The Ides of March

Happy Ides of March.  Not so happy for Mr. Julius Cesar, stabbed to death on this day oh so many years ago.  He was warned but did he listen?  Nah.

When we were traveling through France on our boat, Chapter III, we took a side trip on our bicycles to see a Roman bathhouse near the village of Jonvelle in the Haut Soane region, a quiet corner of France.

In 1968 a parish priest with a passion for archaeology became unexpectedly and locally famous by discovering the ruins.  The small bathhouse, not much larger than the average 2-car garage, may have been the private bath of a wealthy family and was probably decorated accordingly. The only remaining evidence of their affluence is the floor's mosaic with its stylized images of flowers, fish and shells.  Now its colors are a bit faded and you must look twice to see the head of one fish but some of the reds and blues still gleam even after 19 centuries.

We even quenched our bicyclers thirst from an artesian well trickling out of a rock next to the small archaeological site, imagining, as we drank, ancient Romans using that same source in their daily lives.

Dwight and I were once told that we had the attention spans of gnats.  Maybe that is a good thing.  The ability to change pace and have an "oh, look at this" moment can turn a simple trip into a serendipitous expedition.   Although I really need to remember to bring the camera next time.