Monday, July 23, 2012
Photos
Here are some of the photos that Dan took on our wonderful trip. We hope that you enjoy them. Thanks for following us!
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Reflections on being home
- Hot and humid. Blech. Why don't we live in France?
- Ambien rocks. Dan and I both slept until about 4 AM.
- As a kind of "the world makes no sense" thing, I gained not one pound during this trip, and Dan lost one. How is that possible? We ate what we wanted - mostly bread, butter, and cheese; we took whole milk or cream in our coffee and drank wine at lunch and dinner with an aperatif in the evening and sometimes a nightcap (digestive) after dinner; we did not do the elliptical or weight lifting or crunches. Why don't we live in France?
- Work? What work?
- Drought + record-breaking heat = sad garden plants.
- No pistachio soft-serve ice cream machines.
Thanks for following us on our trip of a lifetime! Happy 30th to us.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Flight home
I knew flying home would not be a happy event. Besides leaving Europe, the airlines have made it too difficult to be comfortable and spending 10 hours in any 2 x 2 area is an iffy proposition.
So first we had to get up at 4:30 - not so easy after 3 weeks of doing otherwise. We made it to the Brussels airport (Zeventrinuppannendorsch or something close), trying hard not to be ugly English speakers like another group on the shuttle. Our first flight of three was to Amsterdam and we passed through security in Brussels just fine although the barcode on my boarding pass didn't work initially and I had to go back to the desk for another one while Vicki waited on the other side of the security area.
Amsterdam was another matter. I think someone in a position of authority decided anyone going to the U.S. was bad and so flights to America are placed at the single furthest terminal point available. Not only that, but since we were transported outside the secure terminal area because we deplaned on the tarmac and had to ride a shuttle to the terminal, we had to go through security - complete with pat down - again.
I must say that the kids on this flight were pretty awesome - no screamers. In fact, most people slept, including the kids. That introduced some other issues. As I type this, my nose is five inches from the seat in front of me. The couple in those seats pushed them back immediately after takeoff.
The sounds at this moment are either of these and many others who were award winners at this year's phlegm convention or of the many different varieties of snoring. There are the semi-quiet, but sometimes piercing, whistlers. There are those with a deep guttural snore, like the guy behind me. And then there are those who jerk awake all of a sudden, as if startled out of a deep sleep. I'm really glad they are not armed, because the wildness in the eyes of the lady next to me is scary.
Finally, and I hesitate to share this, there are those who silently share deadly gasses while they sleep. We are essentially flying in a metal tube of gaseous, coughing, mucous-y internationals. (Note from Vicki: I think that the primary culprit was the guy in front of me who smelled to start with. However, the fumes emanating from his seat were amazingly disgusting. It even smelled bad when he coughed.)
No, I can't sleep. I'm scared I might be one of them.
I have to say that there are more rude individuals on this flight as well. We were an hour into the flight and most people were asleep when one guy decided he needed to find his bag in the overhead. He walked along opening and slamming the overhead bins, waking everyone.
And then there are those for whom a plane cabin is an audience and all must be said so it will reach the far corners.
Once we reached Dallas, we stood in an immigrations line for about 30 minutes, then customs. Dallas to Memphis was uneventful - we actually had more room on that small plane than we did in the big one.
I am now finishing this up in the Memphis heat and humidity. Didn't miss that a bit.
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So first we had to get up at 4:30 - not so easy after 3 weeks of doing otherwise. We made it to the Brussels airport (Zeventrinuppannendorsch or something close), trying hard not to be ugly English speakers like another group on the shuttle. Our first flight of three was to Amsterdam and we passed through security in Brussels just fine although the barcode on my boarding pass didn't work initially and I had to go back to the desk for another one while Vicki waited on the other side of the security area.
Amsterdam was another matter. I think someone in a position of authority decided anyone going to the U.S. was bad and so flights to America are placed at the single furthest terminal point available. Not only that, but since we were transported outside the secure terminal area because we deplaned on the tarmac and had to ride a shuttle to the terminal, we had to go through security - complete with pat down - again.
I must say that the kids on this flight were pretty awesome - no screamers. In fact, most people slept, including the kids. That introduced some other issues. As I type this, my nose is five inches from the seat in front of me. The couple in those seats pushed them back immediately after takeoff.
The sounds at this moment are either of these and many others who were award winners at this year's phlegm convention or of the many different varieties of snoring. There are the semi-quiet, but sometimes piercing, whistlers. There are those with a deep guttural snore, like the guy behind me. And then there are those who jerk awake all of a sudden, as if startled out of a deep sleep. I'm really glad they are not armed, because the wildness in the eyes of the lady next to me is scary.
