Storm the beaches !

On the night of Thursday, April 1st, Randi and I took on the monumental task of trying to complete our journey and see every inch of France...and we almost did it. Our goal was to drive to the top of France, see the beaches of Normandy and the incredible abbey on top of Mont Saint Michel. This would prove to be our third pilgrimage site in a row, after Rocamadour and Lourdes. On Thursday night we drove for almost 5 hours and made it as far as the Hôtel Ibis in Châtellerault.

On Friday, we drove another 4 hours, directly to the the WWII Memorial - Centre for History Museum in Caen, for a reserved WWII tour that started at 2pm. It was a driving tour of the beaches. Maybe not the best planning, to be back on the road but at least I wasn't driving. Our guide Sandrine, was extremely knowledgeable about WWII and the area. She talked about the war for most of the 5 hour long tour. She took us through a couple small towns on the way to the beaches...most notably was seeing the old farm where General Montgomery temporarily headquartered in Cully and seeing an old 13th century hotel in Crepon (Ferme de la Ranconniere) that looked like it would have been an incredible place to stay and very close to the beaches. We spent an hour at the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial in Colleville-sur-Mer. It's located on a bluff overlooking Omaha Beach where so many Americans died. We walked through the cemetery and saw grave markers for Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., son of President Theodore Roosevelt and two of the Niland brothers, who the movie 'Saving Private Ryan' was based on. It was incredibly moving, to see all those markers, in this beautifully serene setting, while thinking what it must have been like there back then. It started to rain as we made it to the beaches and it seemed appropriate for the mood. What a sacrifice all these people made for the world as we know it. "Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many, to so few."
- Prime Minister Winston Churchill

That night we stayed at the Le Lion d'or hotel in Bayeux. We had no plans for dinner but we happened upon a French restaurant with a cute sign and a wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen. It was a classic 6 course French experience...and it was very good. It started with a tiny crème brûlée foie gras combo thing, that everyone was served. Who knows what it really was but it was wonderful. As it turned out the entire meal will live in infamy.

On Saturday, April 3rd we decided to sleep in a little late, then see the town of Bayeux. What a wonderful little town. It turned out to be the best stop on this long weekend. First we saw their cathedral (Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Bayeux), which we couldn't believe it but it probably belongs in our 'top 10 churches' list we've been talking about, since we've been in France. It was consecrated in 1077. It was here that William, Duke of Normandy and King of England forced Harold Godwinson to take the oath, the breaking of which led to the Norman conquest of England. This was a monumental pivotal event in history. We would see a film later in the day, at the Bayeux Tapestry Museum, which suggested that had William not been motivated to forcibly take the crown, England could have been speaking French today. Blimey!! The 230 foot long tapestry shown there, whose earliest known written reference is from 1476, is thought to maybe be as old as the 11th century...possibly commissioned for the cathedral's dedication. It depicts events related to the Norman conquest of England. It was all very interesting and the town of Bayeux has retained all it's charm of the past, having been spared of WWII destruction because a priest at the time, who convinced the Allied Forces not to bomb the town, as there were no Germans there.

We had a short car ride that day, just 1 1/2 hrs, to Mont St. Michel. What an incredible site. It can be seen for miles. We went directly to the Abbey that afternoon and climbed up through the town and into the Abbey in a driving rain at times...note Randi's inverted umbrella and electric hairdo in the picture. It's a good one :) We enjoyed touring the Abbey and the one-street town. We stopped in a small bar and had an aperitif before leaving. We stayed at the basic Hôtel Vert that night. We went out for dinner across the street and both had mussels. That night I became terribly ill with food poisoning. It wasn't good. I tried to think of it as a start of a healthy cleansing process.

On Sunday we had to keep moving back towards Toulouse and I drove for 4 hours to La Rochelle. I did this on little sleep and all the while mumbling and moaning. It wasn't pretty but we got to our next stop without incident or embarrassment of any kind. We stayed at Hôtel Les Brises, in a room with a balcony right on the water. It was a nice place for me to recover a little...and for us both to listen to the ocean from our room.

On Monday we stopped in Bordeaux to take a look around. We found they had an open market in the main square which was interesting but it really felt like the Great French Experiment was coming to an end. I think we both just wanted to get back to Toulouse and start making some of the final preparations before going home home.

