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Church Chairs in the Cathédrale Saint-Maurice de Vienne.
In preparation for my May Rome adventure, and because it is only a 50 minute train ride, I went to Vienne this Wednesday with Australian assistant Jacinta. Like my current French hometown Valence, Vienne is on banks of the Rhône River in the Rhône-Alpes region. Vienne gets most of its tourism for its Roman monuments, which were built after Vienne became a Roman colony in 47 BC. There weren’t many other tourists on the rather rainy day we picked to visit, leaving some of the sites eerily empty.
Someone had carved out the faces on these at the Cathédrale Saint-Maurice de Vienne. A lot of the statues and carvings had been decapitated.
The city has a very handy self-guided walking tour that goes through town, starting at the tourism office. There were yellow arrows painted all over the ground with bronze tree markers leading the way. There were even designated stopping areas to gaze on a particular building from the appropriate angle. We did veer off the path a few times, but overall it was a great way to see the city without getting lost. We first walked past some ruins from the Roman town that had been incorporated into an ugly shopping center and then went by the Eglise Saint-Pierre. It’s more of a museum than a church now, but is significant as being one of the oldest medieval churches standing in the country. Our path then took us to the Cathédrale Saint-Maurice, a stunning Flamboyant Gothic church.
Abandoned glove in the Cathédrale Saint-Maurice de Vienne that may or may not have been used to press down those five broken piano keys.
The Cathédrale Saint-Maurice was completely empty and a little bit creepy. Most of the statues and even some of the carvings on the walls had been decapitated or had their faces dug out. I assume this happened during the French Revolution, but I couldn’t find any information. There were also odd things sitting around, like this dusty glove on a broken piano. Bizarre as some of it was, I enjoyed the unsettling vibe the church gave off. I know it’s awful to say, but after seeing so many Gothic cathedrals in France they all start to run together. But I don’t think I’ll forget the faceless Saints and angels of the Cathédrale Saint-Maurice.
Temple d'Auguste et de Livie.
A short distance from the cathedral was the Temple d’Auguste et de Livie, a Roman temple originally dedicated to the cult of Augustus. It managed to survive over two thousand years of history by being transformed in a Christian church and then a temple of reason during the French Revolution. It was later a museum and a library and today seems to be used as a centerpiece for the square that was built up around it. I was disappointed there was no way to walk through it, but it was still spectacular to come around a corner and suddenly see such a well-preserved Roman temple.
Spiky-teethed characters on the side of L’abbaye Saint-André-le-Bas.
We circled L’abbaye Saint-André-le-Bas and walked across the river to an archaeological site where there are excavated remains of the Roman civilization. You had to pay to actually get in, but we were able to see a lot from the fence. After that we had fougasses for lunch. They’re a specialty of the south of France and are basically soft bread with a filling inside. Kind of like a sophisticated hot pocket, except bigger and with better ingredients.
A crying statue in the Chapelle Notre Dame de Pipet.
We next went by the Roman theater and then up the hill behind it to the the Chapelle Notre Dame de Pipet. It was a bit of a steep climb, but the view of the valley and the city was worth it. Unfortunately, at this point it started to rain, but I’d brought an umbrella from my broken umbrella collection so we stayed relatively dry. It’s so windy in Valence that I’ve given up on buying new umbrellas because I know they’ll just get turned inside out. I should be used to high winds after living in Oklahoma for most of my life, but I still haven’t mastered the art of umbrellas in stormy weather.
The last part of our walk took us past more Roman ruins and we continued south to the Pyramide du Cirque Romain, which is the only thing remaining from the Roman circus. There is a legend that it is the tomb of Pontius Pilate, but that’s never been confirmed. Today it’s at the center of a traffic circle, around the corner from a kebab shop with a miniature Pyramide outside.
I’m going to Marseille tomorrow! The weather looks rainy, but at least I’m avoiding the apocalyptic snow that seems to be charging through Oklahoma. Be safe people back home!
La Rotonde fountain in Aix-en-Provence.
The more I read about unemployment and the economy, the more I feel like I should have renewed my contract here. Then again, I have no desire to be a teacher and I feel like I’ve accomplished as much professionally as I can with this job. I’m going to just hope things work out, although I’ve only gotten rejection with jobs so far. It’s hard to get accepted when I can’t come in for an interview. Well, if you know anyone who is looking for a writer, even for small projects, I’m going to be very available in a couple of months.
To avoid these depressing thoughts and take advantage of the beautiful weather, I took the TGV with English assistant friend Sarah to Aix-en-Provence. I’ve taken a few trips to Provence during my time in France (Orange, Avignon, and Arles, for example), but Aix-en-Provence definitely seemed to be the busiest. It also looked like one of the richest, and I felt a bit shabby in my scuffed boots and well-worn winter coat (which fit in quite nicely when I was traveling in Berlin).
Le Cours Mirabeau in Aix-en-Provence.
