Getting ready to go somewhere, anywhere!

 Am I getting ready, really? No. Until we know what the schedule for deconfinement is, it is hard to get ready. Mentally, I am ready. We think that the weekend in mid-May will be free, but that is going to be a '-day weekend anyway from Ascension Thursday. We fear there just may be too many people on the road. I don't really care. We could leave a day or two before that and or come back a day or two after. I would simply like to go down to see E and G. The car needs to go on a trip!

Over the past few months, a bunch of my classmates wrote some essays that we have compiled into a book. That book will be coming out, soon. Our editing team is expecting the second version from the publisher. We hope there will be no more changes, that they get the cover right this time. If so, publication will follow! This is what comes from our now regular Zoom reunions!

Paul and I have been having even more frequent Zoom reunions with our Pierwige friends. We are a group of 5 couples. We've travelled together to Malta (and some more), to Portugal , to Valencia, Spain, the Camargue, France, and Andalusia, Spain. We're talking about a possible trip to Germany towards the end of summer. 

Meanwhile, here, in the Paris region, the weather is fine. I bet they'll start talking about a drought before too long. We had a cold snap a couple of weeks ago and that has guaranteed us higher fruit prices, again, this year. Every year, there is something that means production will be low and prices high. That's not always true. This is asparagus season and the news reports a couple of weeks ago were about the glut in the asparagus market. At our market, though, a bunch of 11 spears cost €13! That's outrageously expensive. You'd think that if there is a glut, the prices would be lower.

This confinement period meant that the kids, who had been in school with regular vacation breaks since the start of the school year in September, had a short week (Easter Monday is a holiday, here) of online school, then their 2-week Spring vacation. We had them for a few days, so their parents could work calmly from home, then the parents took a few days off and delivered them to their other grandparents. Normally, the Paris region's Spring break would have been a few weeks later, but the confinement, in all logic, had all the zones on the same schedule. This week, the primary school kids all went back to class. They've got saliva tests and at the first sign of Covid-19, the class goes back to online sessions. Middle school kids go back to class next week and high school kids, in mid-May in split in person and online classes. Our grandkids are still in primary. 

Baseball practice has continued. With the nice weather, I can walk over to watch. In fact, L had practice last Sunday and his family sat by the bleachers for a picnic. A hopped on a bus to the Bois and joined them and I walked over after our lunch at home. Next Sunday, the N°1 and N°2 teams will warm up together and play a practice game. I hope the weather holds up. I also hope that I do not have a severe reaction to the second Pfizer shot. I had my first dose on April 2 and the second one is this coming Friday. My arm was a little sore after the first shot, but no worse than after any other vaccination.

I need to go into Paris to return some books to the library. Maybe I'll pick up a lunch at Breakfast in America and walk home from there. It's a long walk but I need motivation to get out and walk. A destination, a purpose. A and I went to the arboretum a few weeks ago. We should go back now that all the trees have leaves out. I walked there. We also have a walk planned in the Bois de Vincennes to discover parts we are less familiar with. Maybe next Monday afternoon. 

The almost annual Pierwigian trip

It's become something of a habit. The group of friends from our Pierwige days travel together. Last year, it was to Valencia and this year, to Andalusia. Spain is so lovely in the Spring.
We were a group of four couples, this year. F and C seem to have dropped out. That worked out perfectly, as it happened, because Y. has a friend who is French but whose mother was from Seville and who has spent his life between Spain and France. He volunteered to organize our trip and be our guide and driver. That made us a group of 9, the limit for a van rental with a normal driver's license.
The Parisians (J-P, R, Paul and I) found one another in the baggage drop-off line. We had lunch together at the airport and flew straight to Seville, where A met us. We just had time to introduce ourselves to A. before the others arrived, having connected in Madrid. It was already a bit past 5 pm and by the time we picked up the van and got into the city to the hotel, it was 6.
First thing to do was to explore Seville. The hotel was not the one originally reserved, but no matter, the Ferdinando iii is an excellent hotel, not far from the Cathedral. We walked and walked and walked. The path from the hotel to the Cathedral took us past the Sephardic Jewish Exhibition Center in what was the Jewish quarter. It was close to closing time and reservations are recommended for this. When we came back to Seville at the end of our trip, we were disappointed that it opened at 11 and that we would not have enough time to visit. This is a must for our next trip to Seville, when we will concentrate on the city. We went through the Murillo Gardens and then headed back to the hotel with a stop for tapas on the way. There we were, sitting at an outside table at a street corner, when Paul cried out N...., quickly followed by P-F. Our nephew and his wife were strolling through the streets of Seville, too! You never know who is going to turn up where you just happen to be! After that pleasant encounter and the photo to prove it, we sat back down, finished our tapas and went back to the hotel for a short rest before heading out for the evening. Remember, we didn't get started until after 6 pm and were now getting ready for the evening.

Audience participation

The evening was a taxi to the Triana for a dinner of more tapas at 10:30 followed, after midnight, just around the corner from the restaurant, la Casa Anselma. I understand the frustration of those who queued up for this and then saw some go in ahead of them. A. had reserved for us. Anselma comes out, a little after midnight, and says something in very rapid Spanish that sounds a bit scolding. She then allows people in, one by one. There were a few individuals ahead of us, then a group, then us. We could hear people complaining. As the small room filled up, we could see that many were frequent visitors and they added a lot of animation during the evening. All were dressed in normal attire, not in flamenco costumes. As the entertainment heated up, they would get up and dance, clap the rhythm, sing along. The bad reviews on Trip Advisor are from people who did not get in, and I can understand their feeling after having waited over an hour in the night chill. For us, it was an extraordinary privilege to be there. A. is well-known, there, and spent time chatting with the musicians and with Anselma. We had excellent seats, in the second row. I couldn't understand the language, but the emotions of the songs came through loud and clear: love, anger, humor...

After breakfast we were treated to a carriage ride through Seville before we piled into the van and headed westward towards the rio Tinto. I think we got off the highway to head towards La Palma del Condado and continued on to the southern edge of a reservoir on a tributary of the rio Tinto to the Ctra. El Berrocal.  If you look at a map (I'm looking at the via-Michelin map) and zoom in on road HU-4103, there's a private road off to the right that goes to the southern edge. That's where the 600-hectare (more than 1482 acres) hacienda where we were having lunch is. Before lunch the owner gave us a jeep-tour of the property where he raises bulls. Of course, not all the cattle is bull-fighting material. There are the cows that are selected for breeding at 2 years. There are the bulls that are just not going to make it. It's very hilly territory. While the other half of our group went on their jeep-tour, A. took us on a walking tour. We were hungry for lunch by the time it was served, after 2. First, there were countless tapas, which were all excellent and which we were encouraged by the hostess to finish up. That would have been fine, if it weren't followed by a paella! We staggered up from the table at about 5 and headed towards El Rocio.

