I have plenty to write today- I've just returned from a weekend full of wandering, absorbing Dijon and all it's little quirks. I went to Dijon on Friday along with the other American English assistant here in Sens, for our obligatory and quite annoying/dare I say unnecessary medical appointment. But, instead of letting the monotonous doctor's questions whether or not we're in 'bon santé' (good health), we decided to make a weekend of it, and invited a couple more American assistants to share it with us too!
There were so many little parts of the weekend that made it so great, and something I think is really cool, is that apart from each other, each little part is actually quite ordinary. But it's the ordinary-ness that I appreciated (and is so often overlooked, n'est-ce pas?).
Let me try to explain a little more. On Saturday morning, we got to go the weekly marché in Djion centre, which is a Saturday morning full of commotion. Although after four years of college I can guarantee I'm fully accustomed to lazy Saturday mornings, making my way to breakfast when most normal people are halfway through lunch, maybe staying in pj's longer than is socially acceptable, etc. But things are different here, and I have to say, I love it. Everyone and everything comes early to the marché, prepared to haggle for the best prices, toting empty shopping bags and caddies ready to be filled to the brim. Curious dogs follow their owners around the corners of the marché, waiting impatiently for them to decide between des carrottes or maybe pommes de terres (potatoes) for dinner tonight. Shoppers stop to ponder the perfect slice of cheese for the week, pick some fresh fish from the filets on display, choosing between various homemade jams or honey from a local vendor. And if nothing else, they pause to 'faire les bisous' with their friends and favorite stall-owners
(kisses on each cheek). The market has an overwhelming appeal, that's easily rubbed off on everyone who comes to see, whether foreigner or 85 year old Dijon native. A place where the wonderful flower bouquets for sale are brighter and more beautiful than you thought possible- Lindsay and I even joked about them being photoshopped :D. And 'il faut pas oublier' (let's not forget) most importantly, where the carrots are so fresh they still have dirt on them.
After the marché, we went to the Musée des Beaux Arts de Dijon, where we wandered through the rooms of paintings and sculptures, which ranged from centuries old, to fairly modern art. Another of my favorite moments that weekend, was when Lindsay and I had split off from our group for awhile, to 'se flâner'- this is
one of my favorite verbs in French. It means to stroll or wander, but with a sense that the destination is not the goal, nor does if even have much importance. So, en train de se flâner, we walked down a tiny cobblestoned street, gazing in shop windows and occasionally stopping to take a picture of the Cathedral's spires peaking out
from behind overlapping roofs. A group of 3 or 4 French tots were running down the street, playing tag or hide and seek, or just being kids. While we were passing a shop, we noticed a tiny little empty chair sitting right outside of the door, for really no purpose at all. One of the boys, running in front of the group, blew past us, but stopped ever so suddenly to sit in the chair, exclaiming, 'Pratique!', meaning, 'How Practical! How Convenient! A chair just for me!'. Lindsay and I nearly fell over ourselves laughing, at how cute and genuine the moment was.
After peeking in one of the four or five churches in Dijon (all within probably 6 blocks of each other, of course), Lindsay and I kept wandering down the random streets, turning when we felt like it, absorbed in conversation. From across the street, we saw a door ajar, and I honestly didn't think much of it. Lins suggested we check it out, so we crossed to see what curious things were hidden behind 'la porte'. And man, where we surprised. I
think I even audibly gasped when we looked beyond the doorway to what was inside. It turned out to be a small museum commemorating François Rude, a sculpture and artist in Dijon in the early 18th century. There, literally embedded into the opposing wall, was a sculpture that must have been 40 feet tall. It's a scene showing the departure of volunteer warriors departing from France to fight the Prussians, and it can be described as nothing less than spectacular. If for nothing else, than for sheer scope and size of his work. When we entered into the museum, mouths open and eyes wide, the museum guide told us they were closed, but after seeing how in awe I was, he didn't insist, and I took a few photos (none of which did justice of course). It was so unexpected, and so understated- it's probably possible there are even Dijon natives who don't know what's behind those doors.... Though they should!
Finally, another highlight of my weekend (I'm such a nerd), was the amazing store we stumbled upon right after being awestruck by the museum. We found a little gem of a bookstore, but not just any bookstore. A store selling 'des livres anciens', in other words, books as old as the printing press. Imagine a scene à la Beauty and the Beast, only on a smaller scale. A tiny black swinging ladder rested on one of several shelves full from top to bottom with beautifully bound books on every subject. Blue spines, red spines, all embossed with gold or black neatly printed letters revealing the author and title. En feuilletant (flipping through) a couple, it was hard to comprehend how much work must have gone into carefully printing each individual page, setting each line and sentence perfectly. And it was great fun to imagine how many people much have read each chapter, murmuring
the words silently to themselves, in a buggy, on a train, a plane somewhere. To top it off, something that would of course ONLY happen in France, an older couple came into the store with their dog, who promptly came over to say hello to me, nuzzling it's nose and floppy ears against my leg. Oh la France.
There were of course many other moments during the weekend which were all sorts of fun- Dijon is such a great city, and a great size too. But when I sat down to write today, these were the ones that seemed the most
important. The ones that really made the weekend so great. That goes without saying of course, that visiting the one and only oh so famous Mustard Store came before all else. Seriously, I've been there twice in almost 2 weeks or so- I wonder if they recognize me yet. And when I run out of my jar of mustard I bought there the last time, I'll be traveling there again! This time though, me and Lindsay left our own little... how do you say... personal mark to the store's guestbook (see below). I'm sure we'll make someone smile someday, reading through that book!
This is l'arc de triomphe that's on the main city street in Dijon. At night of course
This is a picture from inside the market- it was chilly! And opposite is a picture of some of the amazing flowers that were lining
the streets too ----->
2 comments:
et que mettent-ils (on a hotdog) dans Dijon ?
Send more pictures.
love,
Mom
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