15 July
Still more driving, and I'm finally back in the Pedernec neighbourhood again. I've driven over 2700 kilometres in the past week, most of it in four days of insane "gotta be there", wherever "there" was for the next moment. One-thousand six-hundred miles (give or take) during 34 hours of behind-the-wheel. Je suis TRÈS fatigué, and I will probably spend the next day or three just puttering around the apartment, doing laundry, catching up with Madame, feeding the cats, and reminding myself I don't have to BE anywhere for a few weeks.
And that is a bit sad, in and of itself. My journey here will be over in three weeks. The time has gone by far too quickly, and I'm not quite ready to let go of this dream visit just yet.
15 July 2009
14 July 2009
2006: Bastille Day
14 July
Johan has been delivered safely and efficiently to Leuven. After a very long drive, I find myself in Chartres this morning. It has been a while since I've been awed by the size of a church. However, Chartres comes pretty darn close. When you can easily see the church (and nothing else of the town) from over 7 miles away, that's pretty impressive. And inside, so many things to see.
# Coincidentally, I've recently read two books that describe the Labyrinth
located within the nave. Nothing quite prepares you, though; it's one thing to read about, quite another to watch pilgrims walk its path. Admittedly, I was tempted.
# Numerous side chapels, some with their own individual stained glass "stories". I think someone once said stained glass was the Middle Age equivalent of the cartoon
# Numerous Rose Windows. Most churches have one. Chartres has several
# On the horseshoe-shaped outer wall of the Chapelle du Saint-Sacrement are incredible carvings detailing a storyline probably available at the gift shoppe in a variety of trinkets and books, as well as the internet itself. My fault; I failed to pick up documentation to augment the tale here. However, among the more interesting is a man on horseback,
surrounded by what appear to be peasants, and two headless religious leaders, one on either side. Headless Guy Stage Right may have lost his head due to erosion, age, accident, etc, but Headless Guy Stage Left is this way by design. It has been suggested by a friend in Buenos Aires this may be Saint Denis, beheaded for being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people, and he seems always to be portrayed quite calmly holding his mitred head in his hands as if it were a perfectly-normal "thing".
Two hours or so west of Chartres, and the landscape is sunflowers...
Another two hours on, and the town of Domfront on the N176 has been left behind. While the heat isn't horrible, the humidity has become North Carolina in August. I'm looking for a reason to stop and what I find is much humbler than Chartres, but at least as human in its way:
The lighting would have been perfect very early in the morning, but you have to admit it's not too bad now... Mortared stone out-buildings, slate roofs, timbered framing, and even though there is more than a little wear and tear, it feels like these buildings have been loved since day one.
The heat and humidity calm down a bit as the car and its inhabitant get closer to the English Channel, and the two-hour theme continues as Mont Saint-Michel appears. This is the first time I've actually encountered the prophesied summer crowd, and it's impressive. Land yachts and tourist buses everywhere, hundreds of cars parked legal and not, and people walking or rolling slowly away from the tourist trap towards the medieval town.
This is one location I'd love to spend a few days given its apparent size. I'd probably want to come on the off-season, when May or mid-September should be perfect for weather and crowds. I will try not to think about the fact I was here in May this year and didn't visit...
Oh, and today is Bastille Day. It's been interesting finding open petrol stations, markets, restaurants, and hotels while tooling around the backroads of rural France.
Johan has been delivered safely and efficiently to Leuven. After a very long drive, I find myself in Chartres this morning. It has been a while since I've been awed by the size of a church. However, Chartres comes pretty darn close. When you can easily see the church (and nothing else of the town) from over 7 miles away, that's pretty impressive. And inside, so many things to see.
# Coincidentally, I've recently read two books that describe the Labyrinth
located within the nave. Nothing quite prepares you, though; it's one thing to read about, quite another to watch pilgrims walk its path. Admittedly, I was tempted.
