A Walk Through Bourges (pt 2)

[Note: I wrote this material last Tuesday, but I’ve had difficulties posting it – not sure what the problem is, but at this point I’m grasping at straws – so, I’m dividing this post in halves. What follows is Part Deux]

These narrow, twisting cobblestone streets are a constant reminder that "we're not in Kansas anymore" -- but it makes your heart jump when you see a car barreling down at you. Grab some stone and make yourself skinny while this guy in the Puegot squeezes past.

I'm also charmed by the alley-ways or passages between some streets -- very quaint, but my friend Daniel explained that the French word for these sorts of stairways is the same as the French word for "broken neck". I don't doubt it.

If you get weary of walking, or if you're hankering for a tour guide who actually knows something about this town, think about hopping a ride on le petit train. Many towns in France have these things -- they remind me of our "Ride the Duck" concessions.

For five or six euros, you get a 1 hour ride around town, with recorded narration available in eight different languages. Personally, I'm far too cool to be caught dead in such a droll, touristy contraption, but you go ahead. I'll wait here and scrape some of the dog poop off my shoes.

Well look, it's getting late and I know you haven't shown you very much, but the bars in France start serving beer first thing in the morning and all this walking around is making me mighty thirsty, so let's make one more stop and call it a day.

Ok, so let me just throw some pictures at you -- kind of the way I first saw it. You know, you say to yourself, "wow, look at that... yeah, amazing, un-hunh, really old, lots of carving... mm-hmm." Or at least, that's what I said...





Ok... so now let's step back a bit... there's a lovely garden just to the south of the cathedral and it offers a terrific view of the whole thing. And it was this view-- in fact, it was the third or forth time looking at the Cathedral from this spot when the enormity of the structure, and moreover, the enormity of the effort it took to build this thing -- the utterly incomprehensible scale of time, labor, lives which went into constructing this -- it all sank in suddenly and it was as if I saw it for the first time.


So now I'm all "awed" out. Can we go for a beer now? Say, on the way, let's "window shop" for an apartment. This is an immoblier -- a real estate agent. Most places show places a vendre -- for sale, but there are a few that have apartments a louer. We're on the lookout for a T4 with cuisine euippee en centre ville.

There are dozens of choices for beer and/or lunch. Cujas is pretty famous, I guess-- maybe like the J&M or Doc Maynard's back in Seattle... except that Mr. Cujas was probably selling beer here before white-folk had arrived in what we now call Pioneer Square. Let's have a beer and think about that.

This is another good spot -- La Guillotin. Actually, it's better for dinner. They have a grill right out there in the main dining room and they do a terrific lamb chop. Fair warning though: if you're going to order beef, you better know the words for "well done" (bien cuit)... the French prefer their steaks on the rare (e.g. still mooing) side. I was in the Guillotin the other night without my French dictionary, and the wait staff and I had a terrible time communicating. Finally, I threw up my hands and said, "Comme votre plasir." As you please... Well they "please" to have their steaks cold and blue in the middle. Very discouraging.

All-righty. Thanks for taking this quick walk. It's taken me longer to type this thing than it did to actually go out in the world and snap these pictures!

Thanks too for all the comments you've been sending me. I finally got re-connected to my Comcast email account, and I'd love to hear from each and everyone of you.

Peace.