A Week in a French Castle

First of all, I know many of you reading this blog have already heard about the stressful situation in which my trip to France ended. Rest assured, I am all right while writing this (and am back in Oxford with some of the most caring people I could ask for), but I'll get to that part later. Before then, let me recount what was otherwise a rather amazing week:

We left for the castle on Monday, flew from the London Stansted airport to Limoges (after spending over three hours stuck on a bus in Monday-morning London traffic feeling uncertain of whether we would actually make our flight), and then hopped in a rental car to head to Chateau Marouatte. Seven of us had made the trip together, though even more would join later in the week, and we absolutely squished ourselves and our bags into our car before winding through the picturesque French countryside for the two-hour drive. I had never rented a car in Europe before, only taken trains and public transportation; moreover, I had never traveled in France outside of Paris. So I really enjoyed seeing the different towns and villages that we drove through, all surrounded by gently rolling hills and gnarled trees and meadows. We crossed many cute bridges and canals, and parts of the scenery looked like they belonged in a storybook. (That would hold true for much of the trip.) At long last, and after stopping at the grocery store to pick up a ridiculous amount of food, we arrived at the castle -- and a castle it was indeed, high on a hill with towers and ramparts overlooking the valleys below. With many oooohs and ahhhhs we took our first tour of the rooms before settling our stuff into the bedrooms we would be sleeping in for the week. I somehow wound up with the master bedroom of the castle, which was huge, furnished in an 18th century gold-gilded style, and had a bed with room for at least four people. (I slept in that bed by myself that night and thought, no way am I ever going to have such nifty sleeping arrangements ever again.) We cooked dinner together, toasted each other with wine, played some chess and poker, and then I was off to bed.

Chateau Marouatte is a castle that dates back to the 13th or 14th century, though it has obviously been added to and restored since then, and I woke up on Tuesday morning marveling again at its decor and details, as well as at some of its larger architectural aspects like stone towers and ramparts and spires. We had a relaxing morning and cooked breakfast and did some reading before the sun came out after lunch and we headed out to take some photos, then drove to the nearest town for some more exploring (and more grocery shopping; feeding several dozen people in a castle requires a lot of food!). More people arrived late on Tuesday night, and we had dinner all ready for them, plus a lot of conversation and laughter. The group mainly consisted of Rhodes and Marshall scholars, as well as a few other friends of friends. There were around 15 Rhodies there total, seven or eight Marshalls, and assorted friends and awesome people joining us for the week. My own good friend from Stanford, Reagan, traveled out to be in the castle with us, and fit right into the group after dinner as we moved to the castle's "throne room" for more games and fun.

Wednesday we got up late, took our time in the morning, and then were off to see some prehistoric cave paintings in the area in southwestern France. Apparently the region is home to some of the best-preserved cave paintings that have been discovered in Europe, and some of these caves are still open to the public or for small private tours. More pretty French scenery abounded on the drive, and the cave we went to was hidden back in the crevice of a rock wall overlooking a valley that, in my opinion, looked appropriately prehistoric for what we were about to see. (By which I mean it was rough and rugged, with many outcroppings of stone and some open plains that I could imagine populated with bison or woolly mammoths. I wish I had been able to get photos.) Our guide, who spoke very accented French so that I got some of his remarks but by no means all, opened the locked door to the cave (closed because of vandalism that has happened in the area) and took us back down a passageway of mottled, coral-like rock walls lit by small dancing lights. We went back, back into the cave, and the air got much warmer than it was outside, rising to 60F with high humidity. Apparently this is normal for these sorts of caves, and has preserved the paintings over many thousands of years. We ducked under stalactites and weaved our way around rocks until we were deep, deep into the cave itself. The walls were around five or six feet apart, a little more in some places, and the crevice of the cave loomed straight up overhead. There, our guide stopped us, gathered us together in a little group, and showed us the first of our cave paintings. We saw bison head-to-head and tail-to-tail, horses running and prancing, and deer bounding up against the walls. The low light in the cave played with the surface of the rock we were looking at, and our guide explained how this three-dimensional effect created a heightened impression of depth and of art. He also pointed out the different engravings on the walls that accompanied each painting, the different colors, the elements of composition. I felt as if I had been transported into a distant past. When we walked out, forty-five minutes later, I was almost dazed to return to a time millennia later, and in the light no less. Again, I wish I had been able to get photographs.