# Numerous side chapels, some with their own individual stained glass "stories". I think someone once said stained glass was the Middle Age equivalent of the cartoon
# Numerous Rose Windows. Most churches have one. Chartres has several
# On the horseshoe-shaped outer wall of the Chapelle du Saint-Sacrement are incredible carvings detailing a storyline probably available at the gift shoppe in a variety of trinkets and books, as well as the internet itself. My fault; I failed to pick up documentation to augment the tale here. However, among the more interesting is a man on horseback,
surrounded by what appear to be peasants, and two headless religious leaders, one on either side. Headless Guy Stage Right may have lost his head due to erosion, age, accident, etc, but Headless Guy Stage Left is this way by design. It has been suggested by a friend in Buenos Aires this may be Saint Denis, beheaded for being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people, and he seems always to be portrayed quite calmly holding his mitred head in his hands as if it were a perfectly-normal "thing".
Two hours or so west of Chartres, and the landscape is sunflowers...
Another two hours on, and the town of Domfront on the N176 has been left behind. While the heat isn't horrible, the humidity has become North Carolina in August. I'm looking for a reason to stop and what I find is much humbler than Chartres, but at least as human in its way:
The lighting would have been perfect very early in the morning, but you have to admit it's not too bad now... Mortared stone out-buildings, slate roofs, timbered framing, and even though there is more than a little wear and tear, it feels like these buildings have been loved since day one.The heat and humidity calm down a bit as the car and its inhabitant get closer to the English Channel, and the two-hour theme continues as Mont Saint-Michel appears. This is the first time I've actually encountered the prophesied summer crowd, and it's impressive. Land yachts and tourist buses everywhere, hundreds of cars parked legal and not, and people walking or rolling slowly away from the tourist trap towards the medieval town.
This is one location I'd love to spend a few days given its apparent size. I'd probably want to come on the off-season, when May or mid-September should be perfect for weather and crowds. I will try not to think about the fact I was here in May this year and didn't visit...Oh, and today is Bastille Day. It's been interesting finding open petrol stations, markets, restaurants, and hotels while tooling around the backroads of rural France.
12 July 2009
2006: Historic Countryside
12 July
Early morning is spent finding a petrol station (they were there by the dozen until we left the beaten path), then in the grandeur of the church of St Martin-Arlon, Belgium. It's just a few miles from the border between Belgium and Luxembourg, and my visit there a few years back was one I've been wanting to share since.
While the sunshine was not as brilliant as that day in March, the church itself delivered. With highly-detailed stained glass, especially within the Rose Window over the altar, the grey-marble pulpit, and the burnished-wood confessionals along the north wall, this church is among my five favourites for overall beauty.
The Rose Window is the star of the show. In the centre is a bright red medallion naming God in Hebrew. Surrounding are angels, and on the outer edge are the 12 zodiacal signs, though I am curious why the zodiac was included. Mary, St John the Baptist, the sun and moon complete the window.
The foundation for the church itself was set in 1907, and completed just in time for World War I. It was designed and built in the style of classic Gothic for the end of the 13th century. The octagonal spire and bronze cross tower 300 feet over the neighbourhood, and total square footage pretty closely resembles an American football pitch.
On the road again, we decided that, due to road works on the main highway between Arlon and Brussels, we would try our luck with the slower path through the western edge of the Ardennes, touring past fairytale towns that each have a 20th-century tale to tell regarding humanity. Bastogne, Malmedy, Spa, Houffelize, Esch sur Sûre (displayed here), and hundreds (if not thousands) of others; each story different, yet remarkably similar. It is hard to imagine over one million combatants in this area during the winter of 1944 and the following spring, each killing for its own dogma, causing such destruction and pain, especially with a countryside 62 years later so incredibly beautiful and tranquil... The memorial in Malmedy to the civilians who died when bombed during December 1944 was especially poignant. It posts not only the names of the dead, but their age as well. From enfants barely months old to elders in their nineties, all were swept aside by events beyond ability to change their fate.
