28 July
Today we headed off to
the south. First to Pont Aven where Gaugan discovered this idyllic
place to paint.The town abounds with galleries. We visited some –
styles vary. Some are in the style of Gaugin at this point in his
career, some in the impressionist style – Monet in particular, some
modern ( I fell in love with one but my spouse honesty gave it the
thumbs down – good move when I looked at the price!!) and some
quite abstract paintings .
The town itself is
centred around the head of an inlet with a series of watermills
seried down the stream leading into it. When we arrived the tide was
out so that all the boats were sitting on the mud – the yachts have
outriggers attached so that they remain upright while the tide is
out. The approach to the town is picturesque with flower boxes
arranged along the stone walls and the wooden pedestrian bridge
across the stream. It all reminded me of Cornish fishing villages.
Just below the mills
there was a quay with a few boats tied alongside including a 100 year
old gaff rigged schooner with a banner “Old Gaffers Associaton”
on the boom. Across the other side of the inlet there were 2 shoals
of fish holding their position in the stream while a fisherman tried
to catch one. He managed to get one hooked, but lost it before
getting it out of the water.
We wanted to check out
the beaches around here so headed to Point Trevignon where we found
the obligatory small fishing port protected by an absurdly high
breakwater (the tide was out remember) and a rocky coastline.
Finding a good sized beach we parked and walked down with dark clouds
hanging over us. There were 3 people trying to sunbathe and another
group down by the water – 1 of the group was swimming, but didn't
stay in long. When we got to the water (100m from the high tide
mark) G put her feet in and declares it freezing. As we left there
were a few drops of rain and a German group who had been pulling
loungers out of their van, parked at the edge of the road, appeared
to be packing up.
We moved on to
Concarneu and found a park near the old town and a passing man handed
us a parking ticket good for 2 hours, which was the time we intended
to stay there. The town itself is thoroughly modern and commercial,
but the old walled town located on an island was a through and
through tourist trap. With one road between the old houses it was a
continual series of ice creem parlours, restaurants and souvenir
shops with the road packed with tourists including an amazing number
of pushchairs which frequently managed to get under my feet. At the
end a gate lead to a ferry advertised as the “shortest ferry ride
in the world” (which I dispute) which crossed the harbour entrance,
about 50m.
We then headed for
Quimper (pronounced “Kampair”) where we found traffic chaos, as
the road through the centre of town was closed and what we assumed
was a viable diversion lead into a dead end morass of one way
streets.Whilst in the traffic jam ( more like cement than jam from
the way it moved) we heard a siren and sure enough 2 French police on
motor bike charged through the closely packed cars, trucks, van etc
gesturing for all to move to one side. Where is one side we
speculated? Stephen gamely moved up onto the footpath as did some
other vehicles near us, while other cars stubbornly stayed where they
were.Eventually the scream of the French siren 'woo hooing' drew
closer and a fire engine crawled down the narrow pathway cleared in
the centre of the road – so close we could easily have touched it!
We eventually crept out of the dense traffic concrete into heavy slow
moving traffic and drove around the old city walls. We spent a lot
of time searching but we didn't manage to find a park and decided to
call it quits, heading home for a lamb chop dinner.
29 July
OK – an official rest
day. We went mid morning to Rostrennan – which is another lovely
Breton village north of St Brendan. We heard it was a big market that
day and we were not disappointed. It wound through the streets in the
centre of a lovely old town. Even though stalls lined the footpaths
and roadsides cars still traveled – carefully it must be said –
through the stalls and milling people. Unlike the market in the
southern areas of France we have visited this had its own flavour.
Many vans are equipped with fridges, freezers and set out just like
butchers and fish shops. You can see how they fold up when it is time
to move out. Having said that some sea food stalls have a large
variety of sea food ( some we have no notion as to what they are) not
a scrap of ice to be seen as flies buzz around small muscle shells
and large oyster shells. Cheese and goat cheese are sold under cover
of plastic display cases so there are fewer flies present. We bought
up some local produce.
Having eyed dried up
looking sausages, flecked with what looks like flour, ever since we
arrived in France, we capitulate. Talking with a very nice lady who
manages some English we try several of her varieties, goat, donkey???
( 'Mais non ' I cry – she grimaces) garlic, mushroom, bull, chorizo
we settle for mushroom. These all have been picked over by hand by
many people I note... wondering how to eliminate nasty 'other people'
germs before we eat it... matter still under review as sausage in
question sits in the fidge wrapped in its waxy Breton paper.
