French trains, at least those running between the Spanish border and Le Puy en Velay, precede each announcement with a chime "bing, bong, bing." The notes and rhythm are exactly the same as the song:
"Love and marriage, love and marriage. Go together like a horse and carriage,"
Except the chime cuts off at three notes, so what you hear is "Love and mar ---"
I pointed out that small factoid to dw and she started going on about "Earworms" and "I'll never unhear that now".
Later she attempted revenge -- with only modest success (perhaps because I'm more than half deaf), but I did spend an hour one day trying to remember all the words to: "A-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, -- In the jungle, the mighty jungle," I sang a bit of it and she sang a bit of it and we both quickly agreed to a truce regarding earworms.
French villages take turns being declared "The Most Beautiful Village in France" and Le Puy, the start of our walk, was the first "Most Beautiful" we entered. The declaration was merited, as it was in each succeeding Most Beautiful town. As we walked we had some gripes about the trail (which I'll get into later) but from the start the scenery and the villages were beautiful indeed.
In addition to the usual array of medieval buildings, Le Puy is noted for le puy lentils and lace making. The lentils are smaller, rounder and tastier than ordinary lentils, and they are featured in each pilgrim meal and every restaurant for miles around. The hand lace making is amazingly complex, involving the manipulation of an array of spindles. Many shops had a lace maker (usually an older woman, but for one shop, a young man) sitting in front making lace: a very effective form of advertisement.
On the first day we were anxious to start walking, but we had read that the pilgrims' mass was short and featured a special send-off for pilgrims so we went to the service. There were six men blundering around the altar -- it was as if they had never done a service before. They were woefully under-rehearsed. They didn't actually bump into each other but it was a close thing, and they kept missing their cues and sitting in the wrong places and generally putting on a bit of a clown show. The main guy really needed a beadle with a knobbed stick to direct the extras. In any case, the mass went on far too long, and then the special afterwards ceremony was also cocked up with missed cues and inept reading, so we edged to the back of the crowd, grabbed our packs and left --- missing out on a small St. Jac
que medallion. It would have been a nice memento.
The Le Puy cathedral is on a hill top and has a long grand staircase entrance that actually enters the church in the middle of the nave -- it is most unusual. The staircase bottoms out at the head of a street, and both the staircase and street are lined with blue and white banners, we felt specially notable and celebrated as we exited the church and started the trek.
(A few hours after we started, we were passed by the five extras from the mass. They were five young priests from Canada who weren't a regular part of the show. A pleasant group actually -- they were walking two weeks worth of the trail. The one we talked with most was listening to a recording of medieval philosophy as he walked. dw and I agreed that Boethius and Anselm are a bit heavy for a walk through pastoral France, but we aren't priests so our tastes are doubtless different.)
The first two days of walking were pleasant: sunny and warm: a romantic walk through rural France, meadow and hill and forest except for the trail itself which too frequently was poorly built, poorly located and not maintained at all. The footing was often bad and remained so for the first two weeks. But the scenery was great with hills and meadows, more forest than expected, classic French farm houses often with towers, and vignettes of rural life. Once, as we approached a small farm cluster, we saw a van which we took for the sort of coffee/snack truck that was common in Spain --- not so: It was a small grocery store stocked with real food rather than snacks and it would drive around the area stopping at farm houses. We were going to get a candy bar or something, but three people ahead of us were grocery shopping --- picking out produce and meat, bread and potatoes --- so we didn't wait. As we left we were overtaken by a woman (overalls and rubber boots, armed with a long stick) driving a herd of cattle to a different pasture. ("Allez! Allez!") She had a dog with h
er, but the dog seemed to just enjoy the walk. He wasn't actually working.
That afternoon the skies opened and the final hours of the walk was through a deluge -- strong wind and drenching rain. A bit through a forest was worrisome as we kept watch for falling trees or branches. A final mile through an open field was worrisome as the rain kept up and lightening was blasting all around. We were so relieved when we arrived at our gite for the night, the Domaine du Sauvage.
The gite started life as a Knights Templar Hospitale on the original pilgrimage trail. It was nicely refurbished and very comfortable, and it kept as much of the original building and interior as was possible. It was also where we had the second best pilgrims meal of the entire walk.
The meal itself was very good, but in particular we shared our end of the table with Robert (Row-bear' -- French) and Robert (English via Cologne). (After this day, all Roberts are "Raw'-burts" -- English) -- Robert (French) wasn't all that big, but he was something of a trencherman, and speaking French (of course) kept crying for: "More soup -- More bread -- More Wine! --More chunks of the larded beast! And may I have the marrow, I love marrow!") A splendid feast.
For the rest of the journey, we didn't actually walk with Robert (except for the occasional half an hour or so), since we were generally walking more slowly, but through various circumstances we met every few days for the duration of our walk. Over lunch two weeks further down the trail, Robert mentioned that he met Robert (French) a week after the evening at Sauvage, and Robert (French) wasn't doing very well.
Robert had started walking in Cologne, Germany so when we met he had already walked 500 miles, and when we took a train from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santiago, he continued walking -- we were entirely satisfied with our efforts, but Wow, he covered about 1500 miles! Next: Less daily detail, just the highlights. DJA
JOKE OF THE DAY: (Thanks to Durango Bob, Twitter) He died doing what he loved the most --- Surprising tigers.
WORDS OF THE DAY: SNARG: The residue from a bird/plane collision. And: AGGRAVATOR: An oiled lock of hair, especially one curled over the temple or forehead.