View Larger Map
Noted:
Most of northern France appears to be quite agricultural, which surprised me (and I'm not completely sure why). Corn, wheat, barley, sunflowers, romaine lettuce, you name it, it's grown here. Town after town surrounded by farm and dairy land as far as the eye can see. If it weren't for the signs (and the language), you could persuade yourself you were in Iowa or Nebraska quite easily. Even near Chartres, which is (I'm guessing) less than 60 miles from Paris, you are surrounded by the green of plenty.
Noted:
Condoms are regularly available in vending machines outside pharmacies (and elsewhere). A good thing, in my not-so-humble opinion. However, public urination for men is either legal or is at least condoned. I thought it was an aberration of my last visit, but no. Some at least attempt to find a tree or large bush, but others just pull over and anchor aweigh. Culture shock; France, Belgium, Holland, there must be something in the water, no pun intended.
Noted:
French television is a trip to watch. From Spongebob Squarepants ("Bob Lépange") to naked men and women in commercials, you certainly aren't in Kansas anymore. Oh, and to the best of my poor channel-surfing recollection of Bob, he sounds more macho here, too (grin).
Early morning is spent finding a petrol station (they were there by the dozen until we left the beaten path), then in the grandeur of the church of St Martin-Arlon, Belgium. It's just a few miles from the border between Belgium and Luxembourg, and my visit there a few years back was one I've been wanting to share since.
While the sunshine was not as brilliant as that day in March, the church itself delivered. With highly-detailed stained glass, especially within the Rose Window over the altar, the grey-marble pulpit, and the burnished-wood confessionals along the north wall, this church is among my five favourites for overall beauty.
The Rose Window is the star of the show. In the centre is a bright red medallion naming God in Hebrew. Surrounding are angels, and on the outer edge are the 12 zodiacal signs, though I am curious why the zodiac was included. Mary, St John the Baptist, the sun and moon complete the window.The foundation for the church itself was set in 1907, and completed just in time for World War I. It was designed and built in the style of classic Gothic for the end of the 13th century. The octagonal spire and bronze cross tower 300 feet over the neighbourhood, and total square footage pretty closely resembles an American football pitch.
On the road again, we decided that, due to road works on the main highway between Arlon and Brussels, we would try our luck with the slower path through the western edge of the Ardennes, touring past fairytale towns that each have a 20th-century tale to tell regarding humanity. Bastogne, Malmedy, Spa, Houffelize, Esch sur Sûre (displayed here), and hundreds (if not thousands) of others; each story different, yet remarkably similar. It is hard to imagine over one million combatants in this area during the winter of 1944 and the following spring, each killing for its own dogma, causing such destruction and pain, especially with a countryside 62 years later so incredibly beautiful and tranquil... The memorial in Malmedy to the civilians who died when bombed during December 1944 was especially poignant. It posts not only the names of the dead, but their age as well. From enfants barely months old to elders in their nineties, all were swept aside by events beyond ability to change their fate.View Larger Map
Noted:
Most of northern France appears to be quite agricultural, which surprised me (and I'm not completely sure why). Corn, wheat, barley, sunflowers, romaine lettuce, you name it, it's grown here. Town after town surrounded by farm and dairy land as far as the eye can see. If it weren't for the signs (and the language), you could persuade yourself you were in Iowa or Nebraska quite easily. Even near Chartres, which is (I'm guessing) less than 60 miles from Paris, you are surrounded by the green of plenty.
Noted:
Condoms are regularly available in vending machines outside pharmacies (and elsewhere). A good thing, in my not-so-humble opinion. However, public urination for men is either legal or is at least condoned. I thought it was an aberration of my last visit, but no. Some at least attempt to find a tree or large bush, but others just pull over and anchor aweigh. Culture shock; France, Belgium, Holland, there must be something in the water, no pun intended.
Noted:
French television is a trip to watch. From Spongebob Squarepants ("Bob Lépange") to naked men and women in commercials, you certainly aren't in Kansas anymore. Oh, and to the best of my poor channel-surfing recollection of Bob, he sounds more macho here, too (grin).
