Let's Take a Walk

We'll begin on the main street of Auvers sur Oise, beside a park. A statue of an emaciated man with paintbox and easel slung on his back and shoulders dominates the little park. Yes, it's Vincent Van Gogh. 

Let's walk together through this town where he spent the last 70 days of his life.

On this sunny July day, flowers look their best. We slowly wind our way upwards through narrow streets, taking time to admire the colours and textures along the way.

Looking down, we notice metal circles set into the pavement, providing direction to many of the artist's more famous haunts.

There's an unconfirmed, but persistent, piece of history in my family that we are related to Vincent Van Gogh through his mother's family. We often refer to the artist as "Uncle Vince."

We continue upwards and round the corner. There it is - the church made famous by Van Gogh in his painting l'Eglise d'Auvers sur Oise. It looks less impressive to me than the painting. Here it seems to be just a rather ordinary Gothic church. Van Gogh imbued the scene with tortured emotion with his brush strokes and colour choices.

Let's continue on up the road, past the church. Soon we come to the edge of the village. Wheat fields stretch golden into the horizon, almost ready for harvest. Many of the last paintings of Van Gogh feature these fields.

Look to our right. There is a cemetery, surrounded by stone walls, with a metal entrance gate. We enter and make our way to the back of the cemetery. There, against the outer wall, are the graves of Vincent Van Gogh and of his brother, Theo. They loved each other very much, and many, many letters passed between the two of them. Theo was a successful art dealer, Vincent an impoverished painter. Theo supported Vincent throughout his life, and encouraged him in his work. Although Theo had a wife and child in the Netherlands, his wife knew how much the two brothers loved each other and brought Theo here to rest beside Vincent.

Out into the fields we go again, here to stand where Vincent set up his easel and painted the wheat fields with those ominous skies and black crows. Skies are blue today, and the fields empty of crows.

A copy of the painting marks the scene. We make our way back towards the village along a narrow footpath.

Back through charming streets where houses wear brightly painted shutters,

  where alliums bloom against stone,

and roses creep into windows.

We enter the Auberge Ravoux where Vincent boarded in a tiny room reached by a winding dark staircase. No photos are allowed of the room. It is empty save for a single chair. 

Instead, we'll sit for about 10 minutes in another room and watch a movie, wordless, that entwines Van Gogh's paintings with quotes from his letters. It's lovely.

Poor Vincent Van Gogh suffered terribly throughout his short life. Mental illness, loneliness, and poverty dogged him at every turn. Yet, like all of us, he determined to express his thoughts and emotions. Unlike most of us, he did it through his paintings. 

And so, we finish our walk, thinking about love and beauty as people have done throughout time. 

Beside the Auberge Ravoux a tangled garden drowses in the sunlight.

A Visit to the Beaches of Normandy

Historical events of monumental proportions occurred in Normandy. From here rose the medieval king who conquered England, and this land was the rope in a tug-of-war of power between England and France for generations.

More recent history is commemorated in the World War II memorials of D-Day, June 6, 1944, when 156,000 men landed on the beaches of Normandy and began the liberation of France and the downfall of Nazi Germany.

It was a sobering day. The rows and rows of tombstones in the Commonwealth graves (there are 18 graveyards dedicated to the Commonwealth which includes Great Britain, Canada, Australia and New Zealand). 

Roses grow between the graves along with lavender, poppies and other flowers. They are beautifully maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. 

The headstones are identical white stone made unique by the emblem at the top - here a maple leaf for the Canadian troops. 

There was so much to see and to absorb at these sites. A one-day visit is hardly enough. 

I learned much about the preparations for D-Day and how it all began with 6 gliders, each filled with 30 men and two jeeps who were to land and secure two bridges, just 400 metres apart, so that when the landing of troops occurred, they would be able to cross the rivers with ease.

Above is the original Pegasus Bridge, taken just 15 minutes after the gliders landed. The Pegasus Museum gave a great overview of the event. 

This photo of the new Pegasus Bridge looks much the same as the original (both are counterweight bridges), but is larger. The first glider landed shortly after midnight at the site of the first monument. Incredibly accurate. Gliders were silent (until they landed), so the surprise was a success. 

Once the bridge was taken, it had to be held until the troops arrived. Shots were fired from roof of the chateau in the distance, but those shots could not be returned, for the chateau was a maternity hospital and the Allies did not want to harm the mothers and children there. 

This house and coffee shop, right beside the bridge, was the first house liberated by the Allied troops. It belonged to the Gondree family and the daughter still owns the house and lives there.

More shots were fired from the tower of the church, and these were returned. 

How peaceful it all looks today. A young man fished in the river just below the bridge. Patrons enjoyed coffee and ice cream at the house/coffee shop. Young families strolled by. 

The water is so blue. People lie on the beach, sunbathing, while children run in and out of the water. 

These caissons were towed over on D-Day to form an artificial harbour at Arromanches. It was to this harbour that the materiel for continuing the advance into France arrived.

