The morning brought considerable improvement in our legs, and when Keith came back with the breakfast bread, he said that it was as quiet as quiet on the streets, being Armistice Day. We set off for the ceremony, imagining it to be before eleven o’clock to include that special moment, and to be at the Charles De Gaulle Square where the War Memorial stands.
A line of young people with wreaths at their feet stood to the sides, and old men arrived to join the guard of honour of flag bearers who lined the steps.
A couple came up and stuck a blue paper symbol on us, and we put a donation in the box for the French version of Legacy. People were wearing tags identifying them as belonging to the ‘Union of Combatants’, (like the RSL in Australia). Some soldiers marched up and a group of police were lined up too. It was after eleven o’clock when the band struck up and a solemn tune quietened everyone.A girl of about fourteen opened the ceremony and welcomed everyone. The next three speakers were also young, and read the stories of their relatives who had lived through and fought during the war. Later we heard that it was a directive of the President, Nicolas Sarkosy, to have young people in every ceremony in the land, and that they were to read personal histories. An elegant senior Military Officer wearing an impeccable uniform, with a snow white blouse with a bow at the front, spoke next. She explained the history of the war and how winning the peace was a major challenge, even after the armistice was signed. She commended the young participants, and said that the future of the country and the honouring of its past patriots, lay with them. There were two lines of VIPs and, as they came forward, two young people assisted each person to carry a wreath up to the monument.
The student band, played some sad music and then there was the minute’s silence. The Marseillaise raised everyone’s spirits and then it was time for the greeting, thanking and meeting the crowd. All the VIPs and student speakers filed past each flag holder and each wreath assistant, shaking their hands and saying a few words. They then moved along the front two rows of the crowd. This part of the ceremony took as long as the rest, and was such a very nice touch.
We consulted the Cahors walking tour guide, and set off to look at the historic buildings of the medieval part of the city. The memorial to those who died in the defence of the country in 1870 -1871 had dramatic sculptures of soldiers, with every detail of their uniforms. It made us wonder at what point a war ceases to have a special day to remember it, or what qualifies a war for that in the first place.
The old part of Cahors is charming, with some buildings dating from the thirteenth century, and with many narrow streets.
Many of the buildings were of small bricks, and the intriguing iron ‘S’ shapes were bolted into the walls, as we had seen before. They are not glamorous, and would have been expected to be hidden by rendering. Their job was to act as ends on very long rods that held vulnerable parts of a building together. For example, the walls on either side of an arch may have had such reinforcement in them. It was a building technique used since at least Roman times.
Like everywhere we have been in France, the arts are celebrated, with a statue having been erected to the poet, Clement Marot, born in Cahors in 1496, who invented a form of poetry called the ‘blason’ which is a form of rhyming courtly poetry addressing the body part of a lady, and introduced the sonnet to France.
One of my favourite spots was a square where spices used to be sold, and where a quaint old fountain had different breeds of dogs carved in stone all around it. Garden beds had been planted out with herbs and spices as a reminder of the past.
Something less savoury and very doggy was the need to watch where you walked in the streets of Cahors; there was dog pooh everywhere, as well as signs and bags to encourage the citizens to pick it up. The signs said, ‘If you are clean, Cahors is clean.’ Maybe the message is too subtle and everyone thinks it means that they have to have two showers a day.486 494 or 495
The Cathedral of St Etienne was enormous. It was gradually built between the 12th and 17th Centuries, and was restored in the 19th Century. It had two domes and was very open compared to all the columned churches that we had visited. One dome was painted with frescoes, with St Stephen in the middle, and the apse had folk art style decorations and patterns painted all over it. The grey stone sections seemed very stark in contrast. Restoration work continues, so a large section was closed off. Golden angels guarded the altar. The carvings over the porch door were beautiful, and in very good condition. Two men were fitting new pipes for the organ, surprising me when they blew through one of them. I had thought that they were pipes for the heating.
A door from the church led to the cloisters, where the first part of a secret garden, using the ideas from the bible of Mary’s garden, is found. The other part of the secret garden is behind the church and was closed, but we could see that the beds were surrounded with woven cane edgings and that there was a woven cane gardener in there as well. There were other places in the city where cane had been woven to make gates, garden edges and decorations. The capitals on the pillars surrounding the cloisters were badly eroded, with only a few still intact enough to see the designs. One carving depicted a pilgrim, and our guide book said that he was having an altercation with someone. That seemed strange, for who would want to beat up a pilgrim, and when I looked at the carving, I thought that the other person looked like a woman and her hand was out to give the pilgrim bread. Since then, I have read a little more about the history of the pilgrimage, and it would be possible for the carving to be depicting an aggressive act. Some ‘pilgrims’ were debauchers and vagabonds, taking advantage of the hospitality that was provided to genuine pilgrims. Many pilgrims carried a large amount of money, since they could be half a year on the road and needed to pay for things. They were often attacked and robbed. Pilgrims ventured into Spain at a time when it was not Christian, and so they could be attacked for religious reasons, or because they were nationals of countries that the Saracens in Spain opposed.
The Lot River makes a loop, which the town sits in, and we saw that in at least two spots there was a barrier in the river, perhaps to control its flow or maybe to dam some water up for city use. A large tree took our attention, perched on the edge of the barrier where it had floated, with never quite enough flow behind it to lift it over. The Mairie and other Communal buildings had the largest hanging baskets we have ever seen, and that is saying something, since France is the home of civic gardening.
All the shops were now closed and we hadn’t any food for lunch. We were relieved to find a bakery with little pizzas, and had one each for a change from bread. I slept away the afternoon, and Keith spent it at the Internet café, publishing lots of our blog days from when we were in Africa. When I woke up, I typed some more until bedtime, stopping only for a picnic tea. We are gradually eating away at the five African weeks for the blog, when very little had been written but such a lot was done.
The long and the short
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