Welcome to MaY MEMOIR!
Day 4
For the entire month of May, I'll be sharing part of each chapter from my memoir, Ca va? Stories from Rural Life in Southern France.
Once I got settled in, I asked Christophe how he thought his house was 600 years old. He explained it is on the census Napoleon took of all of France, thus justifying some of its age. He then believes the rest of the house’s age can be explained by its location and the structure of village, which still mimics that of villages’ centuries ago. More interesting, he then tell me the original village is located not far away…..
Chapter 3: Living History
Christophe asks, ‘Do you want to see the old village?”
“Yes, definitely”, I respond.
Christophe runs back inside to grab his keys and we jump into his truck. Starting the ignition, he explains, “I stumbled across the ruins one day; it’s pretty interesting. All that remains is the nave of the church and the cemetery, and both are hidden in the forest. You have no idea it is coming and then, in the middle of nowhere, the nave towers over the trees. It’s pretty awe inspiring.”
We drive down the road, and pull onto a dirt road a few minutes later. Christophe pulls his truck over to the side and stops.
“We can only drive part of the way, but now we need to walk”, he says getting out.
I follow him over rocks and through thick overgrown bushes. There is no evidence that someone has been here before us since the grass grows tall and has not been beaten down. Christophe zigzags through the trees as if the path is paved and clearly marked. I follow behind, but I have no idea where we are. After trekking through the dense vegetation for 20 minutes, we get to the nave of the church. It is hidden just until we arrive and could be missed if we stopped 50 feet earlier. All that remains is the back and side walls, and the nave of the church arches high amongst the trees. It looks like someone caught it in a free fall and froze it. The sunlight pierces the holes where windows once existed and my jaw drops.
“This is amazing” I say.
We walk around for a bit examining the church walls that remain. They are carefully pieces together and their seams create a well thought out geometrical pattern. There are some lower walls not far from it that enclose what was once the cemetery. They are overgrown with ivy and are beginning to crumble. Younger trees than the ones we have just passed push up just behind it and scattered among the ground are rudimentary headstones that have fallen and cracked.
“This is it”, Christophe says somberly. “This village, like so many in the area started because of the plague. Shortly after that are when the chateau, the center village, and my house were most likely believed to be built. The village was continuing to move up the mountain and farther away from the possibility of an infestation. Of course, there have been a lot of changes to the structures since then, but this is when they were believed to be constructed.”
“That’s old” say rather impressed.
“For the region, not at all”, he says. “Everything is relative. One nearby town just celebrated its documented history of 1,000 years; it is probably much older than its written texts can prove. Bainat has been around for 600 years or so, but it’s only been documented for the last 260, and don’t forget, cities like Marseille and Nimes dates back to the age of Jesus Christ.”
“The truth is, we will never know the exact date of the house, but that makes it interesting, doesn’t it?” Christophe says with a wistful smile.
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