Northern Burgundy is a tranquil place. St. Germain-le Rocheux is surrounded by deep forests, but fields also cover the rolling hills. In mid-May the rapeseed is in full bloom, so acres of bright yellow flowers contrast with other dark green crops. We have to drive to Chatillons-sur-Seine for groceries, a round trip of about 32 miles, but every inch of the way is beautiful.
St; Germain, population about 90, is pretty. Though small, it gives the impression of space; A small 13th Century Romanesque church stands at the top of the hill, and it is obvious that the village values it. Fresh white paint coats its walls, ceilings and columns; its candlearbra gleam; no dust covers its paintings and sculptures, and bouquets of iris and syringa, roses and bridal wreath fill china vases in front of each altar.
Our gite, which has small daisies, buttercups and purple flowers surrounding it, makes me think "Beatrix Potter." Although we haven't seen any rabbits on the property, we do have a family of snails living under a stand, and a lizard that suns itself on the stone facade. Bees come as soon as the sun strikes the flowers. The house was built at the beginning of the 17th Century. It has been modernized but the good-sized livingroom retains a stone floor, a beamed ceiling, and a large open fireplace.
After breakfast and reading in the garden, we usually go on expeditions. The one that was the most fun involved our playing a part in history, the parade that effected and celebrated the transfer of the famous Vase de Vix from its old home to a new museum across town in Chatillon. The vase is the largest known bronze urn of Greco-italo craftmanship. It stands 5 ft high and once was the property of a Celtic princess who lived in the area 2500 years ago.. As befits a treasure, it led off the parade. Encased in a huge plexiglass box, it rode on a flatbed truck. City leaders and civic organizations followed, carrying banners. Next came scores of children outfitted in white robes and colorful hoods, who I think represented Celtic princes and princesses. At the very end came the spectators who decided to become escorts.
A small band dressed in funky sleeveless vests, baggy pants or wrap around skirts and fedoras rode on the flatbed with the vase. Mostly they played Celtic airs, but the tune that heralded the unveiling of the vase and accompanied it for the first three blocks was "When Johnny Comes Marching Home." The fifes played fervently, and everyone had a great time;
During our time here we have also visited a ducal palace, two abbeys, now defunct, a wash house, and several chateaus. These trips have given us a glimpse of French history and the desire to learn more. The things that will remain with me forevever, though, are closer to the here and now: the beautiful scenery of Burgundy, our cozy gite, the well-loved church of St Germain, and the once in a lifetime, grand parade of the fabulous Vase de Vix.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Start of a French Adventure - Caryl and Jose Bucksbaum
Arriving in France is pleasant but not necessarily easy; Charles de Gaulle is huge and the abundant signage, mostly in numbers and letters- 1a, 2B, etc - didn't keep us from getting lost. Thanks to the help of bilingual guards we were both welcomed into the country and able to be extricated from the airport.
We chose to take a shuttle-bus rather than hiring a taxi. This saved us money and probably time as well, since there are specilal lanes facilitating bus traffic throughout the city Best of all the route gave us the chance to see streets and sections of Paris that we've never seen before. Near the airport are high-rises that seem equivalent to Chicago's old Cabrini Green. Some residents have put flowers on their balconies. The bright reds stand out against the prevalent signs of depression and neglect. Graffitti covers the walls on each side of the highway here. Some of it is beautiful, but most seems to be gang symbols and messages.
Entering the Fourth Arrondissement we found the wide, tree-lined sidewalks that are typical of the central city. Maroon and blue awnings shademany of the stores, a number of which sell or restore art or provide material for artists. There are bookstores; flower shops, banks, dress boutiques, lots of cafes, and here and there a McDonalds. The sidewalks bustle with people. Some carry long loaves of bread like guns over their shoulders.
A crowd left the bus at the Gare de Lyon, which looks more like a fanciful chateau than a railroad station. We continued to the Gare Montparnasse, where we left the bus, crossed the street, and took a taxi to our hotel.
The Thirteenth Arrondissement is ethnicqlly mixed. Many Chinese, Africans, and Middle Easterners, as well as native French, fill the streets. We seem to be the only Americans around, and it soon became apparent that this is not regarded as a bad thing. At a restaurant a waiter asked if we were from the States. When we said we were, his face lit up. He said, "Barack Obama. Yes. Yes." We replied, "Barack Obama. Oui. Oui."
On Sunday we hope to go to an Episcopal church. If this doesn't work out, we'll try to attend mass at Notre Dame;
Best wishes, Caryl
We chose to take a shuttle-bus rather than hiring a taxi. This saved us money and probably time as well, since there are specilal lanes facilitating bus traffic throughout the city Best of all the route gave us the chance to see streets and sections of Paris that we've never seen before. Near the airport are high-rises that seem equivalent to Chicago's old Cabrini Green. Some residents have put flowers on their balconies. The bright reds stand out against the prevalent signs of depression and neglect. Graffitti covers the walls on each side of the highway here. Some of it is beautiful, but most seems to be gang symbols and messages.
Entering the Fourth Arrondissement we found the wide, tree-lined sidewalks that are typical of the central city. Maroon and blue awnings shademany of the stores, a number of which sell or restore art or provide material for artists. There are bookstores; flower shops, banks, dress boutiques, lots of cafes, and here and there a McDonalds. The sidewalks bustle with people. Some carry long loaves of bread like guns over their shoulders.
A crowd left the bus at the Gare de Lyon, which looks more like a fanciful chateau than a railroad station. We continued to the Gare Montparnasse, where we left the bus, crossed the street, and took a taxi to our hotel.
The Thirteenth Arrondissement is ethnicqlly mixed. Many Chinese, Africans, and Middle Easterners, as well as native French, fill the streets. We seem to be the only Americans around, and it soon became apparent that this is not regarded as a bad thing. At a restaurant a waiter asked if we were from the States. When we said we were, his face lit up. He said, "Barack Obama. Yes. Yes." We replied, "Barack Obama. Oui. Oui."
On Sunday we hope to go to an Episcopal church. If this doesn't work out, we'll try to attend mass at Notre Dame;
Best wishes, Caryl
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Into your hands, O Lord
May she hear your words of invitation, "Come you blessed of my Father.
May she gaze upon you, Lord, face to face, and taste the blessedness of perfect rest.
May angels surround her and saints welcome her in peace.
Into your hands, O Lord, we commend our sister Helen.
(BCP 465-466)
I learned yesterday of Helen's passing. I also heard how you journeyed with her in those final hours. Once again I'm so thankful for who you are as the people of God at St. Peter's! I'm feeling like a member of the family at a distance during an important time. I'll miss being there for the telling of stories that is part of saying goodbye to someone we love. Over the past 24 hours memories of Helen and the reality of her death have entered my head over and over again. In my journal I wrote, "I'll miss who Helen was and all she did at St. Peter's: nurturing of plants, leading the altar guild, offering the labyrinth, quiet sharing of her knowledge and experience, how she contributed to a conversation, her sense of humor, the way she never embarassed me when she knew something I didn't (and maybe should have). But, what I'll miss most is Helen's faithfulness, the priority she made being a Christian, the way she lived her faith, her participation in worship. Although I know Helen is with God, given my absense from St. Peter's, I think the reality of her passing will really hit me in June when it's time for Wednesday Holy Eucharist and Helen's chair is empty. Know that I'm with you in spirit.
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