Hello? Yes, I’m still here. Crawling out from a long bout with the flu, but finally back out in the world and cough-free, and just in time for All Hallow’s Eve.
Our jack-o-lantern had only one trick or treater to greet.
For, as it turns out, a different sort of Halloween. My daughter is outgrowing some of the high-jinks of the holiday, and our German neighbors don’t really trick or treat (in 2 years, we’ve had only one, very small, vampire-ish ghoul show up at our door), so the girls in the family had movie night in.
The boys, however, went deep into the holiday.
Looking out over the castle–Bran Castle.
They took a road trip to Romania and Transylvania (a region of Romania). They visited Bran Castle, which has some associations with Vlad the Impaler and is widely thought to be the castle Bram Stoker based his descriptions on in Dracula. Myths of ghosts and vampires are rampant in Transylvania, but it has more to offer than that–natural beauty, old world charm, and churches that my husband said reminded him of old churches in Turkey (rustic and full of frescoes).
That’s scant information, but you know how it is getting husbands and 12 year olds to talk about their trip–“cool”, “great”, and grunts and groans. But I can read between the lines–they saw terrifying things, too horrible to talk about . . . or, maybe, what happens in Transylvania just stays in Transylvania.
Sighișoara, Transylvania (Romania)–a well preserved and fortified medieval city
Every child dreams of living in a castle or some old fortress–the romance, the glory, the adventure. THE ADVENTURE! My family and I are twice blessed on this count. If you’ve followed my blog for long, you know that we live in a unique, charming, and slightly spooky “castle house” in Germany. And during my children’s Easter break, we packed our bags and drove to Provence for a week’s vacation in another citadel on a hill: La Portail, in St. Saturnin-les-Apts, France, nestled in the lovely Luberon mountains of Provence.
It was a stroke of incredibly good fortune that we spent a week in Provence in April. Good fortune . . . and kind friends with a vacation home there. They offered us their home in the ancient city walls for the week, and the home and the town were both magnificent! La Portail (the name of the house) is nestled in the ramparts of the ancient city, and it sits close to the top of the hill, offering spectacular views of the valley below:
The house was elegant and spacious, and full of old world charm. But before we could settle into the house, we had to find it!
Arriving in town, we twisted our way through the winding streets, looking for the old city walls that would shelter us in the week ahead and getting the general lay of the land. St. Saturnin is a small town, and that’s a good thing. It has beauty, charm, magnificent views and architectural details, and several fantastic bakeries and restaurants. Winding through the streets of St. Saturnin was an adventure in itself.
An arrow slit in a castle wall.
It didn’t take long for us to find “our house,” and we were enamored the minute we stepped over the threshold. The main door opens into a grand living room–stone walls, exposed beams, a grand piano–so beautiful. But that’s not what caught my son’s eyes. By this door, there was an arrow slit–a reminder that this had once been an ancient defensive wall, and this house sits at the gate of that wall. At one time, someone would have stood guard here and, when necessary, mounted a defense against unfriendly forces. Being on vacation we were happy to find it glassed in and no longer needed for that original purpose. As if to offer extra reassurance that we wouldn’t need to defend ourselves from marauders on this trip, a small spider had spun his dainty web over a corner of the glass. It was a whimsical and comforting touch.
Sword standing at the ready.
But, just in case, there was a sword standing at the ready by the other door. (The sort of detail that I might have missed, but my children picked up on immediately!)
In recent weeks, I’ve posted many photos from Provence, and I will post more (along with some insights about the area) in the weeks ahead. For today, I’ll simply leave you with a few photos of this lovely home, and views from around town. And a heartfelt thank you to Beatrice for opening her home to us–it was so gracious, and we had a wonderful vacation!
Another side of the house in the old city walls: with two balconies and magnificent views.
Tomorrow is May 1st, and May Day is still celebrated in Germany (and most of Europe, as best I can tell). The beginning of May is observed with a Tanz in den Mai (“dance in to May”)– streets fairs, maypoles, festivities. Schools are out and celebrations are afoot. And so, you know, is mischief.
The evening of April 30th is Hexennacht (Witches’ Night), and tricksters are out in force. We’ve been told to hide our trash and recycling cans, bring in our potted plants, and garage our cars (really? have you seen the state of my garage?)
I will try to do all of the above, and hope that the tricksters are kept at bay by rainshowers. But still, I’ll brace for ketchup, mustard, and toilet paper on my house or cars or shrubbery. Our neighborhood is quiet, but not lacking in youthful tricksters!
The origin of this mischief lies in medieval and pagan lore. The Queen of Spring was set to enter the county come May 1st, but evil ghosts and spirits (and their cold and dark) would try to keep her at bay. (And barring any success at that, apparently they liked to toilet paper cars and turn over garbage cans to show their displeasure.)
You and I tend to know February 2nd as Groundhog Day, but it’s been a festival day for a long time, and its roots go back deep into the calendar of the Christian church, and far deeper still. The day marks the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, so it’s considered the beginning of spring, or at least (if you live where it is still remarkably cold, like I do) the tipping point where winter and dark begin making way for warmth and light.
Candlemas is rarely observed in the church these days, but our old hometown of Ripon, England still honors the day. The cathedral hosts a Candlemas service in the evening, and the cathedral is lit by thousands of candles. To clarify–it is lit by thousands of candles only. It is brillliant. The first time I walked into one of these services, my children in their winter pajamas (they were young, and it was late and cold out), we all gasped and immediately whispered “Harry Potter!” This is the best way I know to describe the look of the cathedral to a Candlemas novice or a wizard fan–think of Hogwarts’ great hall and its floating candles. In Ripon Cathedral, the thousands of candles are set around the edges of the ground, in the clerestory ledges, and in every shelf and cubby along those ancient stone walls. They appear to float and rise. It’s heady stuff, and it’s one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.
The Ripon Cathedral website posted the following blurb about Candlemas last year:
Candlemas is one of the most ancient feasts of the Church, and occurs 40 days after Christmas, on the 2nd February. It is also known as the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple, in reference to the episode in Luke’s gospel (2:22-40). This ancient festival has been celebrated at Ripon for centuries. A visitor to the Cathedral in 1790 declared that the whole building was “one continued blaze of light all afternoon”. This year, the Cathedral will once again shine with the light of thousands of candles, symbolising Jesus as the light of the world.
It’s good to know that, dark and cold as it still is (whether we are speaking of the weather and season, or of world events), we can look to a tipping point and the hope of spring. (Even if Punxsutawney Phil is right and the next few weeks will be chill, spring must come some day.) It is also good to know that, in a world of cultural globalization, where McDonalds is edging its way into every corner, you can still stumble on those few enclaves where something ancient, unusual, and beautiful will make you catch your breath. . . even if you find yourself whispering “Harry Potter” in the aftermath.
Travels and Tomes: One Expat's Amblings and Ramblings 