A house in Basse Normandie

We found a house to rent in inland Normandy off the beaten track in a commune called Le Gué Rochoux. It is very close to a forest and the surroundings are rural : dairy (we buy milk warm from the cow), maize, and other crops. Not much sign of apple orchards. We are surrounded by farms. As outsiders we get the impression that our hosts, who are English, have not only become part of the community but seem to be friends with everyone and certainly have been very generous and helpful to us, even inquiring of a Paris contact about transport connections for our Paris sightseeing.

The house sleeps about 10 people, has 3 bathrooms, living/ dining room and separate kitchen and is very comfortable. Our hosts also live in a separate house on the property, where they have sheep and a very impressive vegetable garden from which they have invited us to help ourselves. There is placard in the kitchen that says "may all who enter this house as Guests leave our home as Friends." That explains much about our experience for this week.

Fosse d'Arthur and Lonlay Abbaye

Sunday morning we have explored the alternate legend of the death of King Arthur. It seems that both Arthur and Guinevere retired to this locality , but Merlin required that they live on opposite sides of a stream. Arthur flouted this restriction and got sucked into a whirlpool. Guinevere tried to save him but she drowned too. Their resting place is this rocky gorge.

We clamboured up a path leading to the top of the escapement not altogether inaptly called Rue de Calvaire. Other tourists were making a more direct ascent.

Picnic lunch of baguette, and cider apples from our farm house, was taken at the Fosse Arthur lake: we scrutinized the waters for a hand holding a sword, and indeed the waters did part, but it may have been a carp. Hot chocolate on the terrace at the Fosse restaurant while contemplating fish in the babbling brook readied us for transition to compleat angling that even Walton might approve.

A more substantial monument nearby is the Abbey of Lonlay, established in 1020 by one of West France's most well to do families, substantially damaged by fire in 1530 and 1560 and never fully restored.

Late in the afternoon our host Ken took us to his private lake, and with expert tuition and beginner's luck Tony landed a 2kg+ carp. It was restored to its friends and relations, but as compensation for lack of a trout dinner, Charlotte, his wife, encouraged Wendy in the kitchen garden and our supper includes a parsnip, carrot and beans lately thriving in natural situ.

Granville again

On Friday afternoon we decided to explore the old town of Granville on the heights in more detail. We approached the vicinity by way of the port, and were struck again by the sight of a harbour on one side of a sea wall, while at the same level on the other side the small craft were all marooned on mudflat.
The cherished parish church of Notre Dame is undergoing extended restoration and so is not photogenic.
I was fascinated by the statue erected in honour of Pleville de Pelley, a one legged corsair hero who fought in the American War of Independence and was involved in other courageous exploits too numerous to mention in this post, but covered in another blog with a better photo than mine. Do have a look: http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2011/11/16/questions-answered-a-corsair-is-not-a-pirate/
In the evening we ate at Restaurant du Port, a beautiful meal with fish straight off the boat.

Mont Saint Michel

We picked up our hire car this morning (Friday) and drove the 50km to Mont Saint Michel. The awesome site is so iconic and familiar in photos that it is surprising to feel breathtaken to view the reality in front of you. Of course the reality is also the thousands of tourists daily as with any of the world's best known spots. The tourists have been efficiently organised. The hectares of cars are parked well away from the monument and all tourists are given a choice of a free navette ride or a 40 minute walk before the energetic climb. A surprisingly large number choose the latter.

Dredging work is under way to reinstate the Mount as an island with causeway. Meanwhile the tides are also awesome. Vast expanses of mudflats at low tide are covered with ample water at high tide. The same phenomenon operates at Granville as will be related in another post.
Without understating the majesty of the abbey, we felt a walk through over couple of hours was sufficient for us, as we had more things to appreciate in Granville, so by early afternoon we were back in town.

