Thinking about last summer

I didn't write during the summer. Now, I'm going through our photos to create our annual photo album and that got me to thinking about the summer, again.
Photobox is moving to a new system since Adobe Flash is no longer available. They haven't finished the migration and some of the conveniences of the old studio are gone and it's frustrating. I just don't want to have to start using some other service. I've got so many books created with Photobox. It's already frustrating enough that I have two accounts. I started one in the UK and then another in FR. I managed to migrate the one in France to the UK, but could not merge the two accounts. Each has its own email address. I do wish I could merge them and have everything in a single account.

So, let's get back to the summer. Rue du Général Chanzy held its annual street party. For C, it was her first and she loved it. The weather was good, too; the rain held off until almost the end. There was a new "toy": a bubble maker. C. loved that and spent a lot of time chasing bubbles. Our street has held this party for 30 years. At the time, it was a novelty, so much so, that the Maire (then, Nungesser, now, Martin) has come almost every year. Since we started, the French have created a national "Fête des Voisins", but we don't bother with that date. It has been a great success on our street, with the street blocked off to traffic and open to games such as racing on stilts, rope pulls, snail races and more. Adults gather together to watch the kids. It's nice to see the next generation continue. Meanwhile, A took a week-long vacation in the Loire valley.
Early in June, we went to Northampton to visit the English family. We went to visit a manor and a petting farm. We got to see Au. in a dance show. I had my hobby knitting machine with me and the kids had a chance to knit a little and I fixed the skirt and sweater that were too big.
Immediately after that, I went off with the AARO delegation to Washington for Overseas Americans Week. I was already exhausted because I had done most of the preparation work of getting the appointments. A couple of the other participants helped out once the lists were made but it is exhausting work.

The OAW delegation before we split up the last day.

The FAWCO delegate and I shared a hotel room not far from Dupont Circle. I got to spend one dinner with Amy, who is now working in DC. We had a tiny family reunion, eating our take-out dinner in Dupont Circle! She has a small apartment right at the Circle. Another delegate and I had a night out at the ball game - Washington Nationals vs the Diamondbacks. Other than that we all spent the week scattering ourselves from meeting to meeting both on the Hill and off. 83 meetings, in all!
Paul's cousin, Danielle, died before I got home but since the funeral was delayed, we both managed to go to St. André des Alpes for the funeral and, as usual with funerals, we got to see lots of family not seen in ages. P. and G. stayed at the same B&B as we did, so we had a pleasant get together before they headed back to Six-Fours and we headed back to Nice to catch our train. There was a heatwave and our train back to Paris got delayed. We had water for the trip, but not enough and it was an uncomfortable ride. The OUIGO discount TGVs do not have a refreshment car nor vending machines so if you don't bring your own food (in our case, lunch sandwiches) and water, you are stuck. They do have air-conditioning but they set it at a minimum, relatively high temperature. We were wilted on arrival and still had to catch the RER and walk up the hill once we got to Nogent.
At the end of June, Chl celebrated her 5th birthday. We went to Swann et Vincent, a decent family restaurant at Denfert-Rocherau and got an ice cream cone for dessert at the nearby rue Daguerre. After that, we had a little break. The kids in England were still in school and the kids in Paris were off on the beginning of their vacation until the end of July. Somewhere in there

A day at the zoo

When school was over in England, Cl brought the girls for a week at the end of July and the Parisian kids were back so the cousins had a wonderful few days together. We all went to the zoo one day. They went to the Toutankhamon exhibit and even managed to go up the Eiffel Tower before I took the Brits back to the airport. This was followed by a visit from the American cousins at the beginning of August! We only got a couple of hours together on the river bank, but the kids, who remembered the Christmas visit to Winter Park, picked up playing together as if they'd seen one another just the day before.

Chez Emma

We had a week or so to recover from all the visiting. The Brits stopped in on their way to the Annecy and took A with them for a week and the Parisians went to Oléron for relaxation and oysters. We drove down to Najac to visit E and G and after the week in Oléron, the Parisians had a week not far, so we all managed to get together, again.
Upon our return to Paris, the Brits stopped for a night on their way back to England and took me with them for a family birthday party in London -- another wonderful family reunion, especially for C, who hadn't seen these cousins in several years.
One night at the hotel and I returned home the next day. And then my shoulder froze.
PS: As usual, there are no photos of the kids. I do share them with the family.

Two months just flew by!

Wow, that went fast! I thought I was going to write a post after our trip to the Toulouse area, but I wanted to sort out the pictures, first. That's where I made a mistake. I still haven't sorted them out.

After the July 14 parade, during which the planes seemed to be flying even lower as they went over our house, we left on Monday in order to arrive in Blagnac early enough on Tuesday to pick up the first of the Americans we spent a week with. We spent that Monday night in Brives-la-Gaillarde, a busy town, even on a Monday, when most shops are closed. There are not as many empty shops as we've become used to seeing in town centers. There were plenty of people in the streets and at the cafés.
On Tuesday morning, we arrived at the gîte in Blagnac where we stayed last year for the big family reunion. You might recognize the hens. They no longer lay eggs, but still peck around the yard.
First off, who was on this trip. As usual, I will not mention full names, which I know is annoying to some, but the other participants deserve their privacy. P -- my husband, K&S -- K is my cousin from LA and S, his wife. R&J -- from New York, R is a high school friend of K's and J, his wife. JT -- our Nogent neighbor who sent his elder son to K&S's house about 30 years ago to improve his English and has been a friend of K&S since then. Both R and JT are psychiatrists and have been friends since K&S introduced them. Seven people, two cars (ours and JT's).
K&S arrived at the airport, just 5 minutes from the house, in the morning. They had time to get settled in and we went to lunch across the street at a pizzeria, the first of the excellent restaurants on the street. Finished lunch and went back to the airport for R&J. That first day, we didn't budge from Blagnac. We went for a walk late in the afternoon, but everyone was just a ready for a relaxing day before we hit the tourist road.

