Back to France!

It's been about a year and a half since we were in France last and thought it time to renew our spirit so back we go this spring!

The plan, such as it is, will be to drive to New York and spend a night with friends in the Catskills followed by a quick drive down to Newark International where we'll fly direct to Paris Orly.  From there we'll (hopefully) take the Orlybus to Place Denfert-Rochereau where we hope to activate our Metro Navigos. From the Place it's a short Metro ride to the apartment we've rented in the 13th, near our old neighborhood and located quite close to Place d'Italie, a favorite haunt, so we'll feel almost at home.

13-15 Quai André Citroën 

Susan has signed up for a four-day bread workshop at Le Cordon Bleu while I'll be spending quality time in the cemeteries of Paris -- my extensive shot lists are printed out and ready to go! After we return I hope to add a fourth volume (Passy) to my series of guides to the art in Paris Cemeteries and update the other three so needless to say I'm excited.

grave of Achille Dester-Millard in D84 of Père-Lachaise

During our 13 days in Paris we hope to take a day trip to Dijon, and another to pay our respects to the Americans who died at nearby Château-Thierry in the Champagne region, just an hour by train from Paris.

From Paris we'll head north to Amsterdam where we'll spend four days with Richard and Pauline; during that time we hope to scoot north to Nijeveen to follow the trail of Susan's Van Halsema side of the family. From Amsterdam we'll train back south stopping in Lille for three nights with Christina, Glen and their two kids. From Lille we return to Paris and spend a night near Orly Airport before flying home the next day.

Once back on the ground in Newark we'll retrieve our car and head west probably stopping somewhere in western Pennsylvania for the night before returning to Grand Rapids.

Stay tuned!

To Flanders Fields 19 September

This past Monday we left Lille for Flanders Fields in Belgium. Our friends Richard and Pauline drove over from England and picked us up at the MacD's apartment. They arrived a few minutes before 2pm just as I was going downstairs to keep watch for their red Ford Focus.

After a round of hugs and helloes (we introduced them to Christina) followed immediately by a round of hugs and goodbyes, the four of us were packed into the car and soon heading north into Belgium. Our first stop was to drop our bags at the Hotel Callecanes, just across the border in Watou, Belgium.

After checking in and taking a short break we returned to the car and made our way to Ieper (in French Ypres) where we arrived just in time to catch the "Last Post" at the Menin Gate inside the centre ville. Originally the fortified eastern entrance to the city the gate was rebuilt in 1927 as a Memorial to the more than 54,000 Commonwealth dead who were killed during the various battles of Ypres and whose graves are unknown.  The road that passes beneath was the route Allied soldiers took to the front.

After the parade of the pipers from the city square to the arch and the laying of wreaths by several pairs of individuals buglers played the Last Post.(see the video a the end of the post) There were, I should guess, 150-200 people in attendance of this short but moving event, which is performed every evening at 8pm (2000).

After the ceremony we found a place on the town square (Leshalles) for a fashionably late dinner before making our way back to the hotel.

even the young children were caught up in this

England in April and the Grand Canyon in August but no Italy

Two thousand fourteen was going to be our 20th anniversary trip back to Italy. In June of 1994 we took our first trip abroad together and spent four weeks cruising the backroads of that incredible peninsula, spending a couple of nights outside of Merano before heading south for  a week in a house in Umbertide in Umbria, followed by two weeks in a house in Vagliagli just north of Siena ending up at the Hotel Florence in Bellagio (how prescient the name of that hotel!). It was a defining time for the both of us to be sure.

So, we planned to return to Italy in celebration of that very special time in our lives. But just as that first trip represented an entirely new experience for us and taught us the joys of independent, self-catering holidays, setting the standards for nearly all of our subsequent travels together, next year we plan to try two new things instead of returning to Italy.

First up, we head to the United Kingdom in late April when we'll spend a week traveling the countryside with friends Richard and Pauline. Aside from a couple of short jaunts we usually pass through London on our way to somewhere else. Even the month I spent there in 2005 hardly counts: I was either in class at International House or out in the suburbs (where I lived with a family) doing homework, although you couldn't prove that by my final grade.

Hadrian's Wall

So, we've got our tickets (burning up the British Airways air miles thank you very much) and the plan now is to recoup from jet lag while Richard and Pauline show us around St. Albans, where they call home.  The four of us then climb into their car with packed bags and head north to Northumberland where we plan to explore the Hadrian's Wall National Trail while enjoying the rural English countryside.

The four of us are booked in Fairshaw Rigg Bed & Breakfast in Hexham, not far from the National Trail.

After returning to St. Albans, and depending on weather, we hope to visit Kew Gardens, Highgate Cemetery, and/or the Imperial War Museum, depending on time and weather.

So, right now we're set to spend a week in April in the United Kingdom (the English part).

Our second new adventure is still in the rough planning stage so if anyone has any suggestions or recommendations by all means pass them along. Later in the summer we hope to spend a week circumnavigating the Grand Canyon: South Rim, North Rim, mule trip; the one thing we'll probably skip will be rafting down the river. I'll have more details as we work out the specifics.

Life is short -- and if you can't go to Paris, go somewhere new, somewhere anywhere to let your mind drift, soaking up new experiences and new faces.

