little things

Village Étape

| Mairead

(Our view)

The difference a few hours makes. We drove to the town of Massiac after the fog show. The sun shone the whole way and the temperature rose… to 23 degrees! That’s 19 degrees hotter than in the morning. Massiac provides a beautiful space for camping cars (that’s motorhomes) alongside the river, so we were very comfortable.

(It’s also on the Camino de Santiago)

Actually this town knows what travellers want. It’s a Village Étape. Literal meaning is a stage village and it makes me think of a stage coach. You know in historical movies when the stage coach stops at an inn and they change the horses? Or the passengers take the opportunity to have a meal? Or stop for the night?

(Petrol pumps are very important here)

Well, these towns are all over France, near the main routes and they are designated places travellers can get a meal, stay in a hotel and buy fuel for their vehicle (oats for the horses?) There’ll be a supermarket, a boulangerie, a tourist office and public toilets. Massiac has all those things and it’s bustling and friendly.

(Can you see the rock in the distance? There’s a church on top!)

We stopped at the Library Cafe this morning before we left, it’s a book shop and cafe. That’s another thing travellers need – books! Unfortunately, none in English so I bought a copy book and a notebook.

Now we’re off to see a volcano! Mairead.

Four Degrees!

| Mairead

(Sunny evening in Coubon on the Loire)

We stayed in a town called Coubon last night. It was 4 degrees Celsius this morning when I got up. Four…. It was 12 degrees at home in Greystones! I got dressed in no time and went outside. We were surrounded by fog.

(Four degrees and fog)

When Denis got up he went to the boulangerie so we have bread – we won’t starve. Is bread enough? I was thinking about the places people choose to live. On the banks of the Loire in a cute town with a cafe, a bar, a restaurant and a boulangerie seems lovely and it is lovely but it means for this town, as they are situated in a valley, they probably get a lot of foggy days. On a sunny day they possibly get less sun than their neighbours up on the hill.

(Can you make out the top of the cloud?)

I was still thinking about this when we drove off. We were leaving anyway but the fog made it easier. Our drive was taking us uphill and in no time we we’re above the clouds and it was glorious. It was hard to believe that ten minutes away everything was so different. There was nowhere to stop on the narrow roads so I took pictures through the window as we continued up and up. Then we turned away from the river and we could no longer see the valley.

(We seem to be we going down again…)

I couldn’t stop thinking about the people in the town, still stuck in the fog. Do they go up the hill on days like today? Do they forget that the sun is up top shining to its heart’s content? Do they just put up with the fog and get on with their day?

(That little line of white behind the tree line is the fog)

And then we turned a corner. We could see the valley again, stretching for miles and miles. There was a blanket of fog laid out all along the river’s course but it was a blanket with holes, where the hills peeped through.

(It’s good to be alive)

We spotted a patch of grass just big enough to stop. I set off down the road and into a field to get photos. I was about to take the first one… and the battery died in my camera. When you find a little hill peeping through a hole in the fog you can put up with almost anything.

My feet were wet, I was freezing cold but I was on top of the world, Mairead.

Ps I had a spare battery in the van.

(There’s Coubon)

The Loire

| Mairead

(We got a good parking spot)

We drove about an hour south from Lyon and now we’re in a most beautiful place called, Saint-Victor-sur-Loire. The Loire. I was surprised by the name but the Loire has to come from somewhere… it’s doesn’t just arrive between Orleans and Nantes.

(View from the bed)

I’ve looked it up and the Loire is the longest river in France and rises 100km south of where we’re parked in a place called Mount Gerbier de Jonc.

(There was a little path through some woods. That might be a church on the other side)

It’s so peaceful here and quiet even though there a sailing school and a ferry boat close by. We went for a walk up a very steep road to get the jeton (token) for electricity this morning. It’s overcast and we aren’t making much from solar.

(The view from between the houses at the top of the hill)

At the top there was an adorable little town with a castle which we didn’t go see as it would have meant bearing slightly off course but downhill and that just wasn’t happening. There was also an old church which was closed. We were still panting when we arrived at the Mairie (the mayor’s office, where you get jetons) so I sat outside and Denis went in.

(The view of the river from outside the Mairie’s)

While I was out there I could see in the distance hundreds of feet below the path of the river meandering in gentle curves. This is a magical place, no coffee, no bread, but the natural beauty is stunning. (Be nice to look at it through a cafe window, sigh.)