Finally, and I hesitate to share this, there are those who silently share deadly gasses while they sleep. We are essentially flying in a metal tube of gaseous, coughing, mucous-y internationals. (Note from Vicki: I think that the primary culprit was the guy in front of me who smelled to start with. However, the fumes emanating from his seat were amazingly disgusting. It even smelled bad when he coughed.)
No, I can't sleep. I'm scared I might be one of them.
I have to say that there are more rude individuals on this flight as well. We were an hour into the flight and most people were asleep when one guy decided he needed to find his bag in the overhead. He walked along opening and slamming the overhead bins, waking everyone.
And then there are those for whom a plane cabin is an audience and all must be said so it will reach the far corners.
Once we reached Dallas, we stood in an immigrations line for about 30 minutes, then customs. Dallas to Memphis was uneventful - we actually had more room on that small plane than we did in the big one.
I am now finishing this up in the Memphis heat and humidity. Didn't miss that a bit.
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Sunday, July 15, 2012
Peugot
We just turned this in at the airport:
This was a Peugot 208 which we leased from AutoFrance for three weeks. We had heard about the problems with regular rentals, especially with regard to insurance. A friend and Francophile, Milton Schaeffer, told us that Autofrance was the way to go. They lease you a brand new Peugot for a minimum of three weeks, cover insurance and provide road service. You bring it back and they get to sell it at a much reduced price because of some kind of tax on new vehicles in France. Everybody wins.
Ours was great and it was nice to drive a standard transmission again. Especially at 130 (sometimes 150, when Vicki was driving) kilometers an hour. Its size was also a benefit. While it held the two of us, and sometimes two others, as well as our luggage comfortably, it could fit into places that I would not have wanted to take a larger vehicle. Vicki could parallel park it in spaces that had inches to spare.
And it handled the cobblestones quite well.
The only negative was the previously mentioned sorciere (witch) in the GPS who would take us to dead-end streets or to streets on which we could not turn, demand that we u-turn when we chose a different path, or go silent once we decided where we wanted to go, as if pissed off at us. We would enter multiple waypoints only to find that she had elected to eliminate all but the one she liked.
Sometimes, we swore she chose a path that took us by the most touristy areas. I believe that the GPS providers have accepted money from the local powers to make sure that we had to pass their way.
In spite of her shortcomings, we eventually reached our many destinations. The Peugot was delivered slightly dirtier with 3581 new kilometers on it.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
This was a Peugot 208 which we leased from AutoFrance for three weeks. We had heard about the problems with regular rentals, especially with regard to insurance. A friend and Francophile, Milton Schaeffer, told us that Autofrance was the way to go. They lease you a brand new Peugot for a minimum of three weeks, cover insurance and provide road service. You bring it back and they get to sell it at a much reduced price because of some kind of tax on new vehicles in France. Everybody wins.
Ours was great and it was nice to drive a standard transmission again. Especially at 130 (sometimes 150, when Vicki was driving) kilometers an hour. Its size was also a benefit. While it held the two of us, and sometimes two others, as well as our luggage comfortably, it could fit into places that I would not have wanted to take a larger vehicle. Vicki could parallel park it in spaces that had inches to spare.
And it handled the cobblestones quite well.
The only negative was the previously mentioned sorciere (witch) in the GPS who would take us to dead-end streets or to streets on which we could not turn, demand that we u-turn when we chose a different path, or go silent once we decided where we wanted to go, as if pissed off at us. We would enter multiple waypoints only to find that she had elected to eliminate all but the one she liked.
Sometimes, we swore she chose a path that took us by the most touristy areas. I believe that the GPS providers have accepted money from the local powers to make sure that we had to pass their way.
In spite of her shortcomings, we eventually reached our many destinations. The Peugot was delivered slightly dirtier with 3581 new kilometers on it.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Belgium
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Bastille Day cont'd
Crossing the border into Belgium today was not a good feeling. I (Dan) am not happy to have to leave. Oh well. C'est le fromage.
Here's our salute to France on Bastille Day: Click here to listen.
(I used to give extra credit to any student who was willing to sing the first verse of this in front of the class. Not many took me up on it. I'd buy those that did a good Belgian beer if they could still do it!)
