C’est fini!

Late Thursday we made the difficult decision to blow off yet another train ticket (our second or third, we’ve stopped counting), and decided instead to catch a very early bus for the 2.5 hr trek to CDG airport.   The warnings of border security hold ups were just too convincing and so, we had an almost embarrassingly generous  cushion of some extra time to wander around the Paris airport, even after spending an hour in passport  control and security.    

Happily, our flight left on time, picked up extra time in the air, and landed at YYC a few minutes early.  If you must fly, try and get the Dreamliner because it sure feels more like a spa and less like a sardine can.  Nine hours makes a big difference in how often you can cross your legs.  

It is always elating to land in Canada, and I didn’t even get much of a hassle for the kilogram of French cheese in my suitcase.  Apparently, I have finally learned to travel internationally: abandon your train tickets, arrive ridiculously early, and smuggle home enough cheese to feed a small village.

And so, here I am in Calgary at 3 am - jet lag in full bloom. We will catch our final flight this morning back to Comox.   I am ready to step back in my life and enjoy some thoughtful time to assimilate all the learnings, delights, mishaps and memories of this truly once-in-a-lifetime experience! 

And, quite frankly, I will miss least of all the frenetic frequent ritual of patting my passport and cell phone pockets throughout the day, like some ritualistic dance.   “There?  You still there?  How about now?”  Like a very anxious squirrel checking that it still has its nuts.  Thankfully, that squirrel is finally home.

Au Revoir, Reims ❤️

It’s 24 hours to boarding and I am checked in, clenching slightly at the dire warnings to leave extra time to clear through the biometrics for leaving Schengen.  Thanks to the train bookings we only have one shot at this, and I hope the angel on my shoulder doesn’t fall off.

Perhaps the reverent time this morning at Basilique St. Remi will help.  It was another beautiful stroll - the predicted thunderstorm did not arrive and the cooler breeze was wonderful. The church was all but deserted, and so easy to take photos unmarred by crowds.   There were two groups of little French kids being herded gently by nuns, frequently reminded with a stern eye to hush.  And they did.  This is sacred ground that holds the remains of St. Remi, the bishop who baptized Clovis in the year 498.   I sat at his tomb and tried to grasp the immensity of earthly time and the history that was involved, along with the magnificence of the architecture.  Truly magnifique. 

Our wanders brought us back to the lively Reims Centre, busier than usual as it seemed that every teenager had taken the day off school.  They were all dressed entirely in black.  We later found out that it was a day of national protest.   Which explained why, while I was sitting enjoying a final glass of Chablis and some Iberian ham, that an entire riot squad marched by me.  Complete with tear gas canisters and crowd barrier guards.    When I asked the waiter, in broken French and English, qu’est-ce qui se passe?, he shrugged, said, this is France.  The young ones are always mad about something.  Meh!  Twenty minutes later the squad marched back and took off their shin guards, indicating, I guess, things were under control.   No one around me was even slightly concerned.  Just another day in France.

I will miss the ambiguity of Reims - the massive, sacred cathedrals and Basilicas, the restless pulse and energy of the youth, and the ancient sandstone buildings and cobbled streets.  But all good things come to an end.  Tomorrow, we tackle the journey home.   Bonne chance á nous!

Meeting Reims

We had a fantastic walk through central Reims today, beginning with the glorious Notre-Dame Cathedral. We spent a long time there, taking in the majesty of a church that has stood since the 1200s. The exterior was every bit as thrilling as the inside, and the mastery of light accomplished by craftsmen almost a thousand years ago simply cannot be overstated. It was breathtaking.  Impossible to capture it all with photographs, but it is indelibly printed to memory. 

Central Reims is wonderfully walkable, with discoveries around every corner. Pâtisseries, flower shops, lively cafés, and everywhere, people wandering about and the sound of lilting conversation filling the streets. The French are a passionate people, and we happened upon the tail end of some kind of demonstration, long since settled, but which nevertheless gave me my first taste of tear gas. Eye-stinging and brief, but another unexpected window into this culture.

After a quick pause for a beer, we continued on to find the “world’s largest and oldest Roman arches,” (that’s Dave, which will give you an idea of the scale), and just beyond them, the peaceful old walled cemetery. Spooky, reverent, sad, crumbling, resolute. It felt like a place where centuries of lives had somehow settled into the earth.

A very touching tribute to the Reims young men lost in WW1.

By late afternoon, we were spent and returned home for a glass of Chablis and more cheese. It’s time to relax, especially after this morning began with a bolus of adrenalin when we discovered that there were no train tickets available to get us back to the airport for our Friday flight. Thank you very much, Gay Pride parade and Céline Dion concert.

Once again, though, the angel on our shoulder somehow came through. Newly released train tickets appeared, and we are now assured of making it to Charles de Gaulle Airport, hopefully with enough time to catch our much-anticipated flight to YYC on Friday.

Another ineffable day in France.❤️