Marcin Wroński, the author of numerous crime novels exploring the streets and everyday life of Lublin, is our travelling writer. He visited our partner city in France, Chartres. Here are some of his first impressions of the city. Read on!

For a couple of days now I’ve been trying to get down to some honest work, some quality time with my keyboard. But the cloudless blue sky invading my room uninvited through the window is stronger, I give up and go out to stroll around the city. And it seems as if Chartres enjoys being watched by me, because, even though I know maybe ten words in French (including a few indecent ones), I feel completely at home here. Maybe because it resembles Lublin. With its quarters sprawling into different directions it’s peaceful and yet entirely urban. And, from what I’ve heard!, it has a population not bigger than the one of Świdnik. It even has its own Hartwigs’ Corner, although, for the lack of the Hartwigs, here it is called St. Peter’s corner.

There’s just one problem, I hope God forgives me!, I’m annoyed by the cathedral. Not even the real one, a landmark soaring like the Palace of Culture used to soar marking its place in Warsaw. It annoys me that this lovely city places the cathedral on every single gadget, when, if you ask me, God feels much better at St. Peter’s, religious people would rather go to the St. Anianus’s, whereas lovers together with all the fat wild ducks can be more often found in the nooks and corners of the Chartres downtown on the bank of the Eure River, where I finally understood why it was here that the French created Impressionism.

I did not come here to paint pretty landscapes, though. I came here to write a crime story! Not that I couldn’t write a non-crime story, but one shall stick to their spécialité de la maison... Therefore, I was over the moon when, walking around my beloved downtown, I came across Rue du Massacre, the Massacre Street, as I dared to assume. I’d already started to imagine some bloody crime scenes, corpses scattered around the Eure, when the plate on the wall allied with my French-Polish dictionary to cause yet another disappointment. Instead of a massacre I was left with an uninspiring slaughterhouse.

So I continue admiring beautiful scenery, smiling to French women and, if nothing surprises me in no time, I will have to consider changing my specialisation. No dead men in Chartres! Or wait… “No Dead Men in Chartres.” Not a bad title indeed…