Omnes viae Romam ducunt
(All roads lead to Rome)
Second day walking along a dead straight Roman road. Paved, and with cars on it, in the sections coming into a village and out of it again; gravel, where the paved road and the cars veer off in another direction, to serve another village, while our Roman road carries on dead straight toward the horizon.
I was glad I wasn't an ancient Roman legionnaire who spent his whole life marching along roads like this. I was glad I wasn't walking alone, but had Elaine to keep me company and talk with me along the way. I even gained a new appreciation of the twists and turns of the GR145, and the other Grande Randonnée long-distance paths of France: hiking in a straight line all day long is not much fun, even if it does get you to Rome faster!
The few villages we passed through offered no services or public spaces of any kind, just farmhouses, whether new and functional or old and abandoned.
The only stop of real interest during the day was the church in Humbauville, where we sat down for lunch at a picnic table. Originally built in the 12th century, partially destroyed and rebuilt during the 15th-century wars of religion, the Église de la Nativité-de-la-Sainte-Vierge d'Humbauville is, unusually for France, left open for visitors. Its outside walls, particularly around the door, are engraved with signatures, dates, crosses and mysterious symbols: graffiti of past decades and centuries.
Superlatives
Despite the monotony of the landscape, or perhaps because of it, the theme of the day became the use of the superlative. When we arrived at our host family's home yesterday afternoon, they gave us a glass of apple juice pressed from their own apples, and we agreed that it was the best apple juice we had ever tasted. At the dinner table, Elaine exclaimed, much to our hostess's amusement, that this was the best dinner she had had in France! When I went to bed after dinner, I was sure I was in the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in. Then I realised that every bed I had slept in along the Way felt like the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in, at the time! Every pear tasted like the best pear; every cup of tea, the best cup of tea. Walking heightens the senses and makes you truly appreciate such ordinary things as fresh bread, a cup of coffee, a hot shower or a soft pillow.
I remember once on the Camino de Santiago sitting around with a bunch of twenty-somethings at a bar, waiting for the albergue to open. One of them exclaimed, the best part of the day is taking a hot shower! Another said, no, the best part of the day is going to bed! You sound like a bunch of old people, I told them. But I knew what they meant! It's the simple things that you truly appreciate only when you have worked hard for them, whether that means working at a tough job all day or walking 25 kilometres.
Today's accommodations will probably not, however, be added to the list of the most comfortable beds of all time! This evening we are sleeping on camp cots in an old schoolhouse adjoining the Mairie in Corbeil. The former one-room schoolhouse also has a table, a microwave oven and a coffeemaker; Michel, the local volunteer pilgrim host, brought us some microwavable food for our dinner and breakfast, actually enough for tomorrow's lunch as well. He even brought us each a bottle of beer, bless him!
I wonder if that last one was the best bed you ever slept in! Just kidding as a nice spot like that is always a pleasure ...
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