We’re off on our holidays again and you are welcome to join us if you like. We have spared no expense (to our mental health) and are travelling with Ryanair. We are sitting in the airport and the queueing has begun so I only have time to tell you we’re off to Prague, then to Krakow and finally to Budapest.
Have a good Tuesday see you tomorrow, Mairead.
(Blue door)
This is probably the last blog post from France (this year, probably…) I got the idea to include photographs of some of the walls and doors I had taken. Don’t know why but I was reading a book about the differences between the right and left hemispheres in the brain and it seems I don’t need to know.
(Stone city wall)
Well, the book’s not mine and I have to leave it here today, so I had a quick read of the introduction, the end of part 1 and the conclusion. Oh and I looked at the pictures. The book is called The Master and his Emissary by Iain McGilchrist.
(Stone wall with hook)
I might be wrong but.. I think he was saying that the right hemisphere understands stuff while the left hemisphere feels the need to explain that stuff. (Note to self: Maybe you should read the whole book before you share your thoughts?)
(Stone wall of church)
So, I have jumped to the conclusion myself. That the doors and walls of France will somehow explain how things are with me today… provided you access your right hemisphere. Ok? Do let me know what you come up with.
(no. 19 wooden door)
We’ll be on our way to the port when you read this, looking forward to a lovely calm crossing. Hopefully yours, Mairead.
(The embarcadère in Coulon)
When we picked this area in France for our September Retreat, I had noticed something on the map – the Marais Poitevin and in particular The Venise Vert (the Green Venice.) You might remember how much I loved the real Venice, so I thought I might also love this French and green version.
(Wrong way, paddle backwards…)
The pictures showed tunnels of trees (and you know I love tunnels of trees) over narrow canals with flat-bottomed boats. But it turned out to be a bit of an elusive spot, ok, not the whole area. To be precise I had a very particular picture of what it would look like (mainly the tunnels, sigh) but each time we drove to La Rochelle and through the Marais Poitevin area we would pass canals at the edge of the road with flat green farmland on the far side. Something wrong with that picture. No trees, no tunnels, not even one flat-bottomed boat.
(Heading for my river bank… shriek, shriek, paddle, paddle…)
And so with only a week to go (I know, I know, 4 days isn’t a week) it was now or never! I set to work on Saturday evening attempting to pin down the exact location I had seen in the pictures (oh and disaster, I couldn’t find the pictures any more…) It was not an easy job, but I did locate a town possibly very close to but not exactly the right place. It would have to do. So on Sunday afternoon we put the name in the sat nav and set off to… Coulon.
(Sigh…)
On the way we got a bit side-tracked when we found another of the places the French people go on a Sunday afternoon – car-boot sale or an empty-your-attic sale, there were no signs and I don’t know the difference. Suffice to say there was lots of very good bargains to be had. Can you guess what I got for €1 each? More tea towels. And they’re linen. And they have sweet little loops for hanging up. Did I mention that I love fabric? (Tea towels are fabric!) Especially in bundles. The very nice French lady who was selling the tea towels had ironed and folded each one and tied a little ribbon around a bundle of six. (Yes, I did buy six more tea towels. No, I’m not going to use them for drying dishes.)
(Sign)
Now, even if we didn’t find Green Venice, all was well in my world. But we did! We arrived in Coulon and my investigations had indicated that we needed to find the area of embarcadère (I think it means where you get on the boats.) Long story short: we parked, we had lunch, we checked out the flat-bottomed boats.
(Sigh…)
Finally, we found the perfect boat and got in holding a paddle each. First, it’s very funny. One person rows a bit and then the other person rows a bit and both people laugh a lot. But if one person is stronger or more competitive the boat soon starts heading towards the other person’s bank of the river. Huge shrieks of laughter from me and a smidgen of panic. Instructions from Denis. Paddles in the water again, huge smiles.
(Sigh…)
Eventually, we started to match each other’s strength and competitive force and we stopped working so hard and the river took us along. And it was so cool and, really, really peaceful. And because each of us had our hands full and our feet firmly balanced it was almost impossible to think of doing anything else, except being there. We stopped wanting to take pictures. So we took very little. Instead, we had the experience, of floating, on the water, in the canals, built by 13th century monks. Sigh…
Sigh, Sigh, Sigh… Mairead.