Viva le dessert !!

I'd like to give a special thanks to the desserts here in France.

A shout out to my favorites:



The timeless Tiramisu, with it's caramel sail, at Dany's






The dreamy Ile Flottante (Floating Island) at L'Argentine in Labege.



And of course, the incredible Coupe Gercoise at the Rotisserie et Compagnie. This place has my highest recommendation for lunch, if ever in Toulouse. The address there is 5, avenue Didier Daurat 31400 Toulouse.

It turns out to be a team effort by everyone here in France. All the folks that regularly order them, drive all the folks that make them fresh everyday. It's a wonderful concept. Incroyabla !!

The Pyrénées

On Saturday, March 27th we decided to go back to see the Pyrénées again. We only had two weekends left in France and it was a choice between seeing the town of Bordeaux or venturing into the mountains. The Pyrénées are so close to Toulouse and so incredibly beautiful, it really became an easy choice, once we thought about it.

On our way there we stopped at another Christian pilgrimage site, this one not being a medieval site like Rocamadour but a more modern one in Lourdes. Luckily for us, this was the weekend before the masses will arrive for Easter. The town's fame started in 1858, when a 14-year-old girl named Bernadette, claimed a beautiful lady appeared to her in the remote grotto. The lady later identified herself as "the Immaculate Conception" and the faithful believe her to be the Blessed Virgin Mary. The lady appeared to Bernadette 18 times. I knew of the story from the movie 'Song of Bernadette' which won 4 Oscars in 1943. There were people there kissing the ground, touching the walls of the grotto, lighting giant candles and filling plastic bottles of the Virgin Mary with the miracle healing water, which conveniently comes out of multiple Kohler-like water facets right alongside the grotto. The whole thing seemed incredibly commercial and fake to me. I kept wondering..."what if Randi had a vision right now" ? Would she becomes a famous nun ? Would I fade out of the picture but end up selling little plastic bottles resembling her...possibly filled with holy red wine ? Wouldn't the public demand pics from her iphone ? Would they question whether she had instead, just discovered an excellent vintage of Bordeaux that day ? I doubt anyone would believe it at all now, in this modern world. Obviously, I don't know the whole Bernadette story enough to really comment on if there exists some true spirituality there.
Even though I am skeptical, I do realize that there is some good from it. The Christians that go there feel closer to God, can spread their faith and provide hope for salvation for everyone...even if it comes out of a plastic bottle, bought on sale, at one of the many souvenir shops, just down the road from the holy grotto.

We continued on, up D921 into the mountains, all the way until the road ends, at the town of Garvarnie. We came there to see the UNESCO site, Cirque de Garvarnie. This is a mountain range that legend has it was cut by Earl Roland's sword...the same sword that we saw stuck into the rock at Rocamadour. That sword can really cut through rock. As you stand facing the Cirque you feel like you are surrounded by the best nature has to offer. I kept thinking of how Niagara Falls wraps around you when you get to the base of it in the Maid of the Mist tourist boat. It was kinda like that but a lot different.

We stayed at Le Gypaete. We checked in to our dual bunk bed room, with the WC located in the hallway, for 17 euros per person. We both choose a lower bunk on each side of the room to take a quick nap, before going back out to see the small town. I joked about possibly having a couple strangers check in to our room with us. To our disbelief, 15 minutes later the owner pushed our door open (no knock) and said "we have two more coming into this room". While we stood there, still slightly horrified with the possibilities, she returned again to say "no one will be joining you...at least not yet"

This made dinner interesting. We watched hikers and sheep herders stream in throughout the early evening. The place was
nearing capacity (sign said 45 person occupancy with all bunk beds full)...our top bunks being the only availability left. We tried not to make eye contact but we watched each one of them closely, as being our possible bunk partners. The thought of a couple dunken frenchmen joining us in the middle of the night kept us drinking. We ended up having fun playing out the scenarios of kind of a french version of 'Planes, Trains and Automobiles'...'Avions, trains et voitures'..."those aren't pillows!"..."how bout that Toulouse Rugby team".

