In history, everything is new.
‘’“Where has he gone?” asked Monsieur de Cavois.
‘“To Troyes, in Champagne,’ I answered.’
Dumas
In September 2017, as much as I loved my WorkAway, and admired my host Marie, I felt tired and overworked. I had peeled another layer off the fireplace and it was proper work. I was proper done in. I suppose Marie must have noticed for she asked what I would like to see during the rest of my time in Champagne. With some trepidation, I asked her if it could be possible to see a sixteenth century Chatêau nearby? After coming close in Berry, I had not seen one in all my time in France, for a variety of reasons. She said she would think about it. I said I would be extremely grateful.
Then Marie very generously offered me the use of her car. That would not make me happy. Reading more about the Duke of Buckingham would. For instance, fun fact, without any prior knowledge of the navy, he was announced as Lord High Admiral of England in 1619. Isn’t that topical?
Later we spoke about how to get to the promised Chatêau and, again, Marie generously offered me the use of her car. For me it was out of the question. I could not bear the responsibility. What if I caused an accident? I’d be happier staying put and working on my research. And then she suggested some other word which I did not hear at first. When she repeated it, it rang out loud and clear. ‘Hitchhike.’
I had upset her. Poor Marie. I was the only person who had not understood her. Really? It may be true I did not want to hear about hitchhiking - I was really not keen on that - I’d rather walk! I was really not a helpful guest. Marie could not have long relaxed French style lunches over wine and cheese laughing with me, as if we were friends of Alexandre Dumas, and I would not go away and leave her alone in her house for some peace and quiet. I just hung about waiting to be told what to do!
She told me I spoke too slowly and then proved she hadn’t understood some piddling minor question. When I ask her why she often questioned my too slow remarks with, ‘What?’ She explained it was because she didn’t listen.
Our poor communication made me remember my father’s fury when, after a series of strokes, he could no longer make himself understood. In vain he would try to sound out words for listeners to understand. Some visitors would raise their voice as people do who do not share a common language. It is frustrating when you can’t understand and you can’t get what you want. Perhaps that’s why I enjoy teaching English?
Gradually I found out more about my host. Not only was Marie a professional storyteller, but also she used to work as an English teacher in a tech school specialising in difficult boys. Once she got a desk thrown at her head. When we discussed the pros and cons of uniforms, she came down heavily for the positive. When she lived in Guyana, there was an ice cream shop that sold discounted ice creams to students in their uniforms!
As a teacher she found the level of paperwork and admin too high, and dealing with hierarchy and colleagues, too difficult. She said she no longer knew how to teach and didn’t care. She was surprised to see student teachers answer their phones in the middle of a class. She bemoaned the standard of French, both spoken and written, she’d encountered in people under the age of thirty. We agreed that teachers should not have to work all their lives in that most difficult profession. All that giving takes it out of a person.
In Marie’s kitchen, the wall was my happy place, chipping away old mortar and scrubbing plaster off the stone surface. Work stopped for a delicious lunch of courgette and lentil dahl before we enjoyed another outing. And this time, Marie did take me to see a sixteenth century Chateau! I was beyond grateful. www.tourisme-langres.com; www.renaissancechateaudupailly.com
The Chatêau du Pailly is owned by the State and is in a state of renovation. A renaissance fort, it gradually turned into a castle over the years and through the owners. Trapezoid in shape, much of the building was altered and rebuilt after the revolution. The decorative indentations in the stones are a sign of wealth. Both time and money was needed to keep masons busy with such detail.
Of course, in Anne’s time, the murals would be bright, often covered with glorious tapestries and family portraits. In history, everything is new. An interesting inclination in the window settings allowed the construction of three square rooms. Much of these rooms became my study for the basis of the Chatêau du Fère in Berry. In rooms such as this, Anne would visit the mother of Athos, the Comtess de Fère, and things would progress … What a wonderful gift Marie gave me!
On our return to Bay-sur-Aube, I did some half-arsed stone cleaning, stirred a packet paella, and washed the windows (secretly) because Marie had pointed out how filthy they were. Uh oh. I had done the wrong thing. She explained that dirty windows help to lower the temperature two degrees in the summer.
After more wall and planning, Marie prepared to take me to Charleville-Mesiere, a mythical place of international puppetry. She had real life friends who lived there and was happy to drive me so she had an excuse to see them. It really was beyond the call of duty and once more I was deeply grateful. We left about 09:30 after a good breakfast.
Luckily, at the last minute, Marie went back to check on something in the house for she called me back to witness the neighbour’s dog (Victor’s best friend) who had snuck into the house. Marie was very fond of Malisse, a gorgeous fluffy dog, who had come to be near the cat food. There Malisse sat, in Marie’s window seat, swathed in billows of pink chiffon as though she were an illustration for a chocolate box.
It was a shame I could not share her driving - I could not bear to think of my causing an accident but the necessity to rest made her stop in Troyes on the way.
Troyes was a revelation. A modern town built on the buildings of the past. Many of the wood frames, falling down and propped up in seemingly haphazard ways, are visible and part of the surface of the city. Marie used to have a popular cafe in Troyes but, even with keen fans, she could not make it work financially and had to move to her beautiful ancient farmhouse. It must have been heartbreaking. There were still blackboards chalked with the last day’s menu up in the storage part of her attic.
She showed me through the ancient part of the town and those carved cross beams and criss-cross skeletons of buildings proved so evocative I immediately wanted Milady to stay there, somehow.
Poor Marie. She had no respite from her worker - apart from when I went up to my garret to work or read - and I don’t know that she understood that really was my idea of a good time! I was extraordinarily lucky to have her as a guide to Champagne, and most particularly, Bay-sur-Aube.
Merci beaucoup, ma amie gentile Marie! I wonder where fate will lead us next?
Getting told off for cleaning the windows, classic… Troyes looks stunning!
What a great read, Victoria - thank you! I love the history and those buildings and the carvings!
Jacqui of Tunbridge Wells xx