(Buildings in the port town of St. Martin de Ré)
Very busy weekend. On Friday we went to Île de Ré (thank you little brother for the suggestion). It’s an island joined to the mainland (at La Rochelle) by a beautiful 3 km long bridge. It’s a toll bridge and we were very fortunate that the toll people think September is winter! Because… the toll is only €8 in winter (€16 in summer) and you only have to pay going in one direction! I suppose you could call it a return ticket.
(One of the lovely shops)
My brother had helpfully sent me a link to some information about the island and we decided to pick one of the little towns, St. Martin de Ré and wander around there. There’s really only one main road going around the island and lots of walking paths, cycle paths, beaches and little towns. They harvest sea salt, so there’s lots of that too.
(Cute chocolate with my coffee – café style)
The bridge was built in 1988 and before that transport to the island was by ferry. So there’s a lost in time feeling to the place, no big buildings and everything has a shabby chic look (I read that in the tourist office…) St Martin de Ré is a port town with the sea on one side and fortified walls around the other sides. It’s very pretty with lots of cafe’s and restaurants and little shops.
(There was (inexpensive) ice-cream!)
I found an adorable little antique shop (really an old-stuff shop) and I couldn’t resist a little something within my price range – an old tea towel with the letter M embroidered on it for €4.
(Window shutter, I think this is shabby chic… but it could be just shabby. I really like it whatever it’s called)
We went to the Green Venice on Sunday, but that’s for tomorrow, Mairead.
As well as experimenting with art and Just Pudding (formerly know as Bread and Butter Pudding) I am now experimenting with coffee. As I’m on holidays I have been indulging in my coffee joy. That is, one coffee per day on holidays. It’s easy enough to keep off coffee at home because although I always like the smell I don’t always love the taste. But France (and Italy) have amazing coffee that both smells and tastes great. So, on holidays I get coffee every day at a café or bar.
But, if you’ve been following along, you’ll know we are in the middle of the countryside – no café. So our kitchen has had to become the café. Denis was prepared for this… I was not. He brought along a coffee grinder (I kid you not) and a coffee-for-one plunger type thingy called an aeropress. He willingly made me coffee with this for the first two days and then he taught me how to use it myself… but it was such a palaver I was doing his washing up duties just to get him to continue making it for me.
Then I was reading a book called Homeland and the character was talking about cold brew coffee. He made it sound very interesting and I thought I’d give it a go. My resident internet investigator looked up the How to… while I gathered the tools. We were missing some tools so a few days passed before we could begin. But now I can tell you the experiment is well on its way and we are discovering how to make the best cold brew coffee in all of France (because I bet no one else in France is bothering.) I helpfully took pictures so you can experiment along with me if you like.
Here we go….. (Oh by the way, if you start to think that cold brew is also a bit of a palaver… you might be right, but sure I’m having fun!)
1. Buy ground coffee (so much cheaper here)
2. Get a big jug (there was a 2 pint one in our china press)
3. Fill the jug up to a quarter with the coffee (yes, it’s a lot of coffee – remember I said how cheap the coffee was here?)
4. Pour water – cold water – into the jug, filling up to top
5. Stir, carefully.
6. Cover jug with cling film and leave for at least 12 hours in a quiet corner (don’t know if the quiet corner is important but it’s been working for me)
7. Photography some flowers, do some crafts and go to sleep
8. Come back when more than 12 hours have passed
9. Take one large bottle (we used one from a jus de pomme (apple not potato) drink)
10. Take one coffee filter holder (we could hardly contain our excitement when we saw one of these in the Hyper U – up until then we were draping the coffee filter over the rim of the bottle)
11. Put one coffee filter (we used size 4 – more excitement when we realised the coffee filter holder was size 4 also) into the coffee filter holder (as you would)
12. Put coffee filter holder on top of bottle (we would have been ecstatic if the coffee filter holder had fit neatly into the bottle, but we made it work….)