On Sunday we set out to hike the Cirque in our city gear. As city folk don't need no backpacks, water bottles, survival gear or anything like that. We had our phones, our cameras and a pack of gum. It was really an incredible place to hike. It would definitely make an awesome destination for camping.

After the hike, we started our way back to Toulouse but first stopped in the scenic ski town of Cauterets for lunch. It looked like a typical mountain town in the Rockies. It's incredible how close God's country is to Toulouse. What a location it has been for our one year base camp.

Pilgrimage to Rocamadour

On March 20th we took a ride north with our friends Benoit and Nadine again, to see Rocamadour and to soak up the real French culture at Nadine's Mom's farm in Saint-Chels.

Like the pèlerins de Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle wannabees that we are, we made a pilgrimage to 'The Rock'. Unlike the ancient pilgrims, who would use whatever means of transportation they could find (usually rivers), we went with a more modern method, of a high-performance diesel engine on the outstanding French highway system. Rocamadour
is an amazing site upon arrival, sitting high up over a gorge with the Dordogne river below. The town itself is a complex of churches. We climbed to the top and saw the church of Notre Dame (rebuilt in its present configuration from 1479), containing the cult image of a wooden Black Madonna. We also saw the broken sword said to be a fragment of Durandal, once wielded by the hero Roland. (Note: this same, amazing, sword is said to have allegedly carved out the mountain we would visit the following weekend) We walked the 14 stations of the cross before leaving.

The other thing the Rocamadour area is known for is it's goat's milk cheese. Nadine needed to pick up some cheese for our Sunday lunch extravaganza the following day, so we stopped to visit a relative of hers (she's related to everyone in the region) who owned a working goat farm, where they produce goat's milk cheese with the Rocamadour AOC label. We saw a few 1 day old baby goats that were really cute. We were all talking to each other in tiny little baby voices. It turned out to be a very interesting tour, to see them being herded, fed and milked. Before heading directly to Nadine's Mom's farm, we toured along the Cele River and visited a couple small villages along the river...the type that seemed to be forgotten in time.

We arrived at the farm and had an aperitif before driving into town (Cajarc) for dinner. Nadine's Mom, Jeanette, brought out a bottle of Jean-Pol Hans-Collet champagne from Witry-les-Reims. Then they told us a story about this particular champagne maker. It was the story of Nadine's father, who was taken by the Germans, during WWII, to work at a farm in the Champagne region. He worked there for a couple years but eventually had to be hidden by this French family because the Germans were starting to send these workers to camps in Germany, where no one would ever come back from. They hid him for over a year, until the war ended. They're families still are in contact today, as they obviously developed very close ties. It was a moving story, that gave so much meaning to this very good champagne.

On Sunday we went for a short car ride in the morning to grab a couple groceries in Cajarc and did a tour of the local area, with Nadine's 80 year old Mom, Jeanette, riding shotgun, telling me where to turn and when to stop. She speaks an older version of French, which is hard for many of the French to understand. But it's all Greek to me. She would say "la" meaning "go here". I like saying "la" now. We drove around in a maze of mostly empty roads. If we did see someone out walking or a car go by, they were all either relatives or friends. Jeanette pointed out the stops to make. She showed us an old mill and an ancient well off the entrance of somebody's property, that was constructed by the Romans. I read about it later in a book they had on the area.

The lunch that Sunday was terrific. I really wasn't hungry afterward for 24 hours. I had honey on top of goat cheese for the first time. This is a very good thing! And we had been to a bakery (Pâtisserie) earlier in the day to buy pastis..."the cake!". We saw pictures there on the long process to make this cake. Man!, does it seem worth it. It was the first time we tried it. Wow, was that good.

There is something about the Lot region that makes me like it more than any other. I love the low stone walls defining property lines everywhere...as every field is cleared of it's rock, they add to these walls. And the small roads winding through the country are endless. But maybe it's really because we've had a chance to stay at Jeanette's farm a couple times now and have gotten to see the pace of life there and the importance put on the food, the drink and the friendships.

