The history of Rocamadour begins in the 3rd century when St. Amadour was martyred by the Romans. His body was unearthed a thousand years later and found intact, causing this church built high on the rocky outcropping of the hilly Périgord region to become a pilgrimage site on the route to St. Jacques de Compastella.
The church is dedicated to Mary, but Our Lady of Rocamadour is one of the rare black Madonnas. She sits in a quiet side chapel with the child Jesus on her knee, from whence she is believed to save sailors, for whom she is Patron. Susan celebrated her 50th today under her protection, and was feted twice, morning and evening in honor of the occasion.
There is a plaque in her chapel which I surreptiously photographed, showing the dates that the bell of Rocamadour has rung, miraculously, without aid at the time of a maritime rescue. Another plaque given by the friends of Rocamadour in Quebec honors the salvation of Jacques Cartier and his crew afflicted with scury in New France, healed when they prayed for the intervention of the Lady of Rocamadour.
The church perches at a dizzying height above the precipice (see the photo gallery at www.sylviawoodelf.smugmug.com for extensive evidence!), providing the penitent the choice of climbing the hundreds of steps or as many chose, reaching the top on their knees by way of the stations of the cross along the woodland path snaking its way up the cliff.
The city of Toulouse, about 4th largest in France, is called The Rose City because of the red soil used to build its brick structures. It is a rough town with narrow streets and the scenic walk along the Garonne River and the Canal du Midi. Our lovely hotel is very centrally located, and as you see, has DSL wi-fi.
We toured the city on foot, accomplishing the visit of the St. Severin Church and the Church of the Jacobins as well as making a post office stop and visiting the hair salon. Harriet was transformed before our eyes from sweet girl to elegant young woman. I shed tears on your behalf, Amy. The hairdresser had nothing but praise for her beauty.
The history of Rocamadour begins in the 3rd century when St. Amadour was martyred by the Romans. His body was unearthed a thousand years later and found intact, causing this church built high on the rocky outcropping of the hilly Périgord region to become a pilgrimage site on the route to St. Jacques de Compastella.
The church is dedicated to Mary, but Our Lady of Rocamadour is one of the rare black Madonnas. She sits in a quiet side chapel with the child Jesus on her knee, from whence she is believed to save sailors, for whom she is Patron. Susan celebrated her 50th today under her protection, and was feted twice, morning and evening in honor of the occasion.
There is a plaque in her chapel which I surreptiously photographed, showing the dates that the bell of Rocamadour has rung, miraculously, without aid at the time of a maritime rescue. Another plaque given by the friends of Rocamadour in Quebec honors the salvation of Jacques Cartier and his crew afflicted with scury in New France, healed when they prayed for the intervention of the Lady of Rocamadour.
The church perches at a dizzying height above the precipice (see the photo gallery at www.sylviawoodelf.smugmug.com for extensive evidence!), providing the penitent the choice of climbing the hundreds of steps or as many chose, reaching the top on their knees by way of the stations of the cross along the woodland path snaking its way up the cliff.
The city of Toulouse, about 4th largest in France, is called The Rose City because of the red soil used to build its brick structures. It is a rough town with narrow streets and the scenic walk along the Garonne River and the Canal du Midi. Our lovely hotel is very centrally located, and as you see, has DSL wi-fi.
We toured the city on foot, accomplishing the visit of the St. Severin Church and the Church of the Jacobins as well as making a post office stop and visiting the hair salon. Harriet was transformed before our eyes from sweet girl to elegant young woman. I shed tears on your behalf, Amy. The hairdresser had nothing but praise for her beauty.
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