Normandy: tapestry and cliffs

Somehow we'd been led to believe that the Bayeux Tapestry is indeed a tapestry. It's not. It's an enormous, historically significant, piece of embroidery. See it by all means and, unlike Andrew, remember that you can press pause on your audioguide and thereby not be raced around by the flocks of sheeple.
The Alabaster Cliffs are something altogether different. A walk along these beauties (take a hat and/or umbrella, as there's absolutely no cover for miles) affords spectacular views of the cliffs and various eyecatching rock formations that have broken away - or that soon will - from the cliffs over the years.
Etretat is at the business end of the cliffs and its business is tourists. The best thing about Etretat for us was the view from the beach towards sundown: very beautiful, and much quieter than daytime when (rocky) beachgoers throng about. No point trying to describe this though; the pictures can speak for themselves.

Leapin' lemurs

Apart from cats, can there be a more cute and engaging animal than a lemur? Deb and Charlie had worded us up on an animal park at La Bourbansais (Brittany) with a memorable lemur enclosure. Naturally we had to check it out.

We're accustomed to zoos where animals are fenced-off, or behind solid windows. Not the case in France - or at least not the case here. The friendly lemurs cavorted before our entranced gazes, and even got close enough to explore Andrew's bag (twice!) for treats....of which there were none.

Brittany coastlines

Although Brittany is beautiful throughout, it's the coastline that is most spectacular and also varied. It has to be declared outright that the variance includes many megaliths (menhirs, dolmens and so on) that, while mysterious, can start to look like large rocks if you've seen too many. For some the limit is reached sooner than others....


The south coast boasts Carnac, famous for fields of (comparatively small) standing stones arranged in lines that look to be, but aren't quite, straight. Sadly at this time of year you can't simply roam through them at will, but can only be shepherded through in groups with other sheeple. Doesn't do a lot for introspective daydreaming.

Nearby, however, is a much more sparsely populated trail that tracks through and around woods in the area. The trail visits multi-chambered dolmens (which we didn't realise exist), imposingly vast menhirs and flyspeck settlements. Highly recommended for the megalith enthusiast which, as was becoming evident, was more an Andrew than a Tracey thing.

Seafood continued to impress, with a notable highlight being oysters and mussels at a place called "L'Escale" in Locmariaquer. Fabulous quality and a seat next to the seawall, watching as the ebbing tide revealed the beds upon which our oysters had been reared.
Further along to the west is the Crozon Peninsula, in the region called Finisterre ("end of the earth"). Seacliffs look out and down onto the Atlantic, where you can sit and ponder what it would have been like in years past to have sat in the same spot believing that there was no more world beyond you. Fortunately the sun was out in force, so both ocean and cliffs looked amazing. A walk along the cliffs, from Goulien beach to Lost-Marc'h is absolutely worth it.

We stayed in the picturesque canal village of Port Launay. Right nearby is the town of Camaret-sur-mer, on the outskirts of which is a small patch of menhirs. You have to wonder why people went to such lengths to raise the stones, while at the same time guessing that food must have been abundant to be able to devote time to the stones.

Heading to the northern coastline you'll find it far more populated (often by the British) and less rugged but no less beautiful.  St Malo is a lovely walled city that sits out on a point surrounded by masted yachts and small (but crowded) beaches with brilliant blue green water dotted by outcrops of small stony islands.

As you drive through the mostly flat northern Brittany coast even from afar you can glimpse the majestic Mont St Michel, a monastery and medieval village that sits on a rocky outcrop.  Its only access during high tide is a narrow man-made causeway.  During low tide, you can walk hundreds of metres out across the sandy flats. One evening we took a little pique-nique out to the polders west of the Mont and enjoyed a memorable sunset, with the occasional rabbit and fox.


