Victory day 'weekend'

The weekend past offered up a bridge day to turn it into a long one. It also hosted the French presidential elections on Sunday, and Victory Day commemorations on the Tuesday. Sunday proved to be Nicolas Sarkozy's very own Victory Day, a megalomaniac dream come true. Perhaps I should review my comments in the previous posting, as one of the areas of reform will no doubt be the immigration legislation. I should take my cue from the leer jet, luxury yacht owning 'friends' and start kissing butt. When will the electorate realise that politicians just lie? With the people... ja right!

Ah well enough of that, there are many a photie to get through since we took advantage of the long weekend to explore the wild coast of Normandy and Brittany, the land of crêpes and cider. What a beautiful spot! Well worth the visit if you find yourself in France.

First stop Mont Saint Michel, which lies in the bay that plays host to the greatest tide fluctuation in the world. So for half the time the Mont is essentially an island (before man got involver and built a dyke with a road on top of it, which will be undone in 2012), and the other half it is part of the mainland with only a squishy walk separating it from the dry. A spectacular abbey sits atop the granite bolder, a must see.

A dish of the area is salted field lamb, obviously one of these guys that dines on the grass in the 'flood' plain.

A view of the sands at low tide with the island, Rocher de Tomberlaine, about 3km in distance.

A nifty winch system, back in the old days when it was used as a prison, the supplies could be dragged up the rock using a prisoner powered winch. Yip, a giant hamster wheel, add a few prisoners and voilà.

And St Michel himself, obviously a sculpture by a sculptor and not a swordsman what with the sword and scabbard on the same side...

A little circuit inland took in Fougères amongst others. What a charming town, spectacularly clean and well looked after with an great mix of old and new and beautiful gardens. Amazing to see a city like this where it feels like everyone is proud to be a part of it and does their bit to make it a stunning place to visit. Did I mention a cool little crêperie?

Looking across at the old château in Fougères.

A cool thing that all cities should have, a signposted hour long walk of the historical, cultural and beautiful spots that one can easily do when popping in for a crêpe. As seen above, a part of this walk with the signpost showing you what is coming up next.

A visit to the French countryside will undoubtedly mean a few châteaux, and this trip was no exception. Château de Bonnefontaine provided a pleasant stretch the legs stroll around their park.

Château Combourg is a far more interesting stop. In the days gone by, the home of writer Chateaubriand.

And a great garden for a game of cricket...

St Malo can be found where the Rance river says 'howzit' to the Channel, the old walled city is great to stroll around, and lunch at Crêperie Margaux, the best we visited. A strong nautical history, a place corsairs and explorers called home.

Across the Rance from St Malo lies Dinard, half vacant town awaiting the swallows from England to arrive to dust off their stately homes.

View of St Malo from Dinard.

Pointe du Grouin is where the mainland meets the Channel just up the road from Cancale. Ahhhh the oysters, so tasty!!!
















St Suliac, number 2 of the most beautiful villages in France ticked off the list. Cute!

Inland along the Rance, where it looks more river-like than estuary, lies Dinan with an ancient city that lies within the old rampart walls. More cityish feeling than the others, but steeped in history with ancient spots that makes exploring intriguing.

The rue de la soif in Dinan, full of bars that should be tackled in a single night apparently.

So that's Brittany and a little of Normandy. Summed up by spectacular scenery, kind, 'go out of their way' people (yes, I know, it's just not French), oodles of history and of course crêpes and cider...

Back to Paris and duelling for one's spot in the pedestrian crossing, let alone the food chain. I think they could learn a thing or two from those out west.

Lots to explore, I am sure you will see more of Brittany in the future. Happy crêping!

Phonies...

It seems like I chase elections, Chile elected their first female president while I was there, will it happen in France. We get to find out this weekend...

All around the world political parties seem to be honing in on a similar philosophy, yawn! The line separating left and right is a chicane, because politicians have evolved, through attrition of the good guys, to yes 'men' gushing what the majority want to hear, a smudge of public opinion. A dull smudge at that, we all know that the IQ of the collective is that of the brightest individual divided by the number in the group... Democracy rules! Well, in France it isn't quite like this. You see, the Frenchman has a strong opinion, and his opinion is right. So for the first time, since I have been old enough to suppose to care about politics, the different corners actually have corners. Although, unfortunately one gets the feeling that they are still just 'oui (wo)men'. To tame the inner megalomaniac, it's all about choosing the corner where the majority of the opinion sits, but all so fake, a little like a beauty contest, you get coached how to walk, turn, do stairs in heals (a serious issue for the right) and the obligatory "oh, I would love to work with starving African children", despite not knowing where Africa is.

So here we have the contenders, surprisingly religious figures, wannabe God on the right and Mother Theresa II on the left. Affectionately known as Sarko and Sego respectively. I am glad I can't vote, although drawing horns and moustaches on the ballot paper could be worthwhile. It seems I'm not the only one either, as spotted on this magazine cover:





















Which roughly translates to, "Oh crap! Who are we going to vote for?"

