I’m taking a month off from school, and instead will be working with a tutor a few times a week, so I have much more time during the day to join David in his rambles. Since this week is Holy Week, I’ve spent a little more time than usual in meditation and quiet. Even here in this relatively bustling tourist city, there are oases of peace to be found.

I glimpsed this very photogenic door at the end of a tiny alley one day as we were walking home from the port.

Although David visited le cimetière last year, I’d never seen it, so Monday we walked over there. We took a winding backroads route, so it took a while to find an opening in the wall, but we eventually got in. There’s a sign at the entrance that warns you to leave by 17H45 (5:45 p.m.) if you prefer NOT to be locked in for the night. Duly noted. Don’t think we would have liked that much quiet (or that kind–the locked-in kind).

There is a new section, but most of the cemetery is quite old and lovely and very peaceful.

I’m running out of synonyms for gorgeous. What is this stunning tree?

Today we went into Cathédrale Saint-Louis de La Rochelle. It’s undergoing restoration at the moment, but was silent and beautiful inside, with tranquil nooks for prayer and meditation.

I hope for you a week permeated with peace and an Easter overflowing with joy.

He is risen!

On of the best things about all this walking is discovering wonderful little shops like this one:

We popped in here the other day to find a gift for our friends, Jacky and Pascale, to thank them for their great kindness last year. One of the gentlemen inside the shop helped us and we ended the exchange with the traditional, “Merci. Au revoir!” and left. Since “revoir” means to see again, people will often add the specifics of exactly when they expect to meet again, like “à demain” (see you tomorrow) or “à dimanche” (see you Sunday), but you only add that part if you are actually expecting to see someone at the specific time or day mentioned, so unless you’re a very regular customer, au revoir is usually all you hear and say when leaving a shop.

While making our purchase, I had admired a bottle bag with handy dividers, but left without buying it, then remembered all the bottles we’re constantly toting, changed my mind, and turned around and went back immediately. The vendeur was a bit surprised to see us back so soon, but of course sold me what I wanted and even told me the French for it–sac compartimenté, since I know you’re wondering–then concluded the transaction with the traditional “Au revoir” but this time added “À tout à l’heure!” (See you in a few minutes!) What a comedian. Made us laugh, though.

Shopping takes on a whole new feeling when you’re living sans voiture. Anything you decide you can’t live without must be fetched on foot from some distance, and everything you buy must be schlepped home. Beverage consumption has to be choreographed so you don’t run out of milk, juice, wine, vodka, etc. all on the same day. The water’s safe to drink, of course, but doesn’t taste fabulous, so we also buy bottles of drinking water.

On the plus side, we’re getting lots of exercise, seeing lots of gorgeous flowers along the way:

And there’s a posh new shopping bag in the house this year from the Groeninge Museum in Bruges, with a reproduction of Jan van Eyck’s The Madonna with Canon van der Paele (click link to find a better visual and the art history lesson). I’m sure the original is stunning: vibrant and colorful and unusual–since it depicts a vision–but I didn’t get it at all at first. I thought it was some sort of time-warp version of the classic adoration of the magi theme, with a priest in full jeweled splendor, a knight in armor, and some balding white guy (the canon) instead of the magi. Despite my ignorance, it classes up the schlepping considerably. I call it “Baby Jesus Goes Shopping.”

I don’t know if our nearest neighbor speaks English, but if so, she may have been surprised the other day to hear me call back to David in the house, “Don’t forget Baby Jesus!”    

La Rochelle is a very walkable city–which is fortunate for us, since we don’t have a car here–so we go everywhere à pied (on foot).

David, especially, is getting very comfortable with les petite rues (the tiny streets), since he walks quite a bit while waiting for me to finish class. I admit to taking the bus to school in the morning, because the sun is not even up at 7:45 a.m. and it would be a chilly 45-minute walk. (You can put away the wimp-meter–I know.) David, on the other hand, now meets me at school, after having walked all the way, plus some meandering for purely exploratory purposes .

This charming bit of history is not even a major park, just a refreshing bit of green space we encounter when we walk home sometimes. We take different routes on different days, some more green that others, but even the centre-ville routes have les petit jardins here and there.

If you read the Reconnaissance Mission posts (specifically Il y a du Soleil), you may remember the artist with the origami. This is the mini-park where he attempted to keep his artwork upright last year. No artist there at the moment. This photo was taken this past Sunday–through the bars. Apparently this gem of a garden is private.

One of the great things about La Rochelle is that there are loads of sidewalks that are covered with beautiful stonework arcades (pronounce ar-cahd, even when plural). This one happens to be empty of people because all the shops are closed on Sundays.

Super brilliant idea, les arcades, because no umbrella is needed, and when the streets get crowded, les parapluies can be a bit awkward to negotiate. David tends to think I’m about to put his eye out (likely true). Consequently, j‘adore les arcades. But amidst all the stone, flowers are very welcome, like this glowing jewel of a tulip I eventually noticed blooming in a little strip of soil next to the bus station.

I’d hurried by it daily for a week, oblivious, until the day I had my camera in hand, which slowed me down considerably. All kinds of details sprang to life. I’ve been told that life takes on a whole new dimension when you try to draw, paint or photograph it, and I’m finding it true. As Vivian Swift* says, “See as much of life as possible, but take time to notice it too.” (And keep your art supplies handy!)

*See the Quotes page for more from Vivian Swift and others.

Yesterday afternoon was Carnaval de La Rochelle, so David and I headed toward the Vieux Port to check it out. We found a great spot near the beginning of the parade and I was able to position myself right at the edge of the road to get the best possible photos and, it turned out, have lots of confetti thrown at me by smiling, mischievous children. How can you not love that!

Carnaval was also sort of beautiful. Loved the stilt-walkers:

This is an annual family affair — as I learned from talking with the woman in a port-side stand who served me a crêpe beurre sucre (yum) — with children, parents and even grandparents dancing along to the drums and other music of the parade. This was my favorite drum group:

And this was my favorite couple caught on film:

A good time was had by all:

I loved all the smiles, certainly those witnessed, but especially those shared. I really believe that’s part of what belonging — wherever you are — is all about. So join a parade if you can. Bang a drum whenever possible. But whatever you do or wherever you go, by all means smile at someone today.