Juno Beach

2018 4

(Nell’s Bread Shop)

We’re still here at the beach just beside the Canadian War Museum. The town has two names, first, it’s called Courseulles Sur Mer. It had that name before D-Day in 1944 but it got a code name when the Canadian army were planning to land here during the war. Its code name was Juno Beach. We went to visit the museum this afternoon and of course I was tearing up again. Especially when I saw the list of names scrolling past on the ceiling:

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(Thirteen and a half hours…)

Canada was sparsely populated in 1939 so that’s a big portion of their young people. Then we saw a movie and it’s just as well it was dark. There was a bit at the end with a present day Canadian family walking along the Juno Beach talking about the soldiers who had died here. As they walked along into the distance they were being followed by ghostly images of soldiers walking in their footsteps. With the title rolling up the screen, They walk behind you… severely tear inducing.

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(From the brick factory)

I thought a walk in the town might cheer me up and it did, but wouldn’t you know it I found another museum. Fortunately, it was all in French so I was spared any sadness. It seems they made bricks here with the name of the town on them. There was more lace and a couple of spinning wheels. Afterwards I visited a very sweet looking cafe nearby where I sampled some coffee and met some Frenchmen. I even asked if I could take their picture:

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(They were chatting away and the man on the left picked up the dog so he could be in the shot too)

There seems to be a theme already on this trip… Museums and Frenchmen. Mairead.

Night at the Museum

(Glass shelves filled with porcelain from a famous factory in Bayeux, no longer operational)

We have arrived in France! Our ship docked right on time at 4.15pm, at 5pm we were in the supermarket and back on the road by 6pm. We had planned to stay the night at Isigny sur Mer because it was a great place to stay back in February even though we nearly came to blows over the water being turned off… This time the water was turned on but there was no space to spend the night. That was a bit of a shock, it seems this might be the popular time of the year for motorhomes in France…

(Tools used to make the famous Bayeux lace)

Denis was not dismayed (I was a bit) so we decided to follow our previous advice to ourselves – take the opportunities when they arrive – we filled up with water. There was a moment of hilarity (not for me but for the watching Frenchmen) when I pressed the button and only half the water reached the tank, the rest spraying me in the face. Oh how we (read, they) laughed… but we were friends in the end because one man came over with a spanner and a bunch of connectors and made all the water go into the tank. I thanked him profusely with the water dripping down my glasses. Denis was in search of even a tiny spot for us to park and came back to see the Frenchman and me smiling at each other… so he smiled along too. He’s very trusting.

(I love the way the shadow of the lace fell on the wall panels)

It was nearly 7.30pm and I was hungry and tired, not a good combination – for Denis. There was nothing to do but head for another location and hope for the best. And we did really well. Half an hour later we were pulling into the parking area of a museum in Bayeux with plenty of space. The joy of finding a place cleared my hunger and tiredness so we locked up and took a walk into town. We had only reached the cathedral (very lovely looking building) when the hunger and tiredness returned. We raced (as only people of our levels of fitness can) back to Ruby, made dinner, washed dishes and straight to our lovely comfy bed, our first night back in France.

(Isn’t that just adorable? The antique chairs up hight out of harms way)

Then this morning we visited two very good museums. We took an early visit to the  Bataille de Normandie (100 meters from our parking spot) and saw a concise overview movie of the invasion of Normandy. For some reason that whole episode in history makes me tear up. After that I went to see the MAH-B. It’s an old restored town house with the history of the area told through art. So that includes prehistoric pottery, Roman artefacts, paintings,  lace making and modern porcelain. It was unique in the way it was designed, very simple but with style, very French. Very lovely.

(Very lovely French restaurant opposite the cathedral, Bayeux)

We’ve moved on again tonight and are behind the sand dunes of a Normandy beach. We can hear the waves, an insomniac seagull and we are so close to our neighbour’s motorhome we can hear him snoring.

All is well, Mairead.

