France 2018: Laon

Amiens

I had 3 hours in Laon until the train to Reims. A stopover in Laon was unplanned; I knew nothing about this city and initially was going to have lunch there, then to hang around the station. My modest intentions instantly changed to ambitious when the train approached Laon. Visible from the distance, a jaw-dropping castle was perched on top of the hill, dominating the city. Castles are my weakness; I can never see enough of them. The hill looked rather high, but 3 hours should be sufficient to climb it even with the heavy backpack. I simply could not miss that wonder.

Having lunch was still on my agenda and eating had to come first. I popped into the station café. Two waitresses were having their own lunch. I asked if I could eat there.

‘No, madam, we are finished,’ said one of the waitresses. I did not get that. There were people at the tables who ate hot meals. Why couldn’t I join them? I repeated my question adding to it that I needed to wash my hands too.

‘Do you want a drink?’ asked the same waitress. No, I needed to fortify myself with something substantial before climbing the hill.

‘We are finished,’ she said again sternly, ‘and you cannot use our restroom.’ In order to be more convincing, she shook her finger in front of my nose. Disconcerted by such reception, I left the café. What was wrong with me? My appearance was clean and tidy; the backpack could not look out of the ordinary at the train station.

I went up the hill keeping my eyes on the castle, but my mind was fixed on food. Chicken Land’s menu was obviously all chicken which was fine by me. When I tried to order two guys responded with the same cryptic phrase ‘we are finished’. Unlike the waitress at the station café, these guys were friendly. We talked a little and it all became clear. The café was closed for the midday break. That’s what they meant by “finished”. The guys packed a few remaining unsold pieces of fried chicken into a box charging me a symbolic price. These pieces were probably going to be discarded anyway. I ate that chicken outside of the café sitting on a bench. Now I was ready for the castle.

I walked slowly up the steep steps with frequent stops to catch my breath. When I got to the top my jaw dropped even lower. The castle looked like an illustration to a fairy tale. I totally expected a noble knight to ride out of its gates. Upon a closer look and after reading the information plaques, I learned that it was not a castle at all, i.e. not a military fortification but rather a religious and administrative complex that included an episcopal palace and a cathedral. The slim turrets were purely decorative architectural elements.

Not disappointed by that, I took my time to study the complex and the old town where I hardly saw any tourists. The ones who were there spoke French. They probably stopped by because they were driving through Laon.

Inside the Cathedral I found posted the following text:

The Legend of Jo the Juggler

Jo practiced his art in the region in the 13^th century. One Christmas morning, he began to sing outside the Monastery of Vic Sur Aisne. The abbot complained about the lewd nature of his songs and so the people chased him away. To obtain forgiveness, it was suggested to him to take holy orders.

Sometime later, to praise the Virgin, instead of praying in front of Her statue, he took up juggling again, his balls of brass describing circles of fire right up into the vaulting. Scandalized, the monks dragged him out of the Chapel. The Virgin, however, appeared and thanked Jo for the magnificent performance.