(The old church)

As I was waiting a man passed me, he was very well dressed and quite good looking in a distinguished way. We exchanged bonjours. About half an hour later Denis arrived out. He’d been in a queue behind someone with queries about land.

(Look at this beauty… what is it?)

Well to be honest we have no idea what the queries were about but he did have a map out on the desk… So anyway Denis was still waiting when the mayor, or the Maire, came in and shook hands with everyone, including Denis.

(Can you see there’s a beach too?)

Turns out it was my distinguished man! If only I’d know I would have asked him about opening a cafe…

From the banks of the Loire, Mairead.

(Here we are beside the meandering Loire)

Wash Day at the Supermarket

| Mairead

(46 minutes at 60 degrees)

And the high point for today – washing our clothes. We’re parked at a supermarket in Prissé, which is a small town outside Mâcon. There’s a fine launderette with parking in one corner of the shopping center and I’m waiting here for the dryer to finish.

(There they go…)

The sun is shining and it would be so nice to hang the clothes out instead of putting them in a dryer. Can you imagine arriving at the supermarket at home and noticing clothes lines strung between the trees? Covered in pegged-up clothes? Actually, maybe that would be lovely! As an art project, I mean! No one wants to see our underwear strung around Tesco…

(You can tell a lot about a place by what they put in their supermarket foyer…. Charolais cattle originate in the Charolais area which is near here!)

I can see it now, colourful baby clothes, pretty children’s ballet dresses, worn dungarees, sparkly teenage dresses, white shirts, T-shirt’s with band logos, dark trousers, frilly bed-shawls. All the items grouped by age, like a life timeline. It could be called Life Line. Who’ll ring Tesco head office for me? Maybe Fairy Non-bio would sponsor us?

(This old wooden wine press was also in the foyer – wine production is big here too)

This is what happens when you don’t do ten other things while the clothes are being washed by the machine. If I was at home I’d be cutting something, making something, cleaning something or meeting someone while the clothes washed. Here I’m not a bit concerned with multi-tasking. The dishes are done, the floor is grand, there’s nothing I need to cut down or to make up and there’s no one to meet. I have an opportunity to let my imagination run wild, just for the fun of it.

Seriously, does anyone know the CEO of Tesco Ireland? Mairead.

(There we are in Prissé)

The town of Buxy

| Mairead

(An old tin sign on the former train station wall)

We arrived in Buxy this morning and went for a walk to the town to get our bearings. We’d stopped off here briefly last year but never got as far as the town. It’s very pretty and very old.

(This tower reminded me of Reginald’s tower in Waterford)

Delivery trucks were competing with buses and pedestrians on the narrow streets and the locals were buying their baguettes by the armful.

(That’s the post office clinging to the edge of the hill and that second tower belongs to the church)

We spotted the butcher delivering meat so you might need to avert your eyes for the next photo… That’s the butcher and the baker covered, I’m on the lookout for a candlestick maker. It was uphill all the way to town which meant it was a grand downhill walk back. We are parked near the old station on the Voie Verte and when we got back I headed out for a walk. The weather was cool with some sunshine, with plenty of shade on the path – optimum.

(Just in case you were wondering where meat comes from…)

I’ve been reading a book on Audible (well, listening to the author read his book on the Audible app, might be more accurate) called Effortless Success by Michael Neill, did I already tell you? Maybe I did. Anyway, he’s lovely and he tells nice little stories to make you feel like you could really do things. He’s all about flowing, not pushing. There’s a bit in the book I was thinking about this morning, on my walk along the greenway: Where there’s a way, there’s a will.

(The long road)

We all know the other version, where there’s a will there’s a way but he says that’s a bit pushy and often invokes resistance. The other one is more flowy. I got an example of it this morning, as I rounded a bend and could see a long straight path ahead of me. The thought came to me, gosh that’s long. A moment later, I shouldn’t go too far. Then, I wonder how long I’ve been walking? I checked my phone… ten minutes. No way! I thought I’d been walking for at least 35 minutes, maybe even 45… but no.

(There would have been a barrier across the road here, when the greenway was a train track)

And didn’t my friend, Michael (you know, the guy from the book? He does feel like my friend) pop into my head and his idea about where’s there a way, there’s a will. I really had no idea where I was going and that was making it feel longer. How could I make it feel doable.