Along the motorways of France there are many pictured signs that highlight tourist points of interest in the area.  One of these signs was for Cancale, its image included oyster...naturally (put intended) we had to visit. We found our way the the port area and with wide eyes, like kids in a candy store, we discovered the "Huites Marche", the oyster markets. This was immensely exciting for us - oysters shucked on the spot, ready to be savoured overlooking a growing midden of shells. What future historians will make of the pile remains to be seen!

A medieval festival to celebrate Bastille Day

Josselin is a charming medieval village in inland Brittany. We had almost included it in our boating agenda, so felt we needed to check out the wonderful castle. Rather quirkily (we thought), Josselin chooses Bastille Day to hold a medieval festival. About 1500 people get kitted out in period costumes, the town is decked out with flags and whatnot, whole pigs roast on spits, mounted nobles clip-clop their way through the streets, mummers and players entertain the crowds (a bit tricky, this part, if your French isn't up to scratch), archers representing local towns compete, and so on.

This can all sound a bit squirmingly like Sovereign Hill, but the reality is less cutesy than it might sound. The fact that there's a genuine medieval village in which it all takes place, with the backdrop of a castle, helps enormously - as does the effort that the entire town puts into getting into the spirit of the day.

The day finishes with a magnificent fireworks display along the river near the castle.

Crossing the Loire into Brittany -

On our way to Brittany we stayed for a night of decadence at Chateau La Flocilliere.  We were lucky enough to get an upgrade to a suite.  This was the kind of chateau we'd generally be happy just to see a tourist attraction, getting a chance to stay there was fabulous.    Extensive gardens for an evening stroll, plush dressing gowns, antique furniture, even breakfast with the viscount and viscountess.  Unfortunately not a lifestyle we'll be able to become accustomed to.

Continuing on into Brittany we stopped at Nantes, which appears to be attempting to substantially reinvent itself now that its glory era of docks and shipbuilding is well and truly at an end. Probably just as well, as the newer bits are far more attractive than the untouched older parts. In an old shipping warehouse we discovered the magical word of  "Les Machines de l'Ile".  This place has to be seen to be believed.  It's full of hand maneuvered machines for which the only purpose is intrigue, beauty and fascination. Think a steampunk version of Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang and you're partway there.  The first machine we see is The Great Elephant who sits (though not for long) at the entrance.  The elephant is literally larger than life, standing at 12 metres tall.  The photos will describe it better than we possibly can but it walks around the outside of the building, occasionally spraying children with its swaying trunk.

The designers vivid imagination take inspiration mostly from the sea and sky including a dragon, fish, squid, turtle.  You also get an opportunity to look over the vast workshop with there new masterpieces in progress.

Nantes was also a very welcome return to seafood. While inland we'd denied ourselves, reasoning that the best and freshest is by the coast. We were not to be disappointed. There's an old brasserie named "La Cigale" that's an institution in the town: wonderful deco/belle-epoque decor......and the most outstanding (yes, really outstanding) seafood. We took the plunge, were introduced to our homard (Brittany lobster) and were treated to superb oysters, marvellous bulots (spiral-shaped molluscs) and so on. Definitely on our recommended list!

Loire-de-dah

The fabled Loire valley is full of gorgeous chateaux that are the legacy of some very very rich people, most of whom got their come-uppance during the French Revolution. We headed for the west end (we plan to get to the east end in a month or so).

These are some seriously impressive piles indeed. Whether your taste runs to wet moats (Plessis-Bourre), classic gardens (Villandry) or fortified castles (such as Anjou, with a remarkable mix of coloured stone in it's pepperpot towers) it's all there. Tracey was in a very happy place, as pretty after pretty popped into view.

Loire wines also get a guernsey, with the cremant de Loire a particular favorite. As we'd found in Burgundy, great sparkling wine doesn't have to originate in Champagne. Try the Gratien & Meyer winery near Saumur: great wines and an unforgettable host (Dennis) of the most flamboyant stripe.

