story

Living Rich in Ancient France

| Mairead

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(The single-lane stone bridge into Vieille-Brioude)

Stopping for a coffee or for the night in ancient villages and towns is making me feel a little bit overwhelmed. They are so beautiful, they are so weathered, they are so peaceful… and there’s so many of them. They are telling me something. But what are they telling me? No idea… yet. We keep moving on, as we have a plan to be in a big city by next weekend, but I want to take a moment here to listen to a few of these ancient places.

(On the stone bridge)

We stopped in Vieille-Brioude on our way to Massiac (the Village Étape). Something made me tell Denis to follow the signs. We were on a dual carriageway but I spotted the village in the valley below. A single-lane stone bridge led across a river valley. It was about that time I started doubting the detour. All is well, it was sturdy, we survived.

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(Worn down by the years…)

After a peaceful coffee (yes even the coffee has a touch of peace about it) we went for a wander. I took photos of almost every door in the village. They all looked so good, I suppose it helps that the sun was shining but it wasn’t just the sun. Every door seems to tell a story.

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(Briode is 4.1km away from Vieille-Briode)

On Saturday after leaving our spot by the river and visiting Puy de Dôme we travelled to Meymac. Here we were lucky enough to wake up to a market on Sunday morning and a story.

(Jean Gaye-Bordas built this house in Meymac during the good times)

Jean Gaye-Bordas was born in a nearby village in 1826. He had a poor start but that didn’t prevent him from leading a very interesting life. He put Meymac on the map with his slogan, Meymac, prés de Bordeaux, (Meymac, near Bordeaux.) Not exactly a catchy slogan, not accurate either as Meymac is nearly 300km (3 hours by car today) from Bordeaux but the people in the north of France didn’t know that nor did the Belgians. They didn’t care, they were delighted with Jean. On with the story…

(The church in Meymac)

You see, Jean had this great idea, the results of which can be seen in the very impressive houses in the town. He had travelled as a young man to Bordeaux doing anything he could to earn a living. He was illiterate but very smart and noticed everything around him. He spotted opportunities, like when he saw a guy sending wine to a relation in Lille (a city in northern France near the border with Belgium).

(The hotel, notice the telephone notice over the door…)

Jean realised, what no one else did, that wine from the south would be most appreciated up north because even back then Bordeaux wine had a great reputation. His idea – travel to Lille and Belgium and go door to door selling wine from “his vineyard in Meymac near Bordeaux“.

(Center of the old town)

You already know Meymac isn’t near Bordeaux and you can probably guess he didn’t have a vineyard either but he didn’t need one. He sold the promise of wine, before it was produced and then used the advance money the Belgians gave him, to buy from real vineyards in Bordeaux and deliver back up north. He was an entrepreneur. You could even say he invented crowdfunding.

(Even the sheds are cute)

Many others in the village followed his example. A lot even made enough money to buy vineyards in Bordeaux, as did Jean. By the time he died on the 30/12/1900 he was penniless. He had won and lost many fortunes. As you walk around it’s possible to see the results a thriving wine business can have on a community.

(Fortunately, we didn’t try to drive down here)

I really like Jean. I was a bit sorry he didn’t die rich but then I realised he lived rich and that’s probably more fun.

Live rich, Mairead.

General Area…
Meymac on left; Vieille-Brioude on right

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)

Everyday Fearless

| Mairead

(The Book!)

I did it! I finished writing my book about our journey earlier this year to Portugal and I’m really excited. (I’m sick with anxiety too but as that feels very like excitement I’m grand.) Do you remember I was telling you about the book I was going to write and publish on Kindle in a post in June? At the time I was not feeling very confident that I would finish it. I had a story running – on repeat – through my head. The, You never finish anything, story. Well… that story is gone now and I’m really excited!

Actually, my excitement is a bit boundless at the moment so bear with me I’ll make sense in a minute. Maybe if I make a list? Yes, I like lists. Here goes…

(love this bell!)

