Wow, long time no write, what was the last thing? hmmm....
We explored Nantes thoroughly. The condition of the bathrooms at our campsite was a great incentive to go out and see the sights. Particularly their toilets. We spent some of the time at the Museum of Fine Arts where we saw a Picasso exhibit and had possibly the most amusing experience of the trip, listening to poor beleaguered french teachers explain to their field trip students just exactly that man was doing to that woman. Picasso had a bit of a dirty mind in his later years I must say. There were some really good pieces and apparently the man had something like 100 000 unfinished ones in his workshop when he died. Heather had better get sketching. Picasso is so famous that they hang up pieces of cardboard that he touched, so save anything Heather ever gave you, even if she was being mean when she gave it to you.
There was a really good exhibit in the museum called "An Uninterrupted Dialogue" where artists reinterpreted old works. Neat to see how things would come out now! Let us simply say that artists of our time are less bound by the conventions of space, perspective, or anything else for that matter. One of the modern artists had, unfortunately, defaced the older piece of art, which happened to be one of our favorites in the museum so I got to learn just exactly what makes Heather mad!
Nantes Cathedral was having ages of black pollution scrapped off its facade, so it was an interesting study in black old stuff and smooth as putty new stuff. Truth be told the polluted stuff was neater to look at. We also went to the museum of archeology, started by a man as rich as we would like to be. Man that guy had stuff! After the Egyptian room, the Roman room; the Greek room; the jewelery room and the medieval weapons room we got to look at the Chinese room, the medieval money room, the...you get the idea. Great place but our eyes started to hurt after room one thousand and twelve. The best part was the washroom, that guy knew toilets! And he even had toilet paper, heaven. Any guesses about what becomes important?
We wandered all the myriad streets of Nantes and got extremely lost but somehow always managed to find a MacDonalds, just like being at home. Always one when you don't want it. Such enticements aside we did eventually leave and set out for Bordeaux.
We found ourselves in vineyard country but the vines scarcely came to our knees, we would have laughed at them but weren't sure if that would make us look like stupid tourist indoctrinated by Hollywood. For all The Trekkies like me there was no sigh of either Jean Luc or Q.
We made it to Les Sables D'Olonne but the stupid Michelin guide was wrong and the campgrounds were NOT open. We had to contend with rain and very inquisitive cats that kept stealing our garbage. All the feline attention, or perhaps the rain, made Heather sick and open campgrounds became as rare as Canadian bikers to fill them.
We succumbed to the inevitable after two days and checked into a sleazy hotel in Talmont St. Hilaire. Water stained wallpaper, shower smaller than a phonebooth; bed beaten to a pulp from generations of...sleeping, and it was the best thing that ever happened to us. The Hotel, The Golden Ball, was filled with a phenomenal ambiance that made us both fall in love with it. Sitting at the window, looking onto terracotta rooftops in an interconnected highway of tile and smelling the frying onions from downstairs had a charm that cannot be convey in mere words. Go outside, sit on a rock and burn some onions, it might work for you too.
Of course immediately after checking in Heather got better. But the scales balance out and I got too sick to do anything but cough for hours on end; not very entertaining and something I don't need to travel all the way to France to experience.
Still we did get the chance to explore Richard the Lionhearts supposedly impregnable castle that sat on the outskirts of town. We pregnated its walls quite easily.
Heather waded into the murky waters of the french language and managed to find me an expectorant, pretty good eh? We also ate at the Pizzaria San Marco on the Avenue of the Sands, great food, awesome hot sauce and an owner too happy in her job to be real, If half the world enjoyed their jobs as much they wouldn't be exploring France and getting Castles pregnant.
From Talmont we cycled to La Rochelle, stopping briefly in Lucon where Cardinal Richelieu was in charge for a while. He must have left the place in pretty rough shape though because it was one of the ugliest Cathedrals we have seen.
La Rochelle was interesting, the guy peeing in the storm drain in front of us especially so. Must have been a pretty exciting party that we missed because there was puke on all the sidewalks. But the town itself was pretty neat too. You've heard of the leaning tower of Pisa but have you heard of the Leaning Tower of St. Nick in La Rochelle? Legend has it that a fairy flying over dropped a pile of rocks from her apron and created the tower. Still, leaning thing aside, if I dropped a bunch of bricks and they built a fortified castle I'd be pretty darn impressed. We climbed to the top and looked down on the city far below and began to understand the French a little more because it was very tempting to pee over the side. For Heather, not me. The water was green anyway.