I was struck by this juxtaposition of war and peace in the square overlooking the sea at Arromanches. A gun memorializes the soldiers who fought there. Next to it is a carousel with merry voices and cheerful music. 

On to Juno Beach, the landing site for the Canadian troops. There is a museum here, and a preserved German bunker. 

Tim on Juno Beach, now a peaceful place of pleasure and play. I am proud to be a Canadian, and never more so than after seeing the role my country played in the war. 9% of Canada's population at the time took direct part in the war - the highest contribution per capita of any nation.

Let us not forget the sacrifice of so many.

Castle Ruins: Les Andelys

The days are blurring together. Was it yesterday or the day before that we visited the two little towns of Les Andelys? We drift on the river, eat, walk, laugh and talk. This is the most relaxing vacation - no concerns about what to eat or when, where to visit, etc. 

The building above sits very near where our boat tied up. It used to be a convent, then a hospital, and is now a retirement home.

Richard the Lion-Heart, sometimes known as Good King Richard, built this castle in the late 12th century. High on a hill, with an imposing command of the river, it was intended to be a defensive castle that would enable Richard, the English king, to maintain control of this part of Normandy. 

Constructed in about one year (an amazing feat considering its size), it's a massive stronghold that was conquered by the King of France after a nearly year long seige about 10 years later. 

Clambering about the ruins, peering through the windows, and shivering in the dungeon makes me very thankful that I live in the modern age and not the medieval one. 

Here's the view from the top. It was a steep, but short climb. We're enjoying amazing weather - apparently Normandy can be very hit or miss when it comes to sunny, warm days.

Richard the Lion-Heart also oversaw the construction of the church in the photo. 

Here we are. 

My mind is filling up with images and thoughts about the things we've seen and done, and I need time to process them. So I'll leave you with the photos.

As I write, the photos are not loading properly - they look fuzzy. We'll see if this posts or not. 

Monet's Garden

Early in the morning Monet's gardens at Giverny shimmer with light. A few photos here of the many, many taken. I have words, but will save them for another time. For now, enjoy this teensy taste of these marvelous gardens.

Today the sun shone warmly. Hats and sunglasses were a necessity. Flowers lifted their faces to the light.

Claude Monet's lily pond, immortalized in so many of his paintings, reflected perfectly. It was that play of light and shadow that so entranced Monet. He once said that the light changed every 7 minutes.

The lily flowers open when the air and the water are the same temperature. Here they are just beginning to open.

Monet's favourite flowers are in shades of pink, purple and blue, but here and there bright splashes of yellow and orange draw the eye.

The gardens are a mad tangle of pathways and mixed beds. It's not manicured and perfect, but it's oh, so very attractive. Arches of roses frame small alleys, and Monet's pink house with the green shutters is a perfect complement.

Hello, pretty poppies.

One last photo. Would you have the daring to paint your house this colour?

Paris Details

Walking through Paris is a feast for the eyes. My neck feels like it's on a swivel most of the time as my gaze wanders up and down, left and right. Not all balconies are as beautifully decorated as this one, which makes it extra picture-worthy.

An interesting swirl of vines in a rough heart shape adds charm to this window on Ile Saint Louis. 

Paris' skies have been mostly cloudy, and it's cool here. I'm glad for my jacket. And my hair is frizzing away. When the sun does shine and the sky turns blue, I take off my jacket and revel in the warmth on my back.

And I take photos. The cross above is part of Notre Dame Cathedral. 

An interior shot of Notre Dame. It's amazing to consider the construction of these buildings in an age without machinery and technology. Such mathematical precision, such awareness of force and gravity, such patience in building. 

Tim took this photo of me sitting on the ledge of a stone pillar in the apse of the cathedral. Given the comfort of this seat, I wonder who else has rested here over the centuries? The long procession of history here boggles the mind of this woman from the "new" world. 

Lunch, eaten outside while we watched the crowds flow by, consisted of today's special: for me, Endive Salad with Roquefort cheese, Salmon and Leek Quiche. Lovely. 

Doorways painted in shades of dark green, shiny black, forest green stand in harmonious juxtaposition to stone buildings. This paler blue one begged me to take its photo. I obliged. 

We wandered over to the Jardin de Luxembourg and watched small children push sailboats across the pond with rubber tipped sticks provided by the park. Older people, some of whom are fascinated by boats, marveled at the way the sails on these little wooden boats are trimmed so precisely to enable them to sail merrily across the pond in straight lines without tipping. The boats are all marked with various countries - this red and white one has CA on it - for Canada.

Gardens in France are not as lushly floral as those elsewhere in the world. This bed or petunias, begonias, cosmos and salvia caught my eye.

Today has been interesting. After our breakfast of tea and chocolate bread (for me), cafe au lait and apple pastry (Tim) and a shared yogurt, we and our friends planned to take the Metro to our cruise rendez-vous hotel and then go on a hop on hop off bus tour. 