Me Irish eyes are smilin

On Friday March 5th, we flew on the opulent Ryanair from Carcasonne to Dublin. Ryanair has a weight limitation of 10kg for your one allowed carry-on. So Randi and I were removing clothing and any extra items we could think of to get under the limit. Then while onboard they don't provide you even a cup of coffee for free and the seats don't recline at all. But I'm not really complaining, it just sounds that way. I had my one pair of jeans, two t-shirts and a sweater. We were full of gladness and health, with a pocket full of gold, as the least of our wealth. That's because it only cost us around $150 dollars a piece to fly there. We also were able to rent a car (Budget) through their website, for 14 euros a day. That seems incredible. I found it funny to hear the unexpected pride in my tone when telling the Budget guy that the reservation was for "Kelley" :)

We checked in to the swanky Morgan Hotel in the Temple Bar area of Dublin. We had our priorities straight and went directly to the Guinness Storehouse tour, that closed at 5pm. It was an interesting tour, in which we learned about Arthur's Yeast, which some has been transferred from one brew on to the next since possibly the early 1800s! We also learned that Arthur Guinness, in 1758, signed a 9000 year lease on the property there at St. James Gate and access rights to the watercourse going into Dublin from the Wicklow Mountains. He apparently was very confident about the success of the beer. They made a point to explain that, contrary to popular belief, the water used in brewing Guinness is from the mountains and not from the River Liffey. Having a couple Guinness beers ended the tour nicely and seemed like the right way to kick off our Irish experience. The tour came with one free Guinness Draught that had to be the best tasting Guinness I'd ever had. Then we went to their roof-top bar, with a 360 degree view of Dublin, to buy our second pint but the bartender gave Randi it for free...because of her eyes I suppose. I thought I'd share it with her but he must have thought I was an honest looking lad and gave me one as well (A bird with one wing can't fly). That really was the start of the warmth we felt from the Irish all weekend long. That night we went to a classic Irish pub, O'Neil's for a couple more pints and a big buffet style meal there. Strangely when I went to ask about their menu, the first words out of my mouth were inadvertently with an Irish tone "We ave never bin ear baforrre"...weird, I really didn't mean to do that. We didn't last long that night but it allowed us to get some sleep and get up early for our drive through the countryside the next day.

Saturday we started the day by first making sure we saw the highly touted Book of Kells. It seemed strange while researching the trip that when reading about 'what to do in Dublin' it always came back with the Guinness tour, enjoying the pubs and the Book of Kells. We made some fun of going to see a library book. I wanted to walk into the old Trinity College Library, explain that I was researching my family heritage and with a serious look, say I was interested in 'checking out' the Book of Kells. As it turned out, it really was an amazing body of work done by Celtic monks around 800 AD. The calligraphy and drawings of the Gospel were incredibly elaborate and colorful. If you liked spending every day of your life meticulously drawing onto calfskin, this was the job for you. The museum presentations of the book explained that the pigments for the illustrations, which included red and yellow ochre, green copper, indigo and lapis lazuli, would have been imported from the Mediterranean region and, in the case of the lapis lazuli, from northeast Afghanistan. It is widely regarded as Ireland's finest national treasure...besides the pubs of course.

From there we headed south-west in our 14 euro Hyundai Getz. I was real happy I opted for an automatic transmission at the last moment because driving on the other side of the road and taking the roundabouts in the reverse direction were enough of a distraction...I didn't need to be shifting with my left hand as well. Luckily I had Randi ridin shotgun, helping me with almost every turn. At one point I told her I should have gotten her some peddles and a wheel but really, it was a big help and safer, to have the help choosing what lane to be in. May the roof over your heads be as well thatched, as those inside are well matched

We made our first stop at the Rock of Cashel. The Rock, as the locals call it, is also known as Cashel of the Kings. The Rock was reputedly the seat of the High Kings of Munster back in the 5th century AD. Who wouldda known ? Who wouldda cared ? We didn't really. But we saw a 20 minute movie there that covered the history of Ireland and the struggle it's had over the century for peace. It was great. I felt like everything we saw after that was put into context by that movie.