Bruges (also called Brugge) is nice, as non-French places go. Nice squares and lots of cafes, wonderful shops, and vendors selling waffles with little lumps of pearl sugar in them. Hot off the griddle into my waiting hands. Pretty awesome. This is also the place with a chocolate museum, a lace museum, and another dedicated to frites. That's right; a French fry museum. Works for me. From Vicki: Here's the real problem: neither Dan nor I understand Dutch, which is the primary language spoken here (Wikipedia calls it Belgian Dutch), and we can't pronounce any of the street names. We can't even pronounce the name of our B&B. However, most people here seem to speak English, which is convenient. Now if only they would rename their streets and write their road signs in English... Geez, I'm sounding like Newt Gingrich.
Off the market square is an old belfry, dating back to the 1400s or so. These people love their bells and you can count on hearing them often.
These two were playing classical music for tips in front of the belfry. However, they were playing from music that had to be pinned with clothespins to the music stand, which made for lots of interruptions.
This is the Burg, or town hall, which had figures all over the front, but...
...none of gold like this one over the entrance to a church, which supposedly has a vial of Christ's blood. From Vicki: they probably got that idea from Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob Thornton.
We then did the touristy thing and took a packed boat through some of the canals. We could not understand the "captain" or the tape, but did understand the sign at the end that said "tipping is not a town in China." Very subtle.
Lots of people were aiming cameras our way, so I returned the favor.
This is a wall (in a place called The Beer Wall) of every beer made in Belgium. It's a very long wall. The French have their many cheeses; Belgians have beer.
Just a photo indicating the weather. Pretty overcast most of the time and it often sprinkled. Still, all in all, the weather was pretty good and we were able to do most of what we had planned.
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Here's our salute to France on Bastille Day: Click here to listen.
(I used to give extra credit to any student who was willing to sing the first verse of this in front of the class. Not many took me up on it. I'd buy those that did a good Belgian beer if they could still do it!)
Bruges (also called Brugge) is nice, as non-French places go. Nice squares and lots of cafes, wonderful shops, and vendors selling waffles with little lumps of pearl sugar in them. Hot off the griddle into my waiting hands. Pretty awesome. This is also the place with a chocolate museum, a lace museum, and another dedicated to frites. That's right; a French fry museum. Works for me. From Vicki: Here's the real problem: neither Dan nor I understand Dutch, which is the primary language spoken here (Wikipedia calls it Belgian Dutch), and we can't pronounce any of the street names. We can't even pronounce the name of our B&B. However, most people here seem to speak English, which is convenient. Now if only they would rename their streets and write their road signs in English... Geez, I'm sounding like Newt Gingrich.
Off the market square is an old belfry, dating back to the 1400s or so. These people love their bells and you can count on hearing them often.
These two were playing classical music for tips in front of the belfry. However, they were playing from music that had to be pinned with clothespins to the music stand, which made for lots of interruptions.
This is the Burg, or town hall, which had figures all over the front, but...
...none of gold like this one over the entrance to a church, which supposedly has a vial of Christ's blood. From Vicki: they probably got that idea from Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob Thornton.
We then did the touristy thing and took a packed boat through some of the canals. We could not understand the "captain" or the tape, but did understand the sign at the end that said "tipping is not a town in China." Very subtle.
Lots of people were aiming cameras our way, so I returned the favor.
This is a wall (in a place called The Beer Wall) of every beer made in Belgium. It's a very long wall. The French have their many cheeses; Belgians have beer.
Just a photo indicating the weather. Pretty overcast most of the time and it often sprinkled. Still, all in all, the weather was pretty good and we were able to do most of what we had planned.
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Happy Bastille Day!
Google has an image for Bastille Day, but I cannot get screen captures on an iPad. Pas mal.
This morning, we headed to Dieppe, which this year marks 70 years since the battle which was such a defeat for the Allies. On the way up the coast to Calais, we stopped in the town of Wissant, which is on the coast of the English Channel. For lunch, we had moules frites; in this restaurant, they serve either moules frites or jambon frites. It's a simple menu.
It's really windy today, and we can see whitecaps in the Channel. The wind turbines have been going wild.
We are off to Calais and then on to Bruges. We will say au revoir to France with great resistance.
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This morning, we headed to Dieppe, which this year marks 70 years since the battle which was such a defeat for the Allies. On the way up the coast to Calais, we stopped in the town of Wissant, which is on the coast of the English Channel. For lunch, we had moules frites; in this restaurant, they serve either moules frites or jambon frites. It's a simple menu.
It's really windy today, and we can see whitecaps in the Channel. The wind turbines have been going wild.