Sea Day

(I don’t know where I am…)

We’re on the high seas somewhere between Rosslare in Ireland and Cherbourg in France. Possibly already in the English Channel but can’t be sure. So we’re between places, in transition, not there yet, not started and yet begun.

(Blue is my favorite color, lots on this ship)

It is my joy to know lots of people who are waaay younger than me. I think I like younger people because I never wanted to grow up, to be an adult, to have that haggard oppressed air all adults seemed to have when I was a child. Or it could be that I know how difficult it was for me to make the transition across the space between before-adult and acting-adult, actually I might still be in that space. Or… maybe it’s possibility.

Really young children know possibility. They usually get it knocked out of them when they’ve been in school a couple of years though. But you can re-learn possibility and when you re-learn it you can see it in yourself and in others. It’s a yummy feeling, kinda of sparkly with little pops of joy!

(It’s a bit scary down there…)

I know two waaay younger people who are about to start third level education and I am awash with sparkle and poppy for them! I know their journey might be rocky and messy and scary but it’s also exciting and wonderful and interesting but mainly it’s incredibly beautiful. Because they are incredibly beautiful…

It’s something I learned from standing on the path cheering bus loads of women who had been in Magdalene Laundries… no matter what people say about you, or what you think about yourself, or what you’ve done that seems like a mistake, or what you can’t do that seems like a failure or what you’re afraid you can’t do because you’re not capable, there is at the center of you, an essence, that is pure and white and beautiful and it touches everything you do and all of your journeys.

I wasn’t so sparkly, poppy when it was me… noooo, I was more scared shirtless. I’m sure you’re sick of me telling you I failed third level education, didn’t get the marks, had to leave, no piece of paper, no graduation day. If I had known that failing was just part of my incredibly beautiful journey I might have been kinder, less angry, more patient, less ashamed of myself. It’s very, very difficult to feel sparkly poppy and shame, simultaneously. One kinda pushes the other away and shame is better at pushing.

(The coffee on board may not be great but the cups are an inspiration!)

For today, for me and for you and for those starting new journeys I’m going to give lots of attention to sparkly poppy… because I want it to push stronger.

How about you? Mairead.

On the Road Again!

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(Today I’m at a luxurious secret location having an adventure… Translation: I’m sitting on the bed at the motorway services writing to you)

It has taken us weeks but we finally packed everything into Ruby (the motorhome) and we are on the road to Rosslare and the ferry to France. It depends completely on the weather where we will go after that… warm = stay north, cool = head south. It’s one of the things we like about this way of travelling, no planning required and we can change as we go.

My intention is to blog every day but I have some other things I want to do also. One thing I want to play around with is the idea of publishing a creative workbook – possibly digital so that it can be downloaded. Anyway, all that’s for the future, for now we are parked at the motorway services just twenty minutes from home – you can be having an adventure anywhere! Denis is working and I’m talking to you.

Since the last time I blogged while travelling there’s a new law (GDPR) and I had to be sure to be sure you really, really wanted to get these emails. So if you are getting this by email then you said yes! Thank you! If you’re reading this on Facebook (or someone sent it to you) and you want to get the emails then go to mairead hennessy.com and click (or tap on) the subscribe button. Speaking of Facebook, I used to be able to post automatically there but now it’s a bit more complicated and requires a different page (The Blog) not sure how it will work… If you’re reading this on Facebook, thank you! And could you let me know how you did that! Also, please feel free to share this with anyone you think might be interested.

I know it’s confusing or maybe I’m making it more confusing, apologies! We’ll be moving on soon, the ferry will be leaving at 9pm. This post is scheduled to arrive by email tomorrow morning and in Facebook an hour earlier…

…fingers crossed. Mairead.

Gentle Guide to taking a Journey: Mont Saint Michel

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(Sunset near Mont Saint Michel)

I love Mont Saint Michel, I think you would too. Yes, it’s touristy. Yes, it’s a religious monument. Yes, coffee and a croissant costs more here. But there’s something… something deeply attractive about this place, something worth going out of your way to visit in a gentle way. I once heard a tour guide say the rock part had been there for thousands of years, maybe even a hundred thousand years. That’s an old rock.

