (or April 1, whichever comes first). Dinard, on the other hand, seems to have only the high season (again July and August) and the off season, so much of it seemed closed for the winter. Even many of the residences looked to be closed for the winter: shutters closed, gates locked, lawns overgrown.

The architecture is particularly distinctive, Victorian ornamentation but rendered in stone:

Dinard was apparently a very popular resort in the late 19th century with wealthy British who built summer homes in their familiar styles with the local building materials.

Slideshow

The rest of the pictures that I judge suitable for viewing are in this slideshow (this will open in a new window).

Labels: Bretagne, pilgrimage, St. Malo, travel

posted at 11:25 PM permalink  0 comments

Making bridges

The French don't do that American thing of transposing holidays to the nearest Monday; instead, they let their holidays fall where the calendar gods intend. But, when a holiday falls midweek, they'll typically take off the corresponding Monday (and Tuesday if necessary) or Friday (and Thursday) to faire le pont (make a bridge). When you have five weeks of paid vacation time, this kind of bridge building is a lot easier. And so it has been this weekend.

May 1st is Labor Day in France, and it appears that most Parisians who can have built their bridge and gone out of town: the crowds on the metro have diminished, and the markets were relatively empty on Sunday. The markets are packed today, though, although most of the non-food stores (and even a lot of them) are closed for the holiday.

The custom most strongly associated with May 1st in France is buying, and giving, lilies-of-the-valley. This has nothing to do with Labor Day, of course. According to the Wikipedia article that I consulted, the custom of giving lilies-of-the-valley as a good luck token dates back to Charles IX in 1561. Every florist shop has hundreds of little bouquets of these lilies. And, if a little cluster isn't enough for you, or if you need a hostess gift for May 1, you can buy potted lilies, or elaborate arrangements in which the lilies are grouped with roses or orchids. You also have the option of buying your lilies from street merchants. The Wikipedia article also observes that, on May 1 only, it is permitted for non-florists to sell lilies-of-the-valley. (The implication there of course is that on all other days and with respect to all other flowers, French florists are protected from such amateur competition. Although I remember seeing street merchants selling daffodils for a few weekends at the start of spring, so there are apparently other seasonal exceptions.) I dutifully bought my own handful of lilies, wrapped in a sheet of cellophane that sports the legend "Je porte bonheur" (I bring happiness), to establish my bona fides. In my good deed for the day, I even bought a sheaf of lilies for my neighbor across the hall.

There are two more bridge-building opportunities for the French this month: next Tuesday, May 8, is Victory Day (the date WWII ended in Europe), and Thursday, May 17, is Ascension Thursday.

Labels: France, holidays

posted at 12:24 PM permalink  0 comments