Boats and cousins

Yesterday we had another glorious afternoon. I had to go to the train station to book my ticket to Cherbourg to catch the ferry to Ireland.

Now, I'm here in Saint Malo, not only enjoying this wonderful place, but also visiting my auntie - who is 91 and my cousins. They are all sailors and love going out on the sea as often as possible. Yesterday was opportunity knocking! The eldest of the 4 boys and his lovely wife took me out for a quick spin in their motor boat. Although the sea was relatively calm we did catch some air! I can understand their obsession of being on the sea.

That night we had a great meal together telling stories, drinking wine and eating a fine meal. Ahhh this is the life!

Dinard

I'm slowly getting used to the pace of life here in France. Lunch is a very important part of the day and must not be ignored. Often actvities are broken up between morning and afternoon with a good 2-3 hours in the middle dedicated to preparing, eating, and perhaps a little rest after lunch. But it's summer so the days are long - no worries!

The first few days were a little drizzly and overcast. The sun usually making an appearance at about 2pm (see even the sun respects lunch). The times when the sun is out are absolutely magnificent; clear blue skies, the water twinkling; long stretches of beach....ahhh! Oh in answer to your question - no I haven't gone swimming. Are you mad??? The water temperature did go up yesterday to a whopping 15 degrees. I think I shall continue to just enjoy it's beauty from afar.

After lunch on Wednesday I went into Saint Malo intra muros (within the walls - although it started as a fortified town it has out grown it's walls as you can well imagine), my cousin had suggested that I take the ferry bus across the bay to Dinard - another small town. It only takes 10 minutes to cross and you get a fabulous view of the great walls of Saint Malo.

Dinard was first settled by wealthy shipping merchants. They built stately homes (read mansions) overlooking the harbour. This coastline is refered to as the emerald coast because it is sheltered from the weather and so has quite a mild climate.

It is a very popular spot for the British and indeed many of the wonderful houses there are owned by English nationals.

I was lucky enough to have a glorious sunny afternoon and I enjoyed the stroll into the small town and along the beach and coastline.

Mont Saint Michel

The Mont Saint Michel is  tidal island on the border of Brittany and Normandy.

The tides are massive in this area and can go out up to 14 km from shore. You'd think that you would be able to see it coming back from a mile away, but every year it claims a few lives. Victor Hugo was quoted as saying that the tides here come in like a galloping horse. The tides aren't the only danger here either...there are quick sands to watch out for too. The sand becomes so engorged with water that, although it still looks solid, it can not bear any weight. So it just sucks you in and the more you struggle the faster you go down. What a terrifying death!



The Cloister



On the island is a abby that has taken hundreds of years to complete. Legend has it that the Archangel Michael appeared to Bishop Aubert in 709 and ordered him to build a church on the island. Aubert finally got around to it and so it all started with 2 small buildings.

Over the years it slowly grew until in the 11th century Italian architect Volpiano was commisioned to build something big. He designed a massive Romanesque church and abbey complete with underground crypts and chapels to underpin the massive structure.

In 1204 part of it was burned during a battle and then rebuilt in classic gothis style. A refectory and cloister were also added at this time.



Throught the years, a town also began growing on this small island. The place has the narrow cobbled streets and the tall crowded buildings of a medieval town. Although today there are only gift shops, restaurants and hotels, after wandering the narrow alleys, climbing the steep stairs and discovering the hidden gardens, it becomes easy to fall under the spell of this place beyond the tourist trappings. I can understand why millions come here every year.

During the French Revolution this place of peace and harmony was used as a prison for enemies of the king. One such prisoner was later freed and became mayor of Paris.





The green patch on the left is part of the salt plain



Over the years and tides, silt has deposited along the shore, creating salt plains that are now used for grazing sheep at low tide. Because of this the shoreline has slowly been creeping closer to the Mont Saint Michel: 20 hectares a year they reckon. Man has also played a large part in this by building a causeway in 1918 to facilitate visitors and pilgrims to the site. In later years big parking lots were added. If left unchecked these changes will mean that the Mont Saint Michel will become part of the mainland by 2025.  So, in 2006 they decided to rectify the situation. There are currently massive works going on; the building of a bridge and a dam, as well as the removal of the causeway and parking lots. The dams will slow the waters coming in and in theory this will help slow the silt deposits right down.



