Leaning back on my bench, I marveled at the floodlit facade of Chartres Cathedral. Munching on my baguette with brie, I was pondering how, for centuries, nobles and peasants alike have been awestruck by this view. Then in my periphery, I noticed a bum on the next bench, reaching toward me — and offering me a swig of red wine from his battered 1.5-liter plastic water bottle. Backlit by the floodlighting and with a twinkle in his friendly eyes, he looked like a character in an over-the-top romantic painting of folk characters on sale at a French town market.
Even though we hardly talked and I politely rejected his wine, we were both there — connected, sharing the moment. It was a fleeting, yet very human, encounter — and it added to my experience of Chartres.
The essence of good travel is people. If I’m leading a tour or writing a guidebook, the mark of a job well done is how well I connect people with people. If I’m making a TV show and it doesn’t have local voices, the show will be flat. And when I’m enjoying a European vacation, my journal is more interesting when it includes stories of people I’ve met along the way.
Developing a knack for sparking such experiences is our challenge as good travelers. I like to take it a step further — to be a keen observer, connecting experiential dots that may seem random by putting them into cultural and historical context…and then learning from them. As a travel writer, that’s my challenge. And that’s my mission.
What about you? How have you connected with people in your travels? I’d love to hear about your own bum and baguette moments.
When traveling in France, you can’t help but marvel at the towering Gothic cathedrals that mark the centers of many towns. I like to imagine what it was like to be a pilgrim 600 years ago, wonderstruck by saints and Bible stories, and hiking for days and even weeks to a particular church on a particular holy day — until there it appeared…on the horizon…the towering spire of the cathedral marking your destination.
Chartres Cathedral at Sunset
While I never choose a hotel room just for the views, occasionally I open the window and am blessed with a lovely surprise. Here in Chartres, after a thunderstorm cleaned out the mucky air, the setting sun invigorated the cathedral with warmth. I positioned my chair for the view, put my stocking feet on the windowsill, and enjoyed one of those “European moments.” Do you know what I mean?
Art from the Cathedral of Reims
Great cathedrals were draped in great art. Back in the Middle Ages, the noble art form was architecture, which was done for the glory of God. Sculpture, tapestry, and stained glass were also considered worthwhile, as they decorated the house of God. That’s why the finest art of the 13th and 14th centuries (called “The Age of Faith”) was art that decorated the churches. Of course, the acidic air of our age has threatened the survival of these statues, and these days most great cathedrals have replaced their medieval decorations with modern versions — and adjacent museums show off the fine original art from the church safely out of the elements. Here in the Reims Cathedral Museum (Palais du Tau), I enjoy a chance to see 700-year-old statues and lovingly assembled and stained windows up closer than their creators ever imagined the public would see them.
Gargoyles with Molten Lead
Gothic cathedrals had wooden roofs (which were prone to fire) with lead surfaces. For decades, I’ve heard guides describe the horror of a Gothic roof burning and “molten rivers of lead cascading down.” I’ve long wondered if that was an exaggeration. Then, at the Reims Cathedral Museum, I saw gargoyles (which are designed to function as storm drains and spew rainwater away from the walls during thunderstorms) with those “molten rivers of lead” right there…caught in their stony throats. Wow. That made my afternoon.
French-3, English-0
I love France, and always cut the French a little slack for their national pride, which can be misinterpreted by American visitors. But lately, I’m a little disappointed in their lack of English information posted at sights of international interest, where over half the paying public probably doesn’t speak French. I was just at the Museum of the Surrender in Reims (the headquarters from where Eisenhower ran the final months of WWII, and where the Germans finally signed the surrender treaty on VE Day) and found exhibits in French only. I got a little heated with the staff there, who didn’t seem to think it mattered. (I believe proper translations could be created and posted in about one day’s work, and in the two years since I last visited and complained, nothing has been done.) This photo is from a different sight, the Reims Cathedral Museum (Palais du Tau), where the informational videos (which I’m sure were fascinating to French speakers) had a French soundtrack, with French subtitles, and signed in French to boot. Each day, I imagine a thousand paying tourists who don’t speak a lick of French visit here and get nothing out of the video. And each day, maybe one deaf person is thankful for the sign language.
My favorite way to appreciate a great Gothic cathedral is with a good local guide. I like an art historian who understands the mindset of the medieval faithful and knows how to take me there. For about 50 years, the English scholar Malcolm Miller has been guiding small groups on intimate tours of the statues and windows of Chartres Cathedral. I’ve been enjoying his talks with each visit since the 1970s. I was so thrilled to hang a mic on Malcolm and include a bit of his lecture as part of our TV show. Every cathedral needs a Malcolm Miller…but only Chartres has one. Thank you, Monsieur Miller, for a lifetime of inspiration.
I’m just getting into my new trip. This time I’m in France — working on TV shows and updating our France and Paris guidebooks with my co-author Steve Smith.
I’ve spent this past week in Paris working on the guidebook. With the luxury of an entire week to settle into one place, I’ve been able to connect with this city like never before: sipping a kir before dinner (a genteel-feeling way to begin a meal)…spending enough time to really “be” in the Orangerie so I could take a virtual stroll around the edge of Monet’s lily pond with the artist himself…developing a taste for pistachio macaroons…looking forward to hearing the folk troupe of Russian musicians that plays in the Métro station nearest my hotel…and getting used to setting my nighttime clock by the Eiffel Tower doing its top-of-the-hour, crazy-twinkle routine.
Last night, outside of Paris, in Chartres, I had some quality time all alone with the Gothic statues of Chartres Cathedral. The setting sun brought life to the expressions on their delicately carved faces. As I stood there, quiet and unrushed, it almost felt as though they were struggling to share with me the stories they’ve told eight centuries of pilgrims. I took some of the best photos I can remember — then celebrated with a salade de gésiers of bouncy lettuce and chicken innards, washed down with a life-is-good carafe of red house wine.
Back at my hotel, as I sorted through my intimate moments with those statues through the viewing screen of my camera, I accidentally erased everything on my memory card. Lesson learned: Never cull-out photos with a wine buzz.
Considering the images I’d lost, at first I was depressed. Then, I decided to let my memory of those images be a reminder of the richness of the travel experiences I’ve enjoyed in just a few days so far on this trip: Biking through the vast and fanciful garden of Versailles…tasting duck and mango at the same time…thrilling at mountain climbers rappelling down the side of the Eiffel Tower…learning to open a crayfish properly with the chef at a great new fish restaurant on the Left Bank…visiting the army museum and empathizing with Napoleon’s gloom after Waterloo and France’s enthusiasm for de Gaulle after WWII…checking out the new, lovable little electric car Renault has on display on the Champs-Elysées…taking a virtual stroll with Monet along the banks of his water-lily pond, painted lovingly onto a vast canvas at the Orangerie…and thinking how impressive it is that little tiny children here already speak French…
Yes, my photos are gone, and from now on I’ll back things up more carefully. But, photos or not, memories like these will stick with me forever, and vividly.
Tomorrow it’s on to Amboise. My trip is just starting and it’s so clear, the memory stick that really matters is the one atop my shoulders.