A Comedy of Error

Today we took the train to Granville to begin our tour of the Normandy coast. As always we arrived at the station early after a not too bad sleep and a bun fight called le petit dejeuner. The hotel's dining room was tiny and there were more people eating breakfast than fitted in the room!
However we made it through that and on to the train to Granville. We found that someone else was about to sit in our seats and after a discussion and ticket check the lady was very gracious and sat somewhere else. She explained to the conductor when he came but he said it was impossible that there was a duplication. When he looked at our tickets he found that WE WERE TRAVELLING ON THE WRONG DAY. He too was very gracious and let us remain on the train so we travelled to Granville feeling quite embarrassed. We've checked all our bookings and are quite sure that is the only mistake we've made!
When we arrived we found our hotel without difficulty although it is up quite a steep hill. The room is comfortable but is about the size of the queen size bed we're sleeping on.
This afternoon we went for a walk through the centre of the town which is very compact and has some very interesting looking buildings. From the town centre can be seen a church big enough to be a cathedral sitting high on a hill back from the coast, but it seems to be quite unimportant in the scheme of things, as the pride and joy dominates the coastal heights of the old town. Granville is quite a hilly town and is the main port for travel to the Channel Islands. It is a beach resort and has many hotels and a casino which is strategically placed on the beach front. It is also the birthplace of Christian Dior.
There are signs that there are old gun placements on the hill where the old town overlooks the beach. No doubt this area was used by somebody as a defence against somebody else during the Second World War and any other war you can think of. It was captured and held by German commandos for a short time in May 1945 after the war was supposed to have moved on elsewhere. There are also signs of the medieval town in the wall running around part of the beach. One book suggests some of it was built by the English as a fort from which to base an assault on Mont Saint Michel that never happened.

Up up and away

The flight from Melbourne to Doha was uneventful.  For airline food it was ok and the service is always good.  We both watched stuff on the small screen for a while before attempting that elusive activity - sleep.  Sleeping tablets were duly taken and Wendy was out like a light.  Unfortunately in the fray of organising bedding and pillows, Wendy pinched both pillows so Tony was without all night and didn't sleep so well.  Suitable apologies were made in the morning.  We had about an hour on the ground in Doha before boarding the vehicle for the flight to Paris.  That too was uneventful.  May all flights be like that!  

The adventure started when we caught the RER train from the airport to Paris city.  It was an express and we were a bit concerned that it wouldn't stop at the station we wanted which was St Michel-Notre Dame.  It did stop though so that bit was ok.  However we wanted to change to the metro and that proved to be a test of our ability to get out of mazes.  Needless to say we failed and had to ask for help.  In the past we've found that station people in Paris are not so helpful but this guy was and what's more spoke good English.  So with a slight change in plan from the original we found our way to Montparnasse which the took us about 10 minutes of going up stairs and down stairs to get out of. Tempers were getting a little frayed and the bags were getting heavier.  Fortunately when we finally surfaced our hotel appeared about 50 metres from the exit.

Once we dumped our bags we went searching for the platform from which our train goes tomorrow and the for an Orange shop to add credit to our French mobile sim.  That seems to be ok but time will tell.....

The alternate finger writes on the wall:

We have an iPad app called Fooding- le Guide France 2013. In brief , it reads your (French) location from the iPad  GPS and suggests all the known hot foodie joints nearby with brief descriptions. So it came to pass that within 50 metres of our Ibis Montparnasse hotel we dined at a tiny place  ( seats about 12) run and staffed by two ladies on a host offer basis. La  Cabane a huitres (accents omitted) gave us a dozen Bordeaux oysters each, unlimited bread, foie gras for me and smoked magret (duck) breast for Wendy, glasses of white and red Bordeaux, a simple cheese plate, and a rum cake. A good cure for jet lag.

The Madding Crowd

As usual arrival at the Departure Terminal has many pressure points. Since we are in Business Class we sidestep the long check- in queue even though we did not respond to more than one email from Qatar suggesting we check- in online. We wanted the "fast track" tickets through security and customs.
Nevertheless there was a short wait at the counter while a disabled lad and his aides checked in, and two senior citizens fiddled with their checked luggage before farewelling it.
More unexpected on the security line was a special security officer who pushed my stuff back while she dumped a what seemed an endless quantity of quilts and shawls from what seemed to be an Indian grandma and her restless grandchild, and dealt with the large quantity of bangles etc. Several metres of stuff separated me from my precious iPad, but Wendy was able to wave it to me from the other side of exam line.
More recent travellers than us will be aware that there is now a whole body scanner that momentarily ensconces one. "Put your feet on the yellow marks!" At least we aren't asked to "assume the position".
One hysterical child and two green cards later (surely there must be some better digital way) we are settled in the Air New Zealand comfort zone, with tea to assuage the ordeal.