13. Take a roll of masking tape (yes I brought masking tape to France) and tape the coffee filter holder to the bottle
14. Using a sieve (if you have one bigger than ours, that’s nice for you) pour the jug of coffee and water mixture into the coffee filter (which is in the coffee filter holder on top of the bottle) slowly taking care not to disturb the coffee grinds too much
15. When the sieve gets clogged up, stop to empty it, then continue pouring until there is only coffee grinds in the jug
16. Is there anyone still reading?
17. Wait until all the water has dripped into your bottle and then put the cap on and put it in the fridge.
18. Clean up.
19. Have a lovely cup of coffee – by pouring a quarter (or one-third) cup of the liquid from the bottle and adding boiling water – yum. Or you could heat a cup full (strong) in the microwave. Or you could have it on ice, if you like iced coffee (yuck, yuck, splutter, splutter.) If I was on my own here (just saying) the bottle would probably last a week but now Denis has stopped making his plunger stuff and we’re sharing mine.
There you go… hmmm… just nineteen short steps to a lovely cup of coffee… Mairead.
(Leaves and seed. I pick something up every time I go walking)
I went on my walk this morning (of course I did!) a bit earlier than usual because it’s not so pleasant to walk in the heat. Anyway, there’s a stretch of the road which I call the tunnel (or tunnel as I like to say in French) and I absolutely love it. It’s dark and incredibly quiet in there. You can just about make out the light from the sky in the distance. This morning I had to stop and get a good feel of its magic.
(Duck. From the riverside in Vouvant)
I never bring the camera out on my walk, much too much distraction, but two nights ago I had my phone and I took a picture. It might not be very clear but I wanted to give you a visual sense of my tunnel.
(My tunnel, sigh)
So… I’m standing in my tunnel this morning and the phrase the darkest hour is just before the dawn comes to mind. And it got me thinking… my tunnel is such a comforting place to be, I wonder how it would work if the next time I’m feeling down, I imagine myself in my tunnel. A place to be held safely in the dark until it’s time to venture out into the sun. I’m definitely going to try it. (By the way, in case I forget and you notice I’m needing my tunnel, could you remind me please?)
(Love this quote from Maya Angelou, it’s now in one of the journals I’ve been creating here)
With only a week left (I think I’ll keep saying that every day from now on….) I’ve been thinking of all the things I want to do before we leave and on the very top of the list is… getting a video of the hens running to me (their surrogate mother…) So far we have a startled looking hen standing very still so hopefully they’re not camera-shy. If we do manage to capture momentum I’ll find a way to share it with you.
(Very cute sign in Vouvant)
From the sunny swing, Mairead.
(St. John’s Gate – Parthenay)
I’m sitting on the swing as I write, in a little bit of shade, it’s way too hot out there under the bright light for my pale complexion. The really surprising thing about a hot day here is how cool it is inside in the cottage. It’s almost like there’s air conditioning in there. I think it must be the thickness of the walls. Caves are like that too, so it makes them a constant temperature year round, cooler than the summer heat and warmer than the cold winter.
(Half-timber house – Parthenay)
I realised a moment ago that we will be starting our journey home in just over a week. It was starting to feel like we could stay here forever! So it makes me think about some of the things I am grateful for here… The warmth – it’s been very hot this week and I love how sparkly everything is in the sun, including the spider’s webs (some photos of those would be nice). The garden – it’s lovely to be among green growing things. The peace – it’s so quiet, not silent, there’s buzzing and I can hear some neighbours chatting. I think I hear a farm machine in the distance and every now and then a bird singing. The trestle table – it has been (and will continue to be for the next week, I hope) fantastic to be able to work outside at this big wooden table made by human hands and planks of wood.