Toulouse
France was in a heat wave. Toulouse is already very hot in summer, but in this heat wave, it was unbearably hot, but we survived. We started at Saint Sernin, from there walked to the Jacobins, where P finished high school, to the Garonne waterside for some refreshing drinks and more and more walking. We enjoyed a nice lunch on a terrace and then had to get back to the cars at Saint Sernin. The one thing missing was a swimming pool and we were just too tired to walk over to the Blagnac public pool.
Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges
Next on our to-do list was a drive down to Saint-Bertrand de Comminges in the foothills of the Pyrenees. This is a pilgrimage site on the way to Santiago de Compostela. It's a beautiful site. There aren't too many tourists, so you can actually see what you are visiting. However, it's become such an attraction that you have to park in a field at the bottom of the hill and there's a little train to take you up. They don't really indicate where you are supposed to get on the train. There was a a little bus/train stop looking place at the far end of the parking lot and we thought that was it. It wasn't. Once we did get to the train and saw there were three stops on the hill, we asked where we should get off. The driver just said it didn't matter. I had to be very specific in my question, where should we get off where we had the least walking to do. (K had a back ache and none of us really wanted to do a lot of uphill climbing in the heat, anyway.) Visiting the cathedral is free, but the cloisters visit is not. From the cloisters there's a gorgeous view of the valley and the cloisters are pleasant to just walk around. We got a combined ticket so that we could visit the basilica Saint-Just, just in the plain below Saint-Bertrand. We went there after lunch. Lunch was excellent -- on the terrace under a linden tree -- but very, very long. I prefer Saint-Just. It's a simple Romanesque church built with recycled stones, many of which seem to have been from Roman Empire times. While waiting for the others to finish up their visit, P and I had a nice chat with the woman at the ticket booth. She's from La Réunion and wants to visit Paris. We had hoped to drive up into the Pyrenees, so close, but lunch had taken up so much time, we just went back to Blagnac after Saint-Just. That happened to us, again, the very next day.
When we got back to Blagnac, we found, as expected, Em.&G, and a friend of G's from Switzerland. He had just flown in and they were going to spend the night in Blagnac with us and then go into Toulouse on Friday for art supplies. We had an excellent dinner at Le Temps Moderne, on the main street of Blagnac.

MoissacWe spent a morning at Moissac, visiting the gigantic Saint-Pierre church, part of the old abbey. Again, this is on one of the trails to Santiago de Compostela. The stone carvings are fascinating and there are beautiful, colored wood sculptures in the church. Both JT and P had insisted we visit, here, and they were right. But enough of churches!
We took them to Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val for lunch at l'Auberge des Sens. We got there a little later than expected and after lunch spent quite a while walking around the town. It's so pleasant when it's not a market day, although, it seemed the lack of tourists is a problem this year. By the time we were ready to leave, it was deemed too late to drive the short distance up to Em&G's place and spend an hour. That's really a shame, but we thought we'd go up on Monday for even a longer visit.

Saturday, some went back into Toulouse, P and I stayed in Blagnac. Sunday, we all went to Albi. I love how they've restored the interior of the cathedral. We've been there several times in the past few years. It's one of my favorite places to visit in France. The cathedral takes a long time to visit, especially if you want to take in the choeur and the treasury. And after the cathedral, there's the Toulouse-Lautrec museum, with a little stop at the garden on the side. Lunch and a longer visit to the garden before finding the cars and heading back "home". JT flew back to Paris for a funeral and came back on Monday evening.
Monday, everyone was tired of the long drives, so instead of going up to Em&G's place, we went back into Toulouse. We split up with a meeting point for lunch and later meeting point for the river/canal cruise -- not recommended. During the split up time, P and I went for a long walk to the garden and then to the canal, to where he used to live. We had lunch with K&S. and then joined the others at 2. We even managed to get on an earlier cruise than we'd reserved, but really, the cruise is avoidable. For us, it was an opportunity to be seated and in the shade.

The week was coming to an end. On Tuesday morning, we visited the Airbus 380 facility. It's a shame the plane has not been the success it was expected to be. They will have to shut down production. We then spent another hour, or so, in the museum. We thought we'd have lunch on site and got to the restaurant at 11:45, but they couldn't seat us, even though it was empty, because it was all reserved. My own feeling is that when there is only one food outlet at a tourist attraction, they should maintain a percentage of the seating for walk-ins, first come-first served. The rest of the day was just relaxing and packing. Wednesday, off to the airport and we drove up to Najac and JT went the opposite direction to continue his vacation with friends.

Les Gorges du Verdon

Les Gorges du Verdon

en français sous la ligne ___
Les Gorges du Verdon are sometimes referred to as the Grand Canyon du Verdon, but in no way can the area be confused with what Americans consider the Grand Canyon!
Here is the wikipedia article in English. The river cut the river bed through layers and layers of sedimentary ocean floor. While it was rushing down the hundreds of meters of rock, it carried boulders from higher up and carved out these smooth curves in the rock and sometimes that led to deeper caves. Even before Neanderthal came along, these caves were inhabited by humans. Neanderthals lived there. Cro-Magnon did not live there because the glaciers had come back and it was just too cold for Cro-Magnon, who found a better climate in the Ardeche and the Dordogne valleys.

Claire showing Aurelia the oil

The Verdon is in what they call the pre-Alps or Basses Alpes. It's the eastern edge of the Provence region, east of the Durance river. It's a fruit-tree region, especially apple trees. There is also wheat, the hard variety used in pasta. Most of all, there is lavender. The best time to visit the region is before the lavender is harvested, before the third weekend in July. There's lavender and lavendin, but let's just say lavender to make things easy. The lavendin season is a little later than the lavender season and it takes 6 times more lavender than lavendin to extract the same amount of essential oil, so most of the production is lavendin. Apparently, you can use lavender essential oil in food, but not lavendin. How do I know all this? Well, the Plateau de Valensole is part of the region and we visited a distillery just outside the town of Valensole and the distiller explained it. He took a sample of from the condensing vat to show us the oil floating on the water.
Until 40 years ago, the canyon was all canyon and only accessible to hikers and rafts, but in the 70s a series of dams was built at Esparron, Quinson, and Sainte Croix and they created three lakes. The highest, the Sainte Croix is the biggest. We were on the middle lake, at Montpezat. We (Paul and I, Claire, Aurelia and Constance) were at a vacation village run by Belambra. It was fine for what it is, but not really my dream place. I'm not much into organized quiz shows before meals, the after-dinner parties with music blasting 'til 11. I did go to the aquagym sessions, though. The pool was great. The rooms were fine. I'm just not a great camp participant.

View from the room

The kids show, first week

It was a great location! The tiny village of Montpezat sits just above this vacation complex and is a delightful

place to go for morning walks. We also did little excursions to Riez, Moustiers, Valensole, Quinson and along the corniches of rhte gorges. I took a boat excursion on the lake through the gorges to the Sainte Croix dam. That's where I got my geology and pre-historic information. Moustiers is well-known for its ceramics. The industry had died out completely in the nineteenth century and a sole ceramist revived the industry in the early 20th century. Now, the town is 100% pottery shops. Riez was the closest town and has a good deal of its old ramparts and city gates, with the old main street with 16th century Renaissance homes. It has an enormous market and you can tell that it's not just for tourists when you see the hardware store in a truck on the parking lot.

Papa Cancy and the kids

A one-ring family circus was in town one evening and we treated the family to an evening at the circus -- very small family. The youngest performer was the 4-year-old boy and just learning his clown and acrobatic acts. The 10-year-old is well on her way, but still has a way to go. The younger girl, about 7, didn't seem much interested in making this her profession. Aurelia was very impressed and that's all that counts.

