12/05/2024 – Still on the road 2

Once again, I need to splurge from my self-imposed 500-word limit to share some colour.

There was a constant, large and noisy pro-Palestinian demonstration in Tours Town Square. They had strewn an effectively-distressing pile of baby-dolls across the pavement. This forced pedestrians to walk awkwardly round/though their very physical (nonviolent) presence. It was also clearly a nightmare for the wedding parties spilling out of the Town Hall at 40-minute intervals, (all satin and rose petals), to take their Happy Day photos on its grand steps. Together, they made a vivid tableau of what it looks like when passion combines with distance, and noise feels like international power, but is, mostly, just local rage.

Jesus told us to love our neighbours. Modern activist practice prioritises those far away and screams at those nearby. As a middle-aged, white, cis-woman, I don’t understand the outrage/attention politics around me. I see how modern practice identifies victims, but not how it builds survivors. I see how we hold space for the performance of rage, but not for positive action. I’m old. I find myself thinking: plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. What Jesus demanded of us is personal, remediative action (pick the guy up, put him on your donkey, find him a bed).

We went to pay respects at the historic Bordeaux Synagogue today. It is in what is now a muslim area of the city. Yellow ribbons were tied to the fence, pictures of hostages to the façade. Armed soldiers were stationed at barricades on all the access roads…

Tourist season has begun. In Azay-le-Rideau, we picnicked our first evening, because the restaurants weren’t open for dinner. But, May 8th (VE Day) and May 9th (the Feast of Ascension) are public holidays. The town blossomed late Tuesday afternoon as the Parisians arrived.

We had Villandry almost to ourselves on Tuesday morning. We watched in amusement as the gardening staff worked on the lawns. One (we dubbed him “the new guy”) was assigned to mow around the large pond, taking on the highly territorial swans who were determined to nest there. We were also impressed by the 2-man teams mowing the steep banks: one at the top holding a stout rope tied to the mower, one at the bottom (undoubtedly “last-but-one new guy”), holding the mower to the grass as they paced back and forward – ingenious! The first bus tours arrived just as we started home.

Historically, Bordeaux was a major staging post for pilgrims of St James. Caravans left for Compostela through the Porte d’Aquitaine. We walked through the medieval old town, along way-marked streets and (in my case) praying in grand pilgrim churches. Many modern hotels are sandstone pilgrim hostelries that were mostly run by the Knights Hospitaler of Jerusalem until their suppression in 1695. We crossed the vast Gironne river (a full 300m across) and gazed back upon the city. I wasn’t expecting it to be so preparatory. Our journey is truly beginning.