Walking without a donkey – travels in France – Page 2

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

The convent

October 2018 Picardy, France.

I sit and work in the garden and the hot sun heats my lower back beautifully. I tan.

A peacock feather.

I look up as something thuds. An apple lies beside me. As I watch, whisper of a leaf; an acorn drops. Fruits still red and ripening.

Giving one Shiatsu per day for the community.

St Joan of Arc – one of the luminous stained glass windows of the chapel.

J makes dumplings – there is always lots of kitchen activity: fuels the brain!

E collected ceps and more in the woods for sharing.

I took a walk to the Intermarché/ supermarket on a sunny Sunday.

School and graf / graffiti.

On first sight I always think this means ‘no singing in public’!

Pumpkins (above) and the last tomatoes (they are sweet as sweet).

The garden is the best place for writing. The light is inspiring. I caught myself thinking, ‘With this beauty and peacefulness I don’t need to eat’!

The slightly weird grottoes showing above the trees, which catch the morning rays.

Evening walks.

After my tour, I sat in the garden as the sky darkened and the moon brightened. The last of the sun illuminated the tops of the birches and their tiny leaves flickered in the wind. The cyprus stood steady, turning a black silhouette before the rest. I watched a plane go past a star – that’s what it looked like.

Then an owl hooted: sometimes singly, followed by silence, then four in a row. Baby blue clouds appeared and a gauze of them passed in front of the orb which altered the light on the lawn.

The sound in the trees kidded my body into thinking it was colder than it was. Still, I pulled my hood over my hat, poked my thumbs through the holes in my sleeves and wormed one hand up the opposite arm. The chickens had been put to bed I realised, and there was no sign of the peacocks. A dog barked. The church bell tolled. I recognised a halloween sky but minus the bats! And I knew there was revellry going on indoors.

The Piano Concerto No. 21, 2nd Movement “Andante” by Mozart plays over and over in my head. I get down to the next chapter.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Grand Randonnée 12 – Sentier Albert Maître

I leave my accommodation to explore the surrounding countryside.

As I make my way uphill, I immediately come across bamboo in a local garden.

Bamboo grows in many parts of China and I practice Chinese medicine so I have an affinity with it.

A wonderful range of trees awaits me on this walk: oak and the resounding pop of acorns under foot; they make a lower note than the beech nuts which have more of a scrunch when I walk across them.

Not far on I find a cross reminding me of my Spanish caminos.

Oh the Autumn colours please me! As this is farmland, there are sheep, and further along the way, horses too.

With a lot of space to wander and feed. They aren’t fazed by me at all.

One matching chestnut, one dappled grey and one white. I wonder again, do horses (and cows) communicate with each other? Do they vary their behaviour at different times of the day? ‘It’s getting dark guys, let’s have one more meal and then lie down for the night!’

Here are the wide open arable fields where huge spreaders are spraying (just like Kent!). There are almost no flowers or birds as a result of the chemicals. These are recently sown and ploughed fields.

I follow the sign posts and there are also familiar neon arrows at ground level to keep me right – pointers for a run or cross-country cycling no doubt.

I remember the red and white stripes of the French walks I made in Normandy, but as always the entrances and exits for walkers are unusual.

This one was a sort of turnstile of oxydised metal.

I tread quietly. Once I enter the woods, the leaves are falling randomly around me and there is a sweet autumnal leafy smell.

Saw-edged sweet chestnut leaves litter the way, bronze and tan.

Ash and sycamore, acorns in cups, chestnuts in their prickly cases.

There are no fuchsias here like in Ireland, the hedgerows are instead bountiful with clematis, their furry seed heads studded with dark brown cores.

A tweet here and there; a rustling up high; and chirp chirp as a bird darts past.

I pick my way over sandy white soil, and admire the whispy grasses.

Laden with ruddy apples, on a carpet of windfalls.

Downhill, past domestic vines, beehives and allotments with bright flowers, I discover Saint Thomas.

The mairie, town hall

Village church

Ceramic flowers on a grave

By the end of the day, the effects of the sun as she brightens the wall and path shining low now behind a telegraph pole or street light so a shadow is thrown.

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Picardy, France

17th October 2018 – Reims to Saint Erme

I am in Champagne country, in Picardy. I took the train from Reims.

The driver waited patiently

The countryside looked amazing through the train window – flat, on into the distance, great expanses of single colours.

I visited the Artisan Baker and then left my rucksack under a tree as the Intermarché was in the opposite direction and I was tired.