Entrance to the Pre-history museum

We went to Bargème, a midieval village that still has a very authentic atmosphere. It's hard to get to and doesn't have the touristy shops one finds everywhere else. At Quinson, another village with its ramparts, gates, Renaissance homes and fountains everywhere, we took in the Pre-History museum. It's an excellent museum, but perhaps a little out of range for children. There were some scenic windows, but not enough. When you see boxes of flints from 500,000 BC followed by boxes of flints from 400,000 BC followed by boxes of flints from 350,000 it's a bit overwhelming. However, you do see that there is evolution from simple flints to two-facets, to triangular; it just took a long, long time. There is also evidence of trade during Neanderthal times. Obsidean came from more than 1000 km. away in Italy, flint from 80 km. away. We didn't have Aurelia with us for this visit and I think it was a good thing. The entrance to the museum leads you to think that they cater to kids, though, with the Mammouth and tiger and other animals displayed. Kids might think they are in "Ice Age". For fans of contemporary acrchitecture, the museum was designed by Norman Foster and represents a flint. Not far away there is a "prehistoric village" which, according to Claire and Paul, who walked to it, is more adapted to children.

The church at Ganagobie

Lunch at Bargème

Bargème

We ended the second week with a visit to Six-Fours to see the family. Aurelia got to swim with her big cousins and loved it. The two Maxes are her heros and the Lebelle and Dehaut girls cousins were perfect and I think they all were taken with her. Constance was a bit startled by everyone and hung to Mommy, but was still well-behaved. The meal was absolutely perfect. And more family came over in the afternoon, so everyone got to see Claire and meet the girls. We were very sorry to miss the cousins from Pau. Claire and the girls had to leave to pick up Geoff and Charlotte in Marseilles and we waited a little longer, but had to leave to get back to Montpezat.

At the Carrière des Lumières

A sarcophage at the Arles Museum

Saturday, we got to see Geoff and Charlotte and said good-bye to the Brits, who are staying on in the area before coming to us on their way back home. We headed west through Provence to Les-Baux-de-Provence so that Paul could see the sound & light show, Klimt and the Vienna School, that I wrote about not long ago. We also squeezed in a visit to the Arles Antiquities Museum before heading to Avignon for the night. At Arles, they dug up a Roman-period barge from the Rhone and it is in almost perfect condition. That and many, many urns and statues and sarcophages make it an interesting museum to visit, though not for kids who haven't studied the Roman Empire.

Street musician in Avignon

We ended the evening in Avignon, a short visit with Tania's mother and then dinner with Tania at a very nice little restaurant on the Place St. Pierre at the Coin Caché. A street musician serenaded the diners for a long time and played beautifully.
I have shared the full photo album with family -- if you didn't get the link, let me know.
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Je ne vais pas tout résumé. C'est trop. J'ai parlé de ce que nous avons fait pendant les deux semaines dans les Gorges du Verdon en explicant un peu ce que sont ces gorges. 
Ensuite, la distillation de la lavande. Le plateau de Valensole, les villes et sites que nous avons visités. Nous avons vu un petit cirque familiale -- vraiment tout petit, mais idéal pour Aurélia qui a pu voir des acrobates, à peine de son age...
Les photos évoquent ces vacances et comme nous avons eu la chance de vous voir et de vous raconter de vive voix, je ne vais pas tout recommencer. Je partage l'album avec la famille, si vous n'avez pas eu le lien, passe moi le mot.

La Réunion photos

Here are some photos from the trip to La Réunion.
Family, there are more personal photos in another album. Email me if I haven't already shared it with you.

La Réunion - a full two weeks

My apologies. I was sleepy and sloppy in my first post from La Réunion and got the days of the week mixed up: arrived on Thursday, Hell-Bourg and Ste. Suzanne on Friday (east), St. Philippe and the southern coast on Saturday.
Sunday, we needed our rest and the Thomas clan arrived early in the afternoon. They needed their rest, too.

Cirque de Mafate

Monday morning, Paul, Anne, and I had our helicoptor tour of the island. It's splendid. Our tour took off from behind St. Paul. The company is Helilagon. There is another company based closer to us at l'Ermitage, Corail, and they seem to be just as good. We had scheduled the 7:00 tour because we had been told that one must do it very early so as not have the view obscured by clouds. It turned out that they rescheduled us for 8, which we only found out because we also discovered they would pick us up at our hotel at no extra charge and I phoned to arrange that. The pick-up was at 7:20 and when we arrived at the héliport, we discovered the 7:00 people and the 8:00 all still waiting for the all clear signal.

Take off for our group of 6 was at about 8:30 and the sky was wonderfully clear. We flew over St. Paul and picked up altitude to enter the Cirque de Mafate via the Maïdo peak. From there, we dipped into the Cirque. The cirque is one of the three caved-in calderas of the Piton des Neiges volcano, the one that has been dormant for long enough for people to feel safe living in the cirques. The Cirque de Mafate is only accessible on foot or by helicopter. There are villages on the plateaus that are separated from one another by deep gorges and the cirque is surrounded by almost vertical walls. The inhabitants voted against having a road built along the canyon entrance and against having electricity brought in. As far as electricity is concerned, they were right, because now, they all have solar panels and do not need the heavy installations. Mafate was originally settled by run away slaves. Apparently one was called Mafate and in Malgache, that means either "qui pue" (who stinks) or "qui tue" (who kills). Once the run aways made it into the cirque, no one really bothered trying to capture them. They were followed, later, by the poor second or third sons of planter families, and by Chinese shop keepers.
From Mafate, we went over to the Cirque de Salazie, which we had driven through the week before. It's so much greener! It's canyon entrance is on the eastern side of the island, where all the rain comes from. Still, in spite of being on the rainy side, the waterfalls are just trickles this year.

Turning south we flew over the Piton de la Fournaise, the active volcano, although there's no activity right now. There's a valley, a plain between the two volcanos and we could see the large farms.
And then over les trois Salazes into the Cirque de Cilaos, not quite as confined as Mafate, because there is a road and electricity, but still signs of rugged living.

Les Trois Salazes 

Tuesday, we (quite a group, now) made our way back to Ste. Philippe to visit the Jardin des Parfums et Epices. That was a beautiful visit. I recommend it. The guidebooks say you need to reserve for the guided tour, and you do. That said, they accept too big a crowd on a tour, so you kind of wonder if they do have a limit. Our tour was the 10:30, but by the time they got us all rounded up it was getting closer to 11 and they had opened a tour for 11, so, since there seemed to be fewer people on the 11:00 tour, we switched. It was well worth the wait; our tour guide was the owner! Of course, there's vanilla, curcuma, ginger, mangoes, papayas, bananas, and more. There's so much more, if you go, take notes in order to remember it all. The tour is an hour and a half, but ours seemed to go on a bit longer. The parents of small children dropped out a bit half way through because it's just too much information and stationary pauses. For those of us unhindered by babies, it was an enlightening tour.

