Surviving the croupe.

The croupe. I discovered it in France. Wish I hadn’t. I came back with the croupe. A term coined in the 18^th century. For an infection of the larynx, trachea and bronchial tubes. The croupe was the one and only lingering regret on my 15-day trip. Suspect I caught it. On my visit to Mont-Saint-Michel. One of Europe’s most unforgettable sights, or so I’m told in the travel brochures. Set in the mesmerizing bay where Normandy and Brittany merge, the island draws the eye from great distances. The staggering location has long inspired awe and the imagination. The story of how the mount turned into a great place of Christian pilgrimage. Aubert, bishop of the nearby hilltop town of Avranches early in the 8th century, claimed that the Archangel Michael himself pressured him into having a church built atop the island just out to sea. From 966 onwards, the dukes of Normandy, followed by French kings, supported the development of a major Benedictine abbey on the Mont-Saint-Michel. Magnificent monastic buildings were added through medieval times, one vertiginous section being nicknamed The Marvel. The abbey became a renowned center of learning, attracting some of the greatest minds and manuscript illuminators in Europe. Vast numbers of pilgrims visited, despite warring cross-Channel royals. However, the ramparts at the base of the island were built to keep English forces out. Other fine buildings went up along the steep village street, now converted into museums, hotels, restaurants and boutiques for today’s tourists. Meanwhile, blame the dank and dreary abbey for my croupe. A leftover virus from the Middle Ages. A price worth paying. That is, if I survive the croupe. I’m back home. Undergoing treatment.  --Jim Broede