11 July 2009
2006: Differdange
11 July
Puttering around can be fun in Differdange. We were treated to a village market all over the town centre, selling everything from rotisserie chickens to clothing, children's toys, jewelry, hot dogs,
fresh fruit, vegetables, and the like. Cats lying on narrow window ledges were tenaciously asleep amid the commotion,
even as a bell-clanging gnome toned in
next to a garden clock that was probably not connected to any accurate atomic clocks. Oh, and a witch sailed by...
Luxembourg City is a favourite of mine, from the Place du Constitution to the Grand Ducal Palace, the Casino to Cathedralé Notre-Dame de Luxembourg, the Casemates north and south.
I'm already thinking of spending a few weeks here sometime in the next few years.
The main language is Luxembourgheise (an intricate combination of French, German, and other influences). Johny says most of his countryfolk learn Lux first at home, then in school are required to learn basic French, German, and English. For the younger generation, it is not uncommon to know these fluently, and to acquire others as the need arises. The US should be so bold...
Puttering around can be fun in Differdange. We were treated to a village market all over the town centre, selling everything from rotisserie chickens to clothing, children's toys, jewelry, hot dogs,
fresh fruit, vegetables, and the like. Cats lying on narrow window ledges were tenaciously asleep amid the commotion,
even as a bell-clanging gnome toned in
next to a garden clock that was probably not connected to any accurate atomic clocks. Oh, and a witch sailed by...
Luxembourg City is a favourite of mine, from the Place du Constitution to the Grand Ducal Palace, the Casino to Cathedralé Notre-Dame de Luxembourg, the Casemates north and south.
I'm already thinking of spending a few weeks here sometime in the next few years.
The main language is Luxembourgheise (an intricate combination of French, German, and other influences). Johny says most of his countryfolk learn Lux first at home, then in school are required to learn basic French, German, and English. For the younger generation, it is not uncommon to know these fluently, and to acquire others as the need arises. The US should be so bold...
10 July 2009
2006: the Road to Luxembourg
10 July
Last night, Els promised I would have wonderful weather today to make up for yesterday. She must know Someone Important because it dawned bright and warm. And, the drive started well, right on time to be in Leuven, Belgium, at noon to pick up Johan (a good friend and fellow chessplayer) for our mini-vacation to Luxembourg.
Until I found myself about 40 miles west of where I started the day, which is almost 100 miles from where I wanted to be. And I don't know how I turned off. The highway signs were sparse, and I was just beginning to wonder why Antwerpen (Antwerp) wasn't among the towns upcoming when I found myself in Zeeland, the very end of the road on the western coast.
So, one missed intersection, a decision that put a dent in an otherwise-beautiful day. What could possibly go wrong now?
Well, more "correct" decisions that encountered other problems:
# Taking the toll tunnel towards Ghent, in order to "save time by spending money" only to find this is the one furthest west and farther north than I thought
# Getting to a bridge that crosses one of the largest canals, only to be stopped by the bridge structure changing directions to allow a huge container ship to use that airspace (20 minutes worth of wait, along with everyone else)
# Public works projects left for the summer because the weather is so nice, works that require folks to sit in very long queues waiting for traffic in the other direction to stop.
# OK, enough already. Johan and I made it to Luxembourg. We didn't die. We didn't get maimed. We actually had a pretty good time.
Of course, the good time was courtesy of our host, Johny, who lives in Differdange, about 25 sometimes-confusing minutes or so driving time from Luxembourg City. His home sits adjacent the local police station, and is the size of a very large townhome. He treated us to a sumptuous BBQ feast upon arrival, and his roommate, Babe (yes, really), provided her expertise, which included the best garlic butter I've ever tasted. The vegetables were home-grown, and the dogs, cats, and friendly friends numerous.
Last night, Els promised I would have wonderful weather today to make up for yesterday. She must know Someone Important because it dawned bright and warm. And, the drive started well, right on time to be in Leuven, Belgium, at noon to pick up Johan (a good friend and fellow chessplayer) for our mini-vacation to Luxembourg.
Until I found myself about 40 miles west of where I started the day, which is almost 100 miles from where I wanted to be. And I don't know how I turned off. The highway signs were sparse, and I was just beginning to wonder why Antwerpen (Antwerp) wasn't among the towns upcoming when I found myself in Zeeland, the very end of the road on the western coast.