El Rocío is a small town of 1500 permanent residents. During the pilgrimage, just after our visit, there can be up to 2,000,000! The town is on the border of the Doñana National Park. It's built on sand. During the pilgrimage, cars are not allowed, only horses. Every home and shop has hitching posts in front. Our little hotel had stables on the ground floor, under the rooms. This is not an ancient village. It's got a grid layout, with large avenues in a V formation from the closest asphalt road leading to the church, near the river. The streets are wide and, as said earlier, hitching posts everywhere. Close to the church there are big grassy grazing areas surrounded by restaurants and streets with shops full of flamenco dresses and riding suits. We had a carriage ride that took us through the town and a little bit into the park. There were lots of bird watchers out. There were pink flamingos out on the river. On a walk, we saw a bird watching information center. And storks. As we drove out the next day to go through the park and some standard tourism, we saw stork nests on almost every electric pylon along the road. We arrived with a little time to rest and walk around the town a bit before dinner, but in the short rest at the hotel before going out for dinner, Paul and I decided we'd had too much lunch and went to bed before the others got back. They reported, at breakfast, that they had had a very nice dinner of tapas.
We set out towards Matalascañas where we intended to turn west into the park. We got as far as the roundabout when we encountered a bicycle race. The road we wanted to take was blocked. That meant turning around, going past El Rocío and up to the highway to head towards Huelva. The strawberry pickers were out, but here, the  plants are all in greenhouses, so you don't see fields from the road; you see plastic.

We did a bit of standard sightseeing. There's the monastery Santa Maria de la Rabida that hosted Christopher Columbus and encouraged his discovery trips. The picture shows the patch of original fresco of the cloister with the "restored" painted all around it. The tidal wave from the earthquake that destroyed Lisbon in 1775 hit the monastery! There's a room full of interesting boxes of earth collected from the Spanish colonies in America.  Just down the road is Palos de la Frontera, with the replicas of the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria, a well-done information center on the first expedition. They are really small. The Santa Maria was the admiral ship and it never made it back to Spain. It got grounded in the islands and the crew had be distributed between the two tinier boats (hard to refer to them as ships).
We took the road that we had planned on taking in the morning and stopped at a beach to have lunch -- another great selection of tapas, including fresh sardines. And a stop at a nearby Parador, a luxury hotel overlooking a beach, far below. We went a bit further along and stopped at another beach, but the sandy walk down from the car to the beach was pretty long and steep and when I reached the cliff edge and saw how small the people on the beach still appeared, I stopped and did not go all the way down. It was still quite a hike uphill getting back to the van.
Sunday, we left El Rocío after lunch. Cars and horses were pouring into the town. The road leading in was jammed while our way out was empty. The cars, from Sunday evening, would be banned and parked out in the fields to make way for the horses and carriages for the pilgrimage.

The road ended at El Esparragal, a ranch in American terms: 40 km²! It's a beautiful place. Once a private home, now a luxury hotel that hosts weddings and communions. As we arrived, a wedding party from the ceremony on Saturday was leaving, a lovely couple: he, American from Boston; she, Spanish. They now live in New York. The parents stayed on and were the only other guests at the place with us. A. had negotiated a remarkably low price for us. Walking around the estate, we picked sweet grapefruits and oranges from the trees and had our afternoon snack. There were storks in their nests and more storks flying around. A. told us that up to about 15 years ago it was an active farm; the stables still held horses and there were carriages. He used to take a horse and just go riding around. There are Roman ruins on the property and a chapel, site of an annual pilgrimage from the nearby village. There's a road that divides the property, vertically. There was a small group of cows just outside our window, and orchards along the road, but not much sign of farm activity, much to A.'s regret.

On our way out the next morning, we drove up to the chapel, just for a quick view, and then continued on to a hacienda that raises bulls for bullfighting in the traditional manner. The herd manager is French, from Nimes, a connaîsseur and traditionalist. He's also an author: Fabrice Torrito with a blog. I'm not much of a fan of bull fighting, but I understood his point of view and we saw how the bulls, cows, and calves are handled. It wasn't completely new to us, since we'd had our lessons last year at the féria in Camargue, but more intense. The animals have a much nicer life than those destined for their meat from birth. As a traditionalist, Fabrice does not do artificial insemination; he has large areas set aside for groups of 30 cows and a bull and lets nature take its course. We visited a field with a 3-year-old bull and plenty of cows and calves. The breeding cows are selected at age two and the ones who don't make the grade are sent to the slaughter house. The breeding cows can live a long life until they die a natural death. The cowboy was sent off, after our ride around the grounds, to look for a missing 20-year-old cow that had probably gone off to be alone to die. The bulls have a nice, quiet life, with some fighting among themselves for dominance, but they won't go to a bull fight until they are 5 or 6. 6 is the limit. These are the bulls we visited! Once a bull has seen a cape, a single bullfight, he's done. Even if the president of the corrida graces him, he'll go to the slaughter house afterwards. (Very rarely, a graced bull gets to go home and breed and live out his natural life.) It's not pleasant, but really is it worse than the cattle that go straight to the slaughter house?

Gardens at the Palace

Fabrice sent us into the nearby village of Gerena for lunch. Again, only local people, friendly, warm, and stuffing us with good food. Then, back to Seville for a walk around town, again. Starting from a different hotel, it was a different walk. We tried to reserve to see the Alcazar on Tuesday, but with the size of our group, it wasn't possible until after our departure for the airport. In Seville, that is not a problem. We visited the Casa de Pilatos, which has nothing to do with Pilate other than the builder of the house was fascinated with Roman history. It was built in three distinct styles, starting with a heavy, moor influence, then Italian Renaissance, and another addition, later. It's well worth the wait for the guided tour of the upstairs. The house was still lived in two years ago!
More walking, lunch, and back to the airport. A fine time was had by all and we were already discussing where to go, next.

Time flies!

In May, France elected a new president and in June, a new legislature. I must admit I'm happy with both results. The député for my district is not the one I voted for, but I'm not unhappy that the one who got elected did. It was a close call and they were both good choices, in my opinion. It was the first time in a long time that I entered a voting booth not really sure whom to vote for because I rather liked them both. Usually, if I can't decide, it's because I can't stand either.

 For the first round of the legislative election, we were out of town and had given our proxies to neighbor friends. We were down in Arles. We didn't visit the city this time. We were there for a very special occasion -- a friend from the Pierwige days was hosting a féria. (in French). He invited a group of us from the Pierwige, student days, but mostly the guests were business associates, partners, customers, and family, too. There were no bullfights, but there were games, if you like, with young cows -- testing the females to see if they would be good for breeding bull fighting stock and a bit of acrobat running with cows in the little arena. In the afternoon, there was a small equestrian show. Between the arena events, there was a pre-lunch appetizer cocktail, then lunch. Plus a hayride and or horse ride. It was enough to occupy the whole day.