We are off to Calais and then on to Bruges. We will say au revoir to France with great resistance.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, July 13, 2012
Rouen > St. Malo
Okay, that's not really true; Rouen is not better than St. Malo. However, this morning we decided that getting to Rouen was more important than returning to St. Malo, so we headed east.
Our first really cool sight of the day was Mont St. Michel, which probably everyone in the universe knows about. The traffic was heavy but not horrible, and we didn't really care that much because we didn't actually want to go onto the island; we just wanted a look at it.
Our next stop was Pont l'Eveque, a little town that has a cheese named after it. We walked around a little until we decided that we needed to eat... again. We stopped at a cute little cafe; I had a galette with the Pont l'Eveque cheese, and Dan had a croque du pays with the same cheese. We shared a delicious pear cidre. Next door was a store that carried local liquors, including Dan's beloved calvados, which is an apple brandy. To me, it's fire water, but he has a much higher tolerance for strong alcohol than I do. I have to say, however, that I have probably drunk more on this trip that during the last twenty years all totaled, just because we've had alcohol for lunch, aperitif, dinner, and sometimes a nightcap.
Here's a photo of our cute little lunch cafe:
So then, it was on to Rouen which is where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake at the ripe ole age of 19. One of the charges against her was that she wore men's clothes, and the people who had her on trial wouldn't allow her to wear women's clothes. There was no way that poor woman could win.
We started roaming around, looking every bit like tourists: Dan had his camera stuff, I had on white tennis shoes, and we were constantly looking at a map. As we were walking, an older gentleman stopped us to say that we should go into the Hotel de Bourgtheroulde, past which we were walking. He said that it was very beautiful. So in we went, followed by the guy. I thought, "oh, great; this dude is going to tell us some information and then ask for money." I was partially correct; he gave us some interesting information, but didn't ask for or seem to expect a cent. The Hotel was the town home of a Rouen family, and its courtyard has a magnificent sculpture of the meeting of Francis I and Henry VIII in 1515.
So after learning about the Hotel de Bourgtheroulde as well as a 2nd-century well that was discovered in the square (now housed in a bank building), Dan and I were off to find Joan of Arc stuff. Most unfortunately, we found the Musee Jeanne d'Arc, which is a cheesy tourist trap. For 5 euro (I think), you can go tour a wax museum. GEEZ.
Across from the cheesy wax museum is the Saint Joan of Arc church. Built in 1979 on the site where she was burned, this church is a beautiful monument to a brave woman who is said to have saved France from the vile English. Here is a photo of the beautiful stained glass in the church.< p>
The Cathedral Notre Dame is one humongous building, boasting the highest spire in France. It contains the tombs of the Dukes of Normandy as well as the heart of Richard the Lionheart, King of England and Duke of Normandy.
Dan loves museums of weird stuff, so off we went to Le Secq des Tournelles or the Wrought Ironwork Museum. They had some cool and incredibly intricate stuff.
These are women's corsets, made of iron:
And here is Dan, doing his thing in the museum:
NEXT (and, I am proud to say, without having stopped for anything to eat or drink, which makes it several hours since we last ate or drank), we walked to the Donjon where Joan of Arc was imprisoned and where her trial was held. This tower is all that remains of the chateau that once stood here,
Finally, we stopped for a cafe, and in talking to the owner was told to try l'Espiguette for aperitif and dinner. We got there at 6:45, which is ok for aperitif but waaaayyyy too early for dinner, so we sat and sipped our drinks until the kitchen opened at 7:30.
We finished dinner around 9:30, and the place was just beginning to fill with diners. I don't know how these people stay up until all hours and then go to work the next morning, but they seem to thrive on it.
On the walk back from dinner, we again passed the Cathedral Notre Dame. It is massive and impressive.
A footnote about Mont St. Michel that I (Vicki) forgot to write: While beautiful, the two memories I have of the place makes it fine to see at a distance rather than up close. The first happened in 1975, when I was 14 and traveling with my parents, my two brothers (11 and 17), and a family friend who was 16. The six of us were driving around Europe in a 5-seat car. (More on that later.) We stayed at Mont St. Michel to see sunset, and as was my parents' preference, we were going to find a B&B in which to spend the night afterwards. I'm going to assume that they didn't know that everyone and their mother goes to the northern coast of France in the summer. As we drive along the coast, there is no room at any inn, and we (two adults, three teenagers, and one tween) end up sleeping in a parking lot in Caen in the car which, as you recall, had only five seats. In the middle of the night, the gendarmes knock on the car window and start rattling something off in French. Neither of my parents speak French, but in what I guess must have been a middle-of-the-night attempt to parlez, Daddy said "No speakee French." Classic.
