THE PARISIAN SCAVENGER : Episode X : Building up an Estate from Ruins

There are times when I regret not being a full fledged, full time scavenger who makes a living recuperating old things and reselling them. After all, I only scavenge on the side and I am not equipped to handle certain types of scavenging opportunities. For instance, just this past week, I checked into the renovation in progress of a 17th century Convent that has been converted into a Conservatory of Music where my children go to school in Tours. They have boarded off most of the worksite so that no one can see what is going on; but I have found a way to stick my scavenger nose into the middle of the renovation from time to time by going in where the trucks enter and exit. True scavengers have no qualms about such things when they smell opportunity. The most important thing to remember is to do things as if you should be doing them, as if you should be there. You should not worry about what others think, as long as they don’t kick you out.

On the ground, stacked up in a pile, were a dozen or so huge master beams (probably 2 feet thick or more, by 18 to 20 feet long) in solid oak which had been removed from the historic structure and replaced by metal beams, no doubt. I was surprised to see that the National Historical Monument organization (which is all powerful in France) had allowed for such a deep seated gut job of a protected monument; but the reasoning goes that as long as the original outer structure is maintained, the inner structure can be radically modified. I could elaborate further; but the real question that preoccupied my thoughts is: How could I possibly get those beams into my possession? And secondly, what in the hell would I do with them once I had them? I would have to proceed with building a castle to use such beams. Right now, I cannot even seem to finish renovating my humble 17th century farmhouse.

So most likely, those beams will be dropped off at the garbage dump; but it will take a heavy duty truck with an articulated arm to lift them and carry them to their destination and somebody has to pay for such grunt work. What a tragedy and a shame …a tragedy to lose magnificent materials and a shame to have to pay for their removal (it is against the scavenger creed to pay for anything).

On a brighter note, early on in this Convent cum conservatory renovation, I did manage to act in time to recuperate a magnificent 17th (or possibly 18th) century stone staircase that had just been dismantled for some unknown reason and set aside in a pile of stones, awaiting the dumpster for removal. (I am ashamed to say that it cost me a pretty penny to get those stone delivered; but you should be relieved to hear that I did not actually pay for the staircase itself). Maybe the staircase was not original to the structure, or maybe it did not fit into the reconfiguration of the building; but all I know is that the huge chunks of stone would make a glorious staircase at my old farmhouse. It might, in fact, be too much for my modest abode; but then, this is the natural evolution of mankind, or those of us with ambition, we upgrade our lives as we go along, turning simple farmhouses into manor houses, and turning manor houses into castles. Rome was not built in a day, and a man’s castle is not built overnight. I ask you to be patient.

My farmhouse, by the way, is in the heart of the Loire Valley, better known as Castle Country where for centuries the kings of France and the descending ranks of lesser noblemen built sumptuous dwellings: from medieval fortresses to pleasure palaces. One day, when you are visiting these various castles of legendary renown, you may notice a new addition to the list of noble estates to visit. You may scratch your head in wonder because the medieval maps do not show any trace of such a place; yet there it is before your eyes, a domain full of high walls, towers, medieval door surrounds and archer windows, all assembled as if they have been there for centuries. Upon entering the courtyard, I will request that you kneel down, at which point, I will welcome you to ‘The Parisian Scavenger’s Domain’. Fear not, however, you need not pay homage to me. I expect nothing in return for my hospitality…a token item of scavenged loot, on the other hand, will always be well received.