We stayed at the Ashcroft B&B in Blarney. We got a great recommendation that night to go to The Muskerry Arms pub. I had my first authentic Irish coffee there and it was really outstanding. Everyone in the place seemed super friendly, starting with the bartender, then the waiter and then a couple we met there. They were Jessica and Ed and their little 5 year old grand-daughter, Emma O'Sullivan. Ed told us we could share the corner table with them, in the crowded pub. We found out that they grew up just 5 km from the pub and we could tell. Because as the night went on, it seemed like they knew every other person walkin through the bar. Little Emma was a fireplug and as cute as could be. I ended up getting her a little wound-up and in trouble by the time we left...had her running around the bar, getting away from me and my camera, not listening to Grandma. Sorry bout that :) If you’re enough lucky to be Irish...You’re lucky enough!

On Sunday morning we needed to head back to Dublin, for our flight the next morning but we had a few stops planned along the way. The first one being Blarney Castle. It was a located just a few minutes from our B&B and we were first people there. I was hoping maybe this would mean a nice clean, germ-free Blarney stone to start the day. The Blarney Castle is another one of these tourist sites that I can't see it existing in the US because of all the possible injury hazards throughout the tour. The five story climb up the really dark, narrow, ancient, spiral staircase, with it's uneven and non-uniform stairs along the way, is fairly unnerving. When you get to the top you get a beautiful view of the countryside in every direction...but be on the lookout for the bastard "Old Ironsides", Oliver Cromwell. With the wind blowing strong and every stone of the floor being at a different height, by the time you get to the top, you have to wonder what their safety record is for hanging over the edge to do the stone kissing ritual. But don't worry, you can feel comfort in knowing that the 80 year old man who works there is hanging on tight to you. Now with the 'gift of gab' my blog entries will be even longer! May you get all your wishes but one, so that you will always have something to strive for!

After walking the beautiful grounds around the Blarney Castle we got back in the car and drove along the coast to Dungervan. We went there to see the ruins of King John's Castle but no one seemed to know what or where King John's Castle was...even when we were just a few blocks away from it!! When we did finally find it, we found that it was closed. So all we can say about Dungervan is that we had fun trying to say the name of the town like the Irish and we had a good lunch at 'Merrys' there.

Half way to Dublin we unknowingly came upon the Jerpoint Abbey, in the county of Kilkenny and we stopped to tour the ruins there. Jerpoint was built around 1160 and inhabited by Cistercian monks. We had heard about this same order of monks living at The Rock as well. This Abbey is known for the unique carving and sculptures found in the cloisters.

Back in Dublin, we checked into the cheap but strategically located, Days Hotel Dublin Airport. After a quick rest, we drove into Dublin and ended up having an outstanding night there. We started the night off at one of the oldest pubs in Dublin, The Palace Bar on Fleet street. It is known as a favorite hangout of the staff of The Irish Times newspaper and is also well-known as being very poular with Irish writers and poets living in Dublin in the early 1900. We sat in the backroom with our Irish coffee and also found it to be a great place to write postcards. We looked like two literary giants of the early 21st century there. We left there looking for food but found entertainment instead at The Dame Tavern. They had a guitarist playing Pink Floyd, Neil Young, Metallica and the Eagles. Not exactly traditional Irish music to tug at your Celtic soul but damn good drinkin music all the same. There we met two locals Peter and John, as well as a guy from Scotland named Paul. Peter told me my name in Gaelic was "Eion". We bought each other beer and talked about the Irish, the English, The French and Americans. John of Dublin had a few too many Guinness and was slapping people on the back, telling Paul from Scotland that the English still own him and shaking hands with the guitarist, while he was still doing his set. He was also captivated with Randi's smile (I've seen this happen many times before) and had her dancing with him. She enjoyed this until he wanted to pick her up, bear-hug style, after every dance. She started to hide behind me after a while. But he really did all this in good-nature and seemed well-liked by everyone there. Peter (Peuder in Gaelic) was teaching us about his culture on many different issues. He said the Irish like Americans, they think the French need to lighten up, they like the English but not from northern England so much and he liked to say "it's not how old you look, it's the woman you feel" :) He gave me his email and said he would look for my Coat of Arms...I can't find it anywhere. Randi met a group of girls briefly in the bathroom. By the time we left they were adjusting her makeup and kissing her goodbye. One thing we will remember about our trip to Ireland is that the people were really exceptionally good-hearted and kind. There are good ships, and there are wood ships, the ships that sail the sea. But the best ships, are friendships...and may they always be.