 This hole in the ground is what is left when the lava cools around a hardwood tree. The tree burns slowly enough for the lava to cool around it. Once the tree has burned away, the hole is left. This is useful to determine the depth of the lava flow. It is also useful as a natural toilet. The people would choose to build their houses near two such holes, so that when one filled up, they could use the second, until the first had composted, and so on.

Notre Dame des Laves

NWhen we left the garden, we drove past the Grande Coulée, to the east coast. At Sainte Rose, there is this church, now called Notre Dame des Laves. In 1977, a new caldera formed outside the Piton de la Fournaise enclosure and its lava flowed into Sainte Rose, stopping just in front of the church (and a little around the sides). It scalded the building but that was all the damage done! A miracle! The rest of the town was pretty much destroyed and has been rebuilt on top of the lava flow. They've cut steps in the flow for access to the church. 

We continued up the east coast, to Sainte Anne, where we cut across to the road that cuts through the plain between the volcanoes. The "plaine des palmistes" is not as flat as its name sounds. The road winds up and down between the pitons. It's agricultural country. Towards the southern end, it's much more urban and less interesting. As the road descends to St. Pierre, the villages are named for the number of kilometers to St. Pierre: Dix-neuvième, Quatorzième, Onzième. I must say that in the metropolis, there are not so many pharmacies and medical centers or service stations. The roads here are in excellent condition.

On Thursday, we drove up to the top of Maïdo to the viewing rampart for the view into the Cirque de Mafate. It's a beautiful drive. And there are some magnificent views. I envy the hikers that go into the Cirque. There are places to eat and even spend the night. We are no longer up to such hiking. I hope that some of my friends who do hike and who read this blog will consider it as a future destination!

We came back via St. Paul. This is the first capital of La Réunion. It's a big town, but not as big as St. Pierre, and certainly no as big as St. Denis. There are only a couple of shopping streets. There's also a market on Fridays and Saturdays, but this was on Thursday. We did stop for lunch. And we stopped along the coastal road on the way to St. Gilles. In fact, it turned out to be where we stopped on our return from the wedding on Saturday, at Cap La Houssaye.
Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were taken up with the wedding activities. Monday was Anne's last day with us. We did not feel like doing very much. It wasn't really a nice day for the beach, either. We has lunch at Salines-les-Bains and then spent the latter part of the afternoon with Louis, Gwen, and Sacha, who came over to our hotel for a dip in the pool. We then took Anne to the airport..

Le Marché Couvert at Célaos

Tuesday was a nice morning, so we headed south, along the coast, to St. Louis, where we turned and went into the Cirque de Cilaos. It's a beautiful drive, but there are too many S curves to count. You don't have the impression you are going up a mountain because you keep going up and down, following the meander of the river. There are villages here and there, not along the road, but always a little distance off. There are staircases carved into the rock along the road that lead to paths to get to the isolated farms. There are hiking paths to take hikers into the Cirque de Mafate and the Cirque de Salazie.
At the town of Cilaos, there is a little covered market with local produce: melons, lentils, mangoes, peaches, wine, ... and some local crafts, like the embroidery. Further along the road, at the end, is the Ilet à Cordes, on the opposite side of the cirque.

Célaos embroidery

Wednesday was another rather lazy day, spent pleasantly with the Thomas clan. It rained during lunch.
There was a big storm during the night but we woke up to a beautiful morning and decided to take one last drive. We went back to St. Louis to see the Museum of Decorative Art of the Indian Ocean. What a disappointment! The site is an old coffee plantation, Maison Rouge, and they've started cultivating the rare café bourbon again. A small tin of the coffee, 125gr., costs €22! We would have loved to taste a cup of coffee (€2) but the snack bar was closed. The museum exhibit was of Chinese furniture and porcelain that the locals imported -- very beautiful, but nothing made locally. We didn't stay long. We read the posters describing the particularity of Boubon coffee and the life and death of the coffee market in La Réunion. After this very brief visit we got back into the car and decided to see where the little road ended. That was a drive on a little road cut through the fields -- fields of sugar cane, bananas, a bit of pineapple, and more. Some banana plots were empty of fruit; others had fruit already in bags, but still hanging from the plant; and others had tiny fruit just starting. Some of the cane has already been cut, but there is plenty left. We saw four workers in one field cutting. These hillside fields are not good for mechanical harvesting. This agricultural path led to the Department road 3, slightly wider. Beautiful. There's a break in the road, though, where we had to go down the mountain to cross the ravine and then go back up to the D3, which is marked in green from this point on to indicate it is picturesque. Well, the preceding portion was very picturesque, but this bit, which runs parallel to the main highway, but at about 800m. altitude, all the way to St. Paul, has house on each side. We could imagine that there must be nice views of the coast from time to time, but since we were caught in a cloud, we couldn't see. Tired of all the twisting and turning, we called it a day and returned to l'Ermitage.
Tomorrow, we hope to go to the St. Paul market. It's a big tourist attraction. Almost all the Réunion souvenirs are made in Madagascar, though. I hope it's not a tourist trap. We also want to see the Sailors' cemetery. We've passed by it several times and this time we want to stop.

On to La Réunion

Louis and Gwen are getting married! In La Réunion! Not many of the Lebelle side are going to be here. In fact, it's just Paul, Anne, and me. Claire just gave birth to Constance, and besides, Aurelia just started school and can't really be taken out outside school holidays. Emma is just getting down to work on her house and taking time for a trip to La Réunion. It's a long way and merits a long stay. (wikipedia article in English, in French)
Today, Sunday, is a day of rest. At least, the morning is supposed to be. The rest of the family, Louis, Gwen, Sacha and the whole Thomas side, arrive later this morning.
It's a night flight. Taking any flight from Orly suggests an exotic destination, much more so than leaving from CDG. There are no lines; there are crowds. We got to the airport a full three hours before the scheduled departure and the crowd in front of our check-in zone was so big that we didn't see there was a sign for a line for people who had their boarding passes already. We just got into the crowd that slowly became a line for check-in and in over an hour, we were checked-in. I wonder what time the first people in the check-in line got there. We went straight through to the security check and came out at the other end in about half an hour. Our flight was already announced with a delay, so we had time to get a little something to eat. It was already 8:30 and who knew when we'd get our flight dinner! Our Corsair flight was on a recently refurbished 747. It looked and felt new, very comfortable, but we didn't really leave the gate until after 10:30 and it was past midnight by the time dinner came, so it was a good thing we had had a bite beforehand. There's a two hour time difference with La Réunion, so it was about 10:00 a.m. when we arrived on Wednesday morning.
For some odd reason, the local travel agency did not have our voucher for the car, but apparently that happens a lot; our car was indeed reserved and waiting for us, but it was almost noon by the time we got it.
Needless to say, we were a bit tired on arriving at l'Ermitage, just south of St. Gilles, on the west coast of the island. We walked over to the beach, had lunch, and then collapsed for a few hours.
We walked over to the shops and got some breakfast things and some pasta for an eventual dinner in. There is a bit of sticker shock when in the supermarket; almost everything is imported from metropolitan France, but even local produce seemed expensive. Back to the beach for the sunset and back to the studio for a light dinner and plan for our first real day.

