Burgundy, not what you knew

Why Burgundy?

Although I have already “plowed” France from length and breadth, I have only just now set out to visit the region of Bourgogne, or Burgundy for English speakers. The region extends southeast of the capital, Paris. Hilly, green, forested, rich in water and lakes…. The region is characterized by soft, rounded hills, rural landscapes, mostly agricultural.

And there is wine. Lots of wine. A lot. The region exports some of the world's best wines, whose prices are priceless (the most expensive wine in the world in 2018 was a bottle of Romanée-Conti Grand Cru wine that cost €109,000. Yes, that's not a mistake – €XNUMX a bottle).

Dijon, Beaune, Macon, Auxerre, Cluny – all famous names of towns and cities in a province that no longer exists, at least not under that name (see below). But who has heard of Chatillon-sur-Chalaronne (pictured)?

Or about the Bazoches Castle? And about the Buddhist temple in Boulaye? The last sentence is, of course, addressed to most of us, the average Israeli tourist, and not to a cultural expert. France, or a tour guide who grew up in the Hexagon (for those wondering, this is the nickname the French call their country, based on its geometric shape).

General background on the Burgundy region

So why does the region no longer exist? In January 2015, a redistribution of geographical regions took effect in France, reducing the total number from 22 to 13. The region of Bourgogne was joined to the more eastern region, adjacent to the Swiss border, Franche-Comte, and the new region (abbreviated BFC) has two capitals. One, Dijon, is home to the police headquarters, the top law enforcement authority (Préfecture), while the other, Besancon, houses the institutions of the quasi-autonomous government.

The unified province has an area of ​​about 48,000 square kilometers (a little less. For comparison, the area of ​​Israel is about 21,000 square kilometers) and is home to about 3 million residents. The unified province has several large and medium-sized cities and a large number of large, medium-sized, small, and tiny villages. Alongside all of these, there are also places for which the title “tiny little hamlet” is too big. This is an “estate” of 3 rural houses, which is considered an independent entity, even if it is annexed to another settlement and does not have its own budget. But there is a “village head”, there is a church and usually there is also a wine estate. Because Bourgogne is not Bourgogne without wine.

You could write heaps of books and guides about Bourgogne. I have no such pretension. Many better than me have done it countless times. I will not take you to Dijon (the mustard), the 17th largest city in France (155,000 inhabitants) nor to Beaune, famous for its historic hospital (Hotel Dieu de Beaune), where the traditional public wine sale is held every year, attracting a large professional audience from all over the world.

I want to tell you about some small experiences, in other beautiful places.

Guedelon – the castle rebuilt using medieval methods

Michel Guyot, a French businessman in the entertainment and media sectors, is a lover of castles and palaces. He invests the bulk of his fortune in buying ruined castles – all or in part – and renovating and bringing them back to life. He makes most of them available to the public by opening them to visitors and holding cultural events, the proceeds of which are dedicated to buying and renovating additional castles.

Chateau de Saint Fargeau, a castle at the northwestern gate of the Bourgogne region (Yonne department), was initially built as a hunting lodge for the Archbishop of Auxerre, enlarged over the years, becoming a large castle and changing hands and families through sales, marriages and other vicissitudes of fate. In 1979, the two brothers Michel and Jacques Guyot purchased it to renovate it and bring it back to cultural life.

Michel “fell in love” with the beautiful red brick castle and decided to make it his home. In order to renovate the castle, it is necessary to discover and understand its origins and the older parts of the structure. The group of scientists and researchers involved, including an expert on medieval castles, prepared an in-depth study for the castle owners that reveals a surprising fact: the current castle is built on the foundations of an earlier castle, from 980, whose existence was unknown.

The multi-page study ends with the sentence “It would be fascinating to rebuild the buried Saint-Fargeau castle.” Michel, a castle enthusiast, needs no more than that. In 1995, he founded an association to build an old-new castle. A number of “crazy people” gathered around him, one of whom is an expert in brick construction, another who understands walls, ancient architecture, history and other professions that existed in the 13th century. The guiding principle for all of them – to build a castle using the tools and methods of the period. Volunteers and donations were collected (and are still being collected) from all over France, and even from the wider world beyond. And so for more than 20 years, a project to build a castle “like it used to be” has been underway in the Treigny forest.