 It was hot, too. Coming from Paris, we were not used to the heat. Of course, since then, we've had a heatwave, even in Paris, with temperatures getting close to 40°C. (over 100°F). And we still do not have air conditioning, so it makes for difficult sleeping conditions.
During this heat wave we had a visit from A. for a short week. We went to the Musée d'Orsay on Saturday morning. I had bought the tickets on line, so we had no wait at all. We were there just after opening, so it was still mostly empty. There's no way you can do the whole museum -- we stuck to the pre-Impressionists and the Impressionists. We had lunch in the restaurant, which is the original train station restaurant in all its 1900 beauty (walls and ceilings, not furniture) and took a long bus ride home. On Sunday, we "did" Ile de la Cité -- the Sainte Chapelle, the Conciergerie, the Archaeological Crypt and then a long bus ride home along a different route. Taking the bus is also a way of doing some tourism. Unfortunately, the buses we ended up on were not air-conditioned. In the afternoons, we sat out in the shade of the hazelnut tree in our yard.

 Monday -- a pleasant drive to Giverny. We got there early, but it's always crowded. It's a good thing we had our tickets, already. Parking used to be really near the house. Now, they've stuck it a good distance down the road. I did see where the old parking lot still is and how to get to it for the next time. None of the signs lead you there. If you follow the signs, you end up where we were. Also, the on-line ticket does not tell you to go to the group entrance, which is closer to the parking lot. We walked all the way to the main entrance only to be told to walk back to the group entrance. There were lots and lots of school groups. It was crowded in both the house and the gardens. It was a very nice visit, but paced a bit faster than we would have wished. We felt pushed along by the people behind us. We ended up at the restaurant where we'd reserved much earlier than planned, but that was not a problem. After lunch, we set the car's GPS to not allow highways and took a leisurely, but long route home, with a stop at La Roche Guyon. We were very happy to spend 3 hours getting home in the air-conditioning!
After three full days of excursions, we stayed home on Tuesday. Well, we went for a little walk into Nogent and around the Nogent market, but it was early -- too early for any shops to be open on the main street. Even the market was not very busy.

Wednesday, we headed out, again, to Chantilly and visited the Château with it's extensive art collection and antique books. The collections require air-conditioning and controlled humidity, but humans do not, so the restaurant (see the movie Vatel) is not air-conditioned, but it wasn't too bad. The high ceiling and being on the shady side of the building helped. After lunch, we hiked over to the stables, visited the horse museum and took in the little equestrian show before heading home.

Spring Update

It's no surprise; I don't feel like writing much these days. Looking back, though, over the past 3 or 4 months, I haven't been sitting, watching the world go by.
We went to the UK at the end of February for a lovely visit with the family, there. No, we didn't do much -- just appreciated the family! That's enough for us. On my birthday, the very day, at the beginning of February, I found just the knitting machine I'd been on the lookout for -- a brother "bulky" machine with its ribber. It was my birthday. I figured it was meant for me, so I arranged to buy it from the very nice lady in Bedford -- not far from Northampton, really. I asked G. if he could pick it up for me, pay the lady in cash.... And he did. So, when we arrived at the end of the month, by car, it was waiting for me and all I had to do was pay G. back.
I managed to set the machine up just before leaving for the US in mid-March. I even managed to make a scarf for T. for his birthday! There were a few sloppy patches -- dropped stitches in the Fisherman's Rib -- that I had to repair by hand, but nothing catastrophic. I also made a scarf for my high school friend in Florida, T.
This leads to the trip to the US -- first a night in Philly with M. T. and her husband. Very enjoyable evening with these old, old family friends (our grandparents were close friends, already) and then into Philly in the morning for an agreeable meeting with the Commissioner for Elections at the Election Board to discuss some of the glitches in the absentee system -- between the Board of Elections and the pavoter site.
After the meeting, I took the train to the airport and caught my flight down to DC, where I got a new metro card and hopped onto the metro to go out to T. and B.'s. Friday evening was T' 90th birthday party! Earlier that day, I had a cup of coffee with K. and talked about what was happening as far as our overseas Americans issues were concerned. He's been working with the Republicans Overseas on their tax proposal, which promotes territorial taxation. He's also been involved with setting up a Congressional hearing on FATCA, to be held later this month. He's also very homesick for France. When I got back to the house, I saw my cousin T. and R. for a little while, before we all went off to get ready for the party. It was a wonderful family reunion. Cousins not seen for a long, long time. Family never met before. My brother, J., and T, of course, down from Pittsburgh. Lively conversation. A successful party!
Sunday, I moved out of their house to go to the airbnb room I had rented in DC. It was simply a room this time, not a whole apartment, as I had no one to share with. The apartment belongs to a charming young engineer. We didn't run into each other very much. The only complaint I could have was the spotty wifi connection. I could connect if I was in the living room sitting in front of the box, but as soon as I went back to my room, the connection was gone. It was not far from the U-street station and just a little farther to the Dupont Circle station.
On a map, nothing looks far. I got off the metro at Dupont Circle and walked down to the Staples at 19th and L to pick up the printing of our position papers that I had ordered on line. It was a bit longer walk than I had thought it would be, but since I stopped for lunch on the way, it was a nice walk. On the way to my room though, it was a much longer walk, even if I didn't go back up to Dupont Circle, and dragging my suitcase and the printing was not pleasant. The room was on 15th, between R and S.
Early in the evening, I walked over to Dupont Circle -- the others were staying close by. We met at the Cosmos Club, which is just behind the Phillips Collection. I arrived early enough to spend a little while at the Phillips. They had a Toulouse-Lautrec exhibit on. My back gave out after only half an hour, so I wandered off to the Cosmos and ran into N. just as I entered the building. I distributed our position papers to the others.
We had some interesting meetings both on and off the Hill. I've written my reports and talked about it since coming back and do not want to dwell on it, here. For me, the week was over after the meeting at the State Department on Friday. I went back to my room to collect my suitcase and then took the metro to the airport.
There was a big P family gathering in Orlando to celebrate Roger. BIG. On Saturday, 18 of us went to the New Smyrna for a day at the beach. I fell asleep and the back of my legs got a bit burnt. In the evening, there was a big dinner party for family and then more people came as dessert time for the celebration of his life. G. has published a wonderful book of his musings, poetry, and artwork, which I was able to pick up before leaving. Sunday morning, we all gathered at the house for brunch. It was ever so pleasant to be with the clan. The day went on and we had scrumptious leftovers and not just leftovers. After the week in DC, I felt relaxed, at last.
Monday, I took off, on my own, to visit T and her husband on the west coast of Florida. First, I left the road to go to a yarn shop in Winter Haven, Four Purls. They couldn't have been nicer, but they did not have the kind of inexpensive cotton I was looking for. They had plenty of other beautiful yarns and if any Floridians who knit or crochet are reading this, I recommend the place. Then it was back roads through rural Florida -- horse farms, mostly -- to T's. And we gabbed and gabbed and gabbed and watched a movie (Lion) and gabbed and gabbed. I must compliment her husband on his patience with us. They treated me to a great buffet style restaurant -- nothing special, just plain good food.
I guess I wasn't as relaxed and back to my normal state as I thought I was. I managed to convince myself that my flight back was on Tuesday, so instead of spending the day and another night at T's, I ended up rushing back to Orlando, picked up the book from G., and rushed to the airport. There, I discovered I didn't have my passports and French wallet. I had left them in the safe at the hotel in Orlando on Monday morning! Panic. Calls to the hotel and finally the receptionist on the phone with me got into her car to bring them to me. Then, the realization that my ticket was for Wednesday, not Tuesday. I was so upset. I gave the receptionist a nice tip and thanked her but did not mention the date mixup! I couldn't. All this had taken quite some time. I would have missed my flight had it really been for Tuesday. I was still upset at having gotten all mixed up. I went to find an inexpensive hotel near the airport with shuttle service (I had turned in the car, of course.), ordered a pizza, and watched TV until I fell asleep. The next morning, I spent about an hour by the pool and took the shuttle back to the airport with lots and lots of time before my flight, so I managed to get off my thank you notes and have a nice lunch.
Back to France and departure almost immediately for four days in Valencia with our Pierwige friends. Not all of them. This time we were a group of 3 couples. Valencia is a beautiful city. The architecture is grandiose and each building is different. It's a change from the Haussmann uniformity of Paris. Different colors, different styles. This was a pleasant break. M. had done all the organizing, so kudos to her, and I just relaxed and got over my jetlag.
Upon return to France, this time, we had the AARO annual general meeting on March 31, which I had had the responsibility of organizing. It went off well. A. had gotten us our guest speaker, Jim Bittermann, who was exceptional. He spoke on the state of the media. It was a refreshing subject -- not American-centric, not Paris or French-centric. The following week, it was the Tax 202 seminar (Tax 101 was on March 6) and I had had the responsibility of that one, too. During that week, we also had a 5-year-old grandson staying with us. We had done some gardening in the gorgeous Spring weather and my back was killing me on Thursday. It still is, in fact.
The first week of Spring break, then, we had S. with us and this past week, he and sister and mother have been at her parents'. It was A's birthday, this week. We went to the Al Thani jewel exhibit at the Grand Palais.
I've done some knitting, but can't sit for long periods because of my back. Writing this has taken me to the limit, today.