Thursday morning, we headed to the west coast and inland from St. André to Salazie and on to Hell Bourg on the rim of the Cirque de Salazie. (photo) The cirques here are really the calderas of extinct volcanoes. This volcano is the Piton des Neiges, which has been sleeping several thousand years. The other one, the Piton de la Fournaise is still very active, almost annually! The landscape changes dramatically as you drive up the dry west coast, past St. Denis, and down the lush east coast. The rain comes from the east. All the towns along the coast around the island seem to be Saint something or other. They were founded by the French. Other towns, inland, have more picturesque names. Something that is striking about this island is that it is rather big, but was totally uninhabited when the French arrived in the 17th century. It, along with Mauritius, Rodrigues, and the Seychelles, are far enough west of Madagascar and east of Australia or southeast of India, that no one had ever settled there. So, the French didn't take it from anyone. No previous civilization was extinguished. The French Compagnie des Indes created the first outposts and then planters and slaves from Africa and Madagascar, followed by low-paid workers from India and China, brought in when the slaves ran off into the cirques -- a rather typical colonization for the period. In addition to the runaway slaves, many second sons, who would not get a piece of the plantation, also went up into the cirques. A few generations along and everyone was a beautiful mix of colors and religions and they had their own créole language.

Hell Bourg was developed in the 19th century as a spa, up in the highlands, away from malaria. It is a pretty little village that has maintained the houses (cases) from the 19th to early 20th century. We visited the Case Folio. It's an interesting guided tour. Isabelle "non-stop" (because you pick up the tour as you arrive and she just keeps going) told us the uses for all the local products: bamboo, different trees, plants, etc. Almost every plant can be used entirely from the leaves to the fruit to the roots, and when no longer productive, the wood.

On our drive back, we stopped in Ste. Suzanne, to visit a vanilla plantation. This is a recent plantation and actually it's a sugar plantation with a vanilla production showcase. The vanilla is grown in the forests. What we saw, here, was just for demonstration purposes. Vanilla is an orchid plant. The flowers, though, only last one day. So the flower has to be pollinated during that day, or there's no vanilla pod. Now, October, is the flowering season, so we got to see how they do it. The technique was invented by a 12-year-old slave, Edmond Albius, in the mid-1800s. He got no compensation other than his master, a botanist, did give him the credit for the invention. Since slavery was finally abolished in 1848, I suppose he didn't have to wait long. It's an interesting visit and a long process for good quality vanilla. The vanilla grows in the forest. It has to be detached from the tree trunk and so that the workers can reach the flowers and then the pods. They have to manually pollinate the flowers (The bees that can do this work are Mexican bees that did not adapt to La Réunion. Vanilla is originally from Mexico.) The pods must be hand harvested as they ripen, just at the right time, 9 months later. The crop is put into baskets and plunged into hot water, not boiling water for 3 minutes. Then, the pods are put into wood trunks and covered with blankets to steam. When they come out of steaming, they have turned brown. They are sun-dried for 6 hours a day, 10 days, and then continue drying in the shade. When they are dry enough (and we were shown how to determine this), they are put into wood trunks to age for a year. During that year, they are inspected regularly in order to throw out any pods that show mildew. After the year, they are sorted by size and tied into bundles and stored away again in wood trunks for further ageing. In all, the process is 2 years. We were cautioned against "fresh" vanilla that hasn't been dried. It looks nicer, but won't last. And the vanilla from Madagascar is sun-dried too long and not aged, so it becomes brittle and doesn't last, either. By this time, one is no longer shocked at the price they are selling their vanilla and is prepared to pay.

Yesterday, we headed south, to St. Pierre and beyond. La Réunion is not yet fully tourist-friendly. There are not many signs to the attractions and it's hard to find street names. St. Pierre is a bustling town with a couple of main shopping streets that measure up to any you would find in any sous-préfecture or préfecture in France. The city hall is located in an old warehouse that belonged to the Compagnie des Indes. We tried to find the market and there was an old colonial house to look at, but the house gates were closed, so we couldn't see it, and the market was on a street we didn't find. We left to visit the rum distillery.
Finding the rum distillery was another adventure because the guidebook did not say which exit to get off the highway and as we were in town, we didn't know from which direction they were giving the little instruction they did. It's a good thing we had a real map and managed to find our way to the main road and finally found signs for the distillery. There, too, is an interesting story about the difference between rum agricole, made directly from sugar cane juice and is more common in the Antilles, and rum traditionnel, made from molasses, which is already a by-product after the juice is separated to make sugar. The bagasse, the fiber, is used to fuel the electricity plants, thus supplying the sugar plants with whatever energy they need and a bit extra for the local grid. They also claim that the sugar cane consumes the entire CO2 production from cars on the island. The guide took us through the distillation process, distillation, condensation, ageing... to tasting and, of course, buying. The specialty on La Réunion is rum "arrangé", with fruit. It's really quite good.

From there, we continued along the southern coast to St. Philippe, where we saw our first lava coastline. The village has been here quite some time, so whatever flow created the beautiful hillside and coast, it was a long time ago. We had a very good lunch at La Bicyclette Gourmande. I had a "sauté vanille" -- a mix of lots of vegetables with shrimp (but I could have chosen meat or chicken) in a vanilla sauce, with rice and lentils. Then we had ice cream for dessert, from a local ice cream maker -- a scoop of ginger and honey and another of pralines. Excellent lunch.

After lunch, we continued all the way to the Grande Coulée, the 2007 flow. Plants are just starting to come up. We stopped, on the way, at le Vieux Port, where the forest has grown considerably since the 1986 flow. The floor of the forest is all fern and then there is a variety of trees and other shrubs. It's very tropical, virgin forest -- but young. Anne and I walked all the way down to the ocean. There are some spectacular sights and, a bit further on, a volcanic beach. We didn't go that far.

Finally we got to the Grande Coulée, but we couldn't see the Piton the Fournaise, because, like so many volcanoes, it was shrouded in fog.
On the way back, we stopped at Le Puit des Anglais, a volcanic swimming pool for safe swimming. Looks like fun! And another stop at Le Cap Méchant, more volcanic seaside.

It might sound as if we covered great distances, but really, no, we didn't. We left in the morning at 8:30 and would have been back at 5:30 if we hadn't got caught in a traffic jam at St. Gilles. We quickly turned around and came back to l'Ermitage for our third sunset.

Vacation?