The project initially raised eyebrows in many people, then aroused great curiosity and today it captivates many. The flow of visitors is constant, the number of volunteers increases from season to season (construction work almost completely stops in winter), and countless books, articles and documentaries have been made about the project. Since I watch French television programs religiously, Guedelon Castle stars in almost every trip I plan to take to France. This time, the plan was fulfilled and the itinerary to Bourgogne was determined via Guedelon.
We, the people of the 21st century, are used to building tall office or residential towers. Cranes whirl in every direction, raising and lowering containers and ton-sized bags, heavy trucks hauling dirt and rocks, or alternatively, ready-made walls, tiles and porcelain. Dozens of workers in yellow helmets scurry around like busy ants, pouring concrete and laying steel mesh.

I arrived at a large clearing where a number of volunteer workers were walking around, dressed in jeans or colorful canvas pants and simple canvas overalls. At the end of the path, a partial, circular structure, built entirely of reddish bricks combined with strips of cement made of clay and straw. Openings in the walls are decorated with rough wooden beams, some with a heavy wooden door and the other is ajar, waiting for the door to be installed.

On a scaffold made of planks resting on wooden posts reinforced with ropes of plant fibers and woven branches, two workers sit, wrapped in a rolled-up cloth over their heads, holding crude iron hammers, stacking large stones and placing them on top of each other, checking for fit and improving angles and corners with hammer blows.

A walk along the paths of the plaza brought me to simple straw huts scattered around the grounds, around the castle that is being built. In one of the huts sits an elderly couple surrounded by a selection of tools. This is the factory for building and repairing tools. A saw whose wooden handle has broken, a hammer whose handle has been dislodged, an axe whose blade has worn away, and more.

Methodically, the couple picks up tool after tool and fits spare parts into it from all the objects scattered on the dusty sandy floor. In another hut, a woman with messy, dusty hair is busy weaving flexible twigs and branches into a thick rope that is wound around a short wooden pole to stretch the cable that holds in place a staircase, made of wood of course, leading to the round watchtower perched atop the incomplete wall.

I walked slowly around the various cabins and the legend arose before my eyes. People who had set a goal for themselves, building an ancient castle from scratch with period tools. Nowhere did I see a drill, not an electric saw, not a concrete mixer. Was this really how they once built? Was this how it rose into the air? The magnificent Notre Dame Cathedral Or castles? Loire valley The magnificent? We will never know for sure, but perhaps we will get some idea, even if partial, of the capabilities of man as a whole.

For more information about the castle and a visit, click on this link.

Chateau Bazoches

Bazoches is a small French village, nestled in a forgotten place, on the western hills of the Morvan Regional National Park. The western part of Bourgogne (today, Bourgogne-Franche-Compte – see above).

According to a 2015 census, 172 people lived in the village. The village was probably founded in the 12th century and its name is derived from the Latin word Basilica, which has become distorted over the years. Typical French villages were created when farmhouses and residences were built along the road, on both sides of it. Over time, a church is built on the site, to which a café-restaurant is added, sometimes a post office and perhaps a small grocery store. As the village grows, the residents also build a town hall. Travelers passing by on the road cross the village, each village, along its length between two rows of houses… and the village is “over” in the blink of an eye.

The village of Bazoches is a bit of an anomaly. The main road has apparently been diverted and runs outside the village. All the houses are on one side only and small internal roads lead to the church, the café and the town hall, which houses a public library that is open every Thursday of the week. Around the town hall are farms and agricultural estates, in one of which you can even rent a room for the night – what is called “agro tourism”. On the other side of the “main” road are pastures and agricultural areas surrounded by a wooden fence and green bushes.