It's sadly difficult to talk up Loire cuisine, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, and very favourably, we stayed at a place (Les Peupliers) where dinner was prepared and served every night by the owner/chef Mike. Secondly, lunches failed to deliver. A Thai  meal (yes we know, wrong place - but we were thwarted by our preferred choice being closed for a wedding) where we asked for extra chilli resulted in a bottle of Tabasco; Tours turned out to be a grim, dirty old town that was visibly suffering the effects of a Saturday night. Food options were clearly of the tourist trap variety, and the bowls of pasta that we settled for were indicative of why we just normally don't. Bottom line: don't tour in Tours, and don't bother eating out in the western Loire Valley.

Poitou Charente - "the Green Venice"

Coming down from the mountains, it didn't take take long to be back  in heat and humidity.  This time, our next stop was Coulon in Poitou-Charente....where you might say... Poitou-Charente is one of the lesser known regions of France on the central west coast.  The part we were headed for is called the Marais Poitevin, also known as the Green Venice due to the many winding canals that have been built through reclaimed land that was previously swamp (sounds romantics doesn't it).  It was beautiful.
We hired a double canoe for 1/2 a day.  As is frequently the case with our travels we found ourselves lost in the first 10 minutes.  There are main canals that you are supposed to stick to.   The first canals we found ourselves in became rapidly thinner and surrounded by blackberry brambles and the occasional float dead critter (we believe they may have included otters and beavers but didn't look too closely...didn't we tell you it was romantic).
We did see quite a few critters along the way, mostly they slunk into the water ahead of us.  We couldn't tell whether they were otters or beavers....we'll just call them botters.  We did get up close and personal to beaver during lunch though: they make a tasty beaver rillette (like a pate)...we'll refrain from making any jokes about "eating beaver" ;-)
The advantage to being down at water level in our canoe was that when a curious swan decided to scope us out we got totally eye-to-eye....these creatures are so graceful and it was a treat to be considered so unthreatening by it.
Food didn't go unexamined, of course. As well as the beaver rilletes we discoverd a drink called pineau, which is made from mixing cognac and unfermented grape juice and aging in a cask for 5 our more years. Very approachable as an aperitif (only about 15% alc/vol). We also sampled our first carpaccio of St Jacques (scallops) and were immediate fans.

"On the top of the world looking down on creation": Pic du Midi (the Pyrenees)

On our way back to France from Spain, we headed into the Pyrenees mountains to stay at an Observatory for the night.  We had to park Pierre (no longer Pedro as he had been in Spain) at a base town, where we then rode yet another form of transport in the form of a cable car.  This took us up above the cloud line at 3000 metres altitude.  The observatory's main selling point is the amazing views and the spectacular sunset and sunrises.  Worth noting that sunset is approximately 11pm and sunrise at 5:30am...and how little sleep that would mean if you actually wanted to see both.....we marginally opened the blind in our room around 5am then went back to sleep ;-)...the sunset was certainly memorable.  The food and accommodation (usually the scientists' quarters) were less memorable - but worth it for the view.
Pic du Midi isn't on the highest point of the Pyrenees, but in the immediate area it dominates the surrounding peak affording a panorama of exceptional drama and beauty. As the fog/cloud rushed into the valleys below it became like looking down on an archipelago floating in a misty sea. Not to be missed.   After a few weeks of high humidity and temperatures in the mid 30s, we really did appreciated the cool winds blowing through the snow peaks.

Land of tapas, paella and sangria (una semana en Espagne)

We couldn't have found somewhere more different from where we've spend our last month in Najac.  Najac is a small French village, not many people or cars, the main diet consisting of bread, duck and cheese.  It was also frequently quite cool and was certainly very hilly.  Now we find ourselves with a different language, different customs, a greatly varied diet, flat, hot, humid, traffic jams and hordes of people everywhere.  After 3 months eating mostly French cuisine, it's great to indulge in the different flavours of Spanish.