(Very cute house – Parthenay)
The distance from a retail hub – well, this was a big surprise to me, that I could be grateful not to be near a village, town or city. How would I spend my days? How would I fill the time? Where would I get some chocolate or croissants? Where would we eat? For as long as I can remember I have lived in a town (or a city) and always very close to (either next door to or a few hundred yards/meters away from) a shop. In Cashel where I grew up as a child besides the shops there were so many amazing places to visit (really, they did seem amazing!) There was the Rock of Cashel where stone staircases led to turrets that let up to the battlements, hundreds of feet up in the air and unprotected… Any parent’s nightmare – fortunately our parents never knew we were up there! And Hoare Abbey, an old ruined monastery, protected by huge cows (I was/am afraid of cows, so I only ventured in when they were eating the grass round the back). The town of Parthenay reminded me a lot of Cashel.
(Steep, unprotected steps, at the castle – Parthenay)
So I have come to understand that having no shops and castles and monasteries next door to wander around has actually been an advantage to me. Instead, I can wander around glue and paint, paper and canvas, scissors and fabric.
(See the seashell? Symbol of Camino – Parthenay)
I am also grateful that the only cows around here are firmly behind fences, Mairead.
(This is the Courgette Chocolate Cake – yummy! And no I didn’t make it…)
It is so hot here today. It was so hot yesterday too. At the weekend we went to visit a little town called Parthenay. It’s a really beautiful walled town with a combination of stone ruins and pretty half-timber houses. We took about 200 photos so if you’re getting bored with hen pictures have no worries there’ll be something different this week. Although I don’t know how you would….
(Look how brave she is!)
You remember last Friday I mentioned the Camino? Well, a funny thing about Parthenay is that it was one of the towns in France on one of the routes to the Camino. (Yes there were lots of towns and lots of routes but still…) There’s even a whole area of the town called St. John’s Quarter. St. John is the saint of the Camino because his remains are buried in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela – the end point of the Camino walk.
(One of the narrow side streets)
So… isn’t that gas? And we walked a lot in Parthenay, up and down little side streets, along steps, over the ramparts. The old town is on a hill surrounded on three sides by a loop in the river, no slacking off on the walking that day. Therefore, you could say I’ve already started the Camino… One day I mention something, the next day it comes to me…. now what do I want next?
(Only 1,492.2 Km to go)
Ok, well that’s kinda funny too.. because the thing I want is… to encourage others to join my classes where we do crafting with intention like I’ve been doing here, like the collage, montage, art journaling, life journaling or whatever. And I looked up just now and saw Mara at the trestle table painting a little coffee table she got from the second-hand shop. We’ve been crafting side by side all day at that trestle table.
(The ramparts)
Maybe I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing….. Mairead.
(Mmmm Bread and Butter Pudding Version 1.0)
Another wet day today which is making me kinda sleepy. I might have a little snooze after I finish this. Well, I finally made my version of a bread and butter pudding. Lets call it version 1.0. I have a feeling there might need to be more versions… It didn’t turn out all that well. But it did have some positive attributes. It smelled lovely, the apples and cinnamon, I think. It looked pretty good too. But the taste…. it tasted a bit like apple tart omelette. If you, like me, have never tasted apple tart omelette and wondered… wonder no more, it’s not great.
(More pictures of the beautiful forest walk around Mervant Lake)
You might remember I had a plan to feed it to the hens if it didn’t work, but then I worried about the ethics of feeding hens their own eggs? Well, I went back to the hen forum (still no sign of Liam) and feeding them cooked eggs is not a problem. (The eggs in this case are definitely cooked, in fact you could call them over-cooked.) The only problem it seems is letting the hens realise how delicious their eggs are in case they eat them before you have a chance to get them in the fridge.
(Our picnic spot…. water and peach spot really)
Right so, what to do for next time… the omelette taste wasn’t so good so maybe I’ll leave the egg out… and the bread was a bit chewy so maybe I’ll leave the bread out, if there’s no bread then I’ll probably leave the butter out. And I found something that looks very like flour in the bottom of the cupboard so maybe I’ll put that in. Of course that kind of defeats the purpose of using up stale bread and finding a home for free eggs… but I do like the apples…
(Can you see the person in the red sweater sitting on the rock way, way up there?)
Watch this space for Bread and Butter Pudding Version 1.2, without the bread and the butter, probably should call it Just Pudding, Mairead.
Travel stories 