Somehow, I think of vacations as being longer. I'd call this a long weekend, except the weekend part of it was short; we got home early on Sunday. It's going to be a long post, though, and I'm linking sites and towns to the Wikipedia entries (sometimes in French, sometimes in English) to keep it a bit shorter.
We managed to keep almost a week free of volunteer duties and doctors' appointments, babysitting, dinners out and other nice or not-so-nice obligations. We almost went to England, but the family, there, had other obligations -- very nice obligations -- congratulations to Nigel and Valérie! The big question was "where?" We've had such a horrible spring; should we head south? Or go see friends?

Well, we called P and J in Basel and they were home from their trip and we called M and K in Freiburg-im-Breisgau, so that settled it. We headed east; I programmed the GPS to not authorize highways, so that forced us to a leisurely pace on our way to Metz, where we planned to spend the first night. Our route took us through the village of Epine, which has a basilica. This is a village of 700 inhabitants in the Department of the Marne, near Châlons en Champagne, with an enormous church! It's a Gothic church; it didn't get its basilica status until 1914. The name of the church, Notre Dame de L'Epine, and the town, does not come from the crown of thorns; the legend is that the statue of the virgin was miraculously saved from a burning thorn bush. What surprised me most, aside from its cathedral size, was that the statues all had their heads. In France, most church statues lost their heads during the French revolution. The next thing was the gargoyles, which are in incredibly good condition, too. There's a plaque near the entrance, honoring Captain Louis d'Hangouwart, who, it seems, single-handedly saved the basilica from destruction on Sept. 9, 1914. That was very close to the beginning of World War 1, and very far west already! There is, of course, also, the miraculous well, over which the church was built.
We were on the WWI battlefield road and made a stop at the Butte de Vauquois. There was once a village at the top of this hill. There was a city hall and a church separated by the street. It was a battle of mines. The deep mine crater line what was the street. The French trenches are on one side and the German trenches on the other. The German trenches are permanent structures, in stone; the French ones are more basic mud with walls made of woven branches and sandbags. The whole hill is pitted with mine craters. The forest has grown back, but you can still see the craters; you can't walk off the paths.
After that, we went to Verdun,  the Douaumont Ossuary, which on the site of the demolished village of Douaumont. There's the fort dug into the hill just before you get to the ossuary and walked on the hill/roof, full of shell holes. Military cemeteries are impressive, especially the big ones. So many graves for the ones identified; so many bones of the unknown.
It was a fairly short drive to Metz after Verdun. P-F and N lived in Metz about 20 years ago and loved it. Now we know why. It's a beautiful city, with a vibrant city center. I guess it helped that the weather was nice and people were out. Not tourist people, but local people. The cafés set up on the plazas and sidewalks were packed. The shops were busy. I could live here.
The next morning turned south towards Mulhouse. We stopped to take a look at the Château de Lunéville, a kind of mini-Versailles, built by Léopold, Duke of Lorraine early in the 18th century, but his son had to give it up to Stanislas, the exiled Polish king, who was Louis XVth's father-in-law. They are in the midst of restoring the building that was pretty much destroyed by a fire in 2003. The gardens will be the last part to be restored; there is currently a contemporary sculpture exhibit, there.
We continued on down through the Vosges mountains. We stopped in Gerardmer for lunch and remembered our vacation there more than 20 years ago. Our route took us past Xonrupt, where we stayed. The Linvosges textile factory is one of the very few textile works still functioning and we visited the factory shop. The rest of the afternoon was taken up driving along the crest line from the Col de la Schlucht to Mulhouse. As we came down on the Alsacien side of the mountains, the weather was hot and sunny and we had time to walk around Mulhouse a bit. It's a dying city. On entering the city, you drive through the same warehouse-style shopping centers that surround almost all French cities, and in the city center, you see the closed shops and restaurants. There were people, but not nearly as many were out and about as in Metz. Our hotel was an old hotel near the train station, very nice and friendlier than a chain. We were next to the Museum of Printed Textiles, which we visited not the next morning, but the morning after. It's an interesting visit, because as in Manchester, you see how much was invented for the textile industry. In Manchester, it's the creation of the fabric, in Mulhouse, it's the chemical industry for fixed colors in printing. There's a bit of the history of dyeing fabrics, which was copied from the Indian tradition of tie-dyeing and batik, before creating stamps and then engraved cylinders.
The trip to Basel was to see P and J. We saw them last year, when they were in Paris. For Paul that was the first time in over 40 years and for me, it was the first time. They are delightful. The urban heating infrastructure is in upheaval in Basel, so the GPS had to work very hard to find their apartment building, but we did find it. They have a sumptuous apartment with a beautiful view, lots of greenery and tall trees, and they are a short block away from the tram that gets them into the city center in just two stops, no more than 5 minutes! It's perfect. We took the tram and connected to another to go to up to the other side of the city to the restaurant, where we were lucky to eat on the terrace, in the sun. We had an excellent basque chicken and then ambled down the hill, through what seemed more like a village than a city center, down to the city hall and the church and the old streets, to the other side, where we got a tram back to the apartment. The city was packed with people visiting for ArtBasel, the contemporary art sale. On our return to the apartment house, we got in the car and went over the border into Germany to visit the Vitra production site at Weil am Rhein. Like the industrialists of the 18th and 19th century, the site is an architectural showpiece of contemporary architecture: Jean Prouvé, Frank Gehry, Buckminster Fuller, to name a few. This is where they make the famous Eames chair
and so many other pieces that have become iconic, like the Panton chair.
Back to the apartment for more conversation and a great dinner of asparagus and ham before heading back to Mulhouse for the night.
The next morning, after visiting the Museum of Printed Textiles, we went to see the Schlumpf collection, which is now the National Museum of Automobiles -- acres and acres of cars. Interesting, but a bit too much of a good thing.
Back into the mountains to take the high road to Colmar, via Munster. Colmat is lively, clean and filled with tourists. Like all these pretty Alsacian towns, it's Disneyesque, maybe a bit more so than the other towns. We took the little train around the old town. The hero of Colmar is Bartholdi, the sculptor who did the Statue of Liberty. Everything is named for Bartholdi.
On Saturday morning, we took the slow route to Freiburg, in Germany, to see M and K. Their daughter, S, was there with her baby girl, so that was a treat. We had a short visit all together and then S left and we went into town for lunch. Lunch was taken as we walked around the market in front of the cathedral, first stop at one of the sausage stands for the main dish, followed by the lightest, creamiest cheesecake I've ever had. Having filled up with food, we went to a beer garden for some beer. There was a band playing. The town was bursting with people happy to be out in good weather on the weekend. We walked around a bit and then went up to one of the restaurants on the mountain for coffee and a slice of Black Forest cake before going back to the apartment. We had dinner -- asparagus and ham -- at a restaurant just down the street.
Sunday, we were getting tired of taking just the country roads, so we allowed highways, but spent most of the morning on the country road about half the distance back to Paris, and this took us right through Ronchamp, where we saw a modern-looking church on a hill, which I remembered (from a documentary) as a Le Corbusier, so we went up there to see it. There is a whole Clarisse community up there, but you can't see anything except the chapel from below. Renzo Piano did the new convent and oratory, also invisible from below.
As this is not vacation season and the road was empty for the return to Paris, so we got back in time to see Dominique Weil's exhibit at La Charpente.
.