Archangel Michael slaying the dragon -
this statue in bronze tops the catheral



Now, this being France, it wouldn't be right if there wasn't a strike right? Well the workers that administer the Mont Saint Michel Abbey were on strike. They were protesting that it costs too much to park, takes too long to get here with the free shuttle service from the expensive parking lots and that the tourists have too far to walk from the place that the shuttle bus drops you off (this will get closer as the bridge they're building is completed).

All of the construction that is going on to preserve this UNESCO world heritage site is scheduled to be completed by 2016...it's sad that people can't wait a few years to see the results.

We are experiencing technical difficulties....

MADE IT!

That last flight from Hong Kong to Paris was brutal. It was an older plane and the seats were hard as rock and very narrow. To boot, I got stuck with a seat right at the back where the galley was and the light was never truned off. I tried any number if contortionist positions but I had great difficulty getting any sleep. I did however have great food! I had asked for strict vegetarian Indian food (Jair) - it was bloody brilliant!
It was a long and gruelling journey, but I finally made it to St.Malo; birth place of my mom.

This is a very old fortified city, founded in the sixth centry, although it's first rampart wasn't built until the 12th century. During the 18th centry it became a hub of piracy and privateers - basically a pirate who has permission from the king to destroy enemy ships... a lucative endeavour back in the day! They also exacted tributes from mechant ships who wanted to do business in this busy port.




It was also the home of Jacques Cartier, who my Canadian compatriots will know as, the dude who in 1534 "discovered" Canada...I'm sure the First Nations have a wildly different view.

I'll jump ahead to August 1944 when the city was pretty much gutted (80% gone) leaving only the ramparts intact.

I shall let you know more as I learn more. 







 

I am currently experiencing technical difficulties with my phone, so my best laid plans are laid to waste! I will try to get it all fixed, but in the mean time I'm back in the internet cafes...and I gotta say that there aren't many of those around here.

Tomorrow I plan to visit the Mont St. Michel a very well known tidal island with strategic fortifications.

Stage 1

Arrival at Sydney airport: complete

Many thanks to Shelley who was kind enough to wake up early on a Sunday and drive me to the bus station.

Half an hour before my flight boards. I have bought the ear plugs. I am ready for stage two...

Two more sleeps....

I'm off again on Sunday and this time I'm off to France and Ireland.

The journey begins, as it usually does, with Murray's bus to Sydney: 3 hours
Then off I go into the wild blue yonder to Hong Kong: 9.5 hours
After 3 hours of "rest" I get back on and head to gay Paris: 13 hours
I'm lucky I land at CDG 'coz from there I can catch my train to St.Malo: 4 hours

That's almost 30 hours in transit...I hope my cousin, whom I haven't seen in close to 30 years doesn't run from the station when he sees the state of me.

I'm bringing only the same carry on bag as the last time, but this time I'm bringing my phone. I'm going to see if I can use it to write this blog...should be an interesting experiment. I'm not wholly mad however and I will be bringing a small portable keyboard along.

Watch this space!

Taking the long way home

I arrive at the airport at 4. The flight isn't until 7:30. The baggage check counter isn't open yet, so I sit around and wait. When the counter opens up 30 minutes later, I get up to wait in line - I show the lady my ticket and passport, but she wants something else. I can't understand what she's trying to tell me. She asks me what country I'm from and which country I'm currently living in. I finally understand that she's talking about: a departure tax (someone had told me about it at the hostal). She tells me to go somewhere to pay the tax. I showed her my plane ticket receipt which states that I had already paid the tax. She tells me that I still had to go to a separate counter to get piece of paper saying I am exempt. Sigh...I hate bureaucracy.

Once I'm free of my bags, I can now seriously spend my time walking around aimlessly for the next two and a half hours.


The flight to Lima is 4 hours long and uneventful. I tried to sleep, but didn't manage to - I was quite excited to go home.