A regular internet search for the name “Bazoches” will yield about 1,800,000 results, but only a tiny fraction of them refer to this village. The vast majority of the references are to a large and beautiful castle located about 2 km from the village’s town hall. The castle was built in the 12th century, on the basis of an ancient Roman guard post, by the knight Jean de Bazoches (1245-1314), while he was in the service of the King of France.

The castle was inherited by the local De Bazoches family for many years and when they declined in power, the castle was purchased by other nobles. The castle gained worldwide fame when it was purchased in 1675 by Vauban (Sebastien Le Prestre de Vauban 1633-1707), the greatest military architect of the Louis XIVAs a military architect, Vauban invented fortification methods and built dozens of forts and guard posts along the entire length of France's borders. A large part of the fortifications are well preserved to this day and constitute wonderful examples of defensive fortification construction, accompanied by the theory of war and defense that was taught for many years in military schools all over the world.

In the castle of Bazoches, the great engineer invested the best of his money and talent to build a private residence for his family (he himself stayed in the castle very rarely due to his frequent travels throughout the country). In a small wing of the castle, Vauban housed talented engineers and assistants whom he chose to work on and prepare plans for the construction of defensive structures in various places. Thus, the castle also served as a research and development laboratory – as the place would be called today – on matters of military defense.

The current owner of the castle, a woman from the Sigalas family, is a direct descendant of Vauban's eldest daughter, Charlotte de Vauban. The family preserves many objects and rooms from the engineer's time in various wings of the castle that are open to the public. The castle is located on a hill overlooking the wooded hills of Morvan. The castle has the shape of an isosceles trapezoid, with a round tower at each corner. Above the central courtyard of the castle, there is a square guard tower (Donjon) from which the entire area is viewed.

Everyone who has visited France has probably visited at one point or anotherPalace of Versailles It is also possible that in one, or more, of the large and important palaces of the Loire Valley. With the Château de Bazoches, as with many other castles in France, one can see another dimension of the royal castles. Versailles, Chambord andWhat was tried? (Chenonceaux) are magnificent, expensive, majestic castles – but cold. The gold, the statues, the pictures and everything else, are protected behind ropes or transparent walls, with guards watching every movement and movement. Visitors gaze in amazement at all the wealth and splendor, but a cool, distant air settles over us all. It is not ours, the citizens, it is not us.

When I walk through the endless corridors of Versailles (or Chambord…), it’s hard for me to imagine a housewife relaxing on the sofa, a cup of coffee in her hand, three children running around the hall (“Mom, he kicked me!”). It’s very easy to imagine a stern knight standing with a spear raised in front of the door, a royal minister carrying a seal sitting in a gilded armchair with world ambassadors surrounding him, or a king erect at a heavy table and a submissive and obedient secretary next to him waiting for his words to come out….

Bazoches Castle is more “human.” Although the furniture is period, the green velvet-upholstered chair looks “normal.” It’s not too big, not too ornate, not too luxurious. Perhaps, even inviting to sit. In the dining room, on the table, is a set of chinaware reminiscent of similar dishes from my grandmother’s house. On the wall is a regular, simple-looking oil painting of a hilly landscape with a flock of sheep instead of a huge picture of knights and a king on their horses, accompanied by soldiers and hunting dogs, trumpets and bugles, and perhaps even little ministering angels flying in the corners of the picture….

The hallway is paved with simple tiles (“ballots”, that’s how simple they are), its dimensions are ordinary and… so human. The castle is not oppressive, cumbersome, majestic and heavy. Even the castle rooms are small and intimate, very different from the vast halls of Versailles. I feel comfortable walking around here, warm among the colorful velvet furniture, among the bookshelves with a small, simple wooden table in between for perusing. Suddenly I discovered a new side to the heavy, dignified, royal world of the Middle Ages. People – yes, the Middle Ages are also people like you and me – have ordinary lives. There’s a copper pot in the kitchen, there’s a book on the table, a coat hangs in the closet.

I returned to the main entrance. A simple staircase leads to the gravel plaza in front of the castle. Green grass medallions, round and triangular, design a simple garden decorated with rows of flowers and green bushes. A house. A path. A courtyard. A new dimension to everyday life.