If the right win, France's economy will be stimulated, as the president's office will have to order an A380 to fly his holiness' ego to state functions, overtaking Bono for the leading ego at the UN. You also get the feeling that the end will justify any means (just like many a head of state I guess, but to get this feeling already during the election campaign, hmmm), it's probably the most scariness you can squeeze into 3' 8". If the left get in, bureaucracy will look like the Boulevard Peripherique at 8pm on a Sunday after a long weekend as they try hold meetings with each and ever individual at the bottom of the food chain to assess their individual needs and wash their feet.

I think France, like Chile, could do with a feminine touch to their leadership, if nothing else than to irritate the old farts that dominate the chauvinist scene at the top. Either that, or maybe it's just that evil scares me.

It won't be boring, either way, France will at least have an opinion at the helm. Which is a lot more than can be said for some puppet states out there. It can't be a bad thing.

Enough about the boring stuff, like the future of of one of the most developed countries on earth. Now for the important stuff, like my last weekend. This time it was on the other side of Paris to the last St Cloud photies, Bois de Vincennes.

Hope you have a great weekend, VE day to follow, victory for whom? Not sure, general consensus seems that the Pope will be redirecting his red phone to the Elysee palace.

Spring's Sprung

All the trees and flowers are smiling at the moment with tender greens and soft blossoms. Yes, spring has sprung, it's a beautiful time to be in France. Here are some blossoms looking pleased to be rid of the Jura winter.




























































































So smile, they may just smile back.

Running and chilling

Two weekends ago, some 30 000 odd nutters got together early in the morning to chase each other a long way until they arrive roughly back where they started. This they call the Paris Marathon. It's a fair mass of humanity when you see them all lined up, it takes the guys near the back 15 minutes to cross the start line, the leaders already 5km into the race. A beautiful day for it, perhaps two warm for the runners. Just as well I forgot to enter.

The thin blue line, marking the shortest route.
















Just so you know I am not lying to you about it being in Paris.

















And I thought running it took guts...
















The sea of humanity... there must be about € 2 million worth of shoes there...





















and about € 20 of wood...
















I can only guess they're the guys and girls that paint the Eiffel tower.

















Unlike many a marathon I have seen, no sooner have the runners passed when the street cleaners are out in force.
















Another 'I wasn't lying about Paris' shot, 30km mark, the lead runners got there in 90 minutes.
















After all that exercise an afternoon picnic was in order. The beautiful Parc St Cloud.
















Here's to all the runners, nutters or not, it takes some courage.

Bunnies and seasand

Blog is slowly starting to lag reality a little less. Recently, for the long weekend we made the bunny schlep to the seaside for Easter.

Many moons ago, when travelling to Paris for the first time, I remember another guy with his house on his back telling me that you have not been to France until you have been to the South. This kinda blew the wind out my novice traveller sails, as my plans limited me to Paris and the East, humph! Back in 1999, I think the reference was to the Riviera, now we had the more 'normal' Montpellier in sight. Nevertheless, after many an adventure, I was still excited to finally be heading south after having not seen 'France' for all these years.

Another first, I also set my personal land speed record, well without considering take-off and landing, and those buses in Peru. This time it was in the duplex TGV that gets up to 320 km/h, what a great public transport!

Our TGV (train à grande vitesse) in Gare de Lyon. Arrive 2 minutes before departure, and arrive in the city centre, all in it rivals flying on a short haul.
















Sun setting at 300 k's an hour...

Beach at Carnon, beautiful spring weather.














































Sour fig on the beach, could be Cape Town.

Montpellier is mostly beautiful with an old inner city surrounded by an architects wet dream; a modern pseudo Greek suburb, not my idea of pretty. The inner city has narrow tall alleys, walls decked out in a Montpellier cream, it all helps keep the streets cool in the heat of summer.

Spring showing its gorgeous colours in Place de la Comédie

Just up the road from Montpellier is one of France's most beautiful villages, and I'm not just making that up. An association established in 1982 (Les plus beaux villages de France™) has nominated 146 villages that are promoted and looked after to protect this heritage. One of the 146 goes by the name of St Guilhem le Desert. It also has historical significance in that it's along one of the pilgrimage routes to Santiago de Compostela.

The perfect place for crêpes and cider, the place in St Guilhem le Desert.

Along the coast from Carnon is the old walled town of Aigues-Mortes (dead waters), which makes sense I guess given all the lagoons around. An intriguing spot with many a quaint street and scrumptious smelling crêperie. Worth the visit, an especially good spot to chill for lunch or a glass or two of wine, I imagine.

Something about beaches that just call for sunset photos, so forgive me, couldn't help myself.

I am sure the Easter bunny enjoyed using us as an excuse to hit the beach, must've been hell to stop the eggs melting...