A Week in Portugal

This post got delayed because of the big family visit almost as soon as we got back from the trip.
Last year, in October, we went to Malta with friends, four other couples and us, the husbands of which all lived at the Pierwige when they were in engineering school. I lived at the Pierwige when I spent my first semester abroad in the Spring of 1970. This year, one of the couples was unable to join the rest of us, so there were only four couples all together, two from Paris and two from Biarritz. There wasn't so much catching up to do, since we did a lot of that last year. We only had one year to go over, which was enough to keep the conversation going for the whole week.
The Parisians arrived in Porto in time for lunch, which was excellent. The bonus was warm sunshine. (I had spend a month in and out of a really bad cold -- maybe it was two very similar colds close together. I ended up with a touch of pneumonia symptoms and the doctor had me come into the office the day before departure to check that the medication was working and the lungs were clear, so that I could go. We had already cancelled our trip to England at the beginning of the month for Constance's birthday.) Anyway, I enjoyed my fish and Paul had his first cod dish. Portugal is known for cooking salt-cured codfish in every possible way and he was determined to have his dose of cod. After lunch and a rest, we all set out to discover the city a bit.

There was a tram right in front of the hotel, so we jumped on and did a little tour. Porto is a hilly city. The streets are narrow. The tram, which is small, does not leave much room for people on the tiny sidewalk, and forget about cars parked wherever they can find a space. There are churches everywhere and they are all decorated with azulejos, the tiles that cover most buildings, but on churches they are blue, generally, and tell a story. This gave us an overview of the city before the others' flight arrived. They got the to the hotel just as we were settling in for a cup of coffee. Once they got registered and the baggage was up in their rooms, we set out on foot. (A word about the hotel -- the Hotel Infante Sagres -- we were all happy with it. I forgot to mention, in my review, that if you opened the windows, it was noisy at night because of the clubs nearby, but if you used the air conditioning, it was OK.)

Because we were going to take the train to Lisbon, we headed towards the train station, which looks like any other major train station until you see the tiles inside! We wanted to get information and see about getting tickets. It was a well-advised stop, since the trains to Lisbon leave from a different station. It was good to find that out sooner, rather than too late. From there, we continued up hill to the Cathedral, where there is a terrace with a magnificent view of the city below. The inside of the Cathedral was our first glimpse of the golden opulence of Portuguese baroque. Not my cup of tea. We had a beautiful sunset view from the terrace, though.
After the visit inside the church, we headed downhill into the city and we ended up going down and down and down until getting back to the hotel meant a climb back up. Dinner at the restaurant next to the hotel with our 10% discount coupons -- even with the discount, this was the most disappointing and expensive meal of the trip.
Wednesday and Thursday, we spent walking around Porto and more sightseeing. Friday, we took taxis to the right train station for our trip to Lisbon.

Rainy day in Belem

Lisbon is much bigger than Porto, more majestic, which is logical, since it's the capital. It also has more hills, and, in my mind at least, steeper hills. It was completely rebuilt after the terrible 1755 earthquake and, we learned, the new buildings were built with seismic tolerance in mind, the first such building code. Since the country was very rich in the 18th century, the rebuilding was quick and majestic. We visited Belem, the convent, the cathedral, the tower... We walked around, took trams, buses, and walked some more. We went up to the Castle St. George, where there is a wonderful view of the modern city below. The castle itself, what's left of it, is a big, 11th century castle, much like the Norman castles in France and England, but maybe with a bigger floor plan. From there, we walked back down to the modern city and ended up walking all the way back to the hotel after a late lunch! I haven't calculated the kilometers, but my feet felt them.
We had good meals. Unfortunately, we missed the art museum, just steps from the hotel, because when we decided to do a little museum visiting, Monday, it was the day they were shut, so we finally took the "hop on, hop off" tour that gave us a better overview of the city.
It seems to me that there was so much in Lisbon, that I have less to say than for Porto. I think I enjoyed Porto more. I need to go back and take a real look.

A week in Malta - 1

(Je ferais un autre article en français)
This is a special trip for us. Paul and I met at the Pierwige Hotel (it no longer exists -- it's private apartments with a bank on the ground floor, now) in 1970. Paul was an engineering student in a program at the school next door. Other students at that school were also living at the hotel. J-P, already engaged to R, who lived with her parents but who spent most of her free time with the Pierwige group; F, who was already engaged to C, but she was not living in Paris, yet; G, and Y. They were not the only ones, but they were the core and they've kept in touch with one another, while we lost contact until a year or so ago, when I was scanning our negatives and came across a trove of Paul's photos from that time, before I came on the scene. I googled and found a phone number for one of J-P and R's sons and we were able to reconnect with J-P and R. At a dinner at their home, we saw with F and C for the first time in 40 years. So, it was decided we'd all go on a trip together: 5 couples.

