France

My one visit to France began with a bit of a misadventure. Anyone who has flown to Europe from the eastern United States knows that the airplanes take off in the evening and arrive early in the morning, European time. I do not sleep well on airplanes, and consequently I always plan for one very long day, an early bedtime, and a quick adjustment to the time change. This plan almost invariably works, so when I took off for France at 9 pm EST and landed the next morning at about 7 or 8 (having not slept on the plane as usual), I knew that if I could hold out until about 9 that evening, I could hit the rack and all would be well. Well, things didn't quite go according to plan.

The trouble, had I but known it, had begun before I even left the States. My wife and I were on our way to attend the wedding of one of my wife's Parisian friends. When we landed, the bride-to-be met us at the airport and informed me that the groom earnestly desired that I attend his bachelor party, to be held that evening. I initially decided not to attend, but as the day progressed I began to think that missing a French bachelor party would be a mistake that I would regret for a long time. In the end, I decided to go, figuring I would sleep late the next morning and still be alright. Sure, I was dead tired (as evening approached, so did my 24th consecutive waking hour), but I figured that the evening's entertainment would surely keep me awake. Also, I do not speak any French, but there too I assumed that the night's main activity would not be conversation, so I should be alright in that department as well. There was only one snag: one of the groom's buddies was married, and his wife decided that she would supervise the evening's activities. Given this turn of events, the groom and his pals had to effect a quick change in plans. The result: we did not indulge in the normal sort of foolishness that a bachelor party involves. Instead, we went to the cabaret, which turned out to be about 40 minutes of French karaoke and 5 hours of stand-up comedy, also in French, of course. I leave it to the reader to imagine the suffering of an exhausted American, surrounded by a group of people he does not know, listening to a language he does not understand for 5-6 hours, and all the while longing for nothing more than a bed. It was a rough night. At 4 in the morning, I finally was able to rack out. I did not rise too early the next day, I assure you. I should say that, in all fairness, the groom is a great guy and he really did his best to show me a good time, but in this particular situation there was little he could do. For the rest of the trip, however, his hospitality was extraordinary. Oh, one other point: whatever the stand-up comedy was about, it was evidently quite funny. All the Francophones had a great time. Ah, well, live and learn....

Despite that shaky start, the brief time I spent in France was most enjoyable. First, I can assure the reader that reports of French arrogance and hostility toward Americans are greatly exaggerated. Indeed, I found that for the most part, my French hosts were kind, patient, and quiet friendly, perhaps more so than some Americans I have encountered in my travels on this continent. And Paris! What can one say about the City of Light? Of course, I visited and enjoyed the usual sights, but what really struck me about Paris was its details. Where else in the world is food expensive and art cheap? (Ok, maybe not real fancy art, but still, one can buy a nice print in Paris a lot cheaper than one can in Washington.) Where else has street-side cafes with the same ambience? As I strolled through the narrow streets and alleys in the vicinity of St. Michel, inhaling the aromas of Mediterranean cooking as I passed the many immigrant-run restaurants, I was struck by the intense vitality of the city, old as it is.

Ancient is the word that springs to mind when one visits the basilica of St. Denis, which is the burial sight of the kings and queens of France. Dynasties dating back to the middle and even the dark ages were taken to this church for their final rest. The basilica is populated with extraordinary statuary, in which the visages of the ancient monarchs are preserved, and there too are the robes, armor, and weapons left over from Carolingian times. These items are at once regal and, somehow, barbaric, in their massive, gilded opulence.

Our travels in France took us as far afield as Normandy, where we visited the monastery of Mont St. Michel. The site is quite famous, so I will not spend any time on its particular characteristics. Instead, I will concentrate on my own impressions. One peculiar thing I noticed was the strange sensation of isolation that I felt there -- this despite the presence of hundreds of tourists. The sensation seemed to become stronger as I climbed the steep, narrow streets, alleys, and stairs of the town toward the actual monastery and abbey church.

(more to come....)

Other images of France

Cathedral at Chartres

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Copyright © 1996 Scott Carr

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