Europe Diary - Post #15 by Rebecca

We’ve now left the southern countries of Europe and relaxing, slow part of our vacation. We’ve returned to France and I can officially say that it feels like I’ve seen every part of this country. We started off by staying one night in a nice little hotel in Blois. They gave us free coupons to multiple nearby restaurants and the breakfast was great (warm, fresh-baked croissants, yum!), but I was a little weirded out by the fact that the floor, walls, and ceiling were entirely made of plastic. I later realized that, because there was no designated shower spot (you could literally shower from the toilet), this was so that nothing gets ruined by water. Don’t leave your clothes on the floor!

That same night, we drove a little deeper into the city to find the chateau (French for castle). Apparently, there are a couple of castles in Blois, but we were able to find the right one and plug the address into our GPS. Her name is Serena, my mom hates her, and my dad calls her “babe.” She’s okay, but occasionally she puts us on a direct route to our point of interest which sometimes involves crashing through walls and plowing through fields. In her mind, it’s easy to get to the chateau; you just drive down this street, then that street, and then drive along the sidewalk for 0.3 kilometers. I don’t think she’s a licensed driver.

Anyways, after a little misunderstanding at the ticket counter (I look older than eighteen?), we made it into the castle to see the sound and light show. It was neat, the techniques they used with lighting were amazing and we heard beautiful French music throughout the production, but I couldn’t understand what was going on. You see, the sound and light show is like a dramatization of the history of the castle except you only hear what’s happening, like an audio book with disco-lights shining on the courtyard of the castle in sync with sound. (That’s the best description I can give. It was a really odd evening.) The thing is, they only have the English show on Wednesdays and we weren’t there on that day. I tried to translate, but I’ve only been taking French lessons for a few months and I had a feeling that they were saying more complicated things than “I was walking to the market and saw a big, red chicken in the forest.”

On our way to Paris the next morning, we stopped to see the Chartres Cathedral. It was extremely magnificent with arches raised at what feels like a mile above your head and colorful stained-glass windows just everywhere. Unfortunately, part of the Cathedral was closed off for renovation. The Cathedral Cleaners were trying to make it white again.

But the most interesting part of the Cathedral wasn’t the Cathedral. It was a book we bought at a dollar store back home about the Cathedral: Chartres Guide to the Cathedral published by Houvet. Inside was everything you’d ever need to know about it including a thorough description of every last window. But, again, this wasn’t the interesting part. I was moved by the introduction. It was written by the custodian of the Cathedral and I realized, after the first sentence, that this Shakespeare-inspired janitor was thoroughly moved by their cathedral. Or possibly possessed by it. I have no words that can explain this person so I will let you read some of it to understand why we were feeling so giddy during the car ride:

"Our Lady of Chartres is one of the finest churches raised to the Glory of God and the Virgin Mary. Its structure is solid without heaviness, its proportions perfect, its magnificent steeples like an invitation to prayer, and the severe beauty of its west facade seeming to scorn vain ornaments.

"What strong emotions uplift the soul from the instant we enter the nave with its harmonious lines! We do not, however, in any way have the impression of being crushed by the stone blocks suspended some 115 feet overhead, for massive, but elegant, piers support them, and there is about the whole building a reassuring robustness and balance.

"Then one walks on as if clad in a garment of gems which fall from our unrivalled windows; their soft light runs along the walls and floods the pavement; the colouring changes with the season and the hour, and, of an evening, when the last rays of the setting sun creep through the transparent mosaic, it is as if the walls were strewn with golden dust.

"Did some medieval magicians want to carry us away to dreamland? No; artist merely tried to represent what the mystic city is, in which man's soul can meet with God; their ambition was to make of the church a dwelling worthy of the Virgin whom they worshipped." My new favorite author, everyone!

We did a lot in France, so I will let Patrick take over from here with his impressions of Paris. It has been an exciting and historical adventure here in France and will probably come back. You should visit this lovely country, too, if you want. In the meantime, make sure you do what I do when you’re sad, read a passage from our favorite custodian! I must now make myself with my “Doctor Who” book as I try to ignore the crazy French middle-schoolers that have taken over the “Oscar Wilde.” Later, I must devise a plan to recruit a large enough army to reclaim the ship . . .