Next purchase are
aubergine, an artichoke – one very keen Stephen has promised to
consult our new cook books and deal with this fearsome object. I
love preserved artichoke hearts but quail at the sight of the raw
material. A lovely punnet of local berries is next. We discover these
to be a mix of flavours, some we hadn't encountered before – they
even include blackberries! Oh Joy!
Moving on through the
rich array of food and clothing, accessories I fall for an item for
Stephanie. I also avoid the sellers keen offers of other items that I
could wear when he realises my purchase was for my daughter - Stephen
should be proud of how much better I am getting at walking away ' au
revoiring, bon journeeing, and mercing” as I make my exit. A fish
purchase followed from a nice clean looking refrigerated van. I have
no idea what we have bought but the flesh looks enough like the Monk
Fish recipe I am following tonight to be worth the risk . However...
as we waited in line to be served – this by the way is a good sign
i.e. people queuing to wait to be served shows it is a sort after
stall and produce – I did note the no gloves, hands on fingering of
the fillets by the fish monger as the purchaser ahead of us made her
decision. Conversation seemed to go comme ca.” does this one suit
Madame?” “Non – the one underneath,s'il vous plait – mais non
the one to the right – Oui merci madame...” Then it is our turn.
We selected, we accepted first fillet show cased and GB notes to self
to wash her fish before cooking. Racoons have a lot to teach us.
Finally – after GB
tried on 3 tops and rejected them while Stephen talked to the owner
of the stall about how learning English means your children can
travel and work over seas – OK lesson number one for daughter in
question. Antipodeans don't enjoy being invaded by young slim French
things, eager to be helpful and to find more items for trying on,
when they are in their underwear- bulges bulging while wrestling tops
off over head. I retreat.
In the midst of our
wandering we find a table groaning under a range of familiar looking
products. As we cogitate a very English voice greets us and we have a
cool conversation about her and her stall. She has for the last 4
years been operating in markets and on line selling English groceries
that are not avialable in France. We have realised quite quickly that
there are a lot more English here than elsewhere we have visited.
Some are tourists and many more own houses in Brittany. She says that
she actually sells more products to the French than to the Brits. She
recounted a conversation she had at her stall one day with a very
elderly, very short couple( Bretons traditionally are short
apparently – not the young though! Improved diet?). The elderly
lady quizzed our stall holder in depth about her Mars bars. Were they
truly English, really truly English and not a French Mars bar masquerading under a false English wrapper. Having finally convinced
the lady that her Mars bar was the real McCoy our stall holder asked
why it was so important that the bar was British. “ Because the
French ones are bl**dy awful” came the reply! Lovely interlude. We
came away with her card as she will do some research on what buck
wheat is and email us her findings.
Final purchases are
stuffed tomato and vol au vent stuffed with mushrooms and delicate
cheese sauce. We email off spring rapidly from Tourist Office on
annoying French key board and return to Gite in paradise to wolf
goodies and then blob out in the sun. Despite lovely hot sun for 2
hours tan is still fading annoyingly. Another run into Langonnet for
supplies and then more blobbing and blogging time.
30 July
We decided to check on
the habits of our ancestors and visited Carnac, a town with a 4km
stretch of megaliths (standing stones) scattered over the landscape
in rows. The arrays of stones are impressive, but frustrating as
no-one knows how they were put there or why.
On our tour of the
“alignementes” we passed the beaches of Concarneau which again
had a huge stretch of sand between the high water mark and the water
and were told that the smallest beach “was popular with the
English” - it was virtually empty. Around the corner was a bay
that was completely dry with numbers of people walking across the
flats – apparently a well known area for shellfish.
We moved on to Auray
and walked down to the port where we had mackerel fillets for
lunch.Above the port there are old houses and shops, the access to
the port is steep and we were glad of modern paving as the
traditional paving stones are rounded, shiny and set at odd angles.
Not easy to walk on wearing summer footwear. The port is on the
upper reach of an inlet and used to be a major port – Benjamin
Franklin landed here on his way to arrange a treaty with France
during the American war of independence (I suspect this was the only
historic event of note).The quay is maned the Franklin Quay. The
shops and restaurants are situated in the village square and along
the quay on the ground floor of beautiful half timbered houses.The
next floor of these buildings look as if they could topple over in
the next strong gale! Some are well maintained, others less so but
all delightfully uneven with crazy angles. Along the quay are the
gracious homes of the sea faring captains of old. As we sat and
viewed the harbour while eating lunch we mused over the way the port
would have looked when sailing ships anchored in this tiny harbour to
discharge and load good and passengers. It is very pretty now with
port one side and grassed, tree lined park. and picnic area on the
other side. I suspect in the late 18th centuary it would
have been a busy, often smelly and less groomed settlement.