From the rampart near the hotel. (Look at the photos in the wikipedia links below for better pictures than mine.)

We decided to go to Malta. October is an ideal time to visit Malta. It's hot, but not as hot as in summer. There are far fewer tourists, although there are enough to keep restaurants full. Y and M arrived separately from Lyons; the rest of us met up at Orly for the flight from Paris. It was a late flight, so it was already dark when we arrived. Y and M had arrived early and had already cased out Valletta and found a restaurant for our first dinner all together.
We made some elementary tourist mistakes. We are 5 couples, 10 individuals, not a group of 10 with a tour guide. We decided to buy 2-day tickets for one of the hop-on, hop-off bus tours, but the receptionist at our hotel sold us one ticket for 10, which meant we all had to hop on and hop off together. Of course, in a group of 10, not everyone wants to do the same thing at the same time, and discussions about where to eat and what to do can drag on, but on the whole, we all got along and there was a lot of give and take. It wasn't a problem, but it would have been easier on me, the ticket holder, if each couple were responsible for its ticket. For any readers planning on visiting Malta, if you want to take the hop-on, hop-off tour, don't get the tickets from the hotel; there are at least two competitors, so you may want to choose which company you take, and if you're traveling with friends, you might want to be more independent so that you don't wait around or make them wait for you. Then again, you might consider not taking the tourist bus and getting a day ticket for the public bus service -- much, much less expensive (only €1,50). Since distances are so short, you can always find a bus to get you to the same sites as the tourist bus, and not have to wait so long for the next bus to come by.
The first day, Monday, we took the southern tour. Malta is tiny; there's not much distance to cover, but you can't hop-off at each stop because you won't really be able to visit. We didn't get off at the Tarxien ("x" is pronounce "sh") temples, which we thought we'd visit later, nor at Marsaxlokk, a beautiful little port known for its fish menus, which were not really calling us at 10 something in the morning. We got off at the blue grotto, not to visit the grotto, but to just to get off, walk around, and have a drink, which meant getting the next bus, or maybe the one after. I don't remember. We got off, again, at the next stop to visit the Hagar Qim and Mnajdra temples.
These two temples date from about 3600 BC, with evidence that the site was used for some rites even as far back as 4000 BC; that's almost 6000 years. That's about 1500 to 2000 years older than Stonehenge! They are definitely structures that were built for religious rite; the main doors and inner openings line up with the summer solstice and other openings with the equinoxes. They are made of huge blocs of stone that seem to have been transported by placing them on round stones that are found around the sites. Other stones are rutted and seem to show that the round stones rolled somewhat, like ball bearings. The temple layout is the same all over Malta and Gozo -- a main entrance with two round inner chambers, then another passage and two more round inner chambers. The stones that mark the doorways have handles carved into them that probably held rope for cloth to close off the passage. The decoration is simple, dots, but sometimes these dots form spirals. In other instances, the dots seem to form a counting system, maybe a calendar. There are altars and indications of fire, perhaps for animal sacrifice (they found animal bones, too). There are indentations for the feet, where there were once large statues of women -- Botero-like women, very buxom and hefty (we saw them, later, at the Archeology Museum). At the site of the older of the two temples, Mnajdra, the one down the hill, closer to the sea, the archaeologists found the evidence of bones, even dwarf elephant bones, going back to 4000 BC. So, Hagar Qim is deemed the more recent site.
Needless to say, this was a long and interesting visit. By the time we all finished, it was well past lunch time, but just across the parking lot was a restaurant and, for a place where you feel you are a captive customer having no choice to go elsewhere, it was very good! We managed to hop on the next to last bus back to town. Just remember that if you want to visit, you can get a public transport bus from Valletta to the site. They only thing you'll miss out on is the commentary.
Once back in Valletta, we cleaned up, rested, and met later for dinner.
Links to Wikipedia articles that might be of interest to you:
Malta, general article
Valletta
Hagar Qim
Mnajdra

Une semaine à Malte

Je viens de rédiger quatre articles en anglais sur notre semaine à Malte (A week in Malta - 1, Week in Malta - 2, A week in Malta - 3, A week in Malta -4) et je ne vais pas vraiment me répéter ici. J'espère faire plus court en tout cas. Au lieu de mettre des liens aux articles de Wikipedia en fin d'article, je les place tout de suite:
Malte, article général
La Valette
Hagar Qim
Mnajdra
Co-cathédral St. John
Museum of Fine Art (en anglais)
Musée National d'Archéologie
Mdina
St.. Paul Catacombs (en anglais)
Gozo
Ggantija
Fenêtre d'Azur
Hypogeum
Marsaxhlokk
Tarxien Temples
Ces articles ont de très belles images et explications, meilleures que les miennes.

Sliema, en face de La Valette, depuis le rempart près de l'hôtel

Ce voyage à Malte était un peu spécial, car pour nous, c'était la première fois depuis presque quarante ans que nous n'avons pas vu certains amis. Un peu moins longtemps pour d'autres, mais ça faisait quand même longtemps. Un rassemblement d'anciens du Pierwige. (d'autres mentions du Pierwige: en octobre 2011; en juillet 2011; en juin 2009) Nous étions 5 couples. Je ne tiens pas à mettre les noms des autres ici, car je ne leur ai pas demandé la permission. Ce n'est pas toujours facile de voyager à dix, surtout pas facile de voyager et de rester bons amis. Nous avons réussi. Moi, qui ne comprenait pas grand chose et qui ne parlait quasiment pas en français il y a 44, 45 ans, j'étais à l'aise, enfin ! Il faut dire que si les garçons se connaissaient vraiment bien, les femmes moins. Je n'en connaissais que deux sur les quatre.

Début de la visite

Malte est une île pleine d'histoire, à commencer par les temples néolithiques qui remontent à 5500 - 6000 ans (3600 ans av. JC, en moyenne). Nous avons visité les temples de Hagar Qim et Mnajdra (en une visite), Tarxien, Ggantija sur Gozo, et l'Hypogée.
Pour l'Hypogée, nous avons eu beaucoup de chance de pouvoir avoir 10 entrées pour le samedi, veille de notre départ. Pour jouer cette chance il faut s'installer devant le musée des Beaux Arts bien avant l'ouverture la veille du jour de la visite souhaitée. Bien avant. Paul s'y est rendu avant 7 h. et il s'est trouvé quatrième dans la queue. Heureusement les deux représentants envoyés par des hôtels qui étaient devant nous ne demandaient pas plus de billets ce jour-là. Il n'y a que 20 entrées mises en vente au musée par jour et nous avons pu en avoir 4 pour la visite de midi et 6 pour la visite de 16h. Après notre passage en caisse, il ne restait plus qu'une place. On peut éviter cet folie en achetant ses billets par internet avant de partir. Cela vaut bien la peine.