We started by walking down Le Cours Mirabeau, a beautiful street decorating with trees and fountains, including the La Rotonde fountain at one end. Aix-en-Provence is packed with lovely fountains, due to the springs that the city was built over. One on Le Cours Mirabeau even dates back to the Romans. From the tree-lined avenue, we wandered through town and tried not to get hit by the vans that were leaving the markets. The centers of most French towns were not designed for cars and Aix-en-Provence is no exception. But I survived the day as a pedestrian despite several close calls.
La Place de la Mairie in Aix-en-Provence.
We had paninis outside at a café before continuing on our exploration of the city. It’s been so long since I could eat outside without losing feeling in my fingers; it’s such a nice change.
Aix-en-Provence’s most famous resident is painter Paul Cézanne, who was born and died in the city. Much of his paintings featured the countryside around Aix, but you can seen the the mountain depicted in “Le Mont Sainte-Victoire vu de la carriere Bibemus” from some parts of the city. Emile Zola and Ernest Hemingway also spent time in Aix-en-Provence, although only Cézanne has been honored by a statue by La Rotonde.
Colorful macarons.
We also saw Le Cathédrale St-Sauveur, which has a notable triptych (I’m sure it would have been more exciting for my art history friends), and wandered up to the top of the very modern Grand Théâtre de Provence. The theatre was oddly in a very new neighborhood with apartment buildings that looked straight out of downtown Dallas. I hadn’t encountered that before in France. The theatre also had a “Grand R” restaurant, although I think my taking that as a Les Misérables reference was more of a projection than anything else. I know, literary references can’t be everywhere.
Poussin Fondant: Candy Chicks. Classy French Peeps.
There was a really bizarre free art exhibition going on called “Hair du temps.” This was literally art and clothing made out of human hair, including hair hats from Jean-Paul Gaultier and stilettos decorated with long black hair by Pierre Hardy. Some of the pieces were really intricate and creative, like the 19th century bracelets. Others were just creepy, like the hairbrushes that had actual hair instead of bristles.
After the exhibit, we went across the street to Béchard, a well-known bakery that was recommended by my guidebook. The mille-feuille I bought did not disappoint and Sarah had a delicious looking chocolate mousse. After more wandering it was time to go back to the TGV station to catch the train back to Valence.
I bought my ticket to Rome and will be there May 6 to May 12. The price was too good to pass up, and I want to visit another European country before going back to the States. Should be another adventure.
Protesting puppets at the March 20th strike in Valence.
This morning, I woke up to find a scorpion lurking outside my door. I didn’t want to risk a scorpion in my room, so I’m sorry to say it was killed by my giant French dictionary. I hope that this will not happen often. As much as I love animals, I prefer it when the ones that could sting me in my sleep stay outside my living space.
Yesterday I spent a lovely day in Aix-en-Provence, but I will get to that in another post. This Thursday there was another strike in France, this one claiming to be bigger than the January 29th “grève.” I didn’t have to go into work due to the disruptions with the buses and the fact that only two of the teachers I usually work with would be there. So after running the errands that I could on a day when most public buildings were closed, I walked to the park to see the strikers gathering. The umbrella issue was the economic crisis, with most believing President Nicolas Sarkozy is not doing enough to slow the recession. Even though this strike had a little more of a serious vibe than the January strike, there were still people walking on stilts and the giant puppets in the photograph above. I’m going to assume they represent people in the DOM-TOMs, although they could just as easily be leftovers from Carnaval. They kind of scared me, because when they walked their giant hands reached in front of them like they were trying to grab people in the crowd and their necks bobbed up and down. They also danced to the music, which ranged from drum groups to solo bongo players to U2 blasted out of a car stereo to a guy with a megaphone doing a version of Gavroche’s song in Les Misérables. He just substituted “Sarko” (short for Sarkozy) for Rousseau, which I guess was clever. Ex: “Misère est mon trousseau/C’est la faute à Sarko.”
Strike going down the boulevard in Valence.
I saw a couple of my students who screamed “ALLEESOON.” The kids are always shocked that I actually live in France and don’t fly home to the States every night. I guess their spatial reasoning is still being formed. I also ran into some other assistants lounging in the park, and we enjoyed a couple bottles of Clairette while watching the strike pass by. I’m still not sure about the strike culture here. It’s fantastic that people are so attentive to what their government is doing and are willing to express their opinions. However, it happens so frequently that it seems like it would lose some of its effect.
I taught a short lesson on American music in my private lessons this week, introducing the five main genres of the 20th century: jazz, country, rock and roll, hip hop, and pop. I showed a short video for each, using Miles Davis, Johnny Cash, Jimi Hendrix, The Roots, and Feist (I know, technically Canadian) respectively. The least favorite for all the kids was The Roots, alas. Anyway, I bring this up because there was a moment when we were talking about other types of music related to these. One of the kids said punk, so I played a short clip of The Misfits and their grandma, who was in the other room, shouts: “What is going on? Is everything okay???” I guess the punks are still making the older generation uncomfortable.