Tapas highlights are almost as endless as the variety of pintxos displayed for the drooling masses:

• Wonderfully tender octopus (pulpo) with either smoked paprika and olive oil or salsa
• Slices of wild boar sausage topped with sweet grilled capsicum
• Plates of near-melting jamon that justify humans having a separate sense of taste just so it can be enjoyed
• Thick slices of a black pudding that's thoroughly speckled with soft rice
• Platters of mushrooms (girolles, cepes, etc) freshly fricasseed
• Little trumpets of either pastry or peppers, stuffed with a myriad of mousses and pastes
• Wonderfully succulent tripe (callos) in a spicy tomato/chorizo/chilli sauce
• Epic high-rise constructions around a toothpick - pastes, grilled vegetables, egg & prawns all assembled to a dizzying 20cm tall
• Sweet anchovies that adorn so many morsels. Anchovies in Australia are salty (and we love 'em) but these haven't seen a grain of salt since the moment they left the sea - and that seems a matter of minutes to us.
• Atlantic salmon that's actually from the Atlantic. We realised a few years ago in Boston that the genuine (ie not pellet-fed) article is so much more delicious. And what's more, the texture is voluptuous.
• Other exciting tastebud highlights have been the Bacalao (salted cod), Monkfish (done anyway), pastry cups of prawns, octopus, crab etc,

The Spanish are less lunatic drivers than the French and they've really got the pedestrian/public transport thing sorted out, but they compensate for it with some of the most appalling eyesores of roadworks you've ever seen. Bless 'em, they don't work weekends. Neither do they work between 2pm and 6pm. This results in desolate landscapes of earth-moving equipment and piles of gravel through you wend your GPS-befuddlingway interminably (or so it seems). It also reinforces the growing desire for siesta.

Oddly enough that for a land of pigs, cattle & goats all we've seen are two squirrels (red squirrels of course, which have greatly excited Tracey). And not only squirrels: these are hari-kiri dare squirrels that race out in front of the speeding Pedro (Pierre's alias in Spain) before pirouetting and leaping back into the green verge with much insouciance.

Barcelona clearly thinks of itself as a Big City and in a curious way is reminiscent of New York. OK the buildings are shorter, but the blocks are tiny and the heat is intense. Dotted everywhere are little food/bar enterprises that could only survive with hordes of people passing every day and popping in for a swift jamon and sangria.

One day we'd like to return and see the Sagrada Famillia completed - the design of Gaudi's seems to represent the first new ecclesiastical design on a grand scale since the Duomo was built in Florence. Furthermore his garden design further out of the city suggests a common aesthetic style to Hundertwasser (stay tuned for a report on him from Vienna in a couple of months).

San Sebastian is a dream if you like to spend the day ambling through a small old town, popping in to a new tapas bar every 30 metres for a little morsel. If you get a bit warm, the charming bay sports a picturesque beach - though siesta is always an option too :)

An unexpected picturesque highlight have been the lakes in the Pyrenean foothills. Being good Tasmanians we know a hydroelectric scheme when we see it, but these have in fact created beauty rather than trashing it. The lakes are a breathtaking azure, and starkly contrast otherwise-arid landscapes that surround them. Streams flowing into the lakes are sinuous rills of Circular Quay-green tumbling over pale gray-white stones. And always in the background are the Real Mountains....whence came the water. Craggy, eroded, towering blocks of pale rock, highlighted with sweeping seams that must be the legacy of millions of years of molten snow, every spring carving out the wondrous sights that we now behold.

And underpinning all of this: it's hot. And humid. The shade is your friend here, but the humidity will always track you down....thankfully an icy sangria or cerveza (beer) softens the blow.

Spain has proven itself to be a foodies paradise.  Other than tapas, we've discovered the luxury of sitting by the sea as the sun sets, eating Paella with such a silken texture that every mouthful has you mmmmming for more, barnacles that we've never seen the likes of and look like they've been taken straight from rocks, sorbets that taste of the succulent fruits from which they're derived, if fact some taste more of the fresh fruit that we find in the much of the fresh fruit itself.