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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:

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".

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.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-IH4lCqDqk]

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.

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!

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.