Things that are making me feel excited

  1. Finishing. I am completely amazed at what a difference it makes to finish a project but I nearly missed this step – the one where I notice I’m finished.
  2. Getting rid of the, You never finish anything, story. Stories are great because they have a message. When we tell stories to children we are telling them a useful message. For example, The Boy Who Cried Wolf – don’t tell lies. Le Loup qui changer de couleur – accept yourself. But sometimes we hang on to a story with a message that is no longer useful. You never finish anything– don’t try something new you’ll be disappointed.
  3. Telling you! You have no idea how lovely it is to have you on this journey with us and in particular on this journey with me. I love writing and it’s way more pleasing to write to someone. Thank you for being that someone.
  4. The name of the book, Everyday Fearless, came to me after a conversation in Dijon with a friend. Sometimes it takes courage to do ordinary everyday stuff. Like ask for help. Or speak in French. Or find your way in a strange town. Or take a picture. Or start a conversation. Or say, I’m sorry. Or make a phone call. Or run screaming, into the sea at Magheramore Beach. Or do anything that would make me look silly or stupid or flawed. Like telling you before I’m ready that I was going to write a book.
  5. Being alive.
  6. Letting go of waiting to be perfect me, I’m ok with just being me. A few years ago during autumn I went for a walk along the driveway to Powerscourt House in Enniskerry, looking for leaves. I wanted the perfect leaves, the ones that looked symmetrical with no spots or cuts. I couldn’t find one. I searched for a long time. None of the leaves were perfect. Maybe perfect is unnatural?
  7. Imagining myself in twenty years time… at 78. I’m in my art studio. It’s an old run down former car mechanic’s garage with old grease stains on the floor and oil blackened benches but very well insulated so it’s warm and cozy. I make art, I practice Everyday Fearless, I share how to be everyday fearless, I write books (my 16th book was a bestseller) There is laughter all around and I am beyond happy.
  8. Everything starts now….

(Magheramore Beach in Co. Wicklow)

So off you go, click or tap anywhere here and have a look at the book that made me realize that feeling sick with anxiety is just another kind of excited! Mairead.

Ps. If that link doesn’t work for you, go to Amazon and search for Everyday Fearless Mairead Hennessy. Thank you!

You think you have problems…

| Mairead

(Princess Margaret of Austria)

We are in the town of Bourg-en-Bresse. We arrived at lunchtime in front of a huge abbey, called The Royal Monastery of Brou. It was commissioned by Princess Margaret of Austria who was from the Netherlands (or at least ruled the Netherlands for a time) in 1506.

(I love the cloisters)

She had a tough life. When she was little her mother died. Then her father promised her to a future king and she had to go live in Amboise to become trained for her new role. She was only 8. She was great friends with her fiancé until they were both 17 and he broke it off with her to marry a different princess. She was very hurt. But her father found her another king (can’t remember where he was from) and they got married. Unfortunately, he died.

(Can you see the fancy tile mosaic on the roof of the church?)

Margaret didn’t throw in the towel yet, no she found, or maybe it was her father who found, another suitor. Philibert the Handsome. He was very handsome. They were both very much in love. She was 24 when he died… can it get any worse?

(It started raining while I was inside)

She decided not to get married again. Then her brother died. She was given the job of ruling the Netherlands which she did very well. She was very rich and she decided to become a patron of the arts and started work on the Monastery. She had a plan for spending the rest of her life here with the tomb of her Philibert.

(Tomb of Philibert the Handsome…)

She hired master builder, Louis van Boghem from Brussels who in turn hired Flemish skilled stone masons and wood carvers. It was nearly finished when she died. Yes Princess Margaret died before she even set foot in her creation. She was fifty years of age.

(…and just a few feet away, the tomb of Princess Margaret of Austria)

She’s here now, though, in a tomb in the church with her husband (the handsome one) and her mother-in-law (who gave her the idea for building.)

Things could be worse, Mairead.

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.

Lazy Sunday

| Mairead

(There was a bug hotel next door to the car park)

It’s Sunday… and we finally have nothing to do! But first let me bring you up to date. We travelled yesterday for most of the day to the banks of the Canal D’Orleans via the city of Chartres. It was hot. Over thirty degrees by the afternoon.

(You might be just able to make out Chartres Cathedral in the distance?)

We left our overnight spot at the town of Cambremer in the morning and headed for Chartres, famous for it’s cathedral. Also famous for it’s blue glass and a crypt and a steeple (two actually) with steps up to the top! We had our lunch in the car park just thirty minutes walk from the cathedral and changed into hot weather clothes. I got out the sun cream and the water bottles and… and we decided to get back on the road.