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(Mont Saint Michel from 3km away on the bike path near Beauvoir)

We had a long drive from Saint Palais sur Mer on Tuesday morning and we weren’t entirely sure we’d get all the way to Mont Saint Michel. It was hot and we hadn’t started very early and there were road works. But in spite of all that Denis knew I really, really wanted to see it so we kept going. We arrived about five and although we were only 3km away I took off my shoes pulled out a deck chair and had cool drink. Denis stayed in the van and to work. Three hours later we went to get some food, forgetting we were in France. We eventually found a place open and willing to feed us. On the way back we saw the sun set and got a distant glimpse of the Mont.

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(View from the free bus stop at the end of the cycle path)

I thought that was going to be it, we were leaving early next morning and there wouldn’t be time to visit. Next morning came and it turned out we didn’t need to leave early, we really didn’t. We could just about do the drive to Cherbourg, get the work that needed to be done, done and fit everything else in before we sat in a queue for the ferry… if we left at midday. So I set off at nine to walk the 3km. From the moment I saw the little speck of it in the distance I felt it’s draw. There was a mist and I was a long way off but it was unmistakable and I didn’t want to stop until I got there.

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(View on getting off the bus)

Where the land meets the sea, they have built a road and free busses drive along this road all day (and all night if you contact them.) I wanted to try the bus, so I stopped and waited. I had to wait for three busses to pass, they were all full. Each time I wondered if it might be better to walk that last bit but I didn’t, I held out and finally a bus with just enough space stopped and I crushed in with some Canadians.

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(View from just outside the walls)

I was first off and so perfectly placed to take pictures without other people in my shot – the bonus of squashing into a bus. Then I walked through the gates and up the path passed the shops and restaurants. I retraced my steps as I knew I had less than an hour and choose three things to do. I would have loved to write for hours looking out towards the sea or in towards the monuments. I would have loved to sit with a coffee and a croissant feeling the sea breezes.

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(The narrow street)

I would have loved to take pictures from every step and every wall and of every front door. I would have loved to have sent postcards to everyone I know telling them to come visit the Mont Saint Michel. I would have loved to have taken a video of the narrow paths and lanes. I would have loved to have asked the Canadians why they choose to come here. I was free I had one hour and I could do anything but I couldn’t do everything. I choose three things: Coffee. Croissant. Postcard.

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(My view)

First I purchased the postcard. I had stamps from last year. Then I found a cafe that would sell me coffee and croissant. It took three attempts. One was finished breakfast, one had no croissants, one would be open at noon. The fourth had an upstairs with a view out to the sea but there were no seats so I went up to the next floor. My view was of the stone buildings a very long arm’s length away and little birds flying in and out of the window. (With a sign saying: don’t feed the birds, it’s not hygienic.) I wrote some postcards and ate my croissant and drank my coffee.

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(View from inside the walls)

Then it was 11am, time to leave. I walked quickly back down the stairs, along the narrow streets, past the post office, posted the cards, through the gates, along the path to the bus. I was first on the bus this time. I got off at the bike path and turned around to take one final look at the Mont. It was hazy again and small. Then I walked back to the motorhome aire.

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(There’s an angel on top of the cathedral spire)

I would love to tell you: Go visit Mont Saint Michel! If you have a motorhome it’s easy, stay at the motorhome aire in Beauvoir for €12.50 a night. If you don’t… maybe it’s possible to get a cheap Ryanair flight to Beauvais, not take the bus to Paris, but find a bus or train to take you here instead? Maybe you could stay somewhere close by so you can walk each day along by the river to the free bus?

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(Goodbye Mont Saint Michel)

Unfortunately, not everyone can go so instead maybe you would permit me to tell you: Go visit some place lovely! Your favourite forest, cafe, river, park? Walk there or park at the furthest spot and walk from there. Consider what you would love to do. Choose what you could do with the time and resources you have. Then… Do it. Stay in that lovely place until you have to come home… but before you leave take a little look back.

