So I was tagged by Vila (damn) on the odd things front, but never do my assignments properly…I’m thus sharing only one odd thing, and an experience that connects to it:
I sometimes imagine that I was a Norman knight, one of the shock troops of the Crusades, in a past life. This isn’t nearly as gloriously romantic as it sounds. I think it speaks to a sense of guilt and is, likely, connected in my life to the idea of regret, an awful feeling. Perhaps this is because I know the stories of men like Bohemund (or his father, Robert Guiscard), who ravaged and killed everywhere they went only to discover that civility was more amenable…And more fascinating. Conquerors without much of a conscience, they were descended from the Viking raiders who had settled, only a couple of hundred years before, on the northern shores of France. They were merciless and warlike, and good at it, laying siege to far-flung parts of Europe and the Middle East. But they overextended the power of the Church and their crusading was little more than an unpleasant interruption to older civilizations. Still, they brought justice and order to parts of Europe, and were instrumental in establishing the relative stability of feudalism. Unfortunately, it was feudalism…
You see how this “fantasy” is not all it’s cut-out to be. But that’s just the point. I had a visceral sense of what it all meant when I actually set foot in Normandy, a place with clear symbolism for me, three years ago today. Here’s what I wrote:
7 March, 2004, Beauvais, France
To Normandy…
Left Ezanville by car in the morning, through the countryside, to Beauvais. Town is quite nice, especially the street H lives on — the buildings here surely date from the 17th century. Cathedral also impressive in scale, a Gothic affair that was apparently a higher “vault” than even Amiens or Chartres before it collapsed under its own weight. Little canals in town, too — a place known, perhaps like many, as the “Venice of the north.”
Drove through southern Picardy, past Forges-Les-Eaux, a resorty burg where people took the waters that now houses a casino and Club Med spa. Intriguing complex patterns in the brick facing marks some older buildings. Finally arrived near the coast (after a half-dozen deer crossed our path…) — incredibly cute. Little low-slung houses with charming roofs, village centers, elaborate hedges and gardens. Idyllic. Not a twig out of place.
Parked beside an old church, perched on a steep cliff, in Varengeville (Sur Mer). High point offered absolutely stunning view of the characteristic chalk cliffs and the town of Dieppe to the east. Wandered through countryside — rolling hills, little vales, and wild daffodils in bloom. Spots where the water table drains to the channel through chalky “fjords”, one which we climbed down through. Finally on to the beach, along the cliffs. A geological melange of epic dimensions — smooth round rocks and chalky formations popping up through the sand. A collection of shapes and colours that is difficult to capture…
Arrived in Pourville-Sur-Mer, a beach town with a mix of elaborate, castle-like houses on the hill and very modern (even “Prairie Stylish”) homes near the water. Spotted an old German machine gun turret overgrown with bushes up on the hill…Had coffee and apple tart (yum!) in little patisserie (“Toutdubeurre”). Couple of husky, big sexy blond girls sitting at the next table…
On our way back we picked a few daffodils and stopped in the church. Very simple and modest, but with beautiful archways and stained glass. Drove through Dieppe, a lovely (and historically relevant…) port town, stopping at Arques-La-Batailles, the ruins of a large 11th century Norman ducal castle, complete with hefty moat. A fabulous day. Amazing. The place spoke to my soul, and felt like my land. At moments revelatory.
In retrospect I suppose this is not really that odd, particularly given my background, but it gives a few insights…