The second event was during a trip in 1986 during which we chaperoned 24 students from Christian Brothers High School, where Dan taught French. While in Caen (again with Caen!), one of our students, Pat Green, lit up some weed, the smell of which he thought would be contained in the room because he stuffed a towel at the bottom of the door. We, of course, smelled it and since he did not have enough to share (kidding), we were going to send him home. However, because it was a holiday weekend, we couldn't get the stupid sonuvabitch on a flight. For some reason (I guess because I'm the mean witch), I got stuck being Pat's one-on-one chaperone. The next day, in Mont St. Michel, Pat enjoyed saying "mangez-moi" ("eat me") and "voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir" ("do you want to sleep with me tonight") to everyone we passed while we were walking through the village.
And fun was had by all.
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From La Giro to the north coast
Having been kicked out of La Giro yesterday (Reginald said that another school group was coming, but I think he was just tired of us), we drove north through Rennes (where we, of course, stopped to eat and it started to rain). Rennes has a long and interesting history and was a "village of wood" (I guess because of the availability of wood from surrounding forests) until fires in the 18th century burned a great deal of the town. Louis XIV dictated that it be rebuilt out of stone rather than wood. Some of the wooden buildings still stand - or, rather, lean:
From Rennes, it was on to our B&B about 30 km from St. Malo, where it continued to rain. Our friend from La Giro, Anne-Marie, found it for us. The place is called Licorne Pourpre or the Purple Unicorn. Here is the view:
We unloaded our stuff and headed for St. Malo via the coastline of the Bay of Mont St. Michele... in the rain. Still, it was a lovely drive. We stopped on the bay north of Cancale to scarf some fresh seafood (most of which Dan ate because there were many slug-like creatures and he loves those) and, of course, to have a drink. It was local cidre for me and pastis for Dan.
We drove on to St. Malo (did I mention the rain?) and went into the walled city.
St. Malo dates from around the 6th century AD and is famous for its corsairs, which is a fancy name for pirates. It's also the birthplace of Jacques Cartiers, the explorer, and the burial place of the writer, Chateaubriand. We had a delicious meal of modules frites and cidre followed by a walk of the ramparts. We were pretty damp by the time that was all over, so we headed back to the B&B and were in by 10 pm. Of course, it was still light.
We are heading back to St. Malo this morning and then will head to Rouen.
From Rennes, it was on to our B&B about 30 km from St. Malo, where it continued to rain. Our friend from La Giro, Anne-Marie, found it for us. The place is called Licorne Pourpre or the Purple Unicorn. Here is the view:
We unloaded our stuff and headed for St. Malo via the coastline of the Bay of Mont St. Michele... in the rain. Still, it was a lovely drive. We stopped on the bay north of Cancale to scarf some fresh seafood (most of which Dan ate because there were many slug-like creatures and he loves those) and, of course, to have a drink. It was local cidre for me and pastis for Dan.
We drove on to St. Malo (did I mention the rain?) and went into the walled city.
St. Malo dates from around the 6th century AD and is famous for its corsairs, which is a fancy name for pirates. It's also the birthplace of Jacques Cartiers, the explorer, and the burial place of the writer, Chateaubriand. We had a delicious meal of modules frites and cidre followed by a walk of the ramparts. We were pretty damp by the time that was all over, so we headed back to the B&B and were in by 10 pm. Of course, it was still light.
We are heading back to St. Malo this morning and then will head to Rouen.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Sunrise
This is the first sunrise I have caught since we came. The cows have all gone to be milked and I think that the only people awake are the dairy farmer and me.
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Last day at La Giro
We have spent our last day here pretty much close to "home." This morning, we drove to Maulevrier to the Parc Oriental, the largest Japanese garden in Europe. It is truly an amazing place... so peaceful and lovely.
On the way back, we went searching for bubble wrap. Apparently, there is none to be had in all of France. My (Vicki's) best guess is that the French have not discovered the joys of popping it.
Tonite was our last aperitif outside and our last supper prepared by Mohammed. We sat in the back room, around a small table, and enjoyed the final cow parade as we ate and drank.
La Giro is truly a magical place. Gabi emailed that she has Giro lag rather than jet lag. That makes a lot of sense.
For those who travel to the Loire, this would be a lovely bed and breakfast with easy access to lots of nearby sites. We give it five+++ stars. Thank you, Reginald and Teresa, for a magical stay.