Thank you for joining me on the daily blog, it’s been lovely writing to you xxx Mairead.

Back to normal…

2018 1

(French aire)

We crossed the border into France on Saturday and stayed at a French vineyard that night. We thought it might be nice to do a wine tasting and then stay the night but wine tasting happens on Monday to Wednesday and this was Saturday… We had forgotten the France way of life. Everything has a time, if you want lunch at three… you will be hungry. This is good, we will get back to normal quicker now. We stayed the night anyway and availed of their lovely shower and fine electricity, all for €6.

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(Probably not a great parking space)

Next morning we were on our way to Saint Palais sur Mer to visit our friends. The previous day had been spent on motorways and we were determined to see some green French countryside. And we did, in fact it felt like we had moved location to the 1960’s. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday as we passed through crumbly stone villages and agricultural country – mostly vines but also grain crops, like oats and barley. We drove through a small town called Cadillac and there was an old car rally with ancient Peugeots and Renaults and Citroens. Their drivers dressed up and smiling broadly as the wind whipped what hair they had, in all directions.

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(Fishing (sorry can’t remember what they are called) at Saint Palais sur Mer and in the background the lighthouse)

We arrived at A&J’s house at 3.05pm only five minutes late. Great, almost normal. We unloaded ourselves and our washing and proceeded to wash everything. Aren’t friend’s washing machines great? We went out to dinner that evening by bicycle. There’s a great bicycle path all the way to a great restaurant forty minutes away and I got to use one of their electric bikes. It was fun. Denis had to ride his bike… it was a little rusty from sitting on the back of Ruby in the rain. The brakes were making a strange noise which was very effective in keeping the pedestrians off the cycle path. It was very funny… well, three of us thought it was very funny.

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(Breakfast… before the food arrived)

Next morning we had coffee and a Jaffa cake in bed! It’s what happens in their house and that’s before breakfast. While we were waking slowly and acclimatising, J cycled to the town to queue at the boulangerie! Breakfast was a feast of strawberries and cherries, porridge and muesli, croissants with two different kinds of bread, juice, coffee and tea (mint with milk, strangely.) I did get a picture of the table laid but I couldn’t manage to stop myself eating long enough to get a picture of it filled with food.

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(Secret garden at the arty town)

After breakfast we went to visit a very pretty town (they all seem to be very pretty) Mornac near the marches. Even the car park (grass underneath and trees overhead) was pretty. There were loads of arty shops and galleries and nice things to photograph. That night we walked along by the sea to a different restaurant where we ate mussels and watched the waves.

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(Our mussels restaurant. We had seats at the railing near the corner on the left)

We had a long drive next morning to Mont Saint Michel so we set off early. Nah, we didn’t… we had our coffee and Jaffa cake in bed and J cycled back to the town and we had the big breakfast again… then we set off. It was a lovely re-introduction to normal life. Well, it was if I can get Denis to cycle to Tesco for the fruit and croissants and nice bread and the Jaffa cakes… I suppose we’ll have to make up our own normal.

Thank you A&J for letting us play in your normal xxx Mairead.

Ps Quick guide to going on a journey to Mont Saint Michel, tomorrow.

Just leaving France now…

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(Tourist Office in Palencia)

We’re still on our journey home but only just. As I write we’re sitting in a supermarket car park in Cherbourg, less than twenty minutes from the ferry and almost the last bit of the journey home. We’ll soon be moving over there to get into the queue. Lots of things, nice things have been happening since I last wrote to you. We stayed an extra day in Palencia, which was lovely, but it meant we had to drive longer between sleepovers. I suppose that’s another difference between the outward journey and the return… the consequences.

