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| Our personal police escort (which made me rather more anxious than the snow) |
We had a rather interesting drive up from Villefranche, with blizzards, snowploughs, and at one time we even seemed to have our own personal police escort . One thing has always puzzled me about the continental system of having a speed limit for sunny weather (130 kmph), and another for when it is raining (110 kmph). Very sensible. But who or what determines when it is time to change your speed? Does a bit of spray constitute rain, or a fine drizzle? Is it determined by when you have to start your wipers? Can you still do 130 if it is foggy but not raining? At some stage, if we are going to live in France, I had better find out. However, one thing became clear on our journey, and that is, if there is a snow blizzard, rather than rain, and irrespective of whether there is snow actually lying on the carriageway, as long as it's freezing hard and the snow couldn't possibly be construed as rain, you can go as fast as you like. I was not sure that the French Gendarmes agreed with the interpretation generally being followed, so I decided to stay behind him until he turned off.
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| The twin towers of Chartres in the snow |
We arrived quite safely and, despite the snow, we had made quite good time. Chartres in the snow at Christmas time was magical. All the children, who had just broken up, were out on the street with their parents, obviously thrilled to have snow (the children, less so the parents I suspect from the way they seemed rather spoil-sport-like about having snow balls rammed down their necks, trousers, etc.).
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| The oldest house in Chartres (the one with the arched windows on the right) |
Our Chambre d'Hote is ideally placed, a short walk from the cathedral, and situated almost opposite the oldest house in Chartres. It has private off-street parking and, above all it is warm. Our landlady is very friendly, and although she looks like a female version of Scaramanga's sidekick, Nick Nack, she doesn't seem to have any homicidal tendencies.
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| Looking towards the famous North portal of Chartres |
We walked round the town which was buzzing with activity, all the shops were open and we even managed to find a glass of mulled wine to warm the soul still further. We got absolutely soaked from the snow, and freezing cold, but it was a most beautiful night and one not to be missed. The hot bath once we got home (we have decided that whilst we don't actually have a home, home will just be where we happen to be at the time) was wonderful.
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| The lively (as promoted on the website) Christmas market in Chartres |
Down at the Christmas market the next day, we found the stall holders had either been unable to get in because of the snow, they had decided there wouldn't be enough punters to make it worth opening up because of the snow, or the weather was just too bloody cold to spend all day in an unheated wooden hut when they could be inside by the wood-burner drinking mulled wine. Whatever the reason, the market was completely dead. We therefore decided to head up to the cathedral instead.
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| Mass in Chartres cathedral (very discreetly photographed) |
Once there we found there was a service in progress. As there was a large notice asking visitors not to walk about during services, we decided to join the congregation instead. It was all rather beautiful (though rather cold as well), and it really was something quite special to take communion in probably the finest cathedral in Christendom, with snow lying outside, the last Sunday in Advent
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| Georgi finishing off a pizza in a rarely open cafe on Sunday evening |
As we were in a chambre d'hote (B&B), we had no facilities to prepare, cook, or even sit down to eat a meal, and so we had to eat out. Very nice set menu upstairs in a typical French cafe at lunch time and the young waiter was very keen to practice his English on us. It was not as good as our French but he was very keen, so we pretended it was a complete life saver that we had at last found someone who spoke such good English. He was obviously thrilled, as clearly there aren't that many English in Chartres at this time of year.
Sunday evening (it is almost impossible to find somewhere to eat in France on a Sunday evening) we decided to have a pizza. Judging by the popularity of the restaurant, Sunday night in Chartres is Pizza night. This is probably true of the rest of France, and apparently there are now more pizzas eaten in France each year than there are in Italy.
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| Head of Christ in the centre of the South portal of Chartres |