We got onto the Metro, but after just a few moments, I heard an announcement about strikes. The train stopped and everyone got off. All the civic employees went on strike. Hmmm. How to get to the meeting place? Buses weren't working either. We were fortunate enough to hail a taxi who drove through gridlock traffic, planned alternate routes when streets were blocked off with police tape, and got us to the hotel. 

Staying nearby seemed most prudent, so we wandered through the Montparnasse Cemetery, bought delicious sandwiches at a Monoprix, and watched the pigeons while we ate.

As I type, I'm sitting in our cabin on the Avalon Creativity watching the water lap outside our window. Wifi is good now, but is likely going to be very spotty in the future. Hence a long post two days in a row. 

Music in Paris

In 1248, nearly 800 years ago, Louis IX of France finished the construction of La Sainte Chapelle. Amazingly, it took just 7 years to build, compared to almost 200 years of building for Notre Dame. 

La Sainte Chapelle is most well-known for its truly amazing stained glass windows. On the upper floor of the chapel, the columns between the windows are merely there to support the intricate stained glass.

This evening (Monday), after our first full day in Paris, we went to a classical music concert in the chapel. It was an experience that played tricks with my mind.

On the one hand, I marveled at the creativity of humankind, of the beauty that is expressed through architecture, glass, stone, and paint. The music that soared upwards to the arches and filled every nook and cranny of the space was equally beautiful. Creative expression was a reminder, to me, of one way that humans are created "in the image of God."

I gazed up to the blue ceiling decorated with golden stars as the string quartet played Mozart, Schubert, Vivaldi, and Pachelbel, and wondered, on the other hand, how we humans, capable of such amazing expressions of the deepest longings of the soul, can also inflict terrible pain and destruction upon other humans. The dichotomy baffles my mind.

I also wondered at the justice of spending so very much wealth on the construction of such a chapel designed not only to hold the supposed relic of Christ's crown of thorns, but also to consolidate political and religious power, at a time when the gap between the few very rich and the many very poor was immense. 

In some ways, when I look at today's world, I see that the rich still take advantage of the poor, and wonder that so little has changed.

But most of my time was spent in wonder and amazement that I, an ordinary woman of the 21st century, could sit in this jewel box of a chapel constructed by an absolute monarch of the 13th century and listen to music composed between those centuries. It was a beautiful gift.

Postcard from Paris

A quick photo taken from in front of our hotel. 24 hours plus of travel mean we're ready for dinner and an early night. The weather is drizzly but not too cold. 

Packing for Paris...and more

Several years ago my daughter-in-law found this card game - Packing for Paris. It's Go, Fish with a Parisian angle. Many of the things on the cards are NOT being packed for this trip. I'm not taking a feather boa or a fan. I do have some polka dotted socks!

I've been asked how I fit everything for three weeks into one carry on bag. Here's how I do it: 

First of all, I consider my shoes. What we will be doing? Lots of walking? City or country? Shoes HAVE to be comfortable. I'm taking a pair of blue loafers, black ballet flats, and black hiking sandals. They are all broken in. The hiking sandals may look flimsy, but they've been up mountains and down again. I'll wear the ballet flats for city days and/or dressier occasions. The blue loafers are so comfy.

This is a casual vacation. I wear skirts and dresses often, especially in the heat. I'm taking a cotton knit turquoise dress and a black print maxi skirt. Three pairs of pants: one navy knit, one blue cotton "girlfriend" pants from Gap, one of heavier black stretch woven pants for cooler weather.

Since the weather is variable - Wales is enduring monsoon-like rains and the Cotswolds could be drippy, I'm packing three long-sleeved shirts, plus six short-sleeved/sleeveless ones, plus three light knit open tops (cardigans) to layer. One rain shell. A blue jean jacket. Three scarves. A hat. Almost all of the tops go with all of the bottoms. I've not done as well with this as I have for other trips. 

And here is everything you see in the upper photo rolled and/or folded into the carry-on piece, other than what I'll be wearing on the plane. In addition, my flat iron, cosmetic case, and underthings are in the carry-on. I'll likely tuck in a couple of my camera lenses as well. Tim will carry the plug adapters in his case (and maybe my lenses). 

Here is the rain shell - it's in the carry on.

To wear on the plane. Airplanes are often too hot, or too cold. It's best to be prepared for anything. I'll wear a pair of navy knit pants, a sleeveless top, my jean jacket, and a scarf. I'll have socks on, too, especially since shoes often have to be removed at security checks. 

In addition to the carry on, I have a cross over canvas bag that holds my tablet, camera, documents, other miscellany, and liquids for security. This is the first time I'm traveling without printed books. I am taking a journal for writing. 

I've scheduled this to publish late Saturday night, west coast time. We should be over the Atlantic somewhere, almost near London where we'll land and then grab another flight for Paris. 

How do you travel? Lots of luggage or a little?