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(Old stationery shop)

So I got another chance to walk the streets of the old town and I even visited a very old original looking stationery shop. The owner was a young man, maybe it had been his grandfather’s shop. He was chatting to a friend when I came in looking for blank cards (you remember I ran out of them in Portugal?) Neither of them spoke English but they did everything they could to understand me. The friend guided me to a computer behind the counter and brought up Google Translate for me. I typed, I want to make greeting cards, do you have any blank cards? (Maybe I could have been more eloquent or possibly clearer?) Or maybe no one in Spain makes cards or “blank card” means something completely different. Google couldn’t help. The friend was explaining he would go and get someone who speaks English when I decided maybe this is how my stationery addiction ends. I thanked him multiple times and left empty-handed but kinda joyful.

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(Where are we?)

Next day we drove to another city we hadn’t been in previously, Vitoria Gasteiz. The brochure from the tourist office says it holds the sustainable tourism certification Biosphere… and it has 42 square meters of green space per person who lives here! We were only here for one night but I would love to visit again and see some of the seven parks dotted around the city.

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(The tram runs on grass)

They also have a free motorhome parking and it’s very near their tram system, making the journey into the old part of the city easy peasy. The tram line is set in grass which is surprisingly nostalgic. I think there’s something similar in Krakow. Can’t help saying, Aww isn’t that lovely, even to yourself.

2018 9

(Made in Cork!)

I wandered around for hours in the very quiet afternoon and found some Irish pubs. Parts of the city looked like Temple Bar on a sunny Sunday with people sitting outside pubs on the narrow streets. The I found a little cake and coffee shop crying out to me. There were empty tables outside and when I opened the door there was no one inside but the smell was amazing. You remember the smell… you are little, you arrive home from school and there’s a sponge cake baking in the oven?  No? Ok, if your Mammy didn’t bake (my Mammy did – thanks Mammy!) then it’s worth your while finding an easy recipe, bake a sponge cake and give yourself the treat of the smell. You don’t even have to eat it!

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(One of the squares in Vitoria Gasteiz)

There was a cake baking. Eventually a young man in an apron came out of the kitchen, he and his girlfriend love to bake and decorate cakes and they run the shop together and bake. Yes the cake and coffee shop was indeed open. I had green tea and lemon drizzle cake (the sponge was still in the oven.)

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(One of the pieces in the Artium, Vitoria Gasteiz)

I wandered some more and found the Modern Art Museum, Artium. Very interesting with a bonus …the names and description of the art was only in Spanish and Basque. This is a bonus because then you can only enjoy the pieces you like and ignore the pieces you don’t with no need to understand someone else’s interpretation. I’ll tell you about our journey through France tomorrow. In the meantime…

…see you in 17 hours, Ireland! Mairead.

Dog Necklace and Free Wifi

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(Tierra de Campos from a moving motorhome)

Yesterday we travelled through a vast flat landscape, with gently undulating bits for added variety, called Tierra de Campos. The name means Land of Fields and that describes it well. The road we drove on was very good but no places to stop for photographs. I took some from the van but wished I’d washed the windscreen first…

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(See, no space to stop)

After two hours we arrived at the Spanish town of Palencia. We had never heard of it before but there’s a great motorhome parking spot with electricity and wifi, all free, so here we are. The town which is surprisingly beautiful, is a short walk through a park and over an old bridge. I got some pictures there and wrote in my notebook.

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(Main pedestrian street is called Calle Mayor)

The shopping street is full of beautiful buildings interspersed with very old cathedrals, churches and monasteries. There’s a lot to see in a very small space.

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(The old Roman bridge between the park and the town)

We’re getting used to being in a different country. There’s been a few changes… The time zone is different. The language is different. The availability of English speakers has reduced dramatically causing us to dig deep into our Spanish language resources. The love of change instead of banknotes is gone. The ease of using a credit card has increased… detrimentally.

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(Some lovely old shops here)

Another change is the shops close during the middle of the day, they open again around 5pm. So far we haven’t seen a big change in prices, definitely more expensive than Portugal but still way less than Ireland. I don’t know if it’s true of all of Spain but in this town there are a lot of Dad’s taking care of small children. There was an adorably lovely Dad yesterday pushing a small (<12 months) boy in a buggy with another possibly 3 year-old child wandering around him. But what made the Dad adorable was he was holding the little boy’s soother in his mouth. Well, that’s where I used to keep it clean too.