For more information about the castle and to purchase tickets, please click on this link.

La Boulaye – Dashang Kagyu Ling

La Boulaye…. Town hall, church, post office, café-restaurant, about 100 residents…. The most average and smallest of French villages. I won’t dwell on it because it’s really not interesting. There are dozens like it all over the country and if it weren’t for one small event, a comma in history, we would never have heard of it. In 1974, Didier Garanger (better known as Didier de Plaige) came here with his wife to establish the “Temple of 1,000 Buddhas”. How was the adventure born?

Didier, a Parisian born in 1948, a yoga teacher, is a free radio enthusiast who has been drawn to Eastern cultures all his life. In 1969, he traveled to the Samye Ling monastery in Scotland to delve into the teachings of Buddhism. Following his studies, he returned to France in 1971 and founded a Buddhist meditation center in 1973. The place served as a refuge for Buddhist monks who fled Tibet, which was occupied at that time by Communist China. The name of the place was changed to Paldenshangpa La Boulaye and it is branded as a Buddhist study and meditation center.

The Buddhist monastery on the site was inaugurated in 1987 and is considered the first, and largest, Himalayan Buddhist monastery in Europe. The monastery was built according to the model of the original monastery in Tibet, Samye Monastery. Three-story, colorful and in the Bhutanese style, the monastery contains thousands of dolls and Buddha statues of various sizes and poses. Not the entire building is open to visitors. The large hall is dedicated to studies and prayers, and “ordinary people” are not allowed to enter here during the day. A large stupa (a round, pointed structure, typical of Buddhist temples) rises in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by a variety of dolls, baskets, low stone walls and other symbols of Buddhist temples.

I'm not an expert on Buddhism, but I've been to East Asia. I've been around India, Thailand, Cambodia, and I've seen some of the symbols of the Buddhist religion. In this temple in France, at least at this time of year, the atmosphere is completely different.

There is no candle smoke, and the murmur of prayers is replaced by complete silence in the grayness of late winter. The sky is dark, the clouds are low and heavy, and the rain is coming. There is no one in the orphaned courtyard and everything looks deserted. A lone toilet attendant, wearing a green robe and holding a red broom in his hand, slowly cleaned the paved path in front of the colorful building. As I climbed the open stairs to the second floor, I noticed several small seating rugs, spread out in an exemplary order on the floor of the hall on the upper floor, empty, lonely and orphaned. The multitude of colors of the sculptures around is a complete contrast to the gloomy atmosphere, the grayness of France in April. I am the only one in the long colorful corridor and I cannot shake the feeling of “breaking boundaries”, “penetrating where it does not belong”, even though there is no one here.

The center in La Boulaye has become a European center of Buddhism over the years and thousands of believers come here for prayers, asceticism and solitude. And yet, there is no one in the corridors, the passages are deserted and the courtyards are empty. Is it because of the winter weather? Is there a “season” for religious and spiritual devotion, like “free time”, “exam season” or “festival season”? Is this the nature of solitude and asceticism? Is this the fate of a Buddhist monk?

For an entire hour I wandered among colorful statues and decorations, between an altar and statues of a seated or reclining Buddha… and no one stopped me, met me, or asked me anything. I felt alone in the compound. Is this what Buddhism is all about? To feel alone, apart? In the parking lot covered in white gravel, my car is parked among several other cars (where are their owners? A motorized monk? An accountant who has come to his day job in the monastery office? A kitchen worker who has come to make hot soup?) and when I sit in the driver's seat, a young man wearing jeans, a tool bag in his hand, crosses the lot with the sound of gravel crunching. A monk who has deserted prayer? A plumber who has finished fixing a faucet? Or maybe a technician who has finished fixing a television… No, apparently there is no television in the monastery.

Everyday people pass by, visible to all. The clergy disappear, hide, and only protect us with their sacred prayers. I left the largest Buddhist monastery in Europe without seeing a single monk, a single clergyman, a single saint. To me, it could have been the city community center on a holiday or the neighborhood tennis court on a winter storm. Not a soul. Only God hovers over the place.