Tag Archives: European travel

Looking Back

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While Bill and I were having lunch at a neighborhood Italian restaurant yesterday, we began reminiscing about our 2008 three-month tour of Europe.

“I wonder what we were doing 11 years ago today,” I asked him. Not being a psychic, he didn’t know the answer. I started thinking out loud: we got home on August 8 of that year. We spent two or three days in Paris before we hopped on the plane for home. Therefore, I thought, we must have been making our way to Paris about this time 11 years ago. When we got home, I looked it up. In fact, we were in Brittany, and it was a day or two before we made it to Normandy.

Just for fun, I thought I would copy and paste the July 31, 2008, post from the blog I kept during our travels: The Reluctant Traveler. Enjoy my trip down Memory Lane.

Brittany Coast

Bill and I seriously packed a lot into our Thursday.

We got a fairly early start, and drove more than 500 kilometers to get to our final destination of St. Malo, in Brittany, the most northwestern region of France. Since we had driven so hard on Tuesday, we took it a bit easier Thursday, stopping every hour or so for an espresso.

Before getting to St. Malo, we decided to stop in Dinan for lunch, even though it was only a few kilometers away from our hotel. Dinan is considered by some to be the finest town in Brittany. And it is a very pretty town.

What has surprised me is how different various parts of each country can be. I know this is true also in the United States, but this uniqueness is funny when you consider how small Italy and France are in comparison to the US. During the various times we have been in France during this adventure, for example, we have been in a Riviera resort, an area that felt almost like Germany, the Pyrenees Mountains, the beautiful Province region, and now an area that feels as though we are in Great Britain.

Dinan could have been a town in Great Britain. The buildings look just like those in Wales or Scotland. The native people look very Celtic, with reddish hair. Still, despite the appearance of being in Great Britain, the language is very French.

At one time, Brittany was independent of France. According to our guidebook, back in the 1490s, a French king married a poor, innocent 14-year-old Brittany girl, and, as a result, Brittany became part of France. But the people have maintained their independent spirit, which is why the feeling of the town is Celtic though the language is French. One of the benefits that came out of this marriage was free roads. Believe it or not, that still holds true today, with Brittany being the only part of France that doesn’t charge a toll for use of its highways. Talk about hanging onto history!

The Brittany region is reknown for its crepes and its bowls of hard cider, so that is what Bill and I had for lunch. Bill had a crepe with bacon and eggs, and I had a crepe with scallops, leeks, and cream. We each had a bowl of cider, which are actually small bowls that they fill with delicious hard apple cider. Ours had little handles, but as we shopped, I saw some for sale with no handles at all.

As we walked around a bit, we marveled at the Celtic feel of the place. The street entertainers included the performer of Celtic music pictured here, and, randomly, Peruvians singers. Go figure.

Following lunch, we checked into our hotel, and then went into the town of St. Malo for a visit. St. Malo has a very medieval feel to it, with the large wall surrounding the town. But the town sits on the banks of the Atlantic and is the most popular of the Breton seaside resorts. The beaches were appealing, sandy and large. There are old forts out in the water just outside the walls. When the tide is right, it looks like you can just walk out to those forts. At one time, the town must have been hard to penetrate.

After we walked around the wall, we went into the town to look around. They were having some sort of festival, and we watched the children having races up the wall and different musicians and dancers performing. Bill had a delicious waffle, called a gaufrey maisson, with apricots. We then split a huge dish of moule marniere (mussels with leeks and wine), and some wine…..

We will take off on Friday for our trip to Normandy.

Posted by the reluctant traveler at 1:24 PM No comments:

Second Easter

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The Holy Spirit, as depicted by Brother Mickey Mcgrath, a Roman Catholic brother and accomplished artist. Many of his works feature the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit, as depicted by Brother Mickey Mcgrath

Back in 2008 (I simply cannot believe it was seven years ago), Bill and I took the trip of a lifetime. We spent three-and-a-half months traveling around much of western Europe, including spending one full month living in an old rectory in Tuscany. Simply lovely.

We took a cruise ship from Galveston, Texas, to Barcelona, where we set off late in April on our adventure. We spent three or four days in Barcelona. Because it was our first stop, we were still quite inexperienced travelers. I can’t tell you exactly why, but we really never got the hang of Spain, though we certainly love Barcelona, especially La Sagrada Familia, the magnificent church designed by Gaudi that has been under construction since 1882. Not speaking any Spanish was definitely a hindrance, but we couldn’t speak French or German, and only enough Italian to get by, and that didn’t seem to cause us problems. In looking back, I think it was just the initial intimidation of being in a foreign country.

Anyway, every Sunday throughout our adventure we would attend Mass at the big cathedral of whatever country we happened to be visiting. We, of course, couldn’t understand a word, but since one of the many benefits of being Catholic is that the Mass itself is the same because it’s a universal church. So we were always able to follow along even if we couldn’t respond to the proclamations. In Barcelona, we attended the Barcelona Cathedral. The only thing I remember is that it was Pentecost Sunday and after Mass there were all sorts of activities going on in the square in front of the church, including traditional dancing and a puppet show.

We stayed in a truly dreadful apartment in the gothic section of Barcelona. The walls were thin and the floor was literally sinking. I prayed that it wouldn’t completely collapse before our visit was over. It was, I’m happy to tell you, the only really bad accommodation we had during our entire trip. Anyway, seeings as the walls were so thin, we could hear everything that went on above and below us. That Sunday night, I was awake all night long listening to partying going on outside our window. That was bad enough, but I also had the misfortune of hearing what I’m quite certain was an abusive man fighting with his wife/partner. It was very disturbing. I kept thinking, “Don’t these people have to get up and go to work tomorrow?”

The next day – Monday – Bill and I were up and out of the apartment early to begin our walking tour of the city. We noticed it was very quiet, but attributed that to it being so early. We couldn’t find a single place to eat breakfast. Nothing was open. We finally went back to our apartment, thinking we would go out later when things were lively.

Early afternoon, we set out again. But still, nothing was open. We, being so very clueless, decided that things were closed because it was siesta time, and were certain businesses would open soon. But after seeing no activity after a few hours, we finally decided we were missing something. So we stopped at a tourist booth on Las Ramblas and asked (using much sign language as the booth attendant didn’t speak much English) why nothing was open. We finally realized that it was some sort of national holiday. Again, using sign language and my language book, I asked what holiday they were celebrating. The woman asked her coworker how you would say the name of the holiday in English. The answer: Second Easter.

Second Easter?

After thanking her, we set off, and suddenly the answer occurred to me. I quickly took my Rick Steves guidebook out of my daypack and looked it up. Sure enough, Pentecost is a national holiday – celebrated on Monday – in Spain.

This is a long story before I finally can get to my point. I love the feast of Pentecost. In the Catholic Church, the tradition is to wear red, something I NEVER remember to do. The priests and deacons wear beautiful red vestments and the altar servers wear red belts with their white robes.

But beyond the pretty colors, I love the idea of celebrating the existence of the Holy Spirit who I believe guides us in our faith. He certainly guided Peter and the other apostles, who received strength from the divine spirit on the feast of Pentecost, shortly after Jesus ascended into heaven. It’s true, the Holy Spirit is an enigma, hard to understand in a way that God and his son Jesus are not. But it is through the Holy Spirit that we truly experience our faith.

The feast of Pentecost is important enough to warrant a holiday, at least in Spain!

Nana’s Notes: The artwork in the picture above is by Brother Mickey Mcgrath, a Roman Catholic brother and an accomplished artist. Many of his works feature the Holy Spirit in some form or another. His website is http://bromickeymcgrath.com/