,
Whether
ambling, meandering, wandering or merely strolling, the Kid and I were doing
what we do best, and that was walking.
Yes. Once again, our poor tuckered out tootsies were hoofing it across
town, yet, this time, on the search for sustenance in a sleepy eyed French
town, one, incidentally, that was locked and shuttered down on this Sunday
evening. Lacing up her sneakers, the
reluctant niece hesitantly broached the prospect of perhaps hailing a taxi to
whisk us to our destination, thus avoiding the dreaded aimless traipsing
through yet another foreign ville. In
your dreams Kid, besides, how else is one to garner a sense for a not yet
familiar location, randomly discovering pocketfuls of memories along the
way? So, it was on a late summer’s eve,
that we schlepped (thankfully, sans le
dreaded luggage!) up and down the deserted rues and avenues of this maritime
port, not another soul or tourist in sight.
How could this be? It was only
7:00pm, unquestionably early for hustling and bustling metropolises such as
London and Barcelona, yet, eerily quiet on the desolately abandoned streets of
Calais.
So much for
my long anticipated shopping excursion, constantly on the lookout for one of a
kind European treasures, my purse strings itching to acquire whether a bauble,
a trinket, a souvenir, or just about anything, actually. Padlocked shops and locked doors instead
greeted our inquisitive stares.
Disappointment mounting, anxious to indulge in a wee bit of retail
therapy, we plodded on, hopeful that the next corner would lead to a welcoming
storefront, eager to trade designer duds for hard-earned Canadian dollars.
And that is
how we stumbled upon the Burghers of Calais.
Rodin’s
Burghers, the six of them, their history dating back to 1347, proudly
proclaimed their presence squarely in the center of the Ville, imposing bronze
figures a testament to the perseverance of a town besieged under the brutality
of Edward 111’s English army. After more
than a year long siege in which the townsfolk were literally starved into
submission, six outstanding citizens of Calais chose to graciously offer their
lives in exchange for the liberation of their fellow townsfolk, a selfless
offer of hope that resonated with the British Queen, who miraculously, spared
their lives.
Quite the
impressive history indeed, for this French shipping port, a parcel of land
situated in a most desirable geographical location, a mere 26 miles across the
Channel from Dover. Even though Calais
was completely re-built after having been virtually decimated during World War
11, it still retains a fragment of its ancient heritage, with its town hall
Belfry considered to be an UNESCO World Heritage site.
With a little
bit of knowledge gleaned and enough National Geographic digital moments to fill
countless scrapbooks, the Kid and I trod on, tummies grumbling, in search of fabulously
French gastronomic cuisine. Trudging
away from centre ville, we eventually stumbled across a row of assorted dining
establishments, which, thankfully, were open for business, catering primarily
to tourist menus and appetites. Hopes
dashed of savouring foie gras and other French delicacies, we eventually settled
upon the classically Italian pizza Margherita, Coca Cola for the Kid and a pint
of Guinness for myself.
Note to self
– Traditionally, shops remain closed on Sundays in the majority of French
towns, except for certain designated tourist venues, so, if planning on
spending a leisurely Sunday indulging to your heart’s content, do a bit of
research beforehand, so as to avoid disappointment - a fact that I should have
remembered and stored in the recesses of my mind, having traipsed through
France countless times. Once again, this
seasoned globe-trotter seems to repeatedly delight in wandering the planet in a
slightly clue-less manner, as if viewing the world for the very first time. Yikes!!
Come
explore deserted rues and avenues as we discover the six Burghers of Calais and
appreciate the stoic perseverance of the remarkable inhabitants of this French maritime
port ….come stroll with us through history.
Next week
– Bidding adieu to Calais en route to ventures unknown.
0 Response to "Shops closed on Sunday? Looks like we're back to wandering, meandering and strolling!"
Post a Comment