I set off with the additional weight of shopping (root veg and cheese) and the first place of note I passed was the library – so surprising to see one in this small but well resourced village. The three women greeted me effusively and showed me around, asking me questions, instructing me on how to use it and proudly showing their collection of English books. Marie T was just leaving, she said, and offered me a most welcome lift, telling me her incredibly sad personal family ‘death’ story on the way. She said that volunteering at the library had been her lifeline and now she was living again.

I am staying in a old convent (where nuns are or were is always a good place for me). It was used as a prison and a hospital in the past by the Americans and the Gestapo so it has a chequered history.

*The walled garden is by far the best bit*

18th October 2018

*In need of redecoration but charming and clean*

Early the first morning, the cockerel (that’s him above, all white and fluffy) asks us why we are not outside yet. He is right, it is a gloriously sunny morning. I found a spot between four silver birch trees for t’ai Chi (below).

Later I was greeted by Johnny the gardener and able to keep practicing my French. Everyone is really friendly including Buddha the cat (below)

*They hoot in the courtyard and neck in public!*

The hives are not producing honey, but they have a local source.
I walk up the spiral path to a pool of sunshine, sit and soak it up, and start my writing (the publishers have asked for the first chapter and other info).

*Oak trees make me feel at home (above and below)*

L from New Zealand crouches in a grotto – he makes art as well as shelves – the latter are his contribution to the community.

*Avoiding the wasps delightedly supping*

I move as the sun goes behind trees, finding new spots.

Collecting windfalls – brown, yellow and red; prising walnuts from their damp black coats; snapping hazel shells for a breakfast from the garden.

Someone has made apple cake and roasted some chestnuts which I add to my banquet.

We drink tea and eat homemade cakes during the English conversation group that evening. I learn about some of the local people, their jobs, travels and families, and we have a laugh.

Beautiful view (though misty this morning)

Glorious Autumn colours

Walking without a donkey - travels in France

Reims

Mid October 2018

Leaving busy, noisy Paris from Nation

One and a half hours from Paris Nation by Bla Bla Car, Reims is in champagne country. Not far from the Belgian border, it is just north of the Wildlife Parc Naturel Régional de la Montagne de Reims, west of Metz and south of Lille.

Reims train station

I visited for part of a day and there is undoubtedly more to see. Julie, my driver, deposited me at the Gare / station (there are 2 entrances) and as we bade each other goodbye she kindly invited me to stay with her in a week’s time – she is a couch surfing host.

Very smart looking trams stop here too

Opposite the front of the station is a park, Square Colbert, which was completely closed for landscaping, and beyond that, along the Boulevard du Général Leclerc, are the posh hotels. At right angles is Place Drouet d’Erlon, along which you will find eating places galore.

And the magnificent Fontaine Subé, statue and fountain

I unfortunately chose poorly (I wanted a place in the sun and a chèvre / goats cheese salad). I do not recommend Café Le Gaulois – the food was very poor quality and over priced.

However, I did enjoy my kir!

The Catholic Église Saint-Jacques (Church of the patron Saint of the caminos (walking pathways, les chemins) in Spain (the one who gave Santiago de Compostella its name).

A beautifully simple façade

I found the Musée des Beaux-Arts quite by chance.

The black figurative sculptures look like shadows along the wall, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Reims

This is the garden a the back of the Musée des Beaux-Arts

The next stop had to be the cathedral, stunning against the blue sky.

Wonderful Gothic architecture of the Notre Dame de Reims cathedral. The place where 30 Kings of France were crowned.

Outer detail – angels

And inside, two of the spectacular stained glass windows, cathedral, Reims

The Basilica Saint Rémi is well worth seeing. This plaque is on the ground of the cathedral

Round the side of the cathedral the Carnegie Library can be found.

Art Déco entrance to the Carnegie Library

Foyer light, Carnegie Library, Reims

Detail – tiles showing a patient having his back examined, Carnegie Library, Reims

Window of the Reading Room showing books, Carnegie Library, Reims

I passed the Opéra, the opera house on my way back to the station.

The Opéra is also an example of Art Déco design

The Opéra seen from the front with Tragédie and Comédie at either end, and famous French composers inbetween

Someone has put up a bunch of dried flowers in memory of the ‘Martyrs of the French Resistance’

Grass is grown between the tramways – a good idea for Edinburgh?

