Coastal towns slipped into our past as we arrived in the quaint, quirky town of Amiens.  Our vacation slipped into another land.  It was an ancient land full of angels and bats, demons and saints, wine and beer.  Our gateway to the experience, the cathedral of Amiens, held us captive.

Exterior cathedral.  Lightly overcast.  Radio communications eliminated.  You can whistle as you approach this massive cathedral.  It intimidates.  Locals are restoring its intricate facade to its pristine whiteness.  This edifice stands in a central square facing medieval buildings.  We faced them, too, for a while.  Then we faced the cathedral.  And went in.

Pilgrims went in.  Since olden times.  Our footsteps followed in the paths of millions before and portended those millions to follow.  What dreams filled the minds of the ancient naive pilgrims?  What knowledge will the future pilgrims bear?  We carried: There is great mystery and great danger in institutionalized mind control. 

Interior cathedral.  The might of the heavens is forced on visitors.  Dark quiet air filling the nave weighs heavily on the psyche.  The stone and glass is merely a shell.  No voices could be discerned.  What wild and frightening pronouncements have been leveled at the pews of the faithful?

In these somber chambers children were taught to fear. 

Columns of muted colors allowing just enough light to emphasize the vast darkness.  I can hear chanting now.  Great beauty hints at sublime ecstasy versus horrible consequences.

The nave floor featured a marble labyrinth wherein supplicants piously demonstrated their devotion.  Today it was occupied by small children.  They followed the jagged passages until distracted by a non-human inhabitant of the cathedral.

Ironically I felt closer to the gods down on the cathedral floor rather than from my lofty perch above.  Even if I combed my hair straight up a la [boxing promoter extraordinaire] Don King.

Sloping rooflines, intricate windows, and arch-windowed vistas.  The whole town opened up before us.

The belfry provided a pleasant view of a medieval house from above.  We also snapped it at ground level.

The center of the old town held many architectural delights.  A simple old town hall hit our lens.

All of this excitement provoked a tremendous hunger and a biting thirst.  Fortunately, Amiens features a row of pubs, taverns, and restaurants.  We made it there.  And there was a mystery man.

We sat and dined and enjoyed some tasty local ales.  Discussing our situation.  Yes - this will be a great town to rest for the night.  But first - dinner.   We got some pretty weak crepes.

A budget hotel.  Common restrooms.  Thin walls.  Packed house.  Our fatigue that night prevents me now from further elaboration. 

Was he Jesus?  The Amiens man stood fast upon the water.  Once a duck alit upon the man's wooden crown.  The man regarded our actions with great patience.  And we likewise.  We drank.  The man drank not.  At dusk a chill swept through the town as the darkness fell.  The man shrugged off the cold with nary a gesture.  Was he mad?  No emotion shone on the man's face.  The man stood, impassive, uncaring, watching, waiting.  We moved around quite a bit.  From bistro to bistro.  Sampling the culture while the man stood guard.  In complete night the man finally revealed his wraithlike nature.  We parted leaving his ghostly presence to mind the river.