Les Temples

Tous ces temples ont une structure similaire; un mur extérieur, une entrée au sud avec un seuil de porte sur le passage central et deux absides de chaque côté suivi d'une autre porte et deux autres absides ou plus. Même l'hypogée, qui est creusée dans la roche souterraine, respecte la structure de base. Les temples à l'air libre sont faits d'énormes pierres soigneusement montés sur place. Ce sont des pierres énormes, plus grandes que celles de Carnac, plus encombrantes que celles de Stonehenge, et surtout, plus anciennes de 1000 ans. Il y avait des statues, surtout de femmes, comme des sculptures de Botéro. Dans l'Hypogée, ils ont trouvé des statuettes, petites, d'environ 10 cm, comme la femme couchée qu'on peut voir au musée de l'archéologie. Elle est parfaite.

La Valette

La Valette est une ville fortifiée planifiée de la fin du 16è, début 17è siècle. Baroque. C'est une petite ville, dont la seule difficulté est dans la montée et descente des rues. Je ne sais pas le dénivelé entre le port et la grande porte d'entrée de la ville à l'ouest, mais après une journée de balade, monter à la rue principale mérite une glace une fois là haut. Sinon, on couvre la ville facilement. La co-Cathédrale ("co" parce que la cathédrale à Mdina est l'originale et reste le siège de l'archevèque) n'est pas extraordinaire vu de l'extérieur, mais l'intérieur est une explosion de baroque -- les fresques aux plafond et murs, les tombeaux de marbre au sol, les dorures. Dans l'oratoire, il y a un tableau de Caravage, La Décollation de Saint Jean. C'est une façon pudique de dire décapitation. C'est peut-être un chef d'oeuvre, mais je ne supporte plus le gore religieux. Face à ce tableau, il y en a un autre, le St. Jérome en train d'écrire, peut-être en train de faire la traduction de la bible du grec au latin. Là, j'ai pu apprécier le brun sombre, la lumière, le visage du vieillard, et le drap rouge.
Le musée d'archéologie est à voir pour une bonne compréhension des temples et des différentes époques sur l'île. C'est là qu'on voit les statues et statuettes trouvées sur les sites. Le musée des Beaux Arts est moins impressionant. Mais c'est à la caisse que j'ai vu que nous pouvions tenter notre chance pour l'Hypogée, alors, je ne regrette pas la visite. En plus, c'etait pratiquement à côté de l'hôtel. Nous avons pu voir aussi le Palais du Grand Maître, maintenant des salons d'apparat de l'état, et l'armurerie où sont exposés des armures et des armes du patrimoine des chevaliers de Malte. A sa mort, l'armure du chevalier devenait propriété de l'ordre. C'est une très grande collection et les pieces sont très belles -- gravées, dorées, ciselées.

Gozo

Nous avons passé une journée à Gozo. Je crois que je l'imaginais plus impréssionante. C'était  cependant agréable. Ggantija, le temple le plus ancien s'y trouve. Nous pensions être notre petit groupe de 10, mais nous nous sommes trouvés intégrés dans un groupe de 52, un car complet, avec un guide parlant français et néerlandais. Il y avait tellement de groupes à Ggantija, je ne vois pas comment des touristes indépendants pourraient visiter le site. Il y a aussi la ville principale, Victoria, avec sa citadelle et la vue magnifique sur les villages au loin. Malgré la petite population de l'île (30000), il y a une impression de grandes villes avec des églises somptueuses. Ce sont pourtant des petites villes et villages. Il y a aussi l'arrêt obligatoire au village d'artisanat et un arrêt à la fenêtre d'azur, où nous avons vu beaucoup de plongeurs. Malte et Gozo sont connues pour la plongée.

La restauration

Nous avons bien mangé, pas extraordinairement, mais quand on prend en compte qu'il fallait toujours trouver place pour 10, parfois 8, nous ne pouvions pas fréquenter les petits restaurants. Donc, les restaurants qui sont sur les places, qui sont pour les touristes, ne sont pas des pièges à touristes. On y mange correctement pour un prix raisonable. La conversation à une table de 10 est quasiment impossible et l'art est de se trouver dans une configuration différente à chaque repas pour changer de partenaires de conversation. Nous avons bien réussi cela. La Malte n'est pas un pays à dessert; heureusement il y avait un marchand de glace ouvert jusqu'à 10 h. La Valette n'est pas une ville de fête; les restaurants ferment avant 9h30 et il n'y a plus personne dans les rues.

Bum shoulder

Still snowing as I finish up this post

Here we are, mid-March, and it's snowing again. Before the snow, we had freezing rain, so it's very slippery out. I think I'll not go to the library today. I have to return the video projector to the AARO office and I think that can wait until tomorrow, too. Tomorrow, I want to spend some time with Gwen and Sacha. So, I hope the weather cooperates. 

What really astounds me is that OAW was a full month ago! Before that week started, I had a couple of very nice, even snowy, days in Swarthmore. J and E live very near the college campus in a beautiful, comfortable house with their two Basenji dogs, who entertained me thoroughly. We went to see "Silver Linings Playbook" and it was strange to recognize the local places. Well, I didn't recognize them, except that I knew it had been filmed nearby, but J & E certainly recognized the high school, the diner, etc. That was followed by a light supper with K & J. K is another discovered Girls High mate! I can't say enough how wonderful it has been, these past few years, to discover these wonderful women I never knew before. What is great about having never known them in the past, or having no memory of ever knowing them, is that I have no pre-conceived ideas of what kind of people they are -- none of that "we weren't in the same crowd" attitude. The ones I do remember are also wonderful; I'm very pleased to meet so many more.  Speaking of light supper, that was a fantastic homemade minestrone, a complete meal, hot and filling, followed by a thick, homemade pumpkin pie. Whoever complains about how badly Americans eat (French friends do that), they just don't get fed in homes! They certainly don't get fed by J!

Leaving them for Washington, in spite of the snow, I managed to catch my train to D.C. It was so cold, some fo the train's doors were frozen shut and some refused to close once they opened, so we were a few minutes late getting in. Connecting to the D.C. metro, though, is easy and I called T & B, who met me at the Hyatt, which is just at the exit of the Bethesda station. Good thing, too, because it was very, very cold and I didn't have to wait outside. We had a good lunch, there. Of course, we ended up with doggy bags because the servings were too big. On Sunday, we went to a local art show and then they dropped me off at the house my OAW mates and I had rented via airbnb. Ben, the host, was there waiting for me and showed me around. It's right across the street from a supermarket, but we didn't need to get any food. M, one of my housemates, arrived with a ton of food from Costco that she'd bought in anticipation of our kickoff get-together that evening at G's appartment. We had too much food, way too much. We left some of the leftovers with G and brought the rest home with us. Even after we had a mid-week get-together at our place, we still had leftovers, which I hope our hosts managed to finish off. J and I each had our own rooms and M had the sofabed and we did not get in each other's way getting up, using the bathrooms, etc. We had a nice dining table to do our evening prep work and just chat around. It was a short, direct walk to the metro station (Potomac Ave.) and only two stops to Capitol South. We were definitely the closest to our daily destination. I would certainly try to get this house again for the next OAW!

