From a 14th century castle to an 18th century country estate

Despite the fact that our travel to Reims and back was by high speed train with comfy seats, we felt as tired as 13th century pilgrims by the time we got back to our cozy apartment, so Wednesday we took our foot off the pedal and barely ventured out beyond our immediate neighbourhood. Fortunately for us, our neighbourhood is blessed with one of the nicest artist museums that I have encountered: the Musée Bourdelle.

Antoine Bourdelle was a sculptor, whose birth followed that of Rodin by about 20 years and who died 12 years after Rodin in 1929. Rodin was one of his teachers. Bourdelle went on to teach many sculptors, including Giacometti and Matisse. His works can be found all over the world, from Argentina to Tokyo to Washington and New York, and especially here in Montparnasse where he worked and taught in his studio. Many of his sculptures are monumental in size, but they have done a fabulous job of creating a museum and garden space around his original workshop to showcase his work. Here are a few examples. The most famous of these is likely Hercules, the Archer (which we also saw later in the Musée d'Orsay).

I found that whereas Rodin's figures are generally true to life, Bourdelle felt free to play more freely in expressing human form, creating more interest by the exaggeration of features (height, body mass, textures) in addition to the poses they took up. I highly recommend a visit - best of all, it's free!

On Thursday we ventured east, taking the M1 line out to the last stop, Chateau de Vincennes, where the eponymous 14th century castle, moat, grounds, chapel and forest all make for a great destination for the better part of a day. Originally conceived by Jean II and continued by Charles V, the castle has been used by several monarchs, variously as a residence, a place to keep royalty safe from marauders, and a place to throw prisoners, often without charges. Among the prisoners were Henry V of England, who died there, Henry IV of France, Denis Diderot, and the Marquis de Sade (he probably enjoyed it). Not surprisingly, like the Bastille, it was attacked during the Revolution as a symbol of monarchical repression.

The last photo shows Catherine posing at the front wall of the donjon, or keep, as we look out toward La Chapelle, which got a brief start before Charles V died in 1380, not to be completed until the 17th century. It is nevertheless a beautiful example of gothic architecture, emphasizing the concepts of thin and tall walls in the nave bringing in masses of light, and the high vaulted ceiling.

I had to imprison all tourists in the donjon to facilitate these shots

Having now seen a few chateaux, I appreciated that although the premises were used by a number of monarchs and for different purposes, there was a major focus on Charles V, so by the end of your time there, you felt you could connect the person with the place, such that if we ever run into him in the afterlife, we'll be able to manage something beyond superficial chit-chat, . . . assuming I'll be granted a better command of the French tongue on the other side.

Thursday night we shifted into high Holy Week gear, as we showed up for the Maundy Thursday service at St. Germain des Pres. A few French feet were freshened by the ritual washing while we were serenaded by a young choir. At the end of the service, we filed out the side of the church and made our way back to the west entrance where we re-entered a darkened church to stand and kneel in prayer around the altar as the choir continued to sing. It was so moving that Catherine was moved to return for the 7:30 am service the next morning with her tag-along husband in tow.

Two weeks earlier we had begun to debate where exactly we would celebrate the various Easter weekend services, but all debating ceased when I received an email from my cousin, Katharine, inviting us to spend Easter weekend with our extended England family at their country property, 'Le Fief' in Limousin (according to Wikipedia 'a sparsely populated historical region in south-central France'), 3.5 hours south of Paris. We can attest to the sparse population, as except for our time in church on Sunday morning, I think we saw more cattle than humans. We had a wonderful time with the family in their 18th century home, feasting and laughing, despite close to 48 straight hours of rain and temperatures ranging from 8 to 10 degrees. Nothing like a game of Pictionary to get things warmed up!

On the church side of things, Catherine wasn't all done with Good Friday following the 7:30 Tenebrae service and so after renting a car in Massy, just south of Paris, we stopped at a small pre-Romanesque church, Eglise de St. Mesmin, originally built in the 11th and 12th century, that sits on the right bank of the Loire River, on the outskirts of Orleans. Their 3 pm Chemin de la Croix turned out to be the Good Friday service that Catherine was hoping for. For Easter service, Nina came with us to the Collégiale St. Pierre in Le Dorat, this one a Romanesque church originating in the 6th century, the present building from the early 12th century and much-restored. It was very cold inside the thick stone walls, but it was dry (except when the priest sprayed us all during the asperges - with a big smile on his face) and full of warm and hearty faithful French souls, and the cutest 5-year-old altar boys you have ever seen.

'Le Fief' before the rain

Limousin cows evidently don't see many humans, as they took a great interest in us

Around the kitchen table for a yummy meal

In the background: Eglise de la Chapelle Saint Mesmin.

Note the seashell marker: the church is on the Chemin St Jacques; below is the Loire with a bucolic treed path running alongside it

Cousin Nina and I on Easter morning, after the 500 or so congregants had gone home to Easter dinner

The granite baptismal font - 8th or 9th century - features two lions and on this Easter day garlands of flowers from the fields

So, all in all, it was a welcome break from sightseeing in Paris to be with family and get out in the fresh country air. I was especially pleased, as after about 35 years of automatic transmissions, I was able to get back on the horse and shift gears with the best of them.

The week back from 'Le Fief' has been a return to our foolish ways of packing in more than we can chew. Tuesday saw us venture beyond the arrondisements to the sketchy town of St. Denis in order to take in the Basilica St. Denis, where you'll find more effigies of kings and queens than you can shake a stick at - 43 kings and 32 queens, in all. St. Denis is not only famous for its dead bodies, but also for its place in the history of Gothic churches, for it was here that Abbé Suger made his mark by ordering and overseeing the building of arguably the first Gothic church during the reigns of Louis VI and Louis VII. Exactly what Suger's role was in coming up with the style, and what may be attributed to the architect (whose name was lost to history, perhaps intentionally, as Suger made a point of highlighting his own contribution - including 13 images of him spread throughout the church) remains unknown. Catherine took the tour in French while I wandered through the tombs trying to get straight in my mind all the Phillips, Louis, Charles, and Henrys. Perhaps I'll write one of those songs to help struggling tourists. What I did learn is that St. Denis was sent by the Pope in the 2nd or 3rd century to evangelize the Parisii. He is considered the first bishop of Paris, which didn't stop him from losing his head. Well, actually, according to legend he didn't exactly lose the head. Rather he picked it up and brought it with him to the site where the church now stands, all the while preaching repentance - now that is grit!

St. Denis - not only lost his head, but a steeple, which they are replacing

Don't ask me to identify them

Crypt, the original site of worship, where 6th century Queen Aregund is buried (she was identified by the royal ring she was wearing)

St. Denis with a head on his shoulders (not for too much longer)

With our heads intact, we emerged from the cathedral after our usual 3+ hour visit, found a baguette and devoured it in the main square in St. Denis while reflecting on the different demography one meets in the banlieue, in contrast to Paris proper. Baguette done, we climbed back on the metro and made our way back downtown. It being Tuesday, most museums are closed. One of the few museums open was the Petit Palais, and like all Paris-owned museums, it was completely free. Although you'll probably never see any of their art pieces featured in an art book, the palace in itself was worth the visit -- a gorgeous building -- and enough objects took our interest to make it worth at least the price of admission.