It's not Ireland

On Friday, Feb. 26th Randi and I headed out for my Irish homeland.

We had to drive an hour south to Carcassonne, to fly RyanAir out of their small airport. We pulled out of our underground parking garage, the sun was shining bright and it looked like a beautiful day. The first thing Randi said was "it's too bad we aren't staying in France this weekend, the weather report looks like it will be nice here". Looking back, it appears Saint Randi Mae predicted the future.

When we arrived at the small Carcassonne airport the first thing the lady at the counter said was "you know your flight is cancelled, right ?...right ?...hello ?" We were in a state of shock. She shouldda just said "you know you're f*cked, right ?" Apparently, the French Air Traffic Controllers went on strike for just that weekend. The strike 'concept' in France is very different than we know it. They plan strikes. They have annually planned strikes. And I think they really equate to more like scheduled vacation time. This particular weekend strike may have occurred just because of the excellent weather forecast for the weekend...that's a guess.

So our flight got canceled. It seemed the luck of the Irish was bad. We felt like crawlin under a shamrock. I mean...where's me lucky charms ? It was so disappointing at first. But after maybe 20 minutes of phone calls and finding free wireless internet, where we know we can, anywhere in France ("You deserve a break today") at McDonalds, we were able to successfully rebook the entire trip (hotels, car rental, airline) for the following weekend, without any cost to us...things didn't seem so bad. It was really nice out that day (mid 60s and sunny), it was Friday and we had the day off already. So we decided we would just keep driving south and head for the Mediterranean coast.

There were a couple cities we had drove past many times now, on our way to other destinations, that we decided we would take the time to see. The first one being Narbonne. You can see the mammoth Narbonne Cathedral (Cathédrale Saint-Just-et-Saint-Pasteur de Narbonne) from the highway.
We decided to make it our first stop and were not disappointed. As it turned out, we think we may have liked Narbonne more than any other town we visited that weekend. And we think the cathedral makes our Top 10 list of incredible number of cathedrals we've seen over the past year (it has to be on some kind of list). With the wind whistling through the walls and sun coming in and out of the clouds, at times beaming through the tall mountains of stained glass, the presence of God was plausible there. Outside we had a coffee in the main square where the Via Domitia was discovered during construction work there 30 years ago. It was the first Roman road built in Gaul (France), constructed in 118 BC. It was supposedly traveled by Hercules of all people.

From there we went to Beziers. This was a place we wanted to stop at for a while, along with Montsegor, as another part of our Cathar research. A very sad story took place there in the year 1209 when the Catholic holy war against Catharism, called the Albigensian Crusade was authorized by the Pope at the time. The Crusaders massacred the entire city, no one was spared, Catholic or Cathars. Not even when they took refuge in the churches. There is a famous quote from one of the commanders of the crusade. When asked by a Crusader how to tell Catholics from Cathars once they had taken the city, the abbot supposedly replied, "Kill them all, God will know His own". Very evil. The statue there, with the cathedral of Saint Nazaire in the background seems to speak of the event.

Finally we drove down to the coast to a small fortified town on the Mediterranean called Aigues-Mortes. The name in French means "dead waters". If I was in charge of tourism there, I might try to change that. It was really a special little town though, which could almost make the list of the Top 10 most beautiful villages of France but really...who wants "dead waters" on the list. We stayed in the 200 year old hotel named L'Hostellerie des Remparts. It is located inside the old walled city, at the foot of the ramparts. The hotel was a former garrison of knights, with stone walls and old exposed beams. The room looked very sparse, with high, empty walls but it had that romantic castle feel to it. Definitely nicer than the Dead Waters Inn down the road...just kidding. Out of our tall windows we looked right at the Tour de Constance monument there. That night we were worried we may not find a decent place to eat but to our surprise we ended up at the very sheik Restaurant Le Dit Vin. Randi had bouillabaisse and I ate 'the bull'. Everything, including the wine, was very good.

The next morning we drove into the bigger city of Montpellier and walked the inner city for a short time, before we both realized we just wanted to go back to our place and relax. It was nice to get home on Saturday, not do much of anything and have Sunday to take a little walking tour of Toulouse.