Once out of the cave, we had no time to waste, since it was back to the castle for the night's entertainment: the Great Gatsby party that one of our castle compatriots had been promoting and planning for weeks. The group of us who had gone cave-exploring grabbed dinner on the way, got back to the castle, changed into dresses (or tuxes in the guys' case), and headed to the throne room to get the party rolling. And what a party it was. Wine, champagne, card games, pool, dance parties, music, and many shenanigans, all in formal attire in a castle in France. We were heady and carried away with the entire vibe of the night by the time the clock struck midnight, changing the date to January 16 -- my birthday. The group of castlegoers sat me down in the big throne, gathered together, and signed a very hilarious but also very sweet rendition of "Happy Birthday" before launching off to the night's next activity, solving the murder mystery whodunit that our own "Mr. Gatsby" had laid out for us. (The murder mystery question: who killed Mary Eaton, and why, and how? For those who don't know, Mary is our beloved Rhodes House registrar and one of the sweetest, kindest British ladies you will ever meet. Clearly solving her "murder" was of high importance.) I finally made it to bed very late, and then woke up later in the morning to continue the birthday festivities.

Which were great. This goes down as one of my most memorable birthdays -- spent in a castle in France with some incredible people. I had some annoyances to go through with submitting Oxford program applications in the morning, and with struggling with computer problems and castle internet, but once that part was done we all loaded up in the cars and drove to the small French city of Perigueux for my birthday dinner. A few of us got there in the late afternoon, grabbed crepes, and walked around ogling at churches and window chocolate displays and French goodies before everyone gathered at the restaurant for dinner. Afterwards, we headed back to the castle, where I was ready to go to bed -- except two friends managed to lure me out to the big throne room again to "say goodnight." Of course I got there and the party had started back up, with balloons filling the room and some big cards and surprise macarons and chocolates and a little tiara for me to wear. We celebrated some more, laughed at pictures from the previous night, played some games, and then it was really time for bed. What a birthday, indeed.

Friday morning we got up and prepared to go out wine tasting in Saint Emillion, a famous vineyard region near Bordeaux. Three cars headed out for the day, and we got to our first winery around midday, enjoyed the scenery and two good Grand Chu red wines, and then stopped in the town of Saint Emillion itself for a late lunch. After lunch we headed to our second winery of the day, tried two more reds, took photos, laughed, and got back in the cars to go back to the castle for dinner. It had been a wonderful day, accentuated by the blue skies and sun, and the vineyard region was stunning, miles of rolling hills with straight rows of grapes and lovely French chateaus and buildings. I settled back in for the ride with the five other people in the car -- and that's about the last thing I remember until a little while later.

It was truly unfortunate that such a great day (and great trip) should have ended in a crisis, but on the way back to the castle on that Friday night the car I was riding in had a severe accident involving a bus on one of the French roads. I won't post many details here, since I've disclosed them personally elsewhere, but with the seriousness of the crash we are very, very fortunate that nothing worse happened. I wound up with a concussion, some cuts that required stitches, and two fractured (but non-displaced) vertebrae, and had to stay in the hospital overnight. The other people in the car were mostly okay, with some more concussions and cuts all around. By far the worst outcome was for my friend Reagan, who suffered serious injuries and will be in the hospital for a while, though her long-term prognosis is good. For all of you reading this, please keep her especially in your thoughts and prayers. I'm very grateful nothing worse happened, and am also unspeakably grateful for the Rhodes friends who were able to be with me that night (and who have been with me during the days since). Their preparedness, competence, assurance, strength, selflessness, and grace under fire were truly astonishing.

Enough about that. I'm back in Oxford now, recovering at a friend's flat for a few days and missing class this week as I try to stay off my feet and rest my head and feel better, and have been thoroughly spoiled by the friends who have come to bring me food and keep me company. If nothing else, this entire experience has brought out the very best in some people I know and has shown me the remarkable friends I am fortunate enough to have. I'm hoping for a quick recovery for myself and for everyone.

But, all in all: Rhodes/Marshall castle trip 2014 was an amazing experience, even if our Gatsby theme may have been ill-chosen: as someone half-jokingly pointed out, Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby ends in a car wreck so we should have seen it coming. (I'm sorry if that came across as tasteless, which it probably was, but then I'm the one who has been joking about having no memory and about "feeling like I'd been hit by a bus" ever since Friday night. Humor is the best medicine?) Here's to more good friendships, some much-needed healing, and to continued safety in 2014. Thank you all for your support, thoughts, emails, messages, and prayers.