Everything is new

We’ve been on our way for less than a week but have seen so much already that I hardly know how to begin. We arrived in Paris very early in the morning on March 2, picked up our rental car, and began a wild ride through the Paris traffic and labyrinth of highways to find our hotel. Thank heavens for the GPS, or I have no idea how we would have gotten there, as is the case for almost everywhere we’ve gone. Deane is a brave and intrepid driver, and made me promise not to tell about any of the life-threatening or illegal things he’s done.

We had one day in Paris, half of which we spent trying to figure out the bus, train and subway systems, and half of which we spent in Pere Lachaise cemetery, where many famous people (and many, many more not so famous) are buried. Jim Morrison’s grave is the most visited site, and is guarded by bicycle policemen. Sarah Bernhardt’s grave, on the other hand, was hidden and largely ignored. My lesson from the cemetery: You may have enough money to build yourself a big tomb, but there’s no guarantee that in 200 years there’ll be anyone left who will take care of it.

From Paris, we went to Chartres. The cathedral grew up around a piece of silk cloth, reputed to be Mary’s veil worn during the birth of Jesus. Part of the cloth still survives, has been dated to the 1st century, and is housed in a large reliquary flanked by golden angels. The stained glass in the cathedral was amazing, with brilliant reds and blues. One section of the stone arched ceiling had been cleaned as the first part of a five year renovation, and it was white and light and glorious, bathed in light from the stained glass, unlike most of the cathedral walls and pillars, which were dark and gray. We heard a lecture by Malcolm Miller, who said that Gothic architecture was meant to be light-filled, and I wondered how much of the Gothic stereotype I held was due to the grimy condition of many Gothic buildings…

Then on to Mont St. Michel, a former abbey turned barracks turned prison turned historical site on an island just off the coast of Northern France. The building was impressive from a distance and up close, but was largely emptied of the signs of the religious life it once held. What was left was a testament to the ingenuity and craftsmanship of the builders, who, working in stone that had to be carried across the causeway during low tide, braving quicksand and drowning, crafted the arched ceiling, stairways, grand halls and chapels.

Today we visited prehistoric sites in Carnac and Locmariaquer. Carnac has rows and rows of huge stones set in straight parallel lines, covering many kilometers, to what end no one knows for certain. Locmariaquer had a reconstructed tumulus and cairn, both burial sites, along with the largest menhir, now toppled and broken into four pieces, in the Western world. The highlight of the day was being able to enter one of the burial chambers and see the prehistoric carvings on the stones forming the ceiling and walls.

We’ve eaten well, thanks to the boulangeries in every town. Even the simplest sandwich, which is our main meal, is beautifully made from the finest ingredients. The boulangeries tend to have a “formule:” one sandwich of your choice, one drink and one dessert -- from a choice of a dozen or more exquisite little tarts, cakes and other pastries. With an extra baguette or croissant, it’s easily enough for two and affordable. Deane asked how many pictures of baguette sandwiches I could take. When they look like these, one a day!