End of the Journey

The Prius Ate Our IDs

This was on Tuesday, as we were leaving Montenegro. We put our IDs into the compartment beneath the radio. At the border station, my ID card was missing. It's me; I'm always misplacing things, etc., etc. It was raining cats and dogs, too. I had my passport, so it was not a catastrophe, just another panic situation -- me going crazy. We went back into Herceg Novi to where we had been parked, but by this time the street was a river and there was no chance a dropped card would have stuck to the pavement. We went to the agency because I thought I should declare the loss then and there, but the young woman on duty (neither Hayley nor Jack was in) called the police and said the consensus was that, since I had my passport, I should declare the loss back in France. So, off we went -- again. And I presented my passport; the border guard smiled and asked if we had gone back to the hotel and not had any luck...... The thing of it is, this time it was Paul's ID that was missing! I was not going to be alone in my craziness. As we searched all over the car, again, and stuck our hands into that compartment many times, my fingernail got caught at the very top. There's a tiny slit, and we figured that the cards must have slid into it. But the only way we're going to find out is to take the car to Toyota and see if they can dismantle the dashboard and I think the cost of that would be greater than just declaring the cards lost and replacing them. Besides, what if we had the dash dismantled and the cards weren't there; it would be confirmation that we're crazy, right?

Well after we intended to be on our way we finally set off up the coast once more. It rained off and on, but when it was "on" it was torrential. By the time we got up to Split, however, it had stopped. We followed the signs to take the highway up to Split, but the signs are up ahead of the highway being ready, so it's a real detour off the coast road and into the mountains, along the border with Bosnia. It's beautiful and was a welcome change of scenery.

We got to Split in plenty of time to buy ferry tickets and visit the town. The ferry docks are really at the foot of the old roman town, such a pleasant change from the Calais/Dover ferries that are in industrial zones. We got our tickets, parked in the boarding line (free parking!) and walked into Split to spend a couple of hours exploring. I think Paul was especially pleased because we got to see antique ruins. The cathedral, for example, is built in the old roman temple structure. The town is very well preserved. The alleys are so narrow, they could only handle pedestrian traffic -- no horses or carts.

The next morning we woke up with the Italian coast in sight. It took a bit of time to unload the ferry (but less than it had taken the night before to load -- we had quite a show watching the last of the trucks getting on board). We decided not to tarry, so we hit the autostrada and didn't get off until we decided not to take the Frejus tunnel after Turin, but rather go up through the Mount Cenis pass and on to Chambery. We had time for a pleasant stroll though Chambery before dinner. I didn't take any pictures, though, just looked. On Thursday, we continued on the smaller roads before finally getting back on the autoroute in Macon. We arrived home in the afternoon.

So, now we are home. It is Sunday, today, and when I get my hands on my voting card, I'll take my passport and go vote in the European elections.

Finishing up in Montenegro

Lunch in Mostar

On a whim, and perhaps because we weren't thinking straight, we decided to go to Mostar. This is something we had said we could do on our way up to Split on our way home; it's a little out of the way, but in the right direction. Instead, we decided to make a day trip of it. Jack had suggested we try the quiet little border crossing past the tomb of the Napoleonic War soldier, but we missed the turnoff to that and ended up at the big border crossing with the line. For once, however, I did not miss the turnoff to a small road that runs more or less parallel to the coast road and we had a beautiful view from there. In Croatia, the roads are in better shape than in Montenegro; you get the impression that EU funds have already been spent. Unfortunately, I misread the map again and we ended up down on the coast road just past Dubrovnic airport, but we managed to find another turn to get us to the Bosnia-Herzegovina border and to the scenic road up in the mountains. There are more signs of the recent war, here: homes abandonned, homes with shell shots not yet patched up. The closer to Mostar, the more traces there are.

We know of Mostar because of the bridge. This single-arch steep bridge symbolized the divided Christian and Moslem communities and when it was destroyed, it was considered the bottom of the war, so of course, when it was rebuilt, that symbolized the end of it all. This was just over 10 years ago -- that's all! Would we have made a detour to visit Mostar if there had not been a famous battle culminating in the destruction of the bridge? Maybe. The old bridge must have been a tourist must-see. Now, you get to see the new version of the old bridge. There's another, smaller, new "old" bridge, the "crooked bridge", which is said to have served as the model for
the larger bridge. We had lunch at a little restaurant with a view of the little bridge. After lunch, we walked a few meters farther and saw the famous bridge. We walked over it and it is very steep, so steep there are raised stones every step to brake you (or, I suppose in the old days, to brake a cart). It's interesting, but it is brand new, so the interest resides in the symbolism.

Probably Mostar had an productive economy before the war. You can see vacant factories and an industrial zone. It looks like Mostar's economy is only tourism. From where we managed to park the car down to the river, which is a beautiful river, was like walking up the rue de Steinkerque in Paris, the main street in Lourdes, the hill on Mont St. Michel. It was like running the gauntlet of souvenir sellers on the way to the Great Wall in China, or at an Egyptian temple. It always makes me uncomfortable. There's the constant call of people telling you look at their wares; you can't stop to look even if you think there might be something of interest because if you stop, you're hooked. And here, in particular, there's the constant reminder that the old bridge was destroyed. I don't thing events like that should be forgotten, but if you buy an image of the old bridge as it was, or what was left of it, will that help the communities get on with their lives? There were other souvenirs, too: chess sets, babouches, key chains and so on. Altogether too much. That being said, the town was full of tourists, so whatever I may think of such artificial souvenirs, it works. It's not yet the tourist season for foreigners, so most of the cars were local and we didn't hear many people speaking other languages. I did hear French, though, when a guided group stopped at the bridge.

As I said, this was a day trip -- about 350 km. round trip. We came back down the coast road. The sky was incredibly clearer than first time. The water was deep blue.

The Ostrag Monastery

Jack had suggested, in the notes he sent to us, that we should take a mini-bus up to Ostrag -- the drive is a bit difficult and we would get more information than if we went on our own. This is the only time we've been disappointed. The tour is not a Black Mountain tour; they simply sell tickets for the tour that another agency runs.

The mini-bus and driver were waiting for us when we walked up to the bus station a little before 6 a.m. The driver did not seem to recognize our tickets and did not seem to speak English, but I assured him that we had been told it was indeed Trend Travel that was taking us and that his bus said Trrnd Travel and Ostrag Monastery (in Cyrillic, but still I could read that). So, we got on and we picked up a woman at the other end of the town. She sat up front next to the driver so I thought she might be a guide, but she didn't say anything to us beyond hello. After crossing on
the ferry, we picked up another woman and her daughter and a Russian couple. The bus was full and we were on our way, but there didn't seem to be any guide at all. There was not any communication at all until we stopped at 8:30 for a cup of coffee. The daughter, a young woman in her late teens, early twenties, spoke a little English and we exchanged a few words, but not about the monastery.

