Bourgogne: Day 1

     Where to begin.  This past weekend was a much needed respite from the hustle of the city, but I didn’t realize how much I needed it until I was out in the countryside with the fields and animals and quiet.  Friday morning started off early with a four hour drive on the bus with the group of us students anxious to get out of the city and see the marvels of Bourgogne.  It was so nice just to sit on the bus for a while and look out the window at all of the ravens in the fields.  The moment you see a raven walk, you know exactly why it can fly, and it was quite amusing to watch them strut with their necks jerking in every direction with each wobbly step.  

      The first stop was for lunch and a short walk around in Semur-en-Auxois.  

        The narrow stone streets and bucolic atmosphere was so serene and absolutely European.  We were given two hours to do whatever we wanted, so we split into a few groups and became hopelessly confounded by the terrible tourist maps.  I have become convinced that either no one in France knows how to draw a map, or it is a national pastime to watch tourists go in circles with their nose in a brochure trying to figure out which Rue St. Bernard they are on.  When in doubt, you are on a Rue St. Bernard and in order to get where you are going, you need to take the third left onto Rue St. Bernard.  Always.  It’s either that or choose between the five different Rue St. Michels.  Anyways, my group of four chose a small café for lunch where I had a surprisingly good goat cheese tarte and salad.  

       Back on the bus we next stopped at the Abbey de Fontenay where Mme. Suraqui was our guide once again as she knows a surprising amount about the places we visit and the architecture.  It is turning fall here and all of the vines that covered the stone buildings were turning red and being both a private residence and a UNESCO world heritage site, the grounds were perfectly manicured.  

        The nuns and monks that used to live here were part of the Cistercian order and were know for being exceptionally stoic, silent, and sworn to a life of poverty, hard work, and simplicity.  This abbey, built in 1098, was the first of its order.  On a side note, the Cistercians are also called the Bernardines which only goes to prove that everything in France is named after a Bernard.  I found the church rather exceptional in that it was completely striped down to the absolute fundamentals in a Romanesque-Gothic hybrid.  

       As with the majority of the abbeys of that order, the buildings formed a square around a courtyard with a covered porch walkway used for walking in circles around the courtyard reciting prayers and meditating.  As we all took a symbolic walk around ourselves, it was interesting to think of all of the hundreds of thousands of times that various nuns had walked the exact same circle on the same stones and of how well they must have known each one. 

        The nuns at this abbey did a lot of copying of texts and were supposedly known for their calligraphy in illuminated manuscripts.  This practice, however, clashed with their stoic resolve of having no heated rooms whatsoever because the writers’ hands would become so cold that they could no longer write and would be afflicted with all sorts of joint problems.  So, the only heated room besides the kitchen of course, was the writers’ room.  However, I have a feeling that their idea of a “heated” room was one in which the ink didn’t freeze.  It was also interesting to learn that the abbey’s foundry was the birthplace of the hydraulic powered hammer, operated by a large watermill just outside.

The Three Musketeers (program directors) as we like to call them

Absolutely everything here is covered in thick moss and lichen

After about an hour’s tour of the main building from Mme. Suraqui, we all collapsed on the soft grass to rest our feet and take in some sun, but soon we headed off to the bus.  When I say “head to the bus” I really mean, “take twenty minutes to gather everyone, use to the restroom, take silly pictures, and peruse the gift shop,” so it was a while before we were once again speeding along narrow roads and fitting through places I didn’t think a huge tour bus could fit.  Our dear and sort of sad driver Bernard (yes, everything is named Bernard) was an absolute magician behind the wheel and many times he got cheers and applauds from us for making an exceptionally sharp turn next to a cliff or squeezing around a corner with only inches to give on each side.  We loved Bernard and tried to be extra nice to him, and hopefully he enjoyed the trip as well.
      More bucolic and stunning countryside later, we arrived at our gîte (between a hostel and a bed and breakfast) La Combe d'été which was positioned high on a hill near a large and steep falaise (cliff) that had a breathtaking view of the Bourgogne countryside.  We took a short walk up the road a bit and then across on a small trail to the very edge of la falaise which was one of my favorite bits of the trip.

Pictures just don't do justice.

      Being in the country and walking down a quiet dirt road with fields and birds and blackberry vines smothering the fences was so incredibly enjoyable, and I felt high off of the fresh air.  I didn’t realize how dominating the smell of Paris was until we stopped and slowed down for a while in la campagne (countryside).  It’s like comparing a south Louisiana mechanic shop in July with the top of a Colorado mountain in the fall.  They’re just so different and have a surprising affect on one’s overall state of mind even if unconsciously.  The evening ended with wine and a sing along of all of the French songs that we knew until we stumbled off to bed, exhausted from the busy day.