This is one of the reasons why I love Ireland, more than I used to, just because we travel. If someone had paid me a thousand euros yesterday I could not have walked for 30 minutes in that heat. Even though I really, really wanted to see the ancient glass – no one has been able to make the same colour glass despite modern technology. I really wanted to visit the crypt – probably nice and cool down there. And I really wanted to climb the tower – maybe not the climb bit but definitely the looking around at the top bit. It’s never too hot in Ireland to walk for thirty minutes. We turned up the air conditioning and drove on.

(Nightfall in Vitry-au-Loges)

Vitry-au-Loges is a small but perfectly delicious town on the banks of the Canal d’Orleans. We arrived at about four in the afternoon and closed all the shutters to keep our little home cool. It did not work. I went out to the bench beside the canal to find somewhere cooler to write to you. It was not. Then I completely forgot to take any pictures. The heat makes me forget stuff. Sorry… there’s one in the darkness but it’s just not the same.

Denis cooked dinner, my mother-in-law rang and I hadn’t the heart to tell her I’d like some of the “terrible weather” she was experiencing in Cork. We went for a walk and I accidentally took the only picture of that lovely town. By morning it was overcast (thank you clouds) and cooler. We emptied the cassette (not the musical kind) filled and emptied the water tanks and set off for the day.

(The church in Gron)

Then we had nothing to do! For some reason long forgotten we had picked our next parking spot just 90 minutes down the road. And here we are in Gron. We parked and went for a walk and happened upon the combined butcher/delicatessen/mini-market. We like to give business to the small shops in the towns we visit especially when we get to stay for free, so we decided to buy their dish of the day. A very appetising sounding lamb stew.

(Walking path to the town)

The butcher welcomed us and called out to his wife (I’m assuming it was his wife but I really have no idea) who came out to serve us. By now the smell of the stew was mouthwatering. She soon realised we were not in fact native speakers and went back inside… to get her dictionary! This is the very first time we have ever had this experience in France. This is a great day. I will remember this day. This day could mean I no longer have to butcher (pun intended) the French language. This lovely lady could be the new wave of French people being happy to butcher English. We could all communicate in a version of English French English. It could work. We might lose our fear of getting the grammar or pronunciation wrong and just connect. Our gestures and eyes and mixed up words could do all the work. I am very excited.

(Our dinner!)

When she had finished looking up the dictionary she was able to explain that the lamb stew was over. Over? Gone. Finished. The lovely smell was their dinner. If only the whole new wave of communication had started last year they might have realised we were falling in love with their dinner and invited us to share it but no. Maybe next year. We bought a ham, cheese, egg and cream tart instead though so now we have our own dinner.

(My snood-in-progress)

Sunday afternoon, day 3 in France, it’s raining outside (oh happy day!) and we finally have nothing to do. And we do what we remember our families did on a Sunday afternoon in Ireland in the 60’s… We turned on the radio (kinda, it’s Seth Godin reading his book Tribes on the Audible app) while Dad read the newspaper (sort of, Denis is playing Zelda on his Nintendo switch) and Mammy knits a jumper (almost, I’m crocheting a snood – it’s like a scarf.)

Wouldn’t it be interesting to think that in fifty years from now people will still choose to sit together listening or making or playing games on Sunday afternoons when they have nothing to do?

From gloriously rainy France, Mairead.

(That’s Gron in the blue circle)

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.

The Ceramists of Silves

| Mairead

(The studio)

As I was walking up to the castle in Silves I passed a door with a sign saying… Cerimeca. Ceramics! Of course I had to go in.

(Aren’t they gorgeous?)

Inside the dark interior there was a lady painting tiles. I nodded, Bom Dia and went to look at some buttons. They had buttons!After I had chosen and was paying a voice from the back said, you have chosen my work, I made those. Deeper inside the shadows there was a man, a very happy man, working on glazing some more of his work. I asked for a photo. He was happy to oblige.

(Happy man)

He was not happy with my photo though, so I took another. The second one was better. This man knew what he liked, he also knew what he loved. It showed on his face and in the way he spoke, he loved making ceramics and fortunately he loved explaining his work to me.

