On this sleety upstate day, I could make a joke about skating on thin ice. I could preach or lecture or predict. I could say, I've seen this coming for ages. But instead, I think I will (with the help of the Goddess) tell a random story about my life. Something you may not have heard before, anyway.
When I was 14, I went on a school trip to France. I had been taking French since fourth grade (yes, the Schenectady public schools began foreign language instruction at that age back then, although by the time my brothers came along, it was no longer the case). I have vivid memories of meeting at my private girls' school near Albany. All of us were in (non-uniform, for once!) skirts, blouses and light spring coats with clunky-heeled 1970-era shoes, and we had been provided with TWA carry-on bags. Our teacher (who was French by birth) and her sister (who taught at another area private school) were our only chaperones, and we must have made our way to JFK by bus. I don't have memories of our flight, although as it was my first time on an airplane, I must have been both excited and a little scared. When we reached Paris, we were met by a small touring bus driven by a friendly guy who spoke little English.
Our first stop was to have lunch at a cafe west of Paris, and then we headed to Mont St. Michel, which is a stunning small, steeply-pointed island topped by a thousand-year-old abbey. I presume that the moment I saw this, "I knew I wasn't in Schenectady any more"! Oddly enough (considering my interest in cathedrals and cathedral music), I have no real memory of the abbey or the architecture, except for the hard uphill climb on foot.
From there, our tour took us south, through the area of France where our teachers had grown up (Rennes, Nantes, La Rochelle). In fact, at their small actual "hometown", the entire population came out to greet us; an enormous, formal dinner was held complete with speeches in English and French, and bottles of wine on the table, which we were allowed to drink from.
From La Rochelle, we turned north and east towards the chateaux in the Loire Valley. The ones I remember are Blois, Chenonceau and Chambord. What can I say? I loved them. While I can no longer bring myself to respect or appreciate the ways in which people accumulated the wealth to make such extravagance possible, coming from relatively dreary upstate New York, it was a thrill to explore these palatial homes and their formal gardens in early spring. There would be a later connection too -- Royal Holloway's red brick Founder's building was modeled after Chambord. My second floor "dorm" room looked out on turrets, chimneys and pillars that, in effect, I had "seen" a decade earlier at Chambord. And my master's thesis discussed (and transcribed) a medieval piece of chant in Aquitanian neumes (musical notation). In 1970, I don't think we went as far south as Aquitaine, but my early experience in France helped me to feel enough at home so that I could do some of my MMus research at Paris's Bibliotheque Nationale.
We visited Versailles too, of course. It is so over-the-top gaudy that I don't remember being as impressed with it. Then the cathedrals of Chartres and Notre Dame...at that point, I hadn't yet visited an English cathedral, so I couldn't compare except that the music I heard around the edges (choirs practicing, etc.) was distinctly French, so I felt a little out of my element. I wish I had seen these cathedrals again recently...when Notre Dame burned, I felt that I might not want to see its restored version, but if I get back to Europe, perhaps I will. If...
Why this story? Why now? Well, for one thing, visiting Europe so early in life was priceless. Seeing any other country and grasping that people live differently all over the world, was priceless. Using my foreign language skills was priceless. All our lives, and travels, and educations, matter. A horrible, ill-advised curtain is being pulled down and it's possible that soon we will all be discouraged from not only travel, but the "journey" of education and new knowledge. I feel so speechless about current trends -- when words fail me, I'll continue to write of and appreciate some of the blessings I have experienced. I'll be a witness. Suddenly it is feeling like a bygone era.
