Losing Traction . . .

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Dear Friends,
Some issues at work have forced my absence over the entire past week, had to travel unexpectedly to Germany, and am on my way back early in the morning, after a very short Sunday at home. Had no time all last week, just work and the hotel... what's that saying about all work and no play ? This blog is my "play" time... so I've been missing it, and you, yes, especially you, dearly. I hope life will return to normal soon. Too much havoc in the world these days. We need to return to something simpler. Is that even possible ? I stumbled on this bar for sale in Brittany recently. Maybe we could all get together there sometime for a drink ? This round's on me. Cheers to all, see you soon. A bientôt.
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Market Day . . .

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Every Thursday morning the market gets underway in the village of Carantec. A weekly ritual, a social gathering as much as a commercial operation. A chance to get out and shoot the breeze a bit, catch up on local gossip, bring home some groceries which are better here than at the supermarket. A time honored tradition.
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These postcards give a little bit of an idea of the flavor of life in Brittany. Sails, sea, shore, waves, lighthouses, ancient rock.
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But perhaps even better than postcards, painted scraps of driftwood by a local artist. A fine addition to any household.
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Fish of many descriptions . . .
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Crabs for sale . . .
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Lobsters too . . .
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The traditional Thursday roast chicken and potato lunch ! Yum !
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And of course, cheese to finish off a meal with. Cheese from all over the French cheese map. I took several home. A different cheese could be eaten every day of the year in France, and one still would not have tasted them all.
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Sojourn in Syria . . .

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What a crazy week it's been. Or has it been going on for months now ? Or years ? It seems that France is running low on water. It has not rained in weeks. There are worries in the news about nuclear power plants not having enough water to cool them. A large amount of the electricity used in France comes from nuclear plants. If this blog goes off line, you'll know why. Dominique Strauss-Kahn in prison ? What gives ? Earthquakes. Floods. Storms. Drought. Sounds like the seven plagues are upon us. Even close to home, this past week life at the straightjacket factory was seriously disrupted by employees out on strike. Food prices keep rising, they want more money. A vicious spiral. A world power with 14 trillion dollars of debt ? How do you explain that to your children ? Irresponsibility everywhere. No one is accountable, or so it would seem. Smile, it's life, and life only... (who said that ?) Now, to change the subject :
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In April 2007 we travelled to Syria, as mentioned once or twice previously in these pages. In light of recent events, it might not be possible to do so today. As this is not a politically oriented blog, I shall make no political remarks. I can only say that I sincerely hope that Syria can work out their political situation without further violence and mayhem. Syria is a simply beautiful country, and the people we encountered there showed us hospitality in a myriad of small ways. Many seemed truly pleased to see a few tourists like us. I would go back again if the chance presented itself. On that trip I only had a fairly cheap point and shoot camera at the time, I'd love to go back with the camera I'm using now. Back to Homs, to Palmyra, to Alep, Hama, and Damascus, and the Krak des Chevaliers. Yes, get back on the bus and go.
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An odd thing to find here, it may have dated from the French Mandate period after WWI when the French governed both Lebanon and Syria.
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This was one of the rare bits of graffiti seen, nothing special at that, but it stood out because I hadn't noticed any graffiti anywhere in Syria before seeing this.
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Toilet facilities involved a certain amount of toil... now I better understand the origin of the word. This is not to say that things are going down the drain. On the contrary, we must remain optimistic.
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A Stroll by the Sea . . .

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Funny, having to post this again... looks like Blogger had a big bloblem, errrrr, problem. This was posted two days ago, and your wonderful comments disappeared as well. But I did see some of them, and I thank you for stopping in to this totally obscure little blog... Happy Friday 13th to all...
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While in Brittany at the end of April, one day it was so beautiful out that we had no choice but to set out walking along the shore. The welcoming committee quickly came to greet us ; we said, "How now, brown cow ?"
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Rocks of all shapes and sizes abound along the north Brittany coast ; sailors beware.
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A spirited conversation was taking place ; true illustration of hearing something straight from the horse's mouth.
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Castles by the sea . . .
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Slightly larger castle by the sea . . .
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The Lion King . . .

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When I was ten years old, my parents took my brothers and I along on six week trip to Europe. The influence of that trip could well have planted the seeds that led me to return to live in Europe for good. In exile. In love.
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The first stop of the trip was in London, after the adventure of flying for the first time across the Atlantic Ocean, on a Boeing 707, if my memory serves me correctly. We stayed in a hotel on Russell Square which figured in that famous early travel book : Europe On Five Dollars A Day. The British Museum was practically next door.
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So it was not without some considerable nostalgia that I went back to the British Museum in February. The Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon, and the Rosetta Stone of course are perhaps the "biggest" attractions there, but between them lies a long room dedicated to the bas relief lion hunt scenes from the Assyrian palace at Nineveh, in what today is the tragic land of Iraq. For me these sculptures are some of the saddest and most moving artwork I've ever come across anywhere. They date from over 600 years BC, during the realm of King Ashurbanipal, but already they foreshadowed the devastatingly arrogant vision of man regarding the natural world around him, which has grown to epic proportions today.
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The power of these images is such, when one beholds them in the reverent quiet of the museum in their raw, rich stone, that one could almost imagine warning signs posted at the entrance to the room, like the ones we sometimes see on internet news sites to the effect of : "Warning; the images that follow are graphic in nature, viewer discretion is advised", or "Danger, not for the faint of heart".
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When the last lion in the wild has been killed, we will at least still have these sculptures to help us remember the glory of such beasts, and the brutal stupidity of man, who would slaughter them for sport. Sculptures executed by an incredibly talented artist, or artists, who sadly remain anonymous to us today. How I would have loved to watch them at work over these large stone panels. One senses a strong degree of sympathy between the artist and the dying lions.
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Have you been to the British Museum ? If yes, did you stop for a moment in the lion king's realm ?
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The Heart of London . . .

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As you were studiously avoiding watching the royal wedding (wedding ? what wedding ?) last Friday, you may or may not have noticed the flight of three World War II era aircraft over Buckingham palace, in memory of the Battle of Britain.  I couldn't help but recall that while in London just a few weeks back there in February, I had come across a memorial monument to the Battle of Britain right in the heart of London, along the River Thames, near Westminster Abbey and the House of Parliament. There's lots more information and many more photos of the monument here. Also, in passing, an old, old friend from way back in grade school days just got in touch with me after years and years via that most efficient grapevine which is known as Facebook. He mentioned by e-mail after that first contact just the other day that he was interested in Royal Air Force and World War Two history . . . so Matthew, this one's for you ! I cannot imagine what a horror it must have been to have bombs raining down from above.
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