(Noticed this hanging on a tree on my way back. You are the master of your life and whatever the prison you have the keys. The Dalai Lama)

I had noticed there were benches every 500 meters or so. I could use them as a way to keep myself going. I’d just go to the next bench. So I went to the next bench and the next bench. I walked for an hour and it was so much easier and the return journey felt like ten minutes!

Even more interesting, this works with projects, Mairead.

Ideas and Projects

| Mairead

(That’s the English Channel out there)

Day 2 here and we are on the high seas (not high at all, in fact very flat thank you, sea) and I want to tell you about the ideas I had when we got home in June. First one had its birth in the Donnybrook Fair cafe just three months earlier. To go off on a tangent again for a moment… somewhere years ago I remember hearing about cafe society in Paris in the late 1800’s. My impression was that the intellectuals and artists came together informally over an espresso and possibly a croissant and had ideas and made plans. Well, as a big fan of the coffee and croissants I was very attracted. Not just for the croissants but the ideas and plans sounded so exciting especially the particular idea of a community of like minded people supporting each other. It was all a little bit intoxicating. So… subliminally at least since about 2012 I must have been attempting to rejuvenate cafe society. Up until the birth of this particular idea in March the only thing I was birthing was more kilos on the hips and by then I was addicted to the croissants.

Anyways, to get back to the cafe and the birth of… let’s call it, selling-my-art. To be honest this idea had birthed many, many times and had died many many times, also. For so many reasons, mainly shame though. For those unaccustomed to attempting to sell their art I need to tell you it’s a lot like taking all your clothes off and running up your town’s busiest street shouting, Look at me! Look at me! Oh and in this scenario you don’t look so good, you haven’t been working out and you forgot to shave. Maybe you’ve experienced something similar in a nightmare? If you have you are familiar with the shame.

(First sighting of France)

I put my clothes back on many times and gave up this idea but it just kept coming back. On that faithful day in Donnybrook Fair back in March a community of two of us decided we’d take off our clothes and run through the streets… together. I can tell you it’s less shameful when you’re running naked through the streets with another human. (Note: no clothes were actually taken off and we didn’t run either.)

By the middle of July I had sold something! To a stranger! The following week my mother bought a print over the Internet. Not my print – I didn’t have any prints and I definitely had no way of selling them over the internet… but it gave me a little nudge.

(There’s a tiny shop on the ship)

You learn a lot taking off your clothes and running around naked and one of the things we learned was that there was a lot more to learn, a lot more to do and unless we took the very first plunge we wouldn’t even have something to sell. So Idea1 back in June was our first plunge – to find a way to produce prints and sell them. The funny thing is that mostly everyone who hears about this wants to help. I have an idea (another one! Told you it was a superpower) that this community will keep developing and grow into… who knows what?!

Idea 2 is different, it involved turning our house into an Airbnb destination while we were wandering Europe in the motorhome. Seems like a good idea, right? But just as I was decluttering like a ninja and wallpaper stripping like a professional the government changed the rules and it’s become a bit more complicated to let a whole house. On the bright side the house looks 100% better than it did! And so does the garden. The wallpaper stripping continues, the garden needs more work and we can’t get into the shed yet so we will need a skip when we get back. Even if we’re not ready for business by the next trip we will have a decluttering house and a colourful garden!

(Don’t like the sound of that immersion suit…?)

And then there was the retreat. The Nurture in Nature Retreat was my friend Linda’s idea. She designed it based on what she would want from a weekend nurturing the spirit. Funny enough designing it was like being in another cafe society – a community supporting each other. Planning it was a lot like going on the retreat.

After I set up the web page to attract a tribe of people who wanted to attend what we were designing and planning I began gathering seeds, pressing flowers, making journals (our craft project) and wondering what I would be able to bring to the table.

(It’s a beautiful day in France)

Linda loves Nature. She and her husband, Paul, designed and built their own garden earlier this year. They love good food, Paul catered the entire weekend and I’m not just saying it – the food was amazing. Linda had attended a retreat some years ago that had a profound effect on her life. She wanted to combine her love of nature, her love of healthy foods and her desire to teach skills that relieve stress and anxiety to others. I was at a bit of a loss what my contribution might be. Linda was convinced the retreat had to take place over three days including a dip in the sea at sun rise! This was two days longer than I though possible to be “on duty” and there was definitely no way I was getting into the Irish sea…

(I love the colour and the angles)

The thing about a community that supports ideas or projects though, is that the energy generated by the community is more than the combined energy of each individual. In the end I had no problem being “on duty” because it didn’t feel like duty it felt like being with friends. My biggest worry that I would forget people’s names was unfounded and I even took my clothes off (I did have my swimming togs on!) and ran screaming into the Irish Sea! I loved it! And the thing I brought to the table? Me, just me and it was enough.