The jigsaw puzzle

All things come to an end and I left DC on Friday to go to Boston to see E & M. E is a true Girls High friend, one that I've never lost touch with, one I love and we can just pick up our conversation. At last I got to relax. It was relaxing at J & E's, but I was jet-lagged. It was relaxing at T & B's, but I was excited and a bit anxious about the week to come. At E & M's, the week was over; jetlag was over; I could relax. Besides, it was going to snow, so we didn't go out. We talked, and talked, and talked and started a jigsaw puzzle, and listened to "Car Talk" and "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me". I have now programmed my nice internet radio to NPR podcasts, and to a several stations in the US and the UK, too. 

E & M digging out to take me to the airport!

Since just before Christmas, my shoulder has been hurting. I started out taking something for the pain and inflammation, but there was no change in the pain, so I didn't keep it up. In addition to the shoulder, the biceps hurts constantly, as if I were By the end of January, my right arm could hardly move, but our trip to England, followed by my trip to the States was coming up, so I went to see an osteopath here n Nogent and he worked more than an hour on my locked joints and got my arm to move. He sent me home with a recommendation to put ice on my shoulder and warned me it might hurt a bit more for a few days. We went off to England and my shoulder hurt more and then settled to its regular pain. In the couple of days home, before leaving for the States, I decided not to go back to the osteopath so soon, because I really couldn't bear having it hurt more again when I needed to wear a backpack and pull a suitcase. I had a very good massage at the airport in Boston on my way home; I could feel the knots undoing. And on arriving home, I went straight to the osteopath, who did his thing and remarked that it was easier to manipulate the joints. It was not more painful in the following days and I managed to lift my arm and use it. The next week was even a bit better. I still needed to make an appointment with the doctor because this is not the first time I've had this and I need to have the underlying cause of it taken care of. With the school vacation, though, I can't get through to her. This past week, I've regressed to where I was two months ago and I realize how time flies. I guess, too, that I'm trying to compensate for awkwardness and straining my back in the process. Tomorrow -- return to the osteopath.

Sorry to complain. But that's why I haven't felt like writing much.  I have managed to get back to scanning the negatives and I came across more than 200 black and white negatives of Paul's that go back to before we met. I scanned those yesterday and am trying to figure out some order to them. I'll put a few up on Picasa to share with D.L., P & J, and K. B. -- some pictures of the Pierwige from 1967-69! Only a few more days to go with the negatives and I'll be all caught up on what I have. But still can't find the ones that got me started on this -- from the trip out West in '93. I found the first part of the trip -- Jon and Tobi's new house, Claire holding the baby, Eric, Louis' birthday party at Terry and Roger's, some beautiful black and white shots of Roger's furniture...and scattered photos from the West.

Lots and Lots of Little Things

There's no order to my thoughts today. First thing that comes to my mind is that I'm sick of the US election. I can't imagine what it must be like in the States, with all the political ads. Here, it's just in the news and special reports. But then, it's also on facebook, in the comments and shared tidbits from friends. I haven't expressed myself very much publicly. A little, but not much. I have expressed myself concerning overseas voting by encouraging everyone to request their ballots and then to send them in. All that, and when I figured my ballot was a bit late in coming I called the Philadelphia Board of Elections to inquire and then to ask they send me another one. It arrived, but the address was nearly illegible and not to international standards, so I'm surprised it did arrive. I've been corresponding by email with the assistant commissioner with my Congressman's office and the founders of a group of overseas voters that worked hard to get people registered and get their ballot requests and then their ballots in. So, I just got more frustrated when I checked the PA voters services site to check the status of my ballot (had it been received?) and was notified that I am not registered! I am so! The board of elections people had no trouble identifying me, my address, or other information and never once suggested that I wasn't actually registered! So, imagine a voter who checked the site and was informed he or she was not registered. Why send in the ballot, then? Another person on the "Pennsylvanians Abroad" group on facebook has just reported being in the same confusion and frustration as me. I'm a militant voter, so I have made the phone calls, have corresponded with the board of elections, have alerted my Congressman, but many voters might just take the website's word for it and give up.

This week, you can't have ignored Superstorm Sandy! Wow! That's getting wide coverage here, too. There's been a mention here and there about Haiti being hit hard and it's a shame that so much time is being spent on the US damage. I don't know if there's been much mention in the States of the damage elsewhere. For us, this puts a real damper on our vacation plans. I had reserved a house belonging to the mother-in-law of a friend (http://ellenlebelle.blogspot.fr/2010/10/what-wonderful-weekend-thank-you-anita.html) for two weeks in August. The kids were trying to arrange their vacations to come; B&T were coming up for a weekend; J&T were planning to come.... Well, Anita has written that we should come up with a plan B. The news she has been able to glean is that the house, miraculously, is okay. However, the island's infrastructure is so damaged that they are estimating it will take many months to restore services. In the mean time her mother-in-law may just give up and sell.

Paul and I took a week-long break. We've already been home a week! We went to Avignon to see T, a friend of Paul's from the Pierwige before my time, probably 1969. She's been living in Avignon for a long, long time and has just retired. She's a physical therapist, but her real specialty is the Feldenkrais method and she has developed techniques for dancers and musicians. We'd been to see her a couple of years ago. This time we had dinner with her twice. The second one was at her parents'. They live in the same converted mansion, downstairs. They are delightful and dinner was pleasant. They miss living in Los Angeles, though. 

T was busy on Thursday, so Paul and I went for a drive. I took a look at a map and saw that one of my facebook friends (really the friend of a friend) was nearby, so we set that as our destination. Then Paul saw the sign for Ménerbes and wanted to go there because when he was a teenager, in the mid-60s, he had spent three summers with his aunt and uncle's helping to clear the land and rebuild the hillside terrace walls just outside the village. We found the house. The hillside is covered with trees. The village is well restored and much cleaner and richer than Paul remembered it of course. There used to be just one café tabac and now there are several restaurants. We had lunch -- excellent. But everything shuts down by mid-November. There's no doctor; the pharmacy is closed, no butcher or baker. 

Goult, the village near my facebook friend's, is just across the main road from Ménerbes, on the facing hill. It's a bigger village. The streets are wider, so there is more light. There is a very nice little tour of the town you can do on your own; there are little posts with tourist information along the way. They've restored the old flour mill and there's a panel explaining the restoration and the functioning of the mill. My friend had been out when I announced the possibility of our passage and our timing was off, so next time we'll plan better.

Paul wanted to go to Apt. Based on his memory, this was where we could get some good fruits confits (candied fruit). It was the big town where his aunt used to go to market. It is still a big town. There is a candied fruit processing plant just outside the town, but the main street only had a couple of shops with the specialty. It was time to return to Avignon and dinner with T and her parents.