Recalling those delightful mornings at Domaine Mournac in Antugnac

What wonderful mornings we had lounging over coffee and croissants with homemade fig jam at Domaine Antugnac. It may have been cold and rainy outside but it was always warm and cozy inside.

with Richard and Pauline

the host keeping a close eye on Richard 

Sunday - Paris to Brittany

About mid-morning we left the apartment on rue General Renault with bags in hand and headed off to the no, 5 line at Richard Lenoir, which has become  our line of choice this trip, switching to the 6 at Place d'Italie (Place "Deet") to the Gare Montparnasse:

 

We boarded our TGV train along with what seemed like 30 or 40 thousand other people -- end of the holiday we supposed and many were were returning home. Anyway, there were two trains leaving for Brittany at the same time; one going on to Brest and another, our train going to Quimper. Our assumption was they would probably remain together until we reached Rennes, the first stop after leaving Paris.

After walking the length of what seemed like a mile, Susie and I found our car (voiture) and our seats, and settled in for the 3-hour journey. Leaving Paris on time, the train slipped quietly out of the city and before you could say Jacquie Robinson we were zipping through the rural French countryside at an amazing speed, every so often leaning first one way and then the other. The leans were, quite honestly a bit disconcerting at first, but we quickly found our "train legs" and soon became accustomed to both speed and the train's movements.

A little after 4pm the train pulled into Vannes, our destination. Located in the "Morbihan" area of southern Brittany, Vannes appeared at first to be a rather characterless choice, though the train station was an attractive bit of real estate:

 

Since we had about three hours to kill before meeting up with Richard and Pauline -- they had left St. Albans by car  early that morning -- Susie and I walked decided to spend a little time exploring the old part of town. So I slung our rolling bag on my back -- we've both become quite adept at disguising ourselves as pack mules -- and headed off toward the city center.

Naturally most places were closed; this was, after all, not only Sunday but a Sunday during a long holiday weekend as well. Still, one could get a sense of the holiday spirit around town:  lights were up and many of the store windows decorated. You could see that some folks in Vannes had developed a curious notion about Santa Claus and his helpers:

I'm still not sure what the woman in the stockings is doing with the hammer and how that involves a dog and a penguin. Anyway, the city was quaint and fun to stroll through:

After about a half hour of walking in the numbing cold we both started to feel the need to unwind someplace warm, and frankly I was growing a bit tired of carrying a small house on my back.We no sooner made that decision than we saw a small bar with its sign lit up: "La Bodega." We popped inside and slid onto stools by the wall facing the bar itself. After unloading my portable shed, I ordered two aperitifs and then walked back outside to call and check in with Richard and Pauline. Pauline anwered straightaway. I asked where they were and Pauline said, "We're about 20kms from Vannes."

We hadn't expected to see them until about 7pm (1900hrs) and figured we'd have to consume the better part of a bottle of wine before they arrived so this was good news indeed. After finishing our drink we grabbed our stuff and headed back to the train station, our rendezvous point. No sooner had we arrived than so did they. After loading our bags into their car the four of us headed off for Carnac, southeast of Vannes. But getting out of Vannes proved to be a bit of a challenge.

Between incredibly bad traffic, folks attempting to flee the quaint inner city, poor signage, and trying to find our way in the dark through and out of a place none of us had ever been to before, I'm amazed we aren't still driving around Vannes looking for a way to get out of the endless rotaries. But get out we did, and a half hour later we pulled into Carnac-Ville, looking for our bed & breakfast.

It always amazes me how one can spend so much time driving aimlessly around in such a small area, but if it's dark and you have no clue which way goes which direction -- and the French have seemingly developed an incredible fondness, perhaps obsession for rotaries, you can spend hours looking for what is probably right under your nose.

Of course we eventually found our B & B, the Rivages Carnac.  After unloading our bags, Susie and I in "Petit Mer" and Richard and Pauline in "Afrique" all four of us were back outside, climbing into the car and into the pitch darkness of Carnac to find a place to eat. Curiously, our host seemed somewhat ambivalent about places to eat on a Sunday evening over New Year's weekend, but somewhere we got the idea to try the local casino.


Naturally we got lost again. But between Pauline's navigation and Richard's astute driving skills learned from years of driving through the French coutnryside we found ourselves pulling into the rather busy parking lot of the Casino Barriere de Carnac, near the waterfront of this very deserted seaside resort town.

I know what you're already thinking: "A casino?" For food? That was our very thought as we walked inside. We were very quickly disabused of any preconceived notions about dining "a la casino," and all four of us were equally amazed and pleasantly surprised: the food was not only well-prepared and exquisitely delicious, the service was professional, reasonably priced and the ambiance remarkably comfortable and relaxing. Indeed, the food was so good -- and our choices limited greatly by the time of year -- that we would return the following night.

Three hours later we were back in the car and driving through the dark strees of Carnac, looking for our lodgings. By now we, or rather Pauline and Richard, were developing a feel for the place and we soon found our way home and in bed.

As I slid into bed and between the covers, listening to the quiet of a city in deep sleep, I was already starting to feel the power of the stones. . .

Wish you had been there,

Steve