(That’s the captain’s spot hanging over the side up there…)

When I wrote at the end of our trip in June about the little voice in my head that was telling me I never finished anything I was hoping that by sharing it I would somehow silence it. Turns out it can’t be silenced but it doesn’t have to be. Just don’t give it attention. Give your attention to the act of continuing and doing the next thing and taking the next plunge and doing the next project and bringing yourself to the table in a community that supports your ideas and your projects.

Within sight of the French coast, Mairead.

End of the road

| Mairead

(Here’s our entire route from the Rego app…)

Thank you for being with us on the journey, now we’re all back where we started. We’ve been back a week and have managed to do some travelling in Ireland in that time. It’s just as beautiful here as it is in France and Spain and Portugal, by the way. The weather? Not as different as we used to think.

(Listening to a busker at the Rock of Cashel)

Ruby has been emptied, the washing machine has been filled and emptied many times and we are getting used to having extra space, extra power sockets, unlimited electricity, unlimited data and a wild garden. We’ve noticed having a car makes us walk less as does having a washing machine. During our forced stay in Benet I hit my step count just by going over and back to the laundry machines.

(Noticing sunset near Cloyne)

I am, as I decided when we reached the journey ending, at a beginning. It’s up to me to decide what this is, what I want to be telling myself and you for the next few months. Do you think it’s possible to live intentionally with a story you tell yourself? I think we live in stories we tell ourselves all the time, just accidentally. Telling an intentional story would mean choosing what you really want to be, do, feel, think.

(Smiling at the cute postbox in Dungarvan)

Our attitude to the weather is an accidental story we tell ourselves. In Ireland we believe the weather is supposed to be good, we are disappointed when it’s not. We complain about it all the time. What if we believed the weather was supposed to be terrible? On a wet and miserable day we would nod our heads and carry on. But on a day when the sun rose to a cloudless sky (like today) we would be astonished, in awe. We’d still just carry on but we’d notice the beauty… and we’d feel it.

(Remembering Lisbon scooter rental at the bike rental in Dublin)

I am quite nervous about sharing my plans for this beginning because I’m not at all confident that I can successfully complete them, so maybe I shouldn’t even start them. Weirdly, that’s a helpful realization and leads me to the first intention: to notice myself thinking, you never finish anything, you won’t be able to do this and carry on doing what I’m doing anyway.

(Listening to the son making music…)

So here’s my intentional story for the next few months… I will compile the blog posts over these last eighty-something days into an ebook and put it up for sale on Amazon. You never finish anything, you won’t be able to do this. When that’s done I will create a short and simple video course about how to compile your writing into an ebook and sell the course. You never finish anything, you won’t be able to do this. I will get up every day at 6am to get this work done. You never finish anything, you won’t be able to do this. I will incorporate healthy habits, like walking, eating well, practicing mindfulness and noticing beauty. You never finish anything, you won’t be able to do this.

I’m just getting started, Mairead.

And then there were two…

| Mairead

(View from the castle ruins… very familiar)

Two more sleeps until we leave France. I found another lovely place to spend the night. Actually we arrived around 10am so we spent the day here too. I didn’t realize it at the time I was choosing it but this town reminds me of Cashel in Tipperary, where I grew up.

(On top of the rock)

Domfront is a Cité Medieval and is built on a huge rock outcrop on an otherwise flat landscape. And so is Cashel. It was only when I was standing looking over the walls of the old town that I made the connection. The scene in front of me was not unlike the view I knew so well as a child looking over the wall at the Rock of Cashel into the town. There’s a long street in the distance called Friars Street, it runs at a slight incline. It has shops and the church and here was something very similar in Domfront, France.

(Ruins of the castle at Domfront, also familiar)

When I started reading the tourist information stands dotted around the town I realised Domfront is probably as much English as French. Some memory of history class reminded me the kings of England were also kings of northern France. Think of the region of Brittany. Domfront is in Normandy (to the east of Brittany) and the Normans although originally from Scandinavia, invaded England from Normandy. So this place has seen a lot of battles and a lot of blending and mixing of nations. As has Ireland.

