Daniel Ferrante

Dijon and Owls

My first memory of Dijon - well, actually, my very first memory will be the drug deal I saw go down outside the train station just after I arrived.

Beyond that, my first memory will be looking down at the ground at these brass or bronze arrows leading around the city. Occassionally, they’d have an owl on them, other times they’d be smaller, with no owl on them. Mostly they were just red brickish arrows - all of them leading to a “rare”, large, numbered square with an owl.

It didn’t take long to realize there was a touristy significance to all this “owls on the street” nonsense. What surprised me was the meaning behind it all.

Dijon’s main church, Notre Dame (and just about every major city in France has a “Notre Dame”), has a small owl - or chouette - carved into it. I had wanted to find it myself, but someone pointed it out to me. This was a good thing, I suppose, as I had thought it was on the front of the church, and I was somewhat surprised to learn where it really was.

When you find the owl, place your left hand on it and face right - then make a wish. If you do it wrong and face left, a dragon carved into the church will you eat your wish.

Dijon’s Owl Walk is all about this small statue. Each numbered owl signifies a special site in the city - some are historical, some architectural, others are simply nice to look at. The greatest irony of the walk - the carved owl is actually the focal point of one of the numbered owls. So much for the challenge of finding it on ones own.

I stayed in Dijon for six months - the last week I was there, I decided to do the Owl Walk with Katharina. It took two hours - and I ended up seeing some great little places I hadn’t known existed.

My only regret about my time in Dijon was the timidity with which I spent it. I never got to know the city. I had no idea that it held so many little secrets - tea shops, statues, crypts, gardens and even a zoo. I knew how to get to work, to two different gorcery stores, to the theater, to the train station and to my dorms. Outside of that, I had very little knowledge of the city. It’s how I live lived my life - afraid of venturing too far at the risk of losing something - thinking that losing anything would be too much. Irony being what it is, the several hundred Euro I saved by living a more cloistered life in Dijon is insignificant compared to the things I didn’t experience - and will never have a chance to experience again. I can go back to Dijon if I want, but I can never recreate the sense of community and friendship I had while there.

My left hand is on the owl, I’m facing towards the right, and I’m thinking about Japan again. Japan in 2010. I won’t make this same mistake twice.