I had been totally exhausted the evening before from the previous day's long walk--partially because of the mud. I was the only "pilgrim" that night as a group of others had cancelled. Solange, my hostess, was wonderful, though, and very chatty, and so it was difficult to leave. I could have easily spent the entire morning there talking to her! The gîte was slightly off the trail, though, and she drew me a little map to help me avoid another few kilometers of walking through more farmyards and fields of muddy soil. One of the advantages of speaking the language, I suppose, benefiting from these little tips.
By now I was limping a good bit, a previous fracture of the fifth metatarsal in my foot bothering me, and causing plantar fasciitis as I walked awkwardly to compensate. I had seriously considered calling the "Transports Claudine", one of those services that transports baggage, and sometimes people, to their next destination. It turned out to be a beautiful day, however, and the walk was shorter than I anticipated given Solange's advice.
Just short of entering the outskirts of Moissac, I ran into another French "pilgrim"--this one sporting a cowboy hat and a huge white bandage on his right thumb. He had gotten his thumb pierced by an acacia tree and was headed for the hospital in Moissac, walking at quite a clip. He tried his English on he, which was pretty terrible, and we continued our conversation in French. I left him just before the footbridge (below) as he went to ask for directions to the hospital.
When I finally reached the historic portion of the town, I went straight to the Abbey church and took a few pictures of the tympanum. The cloister would have to wait until later as it involved buying tickets at the tourist office. My gîte, a former Carmelite monastery was not far away and was huge, with room for 90 of us. Fortunately the rooms were small, and mine had space for three. I shared it with a young woman from Belgium.
The abbey, started in the mid-7th century, came under the rule of the influential Cluny Abbey during the 11th and 12th centuries. The 12th century monk Aymeric Picaud, mentioned it as one of the stopping places in the Codex Calixtinus, an illuminated manuscript giving background information for pilgrims traveling the Way of St. James.
 |
| view of the countryside with the morning mists |
 |
| apples |
 |
| walking under the plane trees |
 |
| more non-standard trail-markers |
 |
| unfortunately this church was closed but I had a picnic lunch nearby |
 |
| a small footbridge just a short distance from Moissac |
 |
| Near the abbey church in Moissac |
 |
| the tympanum on St. Peter's Abbey |
 |
| the tympanum with better detail |
 |
| public art outside an art gallery |
 |
| my gîte, known as the "ancien Carmel" as it had once been a Carmelite monastery |
(Psalm 116) 13 I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on
the name of the LORD, 14 I will pay my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people. 15 Precious in the sight of
the LORD is the death of his faithful ones. 16 O LORD, I
am your servant; I am your servant, the child of your
serving girl. You have loosed my bonds. 17 I will offer to
you a thanksgiving sacrifice and call on the name of the
LORD. 18 I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence
of all his people, 19 in the courts of the house of the LORD,
in your midst, O Jerusalem. Praise the LORD!
No comments:
Post a Comment