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(Interesting exhibit in the Archaeological museum… not dog hair)

I went to the Archaeological museum too and it was free on certain days and to certain ages and if you are a member of the EU. I seemed to qualify under one of those, the man in the ticket office didn’t have an English, but he decided it was free to me. Full of interesting exhibits including mosaics. They also had an exhibition of the work of art students in the area. The one I cannot forget is a felted necklace made from the artist’s dog’s hair!

Better that than stuck to the cushions I suppose… Mairead.

Last day in Portugal, sniff, sniff

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(There’s a steep walk from the parking)

We found another wall. In the town of Bragança in the north-east corner of Portugal. The town provides free overnight motorhome parking just under the castle walls. Unfortunately, the castle was closed on Monday but I went to see the walls, they’re open all the time.

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(Can you see the road sign? Cars go through this gate in both directions!)

They can’t close the walls because there are houses in there, people are still living within the walls. It reminded me of Carcassonne in southern France. Except for the crowds. And the number of shops. It’s what I wished for in Carcassonne – peace and quiet.

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(This is too high! Too high!)

Remember my new rule about climbing city walls? A railing is required. I forgot. Somehow these walls lulled me into a false sense of security and again I found myself very high up without a railing… I started off at a low section with only four steps – no problem. By the time I was looking down over the houses I was thinking of ringing Denis. Instead I turned around very slowly and kept looking up until I was back where I started on the ground in front of the four steps.

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(The views were nice though)

Later that evening we went to dinner at a restaurant inside the walls. I booked it after I climbed backwards down the four steps. It got great reviews in the parkings app and as this was our last night in Portugal we were celebrating. Or maybe commiserating. Anyway, we arrived at 7.31pm. one minute after opening. There was a young couple already seated (must have been waiting outside) and we waited while the waiter explained the menu to them. Then he came over and directed us to the table right next to them… There was no one else in the restaurant and the four of us were as close as family. The waiter went back to explaining and Denis and I partook of the up and down eyebrow thing you do in such situations.

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(This gate is only one way…)

After the waiter left them they were speaking in one of the languages we don’t speak (i.e. any other language that’s not English) so we wouldn’t be able to understand them and they wouldn’t be able to understand us, grand. The waiter arrived with us and explained the menu and as we were deciding I overheard our neighbour say they were on bicycles. In English. Right so they will understand us… more eyebrows. But hang on.

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(View of new part of town from inside the walls)

I have a secret talent. It turns out that even though I can’t speak another language I am very good at identifying languages. Go me. I identified they were speaking German to each other or it could have been Dutch or maybe Flemish? It didn’t matter this meant they had cycled from Germany (or Holland or Belgium.) I was now more interested in them than I was in Denis so I ignored his eyebrows and the first chance I got I turned my head a little and said, did you say you were travelling by bicycle?

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(The easy bit that tempted me)

That was it. We talked all night, like family – on a good day. The language was German but they both speak English. They’d been travelling 100km a day, by bicycle! They had travelled all over Portugal and then down to Morocco and this was their last day in Portugal too. They’d been to Lisbon and Serpa as well, remember Serpa? She’s a language teacher. When her secondary school teacher told her French was the hardest language she decided to study that first! I can’t remember how many languages she has but it’s her full-time job, well except when they can negotiate holidays like this six-week trip. She explained why I have such difficulty with languages (I’ll tell you later.) He was born in East Germany and was 11 when the wall came down. The biggest impact for him was his heroes from comics and television disappeared overnight to be replaced by our heroes… that made me sad. He also missed their sweets. They were really inspiring and such a gift for our last night. Before we left we all thanked the waiter for seating us together and he nodded knowingly. He’s French, they know stuff.

Oh and the reason I have difficult with languages? It takes time to learn and I give up too soon. Mairead.