So, one missed intersection, a decision that put a dent in an otherwise-beautiful day. What could possibly go wrong now?
Well, more "correct" decisions that encountered other problems:
# Taking the toll tunnel towards Ghent, in order to "save time by spending money" only to find this is the one furthest west and farther north than I thought
# Getting to a bridge that crosses one of the largest canals, only to be stopped by the bridge structure changing directions to allow a huge container ship to use that airspace (20 minutes worth of wait, along with everyone else)# Public works projects left for the summer because the weather is so nice, works that require folks to sit in very long queues waiting for traffic in the other direction to stop.
# OK, enough already. Johan and I made it to Luxembourg. We didn't die. We didn't get maimed. We actually had a pretty good time.
Of course, the good time was courtesy of our host, Johny, who lives in Differdange, about 25 sometimes-confusing minutes or so driving time from Luxembourg City. His home sits adjacent the local police station, and is the size of a very large townhome. He treated us to a sumptuous BBQ feast upon arrival, and his roommate, Babe (yes, really), provided her expertise, which included the best garlic butter I've ever tasted. The vegetables were home-grown, and the dogs, cats, and friendly friends numerous.
2006: Road Trip, the Start
09 July
The past few days have been spent getting ready for the latest roadtrip and, by far, the longest. It all started Sunday morning, the 9th, at 0830. By the time the first day was done, just shy of 850 kilometres (about 510 miles, give or take) had gone by. Along the route:
# Mont Saint-Michel, which is viewable from the highway at several points along several miles
# It's not difficult to recognize it sure can rain a lot here. This from someone who lives in Seattle. Irony alert
# Pont-l'Eveque: a quaint town that has updated itself to keep in touch with its history, at least downtown
# An incredible church in the city of Rouen which, unfortunately, was subject to the rain, the wind, and the fact I was driving by at 70mph some two miles away and couldn't figure out how to reach it
# I didn't know Phillip Morris had an enormous plant of some fashion along the main road between Antwerp and Rotterdam on the Belgian/Netherlands border...
I'm staying in the B&B I discovered years ago in Lepelstraat, the Netherlands, a tiny little spot on the map just north of Bergen-op-Zoom. Everything is as I remembered, from the Moulin and the tiny TINY private chapel alongside the highway to the fantastic chinese food restaurant (Lau's Garden) just south of town to the proprieters and their establishment, "Somewhere Else", in the heart of town. George and Els Muskens have run this little piece of heaven for years now, and I've been privileged to visit several times. I don't normally advertise, but if you want a quiet place to relax, within day-trip distance of Brussels, Amsterdam, Bruges, Ghent, and (perhaps if you drive fast) Dunkerque/Calais, this should definitely be a choice in your itinerary.
View Larger Map
If you need a street sign to tell you where Lepelstraat is, just look at the photo.
Oh. [ 2009: The sign is located where the 'S' in Steenbergseweg is. The other side of the sign correctly displays the name (and direction) of Lepelstraat :) ]
Noted:
Just south of Ghent on the E17 highway is a rather large advertisement for an engineering / contracting company: "We Lift Almost Everything." Huh. Truth in advertising.
The past few days have been spent getting ready for the latest roadtrip and, by far, the longest. It all started Sunday morning, the 9th, at 0830. By the time the first day was done, just shy of 850 kilometres (about 510 miles, give or take) had gone by. Along the route:
# Mont Saint-Michel, which is viewable from the highway at several points along several miles
# It's not difficult to recognize it sure can rain a lot here. This from someone who lives in Seattle. Irony alert
# Pont-l'Eveque: a quaint town that has updated itself to keep in touch with its history, at least downtown
# An incredible church in the city of Rouen which, unfortunately, was subject to the rain, the wind, and the fact I was driving by at 70mph some two miles away and couldn't figure out how to reach it
# I didn't know Phillip Morris had an enormous plant of some fashion along the main road between Antwerp and Rotterdam on the Belgian/Netherlands border...
