So begins the game "categories." One person lists some things he/she is bringing on the theoretical road trip and others can ask whether that person is bringing certain other things. From yes or no answers the group divines the category of things that the road tripper is taking. We played this game a lot this weekend, as we were, in fact, on a road trip.
Some popular categories included Things that Float in Water, Powerful Homophobes, Places in which the Virgin Mary Appears (tortilla, side of a building, a whole lot of Renaissance art, the Bible). My first attempt at a category went like this:
Me: I'm going on a road trip and I'm bringing chocolate.
Them: Are you bringing alcohol?
Me: Yes.
Them: Is the category things you brought on this road trip?
Me: No. I'm also bringing cigarettes and a baby.
Michael: Things you want that I won't let you have?
Me: I see where you're going with this. And no.
[Pause. Their little brains were working overtime.]
Me: I'm bringing a park. And an alligator.
It was Debs who guessed it, as she guessed many of my categories. Perhaps we think alike. Anyway, probably you - as devoted readers of my blog, who apply its themes to your life every day - guessed it already, too. Did you?
Well the answer is cognates. Words that sound the same in French as they do in English, to be precise.
Another important French/English cognate: Charming. In fact, "charm" is actually from the Old French "charme." Originally the word meant a song or incantation. A spell, basically. And then, during the 16th century, it took on the meaning, "pleasant quality," due either to The Church cracking down on incantations or people's increasing awareness that being put under a spell rocked their socks off.
Anyway, I went on a road trip and I brought Debra, Michael, Amy and Sebastien. My category is People Who are Kick-Ass Company on a road trip. And not only was the company fantastic and the car ride enjoyable, but our drive down from Paris and into the Loire Valley was just about as charming as a charming could be. So charming, in fact, that just now I had to get on the thesaurus to help me out with synonyms for charming. See if you can spot them in this entry.
Our first stop was Orleans, an adorable little town about an hour south of Paris. There, we gawked at the Cathedral Sainte-Croix, which rivals Notre Dame in its Gothic glory. Inside, people were clearly setting up for something special; before we'd been in the town 20 minutes we'd already been offered 2 fliers advertising the upcoming festival for the arrival of the Remains of Ste. Therese at the church that evening. But we declined, for we had distance to travel.
After an adorable little breakfast we drove southwest on the N152, a lovely road which follows the Loire River toward Blois. (Pronounced, more or less: Blwaaaaaa.) It started to dawn on me, during this drive: Paris is to the rest of France what New York City is to the rest of New York. In fact, Paris will probably remind you more of New York City than it will of the rest of rural France. For the rest of France is country.
The Loire River, unlike the Seine, came through the Industrial Revolution relatively unscathed. Farms, rather than factories and overpopulation, line its banks, which are miraculously still composed largely of land. Irrigation from the river and plenty of rainfall made the fields around us richly green, even in late winter.
After a half hour or so, we arrived in the adorable town of Amboise, home to our first Chateau, the Chateau d'Amboise. This Chateau was more fortress than architectural eloquence, but it was, of course, still beautiful. The most precious part were the terraces, from which you could see the adorable town of Amboise spread out before you. You can also see the Chateau's cathedral, where Leonardo da Vinci is [sort of] interned. Here it is:
Back during the start of the Religious Wars in France, a bunch of Protestants were slaughtered in retribution for an assassination attempt on a Catholic prince at Amboise. Their bodies were hung quaintly from the ramparts of the castle. The smell was so adorable that the court had to temporarily move away.
We passed the night in Tours, but first we stopped at a vineyard to taste some white wine. In my awkward but improving French I explained to the proprietor the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears and the practice of using owls on organic vineyards to dive-bomb gophers. Given my lack of vocabulary (note, owl = hibou) I was forced to use a lot of body language. The man, although taken aback at first, was eventually, I think, charmed.
After a night's stay at the lovely Hotel Colbert and a charmingly overpriced breakfast in the morning, we made our way back north, taking an eastern detour. First we visited the Chateau Sache, which is more of a large estate than a true Chateau. This is where Balzac came from Tours in the summers to read and write in peace, thus provoking the following question: Which one of you is going to put me up in your castle so I can write books? I don't need a moat or anything fancy. Just a private Cathedral and some space for the horses to graze. And a bed like this:
From Sache we went north to the Chateau Chenonceau. It's a stunning feat of engineering, built across the River Cher. Like so:
The King, Henry III, made a gift of the Chateau to his mistress, Diane de Poiters, as thanks for "services rendered the crown." Services, indeed.
When the King died, his wife, Catherine de Medici, demanded that the Chateau be returned to her. But she offered Diane another Chateau in exchange, so don't go thinking it's all unfair or anything.
In the First World War the gallery became a hospital, and in the Second World War, it turned out that the North entrance to the castle was in the German occupied zone, and the south (across the river, through the main gallery) was in the Free Zone. People would literally make their escape through this hall:
What's funny is that now the south door is equipped with an emergency exit sign. In case of war.
After a charming lunch in Montrichard, we headed north again to the Chateau Chambord. Leonardo da Vinci is credited with some of its stunning design, but I didn't get to learn much more because the castle closes charmingly early in the winter. We did manage to get some pretty nice pictures of the outside. See?
And there's a chance we might come back down this way again. Depends on timing and money, but Kristin and Mike are our next visitors so we'll see if we can swing it again. I want to go check out the Chambord and I want to see Chateau Cheverny, as well.
I also want to play Charades with more viticulturists who don't know what Charades is, or that they're playing Charades. So, perhaps...I'm going on another road trip and this time I'm bringing Kristin and Mike? We'll see.
Anyhow, I know this entry was a long one. But I just can't say enough good things about the trip: Excellent company, excellent scenery, excellent food, etc. France outside Paris is something else entirely, and I feel a little ridiculous for having just now discovered it. Last night, as I drifted off, images of castles and winding staircases and clear rivers and ramparts and cathedrals drifted before my closed eyes and I fell asleep feeling like royalty.
So I'm going on a road trip and I'm bringing Crime & Punishment, being stuck in traffic, and this blog. Make your own guess.
1 comment:
why were you keeping your great blog a secret? have i kept mine from you? oops ....
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