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!
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