Montbard and its Environs

Another adventure; let me tell you. I am not sure if it is me or if for some reason adventure just seems to follow me. Not a problem for me, because I thrive on adventure and detest when things are all as they should be, unless of course, I am responsible for someone else, then when things go wrong, I kick myself. Anyway, that is a whole other tangent. But, Montbard…I decided that since I was going to a new city, I would dress up and look very nice since normally, I am dressed in my pajamas for most of the day until I take a small walk with my charge, before which I get dressed in grubby jeans and a t-shirt. So, I had this pretty white dress on and my favorite yellow jelly shoes on…a very nice summer outfit, blending well into the beautiful day with which I had been blessed. I get to Montbard and make a beeline for the Tourist Office, like usual. It was nice that the office was ten steps from the train station (come to find out, it is like 10 steps to see the whole town), so I asked the expert about the Abbaye de Fontenay, where I planned to travel that day. She said there are three ways to get there (about 8 kilometers down the road) – taxi (expensive), walking (remember the jelly shoes?) and renting a bicycle (perfect!). I completely forgot what I was wearing and immediately began thinking about all the fun I would have on a bicycle riding around this beautiful area.

I got lost going to the bike shop…what’s new, really, I mean, now I just laugh at myself and embrace the look of confusion. I probably wandered around a lot with a bunch of random stores for about 15 minutes or so until I decided to seriously look at the map which had been given to me at the Office of Tourism…amazing, but that actually helped! I arrived at the shop and rented my bike for the day. It was a man and a woman who ran the shop, and the man looked at me, at my white dress and yellow shoes, more likely, and said that he didn’t think that I would be able to handle riding the bike in that, to which the woman replied…she’s young! She can handle it! Oh, how youth is the answer to everything that goes wrong. I mean, I really have a powerful excuse in my back pocket with this youth thing. I better use that card as much as I can while I still have the opportunity J

Wouldn’t you guess, but as soon as I took that bike, I got my dress stuck in the wheel and now there remains a big, black grease spot. I thought, here it goes. I decided that the best thing would be to go to a bakery, drown my issues in custard. The unknown always makes for a better story than taking the same path all the time, so I told myself to get something different at the bakery, and I chose the weirdest thing I could find, called a fig. Now, I love figs, but this thing was the size of softball and I thought that meant a large quantity of figs, so I prepared myself for a lot of fiber. Imagine my surprise when this green ball turned out to be a custard pastry…and so delicious!! One of the best pastries I have ever had. Now, I know I talk a lot about pastries and bread, etc. but I have realized that they are one way that I rate a town and an experience…the quality of the food. Food can be as adventurous as the sites one sees and is definitely a part of the different culture one finds in Europe.

I discovered the most brilliant way to fix the dress situation…no, not take it off…that would have been a sight to behold! No, I decided to pull a move I had once seen on an I Love Lucy episode where she smashes grapes. I pull up the skirt and tucked it into my belt, so it became more of a shirt and completely out of range of the wheels (I had leggings on, thank the Lord, that was a good move!) Who knows what I looked like on that bicycle, but whenever I passed a really intense biker or at least someone who was prepared for biking, I just smiled at them, upon which they looked at me askance and nodded Bonjour as well. I am telling you, a smile can cover all awkwardness and possible confrontation.

The main attraction in this very rural area, about 15 km of which I traversed on my bicycle, including the canals of Burgundy, is called the Abbaye de Fontenay, which is an old abbey parts of which were built in the 12th century. Very impressive and well renovated since at some point during the 18th and 19th centuries, it had been the site of a paper mill and was no longer a place for the manifestation of a devout commitment to God. The Cistercian monks who had once inhabited that place had taken vows of poverty and solitude for their lives. When it first opened, it was full of monks who were committed to this mission, until in the 16th century the position of the head of the Abbey became a political thing. Politics in history (and maybe, likely, today) always ruin perfectly lovely expressions of worship into some type of pawn and power struggle. At that point, fewer and fewer monks joined until it was completely abandoned. Now, it is a UNESCO World Heritage site, which thousands of people visit each year. I was really touched by the site, especially when I walked into the immense chapel and heard the recording of the chants that former monks had sung. My arms prickled with goose bumps and I was almost transported back to the time when this had been full of devout men worshipping Christ in a very severely dedicated manner.

I love walking down halls and being at a site where there are centuries of history, innumerable stories and accounts that could be shared about the people who had once inhabited those places and had once lived. I visited an old cemetery, which had been mostly neglected, or not neglected, but maybe forgotten. Even so, I could tell that someone kept up the grounds to prevent complete obliteration of the burial ground. For some reason, I really enjoyed being in the calmness of this place. I had it completely to myself, so I just walked around and read the tombstones of the people who had passed. They are no longer here, and they have likely been removed from the minds of people and history, but so is the result of the human body. Only the soul lives on, and the world cannot comprehend the soul, so people’s bodies lie dormant and disintegrate and the world moves on. These musings may not make a whole lot of sense, but this is what I was contemplating while in that cemetery…young, strong and 21, contemplating my death. Comforting for some reason. I try to embrace all aspects of life, and death is one of them, so one day my life will end, and to Christ I will go.

When I returned by bike after a great ride along the canals (amazing, I didn’t even know about these…I just saw a path down which I traveled and found them!) I decided to just walk around the town. The greatest thing about being alone and desirous of adventure is that I can take any stairwell or crooked path or alleyway without even considering where it might lead…I mean, I have nothing to lose. This manner of thinking led me to one of the coolest sites I have seen. It was called the Saint-Louis Tower and was surrounded by a mysterious garden and somewhat of a forest, yes, I would call it a forest. At one point, I saw this spirally staircase that descended into what appeared to be a dank and dark, moss-laden hole, so I thought, perfect, who knows what will happen next. It turned out that it was a passageway to another part of the site, and was quite lovely. You never know what might be around the corner…you just have to be willing to take the chance; sometimes, you will find wonders and other times, a thick and impenetrable wall or dead-end. It is not the disappointment that should prevent you from exploration, but the promise of excitement that should propel you.