Picnic In Chartres

O, Perfect Day

Other world! There is no other world!

Here or nowhere is the whole fact. - Emerson

Chartres makes me think happy thoughts. Warm thoughts. It makes me think about sunshine radiant on the Eure River, the warm light on the ancient bridge criss-crossing the river. 

Only about an hour by train from Paris, this medieval city nestles underneath a hill crowned by its famous Cathedrale Notre-Dame de Chartres. 

Seated on a park bench, I scan the surroundings. It is so beautiful here, I murmur, cupping my chin in one hand. There is so much daylight, so little cover of darkness. The streets are steep and narrow and clean, the day full of possibility. Around me, life teems. Everyone is out and about, being flagrantly, aggressively happy. 

I begin to meticulously unwrap the brown paper package of the baguette bought from the boulangerie close by, then retrieve small chunks of cheese each separated by small squares of wax paper.

I alternate nibbling on the bread's crisp crust and taking tiny bites from supple slices of muenster cheese. Then I linger on the smooth paste-like texture of the camembert, and poke my tongue into the large, eye-like holes of the gruyere. Every bite is an almost impossible flavor, the sensation of something soft-ripened, washed with eau de vie. With the other hand, I clutch a large cup of filtered, relatively weak coffee - cafe americain.

I watch, dazzled by so much life and color, happiness soaring inside me - all the while savoring an explosion of flavors in my mouth. My Plebeian Meal has been elevated into a Lavish Banquet.

I smile with unabashed pleasure as I look out at the sweet, endless blue of the sky. What else is there to say on a day like this, when the weather is so very fine, that it makes me wonder if the universe is nothing but the dream of a drunken God who has fallen asleep on a silken cloud.