(His glaze collection)

He reminded me of a story I once heard. Once upon a time there was a shoemaker living in a small village. Every day he created shoes from his own designs. And every day the people of the village brought their old shoes to him for mending. No one liked his shoes.

(Beads after first fire, before glaze)

After years of this he was completely discouraged. Now, there was a wise woman living in the village and one day she visited him. She said, People may not like what you make, it doesn’t matter if no one likes it but if you like it you have to make it. The shoemaker didn’t really like what he heard but he liked the wise woman so he continued to work away on his shoes.

(After glazing)

Then one day, a stranger came to town. The stranger had a hole in her shoe and she asked around the village for the way to the shoemaker. She was in pain when she arrived and she sat outside his shop to take her shoe off and to rub at the pain in her sole. That’s when she heard the shoemaker whistling. It cheered her up instantly and she rose up to go into his shop. That’s when she saw all the shoes in his window. The most unusual shoes she had ever seen. The colours. The mix of fabric and leather. The buttons (of course he used buttons.) The laces. The variety alone was mesmerizing.

(More work cooling in the kiln)

From inside the shop the shoemaker could hear the young stranger’s gasps and sighs and wows! He stopped working to find out what was wrong.

Wrong? Nothing’s wrong! These are the most beautiful shoes in the kingdom! Please say you have my size!

(His wife is also a ceramicist)

A teeny tiny smile played on the shoemaker’s lips, you like my shoes? She gawped at him. You made these? The smile spread across his face, yes I did would you like to try them on?

(Work in progress – the hopeful fish)

For the rest of the afternoon the shoemaker and the stranger talked shoes. She tried on all his shoes and had many questions which he answered happily, delighted to talk about his work. The stranger stayed for dinner and that night moved in with the wise woman (she had an AirBnB). Every day for a year they worked on building a website to find other people who loved the shoemaker’s shoes. Of course you know the ending… everyone lived happily ever after…. except for that time when the website crashed because it was so popular and the other time when they couldn’t sleep with the stress but mostly they were happy.

(The process)

If you like something that someone else has created you might be the only person in the whole world who likes it. So don’t miss the opportunity to tell them.

Go on be that person, tell them. Mairead.

(Silves: €6 per night, parking, WiFi and water. Hot shower, 50 cent. No toilets. Supermarket 5 minutes walk, castle 20 minutes walk. Park with cafe, toilets, swimming pool, playground, tourist office 10 minutes walk. Loads of restaurants and cafes in the town.)

Off to the Beach

| Mairead

(Nice flowers in the dunes)

One of the great things about Portugal is that no matter how hot it gets there’s always (almost always) a breeze near the coast. So when it got really hot by the river we moved to a beach.

(Not a lot of shade)

The beach was Santo André and it’s just north of the city of Sines. There are board walks, a cafe and a restaurant and lots of sand. We went for a couple of walks on the sand and along the boardwalk but the main attraction for us is the breeze and they have great breeze here.

(Can you feel the breeze?)

My band of comfortable temperatures does surprise me every time I hit up against it. It’s very narrow. For instance, at 10 degrees I think I’m freezing to death and at 25 degrees I think I’m roasting to death. Outside that band I stop making rational decisions. When the temperature hit 30 degrees in Alcacér do Sal the only thing I could think of to help was to go to bed.. inside the van… where the temperature was higher. Funny enough that’s also my answer when the temperature falls below 2 degrees.

(The boardwalk)

Meanwhile there are people out jogging, riding bikes, playing boules, lying in the sun. How do they do that? One of my favourite fairy tales when I was little was The Princess and the Pea. In case you don’t know the story… the Princess went to visit another kingdom and to make sure she was really the princess they did a bit of a test. They put a pea under her matress. Next morning they asked how she slept, she replied she was a little uncomfortable. Next night they gave her a second matress but the pea was still underneath. When they asked her next morning how she slept she said she was grand but the matress was still a little uncomfortable. They kept adding mattresses until she almost touched the ceiling and they were convinced she must definitely be a Princess if she could still feel the pea under so many mattresses.

I don’t want to blow my own trumpet but I’m obviously a Princess, Mairead.

(There’s Santo André. Free parking, toilets open when cafe open, free water, loads of breeze)