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On the way back, we went searching for bubble wrap. Apparently, there is none to be had in all of France. My (Vicki's) best guess is that the French have not discovered the joys of popping it.
Tonite was our last aperitif outside and our last supper prepared by Mohammed. We sat in the back room, around a small table, and enjoyed the final cow parade as we ate and drank.
La Giro is truly a magical place. Gabi emailed that she has Giro lag rather than jet lag. That makes a lot of sense.
For those who travel to the Loire, this would be a lovely bed and breakfast with easy access to lots of nearby sites. We give it five+++ stars. Thank you, Reginald and Teresa, for a magical stay.
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Poitiers, Oradour, Limoges
A couple of days ago, the little nearby town of Saint George des Gardes held its annual Fete du Vent or Festival of the Wind. It was suggested that such an event was a natural place for me to be. (Please note that Dan, not Vicki, is the "me" in this post!)
So the Murrells, Delsin, and the Dalles walked into town, later joined by Debbie and Lilly, and found people flying, fun things to do, and food.
Delsin tried his hand at archery, assisted in sign language by a very nice man who spoke no English.
Vicki and I climbed the church towers with the kids - I was wheezing when I made it to the top.
On Monday, Vicki and I took off for Poitiers, where one of Vicki's distant relatives ("her people") was mayor. We visited Notre Dame La Grande, a masterpiece of Romanesque decor. This is a somewhat older building, built at least in part by the 10th century - and there are vestiges of Roman architecture that it replaced.
The most moving part of this trip so far was our visit to Oradour-sur-Glane. The original village was completely destroyed on 10 June 1944, and 642 of its inhabitants were massacred by a German Waffen-SS company. The town has been left as it was, untouched, as a memorial.
The church, where the women and children were murdered
The girls' school
After Oradour, we continued on to Limoges, as in Limoges china and enamel, very little of which can actually be found in a store there. I have to say that Limoges was not as welcoming or pretty as other places we have visited, but I did enjoy a tour of one porcelain factory. From Vicki: I had taken an Ambien, because our room was right on the street and a little warm. I slept through Dan's field trip. :( The process itself is pretty amazing.
Lunch was at a creperie in the old part of town.
On our return to La Giro, we stopped at le Puy Notre Dame, another pretty amazing church, parts of which date back to the 5th century. It is a pilgrimage destination and has a "sainte ceinture," or girdle that is thought to have been worn by Mary.
Last night, we celebrated the Dalles' 41st wedding anniversary with dinner, petanque, and cremant, a sparkling wine from the Loire Valley that is as good as any I have had from elsewhere. Congratulations to the Dalles!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad (on which I cannot figure out how to do French accents!)
So the Murrells, Delsin, and the Dalles walked into town, later joined by Debbie and Lilly, and found people flying, fun things to do, and food.
Delsin tried his hand at archery, assisted in sign language by a very nice man who spoke no English.
Vicki and I climbed the church towers with the kids - I was wheezing when I made it to the top.
On Monday, Vicki and I took off for Poitiers, where one of Vicki's distant relatives ("her people") was mayor. We visited Notre Dame La Grande, a masterpiece of Romanesque decor. This is a somewhat older building, built at least in part by the 10th century - and there are vestiges of Roman architecture that it replaced.
The most moving part of this trip so far was our visit to Oradour-sur-Glane. The original village was completely destroyed on 10 June 1944, and 642 of its inhabitants were massacred by a German Waffen-SS company. The town has been left as it was, untouched, as a memorial.
The church, where the women and children were murdered
The girls' school
After Oradour, we continued on to Limoges, as in Limoges china and enamel, very little of which can actually be found in a store there. I have to say that Limoges was not as welcoming or pretty as other places we have visited, but I did enjoy a tour of one porcelain factory. From Vicki: I had taken an Ambien, because our room was right on the street and a little warm. I slept through Dan's field trip. :( The process itself is pretty amazing.
Lunch was at a creperie in the old part of town.
On our return to La Giro, we stopped at le Puy Notre Dame, another pretty amazing church, parts of which date back to the 5th century. It is a pilgrimage destination and has a "sainte ceinture," or girdle that is thought to have been worn by Mary.
Last night, we celebrated the Dalles' 41st wedding anniversary with dinner, petanque, and cremant, a sparkling wine from the Loire Valley that is as good as any I have had from elsewhere. Congratulations to the Dalles!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad (on which I cannot figure out how to do French accents!)
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