Bordeaux To Paris

On the Monday I took a train from Bordeaux to Paris. This journey under grey skies brought me back to earth with a jolt. The landscape I passed through seemed tedious and ordinary, especially beyond Poitiers, and flat, featureless, arable fields stretched as far as the eye could see. Or perhaps I was just feeling a little tired and jaded after my long walk...

I arrived at Gare Montparnasse in the early evening. It was pouring with rain, and I walked for half an hour through the rain to the Hôtel de Nesle, a cheap, tiny, off-beat hotel near Place Saint-Michel. The next day I explored Paris, city of love and romance, but on this occasion I didn't find much of either. I think it was something to do with my mood, which had become dull and listless...     

The famous 13th-century stained glass windows of La Sainte-Chapelle.

La Sainte-Chapelle under grey Parisian skies.

The centre west portal of Notre-Dame. This stupendous example of Gothic art depicts the Last Judgment.

Notre-Dame de Paris. The cathedral's three rose windows — north, south and west (you can see the west one here) — are some of the great artistic masterpieces of Christianity.

Le Pont des Arts. Here couples pledge their undying love for each other by attaching a padlock to the railings and throwing the key into the river below. 

Near the Rue Mouffetard on the Left Bank.

The Pantheon.

The Pantheon is a mausoleum which contains the remains of distinguished French citizens. Here is the memorial to aviator and author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, who wrote The Little Prince.

Underneath the the Pantheon's central cupola.

The university of the Sorbonne.

The Sorbonne.

Place de la Sorbonne.

After two weeks' walking through remote, rural France, I soon found the grand buildings of Paris — those monumental symbols of wealth, power and privilege — rather oppressive. I began to feel unwell, and a cloud of lethargy and mild depression enveloped me...

Cahors To Bordeaux

On my last day of the trail, Saturday 19 May, I waited at the bus stop in Limogne for a bus to Cahors. No bus came. Instead a car arrived, and a blonde lady driver stepped out to greet me. 'The bus has broken down,' she announced. ' So I'm taking you!' Whether the bus had actually broken down, or whether the staff hadn't turned up because it was a French public holiday weekend, I never did determine.

However, I had no cause to complain: my 'private taxi' (I was the only passenger) took me in comfort and style on the forty minute journey to Cahors, and not only took me to Cahors but went the scenic route down the valley, then up over the tops, with stupendous views over endless forests cut by deep, limestone gorges. And all for the price of a few euros (the lady absolutely refused to accept a tip). And this charming 'bus driver' and I talked non-stop, so it was good for my French too. In short, as you can see, I was picked up by une femme inconnue on my last day of the trail, which doesn't happen all the time on pilgrimage, I assure you. A wonderful instance of how 'trail angels' can materialise even when the trail is over...

In Cahors the weather turned, and the rain teemed down...   

The Pont Valentré in Cahors. This bridge over the river Lot is one of the finest medieval bridges in Europe.

I chose a slow way home from Cahors, and caught a train to Bordeaux, where I slept the night...

The view from my hotel bedroom in Bordeaux.

The Église Sainte-Croix in Bordeaux.

A moss-covered St George slays the dragon on the western façade of the Église Sainte-Croix.

 Detail of carved stonework from the west portico of the Église Sainte-Croix.

I befriend two university lecturers in a Bordeaux bistrot.

Bordeaux bistrot girls.

The Café du Levant near Bordeaux railway station.

Bordeaux railway station.