(Gateway to the town)

Maybe that’s why this place feels so peaceful. It really does. We both felt very calm as we walked around the old town towards the runs of the castle. But maybe it’s just familiarity. The castle walls are made of grey stone, probably granite, very different from the finish of a Château or the red stone of the walls in Portuguese Silvas. But very like home. The roofs of the houses in the town are topped with slate, most French roofs have red tiles.

(Grey stone, this could be any town in Ireland)

Intentionally choosing this town even without knowing its history or its story reminds me of the time Denis choose to drive to Beja when we needed a garage. Or the time we drove into the motorhome dealer in Benet when we really, really needed a garage. Our brains take in far more information than we are aware of and then they offer it back to us when we seem to need it.

(Higgle-de-Piggledy houses)

It’s not always a given that I listen to the quiet internal voice because it’s hard to believe what’s not in front of my eyes. But the alternative is to work everything out and try to control the results. I would prefer to listen more to that quiet voice because it was right to bring me here. To a familiar place for the first time in a long time.

I love the unusual but maybe I’m getting ready for the familiar, Mairead.

(Domfront: free parking, motorhome facilities behind office of Mairie. Public parking. Best croissants in France!)

My Summer Residence…

| Mairead

(Driving into Chambord)

We drove for hours after we left the policeman in Fontenay-le-Comte through beautiful countryside. The avoid toll roads was on again but this time everything worked out and we arrived at my Château in Chambord. (Not actually my château but for eleven euro I can pretend.)

(This is how close we are to the Château)

It was after five by the time we arrived so we had a quick cup of tea and some emergency long life Portuguese tuna patê on crackers and then off for a walk around the grounds. It was still sunny but not too hot and the French were doing what they do on a warm Saturday afternoon – walking in a royal garden. This garden is full of wildlife, birds swooped and frogs croaked and there were signs telling us about the wild boar. It seemed like our breakdown experience had reset something. The long drive hadn’t managed to tire us and we walked enough to hit our step goals.

(You can walk, boat, cycle and drive golf carts around the grounds of the Château at Chambord)

Next morning I was on a mission… I had been reading old reviews about the motorhome parking at Chambord Château and one of the reviewers was complaining about the early morning noise from the balloons… the hot air balloons. There were balloons? Wouldn’t that be amazing? Years ago I had seen pictures of colorful balloons flying over the countryside in France and the image had stayed with me. I didn’t want to go up in one but I’d love to see them floating over the Château.

(Sunrise at Chambord)

So I set the alarm (my 6am habit had taken a hit in the past week but here was my opportunity to start again) and hoped the rain would keep off. Next morning was cloudy and grey but I was energised. I had no idea, by the way whether there would be any balloons but even if there wasn’t, sunrise would be more than enough. I was half way across the field between the motorhomes and the gardens when I realised there was a big bird about 100 yards away from me stalking something in the grass. A very stork-like bird. Thanks to all my stork sightings I know it wasn’t a stork but I’ve no idea what it was. I couldn’t move in case it flew off but I needn’t have worried he wasn’t going anywhere he was dead still too. Then suddenly he grabbed at whatever he was stalking and swallowed it! That’s another reason he wasn’t a stork, they don’t grab, they’re very dainty.

(Sunrise on a grey day)

There was no sign of a hot air balloon and I realised I was expecting too much, I hadn’t even googled it to see when or where they go up or even if they go up anymore. I could just make out a break in the clouds where the sun was coming through so I went off to get my sunrise pictures. The hour after sunrise and before sunset are called golden hours and I was definitely getting opportunities on this trip to experience what that meant. It’s supposed to be a good time to take photos.

(Wild boar this way…)

There was no one around, I was completely alone taking pictures and wandering around, like I was a… I don’t know, a princess maybe? It does seem to be a theme… just saying. Next thing I hear something, not bird song, more a heavy breathing or wild boar snorting. I looked up, it was coming from above me (probably not wild boar then…?) And there it was… floating way, way up in the sky.

(Can you see the hot air balloon?)

A balloon! Yep, one solitary balloon way, way, way up high. Every now and again I could see the flame igniting to lift it higher, that was the wild boar snorting sound I thought I heard earlier. (Well, it might have been.)

(This was the closest I got to it)

I was so excited. The whole experience lasted only 15 minutes. I’m not sure hot air balloons have much control over their direction but on that morning some gust of wind brought this one in my direction.

And then it floated away, Mairead.

(Château Chambord: €11 parking for 24 hours, Princess experience included but no motorhome facilities except bins.)