I'm staying in the B&B I discovered years ago in Lepelstraat, the Netherlands, a tiny little spot on the map just north of Bergen-op-Zoom. Everything is as I remembered, from the Moulin and the tiny TINY private chapel alongside the highway to the fantastic chinese food restaurant (Lau's Garden) just south of town to the proprieters and their establishment, "Somewhere Else", in the heart of town. George and Els Muskens have run this little piece of heaven for years now, and I've been privileged to visit several times. I don't normally advertise, but if you want a quiet place to relax, within day-trip distance of Brussels, Amsterdam, Bruges, Ghent, and (perhaps if you drive fast) Dunkerque/Calais, this should definitely be a choice in your itinerary. View Larger Map
If you need a street sign to tell you where Lepelstraat is, just look at the photo.
Oh. [ 2009: The sign is located where the 'S' in Steenbergseweg is. The other side of the sign correctly displays the name (and direction) of Lepelstraat :) ]
Noted:
Just south of Ghent on the E17 highway is a rather large advertisement for an engineering / contracting company: "We Lift Almost Everything." Huh. Truth in advertising.
09 July 2009
2007: Madame
Three years ago today, I was in the middle of planning a little sidetrip from my flat in Pedernec, to visit friends in several different countries. It was to be a reunion of sorts: my favourite pair of B&B people Anywhere, George and Els Muskens (Lepelstraat, the Netherlands); my favourite Belgian chess player, Johan Verduyckt (formerly of Leuven, now Aarschot); and my new favourite Luxembourgher, Johny Diderich (Differdange).
While I was doing the planning, Madame Bernadette Pariscoat, my next-door neighbour in Pedernec, would occasionally wander into my flat to deposit fresh zucchini (courgettes) in the kitchen, or simply to ask what I was working on, what my plans were for the next day or two. She was an amazingly vibrant woman for 80+ years of age. Her garden was a delight, filled mostly with roses and other perennials.
Rare was the day when I would leave to wander the region that she wasn't at her front door asking where I was headed. When I returned, it was rare not to hear her asking what I'd seen.
Not quite a year after my return to the states, Madame died. 2007 July 09. I was told by my English friends who owned the flat. They had just completed a visit, and sent me a quick email upon their return.
My reply: "it is so wonderful to hear from you, even as the news is bittersweet... i read your message this morning, and it has been on my mind since... Madame was such a wonderful force of nature, and I will certainly miss her garden, her smile, her love of chocolate, and most of all her attempts to force me into more french conversation (what i was doing, where i was going, etc)... i had honestly hoped i would see her and simone again sometime soon, but unless i win a lottery (or some unknown leaves me a small fortune), it may not be long before there are very few who would remember the naive american photographer from 2006..."
Yep. That wonderful Smile.
While I was doing the planning, Madame Bernadette Pariscoat, my next-door neighbour in Pedernec, would occasionally wander into my flat to deposit fresh zucchini (courgettes) in the kitchen, or simply to ask what I was working on, what my plans were for the next day or two. She was an amazingly vibrant woman for 80+ years of age. Her garden was a delight, filled mostly with roses and other perennials.
Rare was the day when I would leave to wander the region that she wasn't at her front door asking where I was headed. When I returned, it was rare not to hear her asking what I'd seen.
Not quite a year after my return to the states, Madame died. 2007 July 09. I was told by my English friends who owned the flat. They had just completed a visit, and sent me a quick email upon their return.
My reply: "it is so wonderful to hear from you, even as the news is bittersweet... i read your message this morning, and it has been on my mind since... Madame was such a wonderful force of nature, and I will certainly miss her garden, her smile, her love of chocolate, and most of all her attempts to force me into more french conversation (what i was doing, where i was going, etc)... i had honestly hoped i would see her and simone again sometime soon, but unless i win a lottery (or some unknown leaves me a small fortune), it may not be long before there are very few who would remember the naive american photographer from 2006..."
Yep. That wonderful Smile.
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