TOUR DE FRANCE 2004

by Karen Bennett

A different version of this was published in the December 2004 issue of the Folk Dancer (I've tinkered with it a lot since then). The first photograph in the article was taken by Andrea Haddad; the second, by me. (D'ya suppose I'm interested in architecture? Read the footnote for another clue.) The remaining photos are from tourist materials.

I was in France for two weeks in July of 2004, learning French folk dances [at Gennetines], sightseeing, and doing costume research and costume-buying, where possible. I was accompanied by fellow Torontonian Andrea Haddad, a hurdy-gurdy player and all-around super human being. (Andrea's name crops up several times in the article on Steve Starchev as well.) It was a great trip, packed with wonders and laughs (and the thrills of driving standard). The photos can only provide hints.

Here I am, sitting on the parapet of a bridge leading to one of the few towers that remains of the huge medieval fortress of Chinon, which was the stronghold of the Plantagenets on the Continent. Richard the Lionheart, King of England and Duke of Aquitaine (among other titles), died in the town below the fortress in 1199.

My interest in the Plantagenets also led me to drag Andrea to see the Royal Abbey of Fontevrault (pictured right), where are buried Richard; his parents, Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine; and Isabella of Angoulême, the second wife of Richard’s younger brother, John, he of Magna Carta fame—and also the sole king to bear the name of John, so execrable a monarch was he. (I discovered in July 2008 that John's grandson, Edward I, tried to keep the name going by means of his first-born son ... but the boy died young. I'm also obliged to mention that John inadvertently saved the English language from being extinguished by French when he lost Normandy, part of his patrimony, to France.)

Great Britain has been trying to "patriate" the remains of Richard, Henry, Eleanor and Isabella from Fontevrault as the principals are important to English history—to no avail. Only part of Richard was buried in Fontevrault, anyway; his brain was buried at the abbey of Charroux in Poitou and his heart in Rouen, Normandy. (He also has a tomb in Rouen Cathedral.) Wikipedia says that his remains—the ones in Fontevrault—"have been lost since at least the French Revolution." So I don't know if anybody's remains are actually in their tombs.

Pictured right are the materials for making the distinctive "two-greeting" hat ("chapeau à deux bonjours") from the Bourbonnais region (from whence came the Bourbon dynasty) in central France. On the left is a wooden form, over which is woven a straw hat whose brim is covered in black velvet, some embroidery, and a border whose colour conveys the marital status of the wearer: blue for a single woman, red for married, and white for a widow. Worn underneath the hat is a white embroidered cap.

The caps pictured left are from the region of Touraine and are similar to what Bourbonnais women would wear under their "two-greeting" hats. In the city of Amboise, I found a lace-making shop selling both of these hats. I bought the one on the right. (From the shop.)

No, I did not clamber atop the Cathédrale Notre Dame in the city of Moulins to snap these stone figures. (As they don't function as water-spouts, they can't be called gargoyles.¹) When I saw this postcard in a shop, I noticed that the figure second from left was playing the bagpipe. And then I noticed that the women on either side of him were wearing "two-greeting" hats!

At right are houses in an old quarter of Moulins. At least one of the houses is 15th-century. Andrea and I had lunch just around the corner from where this postcard photo was taken. Go through the laneway in the centre of the picture, hang a right, and voilà: a charming restaurant with a cobblestoned patio.

And yes, I gained weight in France; I cannot resist French baked goods! I also pigged out on—that is, bought several—fabulous 3-D fridge magnets of French châteaux. Manufactured in, er, China.

"In some cases, carvings were functional. In fact, the late British architect and mechanical engineer J.E. Gordon claimed that they actually kept the walls upright. In his 1978 book Structures: Or, Why Things Don't Fall Down, he explained that 'in a building with any pretension to sophistication, there is most likely to be at least one oblique force arising from the sideways thrust of the roof members, from archways or vaultings or from various other forms of construction.'

"That oblique force then displaces the 'thrust line'—which should run neatly down the middle of the wall and keep it vertical—into a potentially destabilizing, curved path. The logic is counterintuitive, but adding weight to the top restores a wall's stability by bringing 'an erring thrust line back, more or less, to where it ought to be,' Professor Gordon explained.

"'If it is that sort of building and you can afford it, a line of statues will always help. This is the structural justification for the pinnacles and statuary on Gothic churches and cathedrals.'

"There is another, more immediately apparent function of some sculpture on buildings: the drainage provided by gargoyles that stretch out from buildings and overhang streets and squares. Strictly speaking, a gargoyle is stone-covered plumbing with a face—a fantastic open-mouthed creature that carries water away from buildings, protecting the building's walls and foundations from erosion" (pp. 4–5).

The above-mentioned book by Professor Gordon (1913–98) was made into a highly engaging and enlightening TV series, also called Structures: Or, Why Things Don't Fall Down, that I remember with fondness to this day. I believe I can date my lay interest in architecture to that series.