HISTORY (?) FOR THE DAY: Greek tragedian Aeschylus was killed when an eagle dropped a turtle on his head, after mistaking his head for a rock on which to crack open the turtle's shell.
And so it goes. DJA
"Love and marriage, love and marriage. Go together like a horse and carriage,"
Except the chime cuts off at three notes, so what you hear is "Love and mar ---"
I pointed out that small factoid to dw and she started going on about "Earworms" and "I'll never unhear that now".
Later she attempted revenge -- with only modest success (perhaps because I'm more than half deaf), but I did spend an hour one day trying to remember all the words to: "A-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, -- In the jungle, the mighty jungle," I sang a bit of it and she sang a bit of it and we both quickly agreed to a truce regarding earworms.
French villages take turns being declared "The Most Beautiful Village in France" and Le Puy, the start of our walk, was the first "Most Beautiful" we entered. The declaration was merited, as it was in each succeeding Most Beautiful town. As we walked we had some gripes about the trail (which I'll get into later) but from the start the scenery and the villages were beautiful indeed.
On the first day we were anxious to start walking, but we had read that the pilgrims' mass was short and featured a special send-off for pilgrims so we went to the service. There were six men blundering around the altar -- it was as if they had never done a service before. They were woefully under-rehearsed. They didn't actually bump into each other but it was a close thing, and they kept missing their cues and sitting in the wrong places and generally putting on a bit of a clown show. The main guy really needed a beadle with a knobbed stick to direct the extras. In any case, the mass went on far too long, and then the special afterwards ceremony was also cocked up with missed cues and inept reading, so we edged to the back of the crowd, grabbed our packs and left --- missing out on a small St. Jac
que medallion. It would have been a nice memento. The Le Puy cathedral is on a hill top and has a long grand staircase entrance that actually enters the church in the middle of the nave -- it is most unusual. The staircase bottoms out at the head of a street, and both the staircase and street are lined with blue and white banners, we felt specially notable and celebrated as we exited the church and started the trek.
(A few hours after we started, we were passed by the five extras from the mass. They were five young priests from Canada who weren't a regular part of the show. A pleasant group actually -- they were walking two weeks worth of the trail. The one we talked with most was listening to a recording of medieval philosophy as he walked. dw and I agreed that Boethius and Anselm are a bit heavy for a walk through pastoral France, but we aren't priests so our tastes are doubtless different.)
The first two days of walking were pleasant: sunny and warm: a romantic walk through rural France, meadow and hill and forest except for the trail itself which too frequently was poorly built, poorly located and not maintained at all. The footing was often bad and remained so for the first two weeks. But the scenery was great with hills and meadows, more forest than expected, classic French farm houses often with towers, and vignettes of rural life. Once, as we approached a small farm cluster, we saw a van which we took for the sort of coffee/snack truck that was common in Spain --- not so: It was a small grocery store stocked with real food rather than snacks and it would drive around the area stopping at farm houses. We were going to get a candy bar or something, but three people ahead of us were grocery shopping --- picking out produce and meat, bread and potatoes --- so we didn't wait. As we left we were overtaken by a woman (overalls and rubber boots, armed with a long stick) driving a herd of cattle to a different pasture. ("Allez! Allez!") She had a dog with h
er, but the dog seemed to just enjoy the walk. He wasn't actually working. That afternoon the skies opened and the final hours of the walk was through a deluge -- strong wind and drenching rain. A bit through a forest was worrisome as we kept watch for falling trees or branches. A final mile through an open field was worrisome as the rain kept up and lightening was blasting all around. We were so relieved when we arrived at our gite for the night, the Domaine du Sauvage.
The gite started life as a Knights Templar Hospitale on the original pilgrimage trail. It was nicely refurbished and very comfortable, and it kept as much of the original building and interior as was possible. It was also where we had the second best pilgrims meal of the entire walk.
The meal itself was very good, but in particular we shared our end of the table with Robert (Row-bear' -- French) and Robert (English via Cologne). (After this day, all Roberts are "Raw'-burts" -- English) -- Robert (French) wasn't all that big, but he was something of a trencherman, and speaking French (of course) kept crying for: "More soup -- More bread -- More Wine! --More chunks of the larded beast! And may I have the marrow, I love marrow!") A splendid feast.
For the rest of the journey, we didn't actually walk with Robert (except for the occasional half an hour or so), since we were generally walking more slowly, but through various circumstances we met every few days for the duration of our walk. Over lunch two weeks further down the trail, Robert mentioned that he met Robert (French) a week after the evening at Sauvage, and Robert (French) wasn't doing very well.
Robert had started walking in Cologne, Germany so when we met he had already walked 500 miles, and when we took a train from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santiago, he continued walking -- we were entirely satisfied with our efforts, but Wow, he covered about 1500 miles! Next: Less daily detail, just the highlights. DJA
JOKE OF THE DAY: (Thanks to Durango Bob, Twitter) He died doing what he loved the most --- Surprising tigers.
WORDS OF THE DAY: SNARG: The residue from a bird/plane collision. And: AGGRAVATOR: An oiled lock of hair, especially one curled over the temple or forehead.
HISTORY (?) FOR THE DAY: Greek tragedian Aeschylus was killed when an eagle dropped a turtle on his head, after mistaking his head for a rock on which to crack open the turtle's shell.
And so it goes. DJA