Once in Lima, I have just enough time to get my bearings and head to the next departure gate. The departure gate is on the ground floor, which means that we will be loaded onto one of those "airplane buses" that drive you across the tarmac to bring you to the plane.  I sit and wait - there's some sort of delay. They've loaded a group of people (the "important" ones - and the ones from rows 18-25) onto the bus, but it's not going anywhere. Time ticks by. I don't know why this bugs me so much - I'm really in no hurry, in fact waiting here or waiting later in Buenos Aires is much of a muchness. Maybe I'm just tired and irritable, but the fact that they couldn't stay on schedule - or tell us why they were'nt going to be on schedule really got my ire up. The people around me started to annoy me - that guy stretched out over 4 seats catching 40 winks, who did he think he was?? And that girl with the high pitched laugh, I wanted to slap her. I began visualising their heads exploding...Boy, I was really tired! (We did eventually find out what the hold up was, the plane was late coming in from LA.) 

We eventually get on the plane and off we go to Buenos Aires - another 4 or so hour flight...and again I can't manage to get any sleep.

When I get off the plane in Buenos Aires it's 7 am local time. I need to go to the baggage claim to pick up my bag and wait until 1:30pm for my flight to Sydney.  But before the baggage claim...is customs. Argentina has a reciprocal visa fee that they charge to countries that charge their citizens a visa fee. I guess Canada charges a fee to visiting Argentinians because when I get to the counter they tell me I need to pay $75. Now, I started off in Argentina, so I've already paid $75, but it was a one-time entry visa (I needed to pay $150 for multiple entries). I tell the cutoms lady that I'm only in Argentina for a few hours, and I show her my plane ticket to Sydney. She pauses and then gets up to see her supervisor. When she comes back she tells me that if I have to pass the customs booths I have to pay the $75. So, in a nutshell, in order to pick up my bag, which I will soon put back on a plane, I have to pay $75. I tell her that it's ridiculous (imagine her head exploding) and pay the $75. Now, I'm not only tired and irritable; I'm also pissed off and indignant....I'm also starving.

I did get a little something on the plane which simulated a meager breakfast, but my body was on dinner time. I wanted something substantial...A steak or something. I angrily wheeled my trolley out towards the smiling faces of wating family memebers and loved ones...all their heads exploded too. I needed food - stat!

As I wheel my bags through the airport, desperate in a attempt to forage some semblance of a decent dinner at 8 in the morning, I am stimied at every food venue because one can't bring trolleys of bags inside to place an order - catch 22, I can't check my bags for another 2 hours. After walking up and down the length of the termial twice I come to the realisation that there is no way I'm getting any hot, substantial meal or on the off chance I do manage to place an order somewhere - there's no where to sit! People (who've already checked their bags) are enjoying their leisurely breakfasts - chatting; laughing; looking longingly into eachother's eyes...I'm sickened by the whole thing and I visualise them all being vaporised so that I can cook my own damn meal.

Finally, I settle on a couple of ladies who've clearly finished whatever they had ordered and are just sitting there talking, their table is right on the promenade of the terminal so technically my trolley would not be IN the restaurant. Now, as you all know I'm generally a mild-mannered person (ok, when it comes to strangers I'm mild-mannered...shut up or I'll vaporise you when next we meet...) but I was tired, hungry, sweaty, and extremely cranky. I wheeled my trolley next to them and stood there. I passively-aggressively stared at their table and sighed. And stood. And looked. And shifted my weight from foot to foot. And sighed. And looked. It took them 10 minutes to take the hint.

Vindicated with my oh-so-small win I sat down and looked at the paltry offerings on the menu. I had to settle for an extremely over-priced ham sandwich and an orange juice. Hey, you take what you can get.

I felt moderately better afterwards, but very, very tired. I wheeled my trolley to my departure date and tried to fall asleep on by bags. Fail. Too many people, too much noise...I ended up drafting this post.

I did finally ditch the bags; got on the plane; and blissfully slept for most of the flight.

Home again, home again jiggetey-jig