The next morning we went to Montpellier for an afternoon and evening with the Bs, our former neighbors in Nogent. The twin girls are big girls now, going on 5, and the boy is a big boy for 7. Their house is finished and is very big and pleasant. M and R are, as ever, wonderful. R has taken up music seriously and has performed in a local club! They both have heavy teaching schedules this semester and are very, very busy. We spent the night at the Holiday Inn in the town center and it is a beautifully restored old hotel.

Saturday, we were off to Six-Fours, to the Lebelles, there. Pierre and Paul spent quite a lot of time looking at their old family films that have been transferred to a DVD. We brought back a big box of slides that Paul is now in the process of scanning into his computer. The big job is trying to sort them out -- where, when, who...

Here are some shots from our trip:

A Walk and an Early Weekend in the Tourraine

It's Sunday and we're home from our weekend. That's one of the advantages of no longer working; we get to choose when to go off on a weekend. First, though, Emma came back from her woofing on Sunday evening. Her project has matured and it's time to set it up. I won't say more about it until it's done, though. We will just enjoy having her home for a while.

J and E joined me for an Ile de France walk in the Forêt de Carnelle, north of Paris on Wednesday. This walk was less difficult that the one two weeks ago. It was mostly through forest. M-L sent us this description:

Thanks again, Daniel, for leading us on such a lovely hike and for keeping the rain at bay. I did a little research about the Foret de Carnelle which I would like add to what Daniel and Virginie told us on Wednesday. This is translated (roughly) from the FFR Topo Guide of the Val d’Oise, pp. 90, 94, and 95.

Picture from Wikipedia 

 The Pierre turquaise is the only megalith of the department composed entirely of sandstone. As Daniel said, the name could refer to its color or the Turks. The book says that it is very likely that the name comes from “Turc” because this type of megalith often was named after France’s enemy in medieval times.  As Virginie read to us, the Pierre turquaise was used as a kennel for the Prince of Conti hunting dogs. It was classified “Monument Historique” in 1869 in order to save it from being used to make paving stones for the streets of Paris. (!!) It was destroyed by explosives in 1985 and subsequently partially rebuilt. The book also says that the bas-relief of a woman is on the left “pillar”. I can’t understand why none of us saw her.

The forest probably gets its name from the Celtic word “carn” which means “stone”. Gypsum and marl (marne) quarries were dug in the 19th century. The lake where we ate lunch gets its name from the blue color of the marl underneath.  It and the one next to it are artificial, fed by springs and are former marl quarries, which explains their blue color. The book goes on to say that in present times the presence of microscopic algae give the water a more green hue.

The stone is not at all turquoise. It's a big slab of sandstone laid flat on smaller sandstone pillars, much like a table and very similar to other celtique megalithic structures you find here and there, and lots in Brittany. That the ponds are former quarries makes sense. Just looking at them, we figured that's what they were. They were definitely a greenish gray, almost smoky jade, color under the overcast we had. It rained a bit, mostly drizzle, nothing to keep us from walking. We went up and down hills, along a few fields, on the move for at least 16 km. (10 miles). We passed by an alpaca herd. The animals were very small and the shearing was still showing on their fur. They look very cute.J and E came home with me for dinner, where R joined us before she headed for NYC. Paul and Emma had set the table and everything was really ready, definitely no work for me.

We met Callie and her masters, Ken and Walt.

The next morning, Paul and I set off for St. Aignan. Well, not exactly St. Aignan, just outside, in Mareuil-sur-Cher, where my blogging friend, Ken lives. Ken wrote about our visit, so I don't have much to add. Just click on the link and read on. It was a really pleasant afternoon. I was happy to finally meet this family that I feel I've known for years, from reading their blogs. (Again, Ken's blog is http://ckenb.blogspot.com/ and Walt's is http://www.wcs4.blogspot.com/). I only took one picture, though, of Callie on our walk down the road that runs from the back of their lot through the vinyards to the slightly larger paved road. 

Ken wrote a bit about the Pierwige. Paul lived there as a student from Sept. 1965 until the end of the school year in 1970. I arrived in February, 1970, the same year as Ken. When he came for his Easter break, I was off with the Pitzer group and Claude on our tour of Normandy and Brittany. When Ken came back in May, though, I was probably there. We must have crossed paths, then, and just never knew it. Dick, the one who put us in touch with one another, was there in '68. He and Paul became close friends, but once I entered the picture, I was the one who corresponded most with Dick. In the early days of internet for the common people, the days of Compuserve, both Dick and I were subscribers and found each other. Then, with Facebook, he found me, again. Internet has allowed Paul to find Tania again, too. She was at the Pierwige the year before me and lives in Avignon. We visited her last year. I thought I had written about it, but I guess I didn't; I can't find it. Peter and Jeanne were Pierwigians, contemporaries of Dick's. They will be coming to Paris it see us in October. 

On Friday, we visited Montrésor in the morning -- just a bit of walking through this well-kept, midievel town with its castle at the top and the village below. The church is strange. It's got a magnificent facade, leading you to think it's enormous, but the building is very short! It's a very small church.

We drove through Loches and decided not to stop to see the château. I think Loches rhymes with moche (ugly) and it certainly did not look like a place to visit. I know I visited it 40 some years ago on that Easter trip with Claude, but I think once was enough. On our drive, both on Thursday and Friday, we took the smaller roads and saw some very beautiful countryside. We stopped for a moment in Tours before heading over to Gwen's parents' for an enjoyable lunch and family visit. We got up to leave and the car wouldn't start! Not just not start. There was no electricity, at all. We're not sure what happened; maybe when we stopped, Paul didn't press the Power button hard enough. Whatever it was, the insurance company sent around a repair guy who knew exactly where all the connections were and exactly what to do. We assume he's done this often and knows the Prius well. We are not alone. It was still quite a scare.

From the bouquet of Dalhias
at the Thomas's lunch
 on Friday

We returned to Montrichard for our second night, there. (I must remember that I definitely do not like charming provincial hotels. They are not comfortable.) Montrichard -- you pronounce the "t" because, apparently, it does not come from Mont + Richard, but from mon + trichard (tricheur = cheater). In the town, between the Place du Commerce and the Place du Marché, they have the Rue de la Juiverie, which was not an official ghetto, but is where the Jews who were expelled from Blois in the 12th century settled, before they were eventually exiled from France altogether.

Yesterday was Saturday and the last weekend in July, so the traffic reports of the "juilletistes" crossing paths with the "aoûtiens" were horrendous. We took the small roads through the countryside almost all the way to Paris and had no traffic problems at all.

Friday was Louis' birthday, and the reason we took this early weekend trip was to leave him the house so he could host a barbecue party. Anne is back from her escapade to Lisbon and we'll all get together with the Lebelles from Verrières on Tuesday.