From La Rochelle to Rochefort, where we stayed for something like five days. Rochefort had the best campground ever, the bathrooms were so/so, the grass unmown, the price pretty high, but we got to sit in chairs! CHAIRS! It was heaven. We even got a table! A TABLE!
They were rebuilding a French frigate that had been used to beat up the British on behalf of the Americans in the American revolution. The Hermione was not named after a Harry Potter character, just so you know. The rope making factory was better than it sounds and we got to learn a lot of legitimate uses for hemp.
From Rochefort we biked to Saintes, a French town built on a medieval town, built on a Roman town. The Roman amphitheater was great, especially the little American kid pretending to be Russel Crowe, and then demanding to see were they stored all the dead people. His parents looked over at the two biked out Canadian tourists but had the good grace not to point to us. The site was very inspiring and Heather sat down to sketch, only to be kicked out for the renown French lunch break and I got to learn another thing that will make Heather really mad.
The Roman baths were not so great, being used as a pisspot for the local drunks will ruin a place's ambiance, Heather did not sketch.
Our next stop was a little town;Mirambeau, which was devoid of touristy things but had a hotel and posh restaurant were we celebrated heathers 128th birthday, sorry I mean 24th...ouch, another thing that makes her mad. At least I'm learning a lot on this trip!
The vines in the vineyards have grown so they reach our shoulders and they cover everything. The french mostly use them as urinals and duckblinds from which they shot at anything that moves. We spent a hysterical morning screaming DUCK at Ducks but it doesn't come across well in print. Finding a duck hiding in our tent has become a common experience.
From Talmont we cycled to La Rochelle, stopping briefly in Lucon where Cardinal Richelieu was in charge for a while. He must have left the place in pretty rough shape though because it was one of the ugliest Cathedrals we have seen.
La Rochelle was interesting, the guy peeing in the storm drain in front of us especially so. Must have been a pretty exciting party that we missed because there was puke on all the sidewalks. But the town itself was pretty neat too. You've heard of the leaning tower of Pisa but have you heard of the Leaning Tower of St. Nick in La Rochelle? Legend has it that a fairy flying over dropped a pile of rocks from her apron and created the tower. Still, leaning thing aside, if I dropped a bunch of bricks and they built a fortified castle I'd be pretty darn impressed. We climbed to the top and looked down on the city far below and began to understand the French a little more because it was very tempting to pee over the side. For Heather, not me. The water was green anyway.
From La Rochelle to Rochefort, where we stayed for something like five days. Rochefort had the best campground ever, the bathrooms were so/so, the grass unmown, the price pretty high, but we got to sit in chairs! CHAIRS! It was heaven. We even got a table! A TABLE!
They were rebuilding a French frigate that had been used to beat up the British on behalf of the Americans in the American revolution. The Hermione was not named after a Harry Potter character, just so you know. The rope making factory was better than it sounds and we got to learn a lot of legitimate uses for hemp.
From Rochefort we biked to Saintes, a French town built on a medieval town, built on a Roman town. The Roman amphitheater was great, especially the little American kid pretending to be Russel Crowe, and then demanding to see were they stored all the dead people. His parents looked over at the two biked out Canadian tourists but had the good grace not to point to us. The site was very inspiring and Heather sat down to sketch, only to be kicked out for the renown French lunch break and I got to learn another thing that will make Heather really mad.
The Roman baths were not so great, being used as a pisspot for the local drunks will ruin a place's ambiance, Heather did not sketch.
Our next stop was a little town;
The vines in the vineyards have grown so they reach our shoulders and they cover everything. The french mostly use them as urinals and duckblinds from which they shot at anything that moves. We spent a hysterical morning screaming DUCK at Ducks but it doesn't come across well in print. Finding a duck hiding in our tent has become a common experience.
The weather has turned very cold...Very Cold. We bought our first wine last night and it should be nice and chilled by now. Incredibly we couldn't find a nice Bordeaux wine in the stores.
We are looking at fleeing to warmer climates so who knows were the next email will come from?
Lots of Love
The Frozen Canadians.
PS.
We are no longer brave or fearful, merely cold.
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