I saw this on the window of the Tourist Information as well as here, at the door of the station, Reims

Reims Tourist Information

Reims Cathedral

Opéra de Reims

Carnegie Library, Reims

Musée des Beaux-arts, Reims

Bla Bla Car car sharing website – more ecological and cheaper than public transport – takes a bit of getting used to, but a great way to meet people

Couch surfing a worldwide website for people who offer a bed or couch to travellers. No money changes hands, but you are expected to offer something – to cook a meal or, in my case, give a Shiatsu.

Tip: Mary of Guise, mother of Mary Queen of Scots is buried at the Convent of Saint Pierre les Dames in Reims

1 Avenue Georges Hodin, 51100 Reims, France

Walking without a donkey - travels in England, Walking without a donkey - travels in France

London and Paris – Green spaces

Camley Street Natural Park; St Pancreas Parish church and gardens; and Goldington Crescent Gardens, Camden London.

The entrance to Pitzhanger Manor (being restored – it opens in 2018) and an expansive patch of free – Pitzhanger Park, Ealing, London.

As I wander through European cities I find myself attracted time and again to the green spaces. Indeed, a few days ago, I traversed most of Paris from the Bois de Boulogne in the far east, to the Pont Bercy, and what a beautiful walk it was.

Today, I arrived off the Eurostar at St Pancreas London, weary in body and of spirit, but the sun shone, so I googled parks and gardens in the area. I made my way to the St Pancreas gardens, narrowly avoiding being run over by a London taxi due to the lack of pavement, and came across a community garden I had tried to enter twice before, Camley Street Natural Park – this time it was open.

A slice of sylvan pleasure between railway, canal, and high rise buildings, I discovered that this London Wildlife Trust-funded oasis is an ideal place to picnic. Flower beds are constructed from railway sleepers and hunks of stone and bordered pathways are lined with bark pieces.

There is an extensive pond with a green membrane pierced by rushes, and a wild flower meadow with rose bay willow herb. It constitutes a very brief, windy way to the other side if you use it, as many suit-clad workers obviously do, as a thoroughfare; but you may also make a circuit and take in the bug-finding, log-pile place; the ‘fairy glade’ (where if I was not mistaken a counselling session was happening); and pond-dipping where a quiet volunteer was carefully cleaning the sign.

There are rustic benches in private nooks, and, luckily, a few tables in the cafe clearing because it was so densely wooded that there was almost no sun there this September noon.

Bring your little ones and they will have hours of down-to-earth fun – inside if the weather is inclement (there is an activities room and exhibition with nests and pine cones) or out, learning about bats and birds, recycling and natural landscaping. I saw willow, birch, brambles and cherry, and there were tourists in the Visitor Centre being helped by the member of staff.

This old coal yard is located by the waterway which once transported the fuel to Yorkshire, where incidentally the next-door sliver of a bridge was formed before being placed in its current position in 2016. Unlike the uneven Park’s paths which absorb any sound (do not try with buggies, bikes nor suitcases), the bridge’s smooth surface resonates with and amplifies joggers’ footfall and cycle wheels.

Just down the road is the St Pancreas old church and gardens, today shining in the sunlight and showing off its higgledy-piggleddy stones, working mortuary, royal blue water fountain (at least I think that is what it is), and unusual monument “especially dedicated to the memory of those whose graves are now unseen or the records of whose names may be …(could not read this word) obliterated”.

They have done a great job of bringing interesting facts and people to our attention in the wee church: the relationship of Thomas Hardy to the ‘consecrated burial ground’, and memorials to Mary Wollenstonecraft, activist, and John Soane, architect of the Bank of England whose main residence is in the area and whose ‘country’ house in Ealing (Pitzhanger Manor, see above) I coincidentally visited last week.

Under the trees sit study groups, lunching pairs and individuals reading or on their phones. What a contrast with the welcome smell of warm wax which filled the holy interior. I enjoyed the plaque ‘in memory of my dear husband Earnest Wiggins d 1975’ before drifting into my third bout of 60 winks sitting on a proud wooden chair at the back listening to the ponderous ticking of an unseen clock.

Making my way towards Mornington Crescent tube station, with its faint hints of Mary Poppins and WW2 popular songs, I come across Goldington Crescent Gardens. In the Autumn sun, causing the fallen leaves to glow and throwing strong olive green and top-hat grey shadows on the grass, there is a public sculpture. It is in three parts: one resembles a silver pile of unmentionable; the second an ant eater with its snout in the ground; and the third is a mystery. The artwork stands out starkly beside the pink and red brick 1903 Goldington Buildings opposite, which edges elegantly wrap around whatever is in its heart. Interesting fact: in Vienna they have a word for these buildings which conceal a space behind the facade, which is ‘Hof’.