The road had been all right up to the coffee stop. There were a couple of unpaved patches, but passing was still uneventful. From that point, however, the road is really narrow and in bad shape. There's a lot of traffic and passing is doable, of course, but not easy. Still, regular cars make the climb all the way up to the monastery. There are some stops along the way. There's the nun's monastery, with guest housing and a chapel, and another chapel with an outdoor baptism platform. Many people park down at these places and walk up to the monastery; it is a very steep climb up stairs through the woods.

We drove all the way up. We followed the crowd and went in, but after climbing and
climbing stairs in a tower, we stopped and went down. That, it turns out, was a mistake, because the chapel is at the top of the stairs. We knew there was supposed to be a chapel, but thought we had made a mistake by going up the tower. Here is where it would have been nice to be a bit guided. We looked at the books on sale (with icons and beads), but they weren't for tourists; they were meant for pilgrims, so there was nothing in English or French. Our driver had not said what time to be back, so we hung around the bus until everyone else showed up.

On the way down we stopped at the chapel where a bunch of young children were being baptized and then at the nuns' monastery. Back at the place where we had had our coffee earlier we had lunch and then it was time for the long drive back to Herceg Novi.

A Beach Day

We decided to stay an extra day in Herceg Novi and then take the ferry from Split to Ancuna in
Italy and from there just take the autostrada straight up towards Milan and then on to home. It
was a sort of folly to think that we'd want to tarry in Italy. Italy is a whole other trip. I think the sticker shock is what convinced us. In Montenegro everything costs about half of what we spend in France, maybe even more than half off. Italy is the same as France, maybe a little more.

Anyway, today was supposed to be a day to relax, go to the beach (not what I would really call a beach, but rather a concrete esplanade along the waterfront). We went to see the Roman mosaics from the 3rd century first. That's on the road to Kotor, in Risan, before you get to Perast.

There are two sites pointed out on the road, but Jack warned us that the prehistoric rock paintings were no longer visible, having been blacked out by kids who lit a fire in the cave. The signs to the Roman villa mosaics are poorly placed, but we stopped and asked our way. They are right next to the hospital, actually. It's not as vast as the 4th century villa in Sicily and the mosaics are not as elaborate or elegant, but they are still worthy of a visit. It just started raining on the way home and although we managed to get out again during a pause in the storm, it's been raining on and off all day. So, a relaxing day, yes. Beach day, no.

Visiting Kotor Baz and Lake Skador

A Day on the Pajo
Started the day with a coffee with Jack and Max, who starteed his day with an ice cream cone (reminded of me a bit of how Louis often got off to a start). Max is a lively two-and-a-half year old who was normally a bit shy with us, of course; he seems to have mastered his dad to perfection. We even got to seee the whole family together, Jack, Max, Hayley and Hayley's mom. Jack gave us our ticket for the day-long boat cruise around the bay and we boarded at just after 10. Jack and Hazlez-s business, Black Mountain Travel, is off to a great start - well-established as a leader in outdoor travel activities like hiking and biking. Jack is involved in the overall Montenegran tourism development strategy and organization.
Pajo -- it's Donald Duck! It's the name of this little craft that was already full (just over 20 tourists and 2 crew), but not uncomfortably so. We headed into the bay and got a much better view than when we drove around it. The churches and monasteries are beautiful, either planted high up overlooking the bay from some isolated, practically inaccessible promentory, or down on the waterfront in the center of a village.
We stopped at Our Lady of the Rock, which we had photographed already too much on our drive. It's a church/museum on a man-made island. Apparently, there was a tree all by itself on a rock and a picture of the virgin was found hanging from it. This was considered a miracle, so for 200 years, the people of Perast sank boats and rocks around the tree until they had this artificial island and then they built this church. It's a little gem. It's completely painted inside the walls and the ceiling were all done by a single painter over a 10-year period. The walls are also lined with silver ex-votos from survivors of naval accidents or battles. Survivors also give gifts of paintings and local people give gifts of thanks -- like the old iron or sewing machine -- when they get a new one. There's a room full of these relics from 400 years ago to yesterday. Brides also leave a little souvenir before leaving the church if they got married there. It's really quite interesting. There's another church on a natural island just a few meters away, but we didn't learn anything about it.
We didn't stop at Perast on our way out, but we did on the way back from Kotor. It's a narrow town between the bayfront and the cliff. It's got a church, St. Nicolas, in the center. It's basically abandonned. There are a few magnificent houses that could be restored, but it's like a ghost town.
The Pajo crew served us a little lunch on our way to Kotor, where we stopped long enough for a long walk around the old town and a cup of coffee. Some skipped visiting the town to hit the beach for a swim. Kotor is like a small version of Dubrovnik. Not having been so recently destroyed and restored, it seems more natural. They've taken care to identify the old residences of the great families of the town and even indicate the century of construction. It does help you place them. The city walls extend high up on the hill overlooking the city, but seeing the height of the mountains just behind, one wonders how effective the walls could have been.
This boat excursion is a must. It's the best way to see the bay and spend a relaxing time on the boat. We are not sun freaks, but there was room to climb up on the roof or the prow to catch some rays. There were plenty of sunburned people getting off at the end of the day.
Skador Lake
Off to a later start than usual, we headed down the coast, via the ferry, towards the Skador Lake, the biggest lake that is shared by Montenegro and Albania. It's a national park, protected wildlife zone, but threatened by the pollution of the river feeding into the lake, nonetheless. It looks like there are some fantastic hiking trails and plenty of birds to be on the lookout for. We saw a stuffed Dalmatian pelican at the visitors' center; it's one of the largest pelicans I've ever seen. The visitors' center is two flights up stairs, above the restaurant and administrative offices -- not really concucive to visiting. We had missed the turn off the road before the levee that leads to the visitors' center, so after lunch we headed back, found the road and started on a drive down the western edge of the lake. Our idea was to drive about half way down and then catch another road back to the coast, but we missed the turn and ended up driving almost down to the border before the road turned. We needed to be most vigilent to take the turn towards Bar! This drive is beautiful. It's another single-track, two-way road, so you have to be very wary of oncoming traffic, but there is usually just enough space just a ahead or behind to put the car close to the mountain and let the other car pass. The flowers are beautiful: genet, thistle, and many more. The bees are everywhere. We passed chestnut groves and olive groves. Everywhere, there were magnificent views of the lake. This southern part of Montenegro is predominantly muslim and you can identify the mosques by their minarets. Otherwise, one town looks like any other. On our drive back up via the coast we ran into some thunderstorms and heavy rain. So we were very lucky on our day up to Mt. Lovçen and our day cruising the bay not have had any rain, and today the rain struck at the end. In fact it didn't get to Herceg Novi until long after we did.