Dijon, where they make mustard!!

I went to the beautiful city of Dijon, yes, where they make mustard. I just cannot get over that, so pardon me if I say that a ton of times in this entry. Yes, the lovely mustard town, what a place. I loved it. Not only was there mustard, but also there were cakes and bread and cheese and wait, yes, there were other things besides food. (I tend to be preoccupied with food when I am traveling, maybe because there is always so much of it!!!) The center part of the city, where, let’s face it, all the beauty of Europe is found. Never expect that a European city is beautiful outside of the one or two square mile downtowns, it will never live up to your expectation. This was the same, so I saw when regarding what lay in the nether regions beyond the train station, so I stayed in the center, where there was plenty to keep me occupied.

You know, a digital camera is almost as good as having someone with you. Yes, I was that weird person taking pictures of herself, in windows and reflective mirrors and even just of myself, but hey, I had to amuse myself somehow, and for some reason, I am still like a little child when it comes to wanting to see myself. I wonder if I will ever get over that, maybe when I am 87 and would rather just remember than actually see, but for now, hey, it’s what I like to do. I also enjoyed taking pictures of other people around me, especially those at the market. I think that the next town I visit, I am going to pretend to be an important photographer, trying to get a taste for the land and its people. For now, though, I took stealth photos of people in their element. For some reason, I love to watch old people, you know, the ones who are just hanging around or going about their business like they always have except now they move about as fast as slugs, but hey, those feet have done a lot of walking and now deserve to go slowly (I am not sure that slugs deserve to move slowly, but they do anyway, so whatever).

It was raining which is why my hair resembles something like a chinchilla, or a shag carpet, whichever image you prefer to imagine. I enjoyed the rain although not when I was actually in it. Maybe I should say, I appreciated the rain as I sat in a café, but when I left the café, I wanted it to stop immediately. How is that for, “Hey God, thank you for the rain while I am covered, but you can quit now, I’m ready; I am no longer appreciating it. Really, you can stop now.” I think that tourists, me included, are most likely the most self-centered creatures on this planet. That is a fair statement, I think.

Well, I visited many churches and museums, the favorite cultural dishes of a tourist, but the most interesting sight was the crypt I visited, which lay beneath a church, called St. Benigne built in the 11th century. Now, if you were about 83 and were working at the help desk in an old church that led to the crypt and someone asked you what a crypt actually is, would you be able to handle it? I mean, your life’s work somehow simplified and maybe denigrated in one question…well, that is exactly what I asked. I mean, I was pretty sure what it was, but I wanted to make sure that it was worth my 2 euros (I changed 40 dollars and got back 19,35 euro back!!! Because of the amount they charge for exchanging…oh, my goodness!) Well, he looked at me and said something like, “It is where they used to bury people.” Well, thank you very much. Not very informative, but hey, I decided that since I bothered him so much, I would pay and visit it, and I am so glad that I did. It was fascinating, completely underground. A huge rotunda had been constructed completely beneath the church. Imagine having a rotunda in your basement! I mean, how cool. Many of the columns were even carved. It was damp and full of spider webs and somehow dank with the shadows of those long forgotten. Definitely worth the 2 euros (or $4).

Well, that’s my story from Mustard-land, I mean, Dijon!