Wanting to see more of
the Gulf de Morbihan, a large inlet with a very narrow entrance with
strong tidal currents, we drove to Larmor Baden. On the way we saw
signs to a tumulus and a dolmen – the tumulus appeared to be a
small scrubby hillock and we didn't stop, but we managed to find the
dolmen – about 6000 years old and covering about 300 sq m. Larmor
Baden is a small coastal port/town with mud flats and oyster farms.
There is an island with a cause way across – this causeway was
covered with a greenish growth, probably some variety of sea weed.
The causeway is covered at high tide so you wouldn't want to be on
the causeway when the tide turns. We read there is a strong, often
violent current.
31 July
A day lazing around the
gite.
1 August
We had read that the
town of Pontivy was an interesting mix of old and new. The old town
clustered under the chateau was full of half timber houses on narrow
curved streets while the new section was planned during the empire
period and is regimented straight roads at right angles. We followed
a trail set out by the tourist office with points of interest ending
at the chateau, which was a military defensive castle, but it is now
closed as part of the massive southern curtain wall has collapsed.
The name Pontivy comes from the priest from Britain named Pont Ivy who built the first church there around about 600 AD - hence the name. As Pontivy was quick to give their alliance to Napoleon I the benefited from his largesse.He built a new town along side the old and built the canal which made for quick movement for trade and soldiers from Brest to Nantes. The canal has locks and weirs - still operating today. You can hire a long boat and go for a lazy trip down the river if you wish. Stephen says the French long boats are bigger affairs than those in the UK. Back to napoleon. The residents of Pontivy had been struggling with the flooding tendencies of the Blavet for centuries and had tried to deal with these issues unsuccessfully. The citizens of Pontivy petitioned to have their town renamed Napoleonville. It remained so called until Napoleon was finally defeated at the battle of Waterlooo. Inevitably the good folk of Pontivy felt they wanted their original city name back!
The name Pontivy comes from the priest from Britain named Pont Ivy who built the first church there around about 600 AD - hence the name. As Pontivy was quick to give their alliance to Napoleon I the benefited from his largesse.He built a new town along side the old and built the canal which made for quick movement for trade and soldiers from Brest to Nantes. The canal has locks and weirs - still operating today. You can hire a long boat and go for a lazy trip down the river if you wish. Stephen says the French long boats are bigger affairs than those in the UK. Back to napoleon. The residents of Pontivy had been struggling with the flooding tendencies of the Blavet for centuries and had tried to deal with these issues unsuccessfully. The citizens of Pontivy petitioned to have their town renamed Napoleonville. It remained so called until Napoleon was finally defeated at the battle of Waterlooo. Inevitably the good folk of Pontivy felt they wanted their original city name back!
We then headed south to
Quelven and found a huge “chapel” in the middle of a cluster of
substantial but ancient houses, even though our GPS didn't know of
the village. The chapel is impressive, in excellent shape and has an
outdoor chapel reached by and flanked by curved stone staircases(loggia) for when the congregation exceeds
the 1000 or so capacity of the church :)There are 2 altars in the chapel. Upstairs the altar has effigies of Christ with bound wrists and priestly figures on either side of him.The tiny underneath the chapel also has an altar. Under this altar lies a very worn effigy of Christ clad in loin cloth only in reposeon top of a tomb.
In the main chapel the main point of interest is a statue of Mary and infant Jesus which can be opened to display paintings of biblical scenes. In one apse there was a model of a sailing ship which is obviously used in processions as it has carrying handles, but we didn't find the significance.
GB was intrigued by the tableau at the rear of the church 's nave. There is St George on his horse with his very long spear / lance thrusting it manfully into the jaws of a modestly built dragons open jaws. behind St George is the rescued lady in questions feeling very relieved.
Moving on we came to St Nicholas des Eaux on the bank of the river Le Blavet where we decided to have lunch – the first place we tried was closed for food and the second said the cook had left, but the owner would rustle up something for us and we had excellent salmon dishes.
In the main chapel the main point of interest is a statue of Mary and infant Jesus which can be opened to display paintings of biblical scenes. In one apse there was a model of a sailing ship which is obviously used in processions as it has carrying handles, but we didn't find the significance.
GB was intrigued by the tableau at the rear of the church 's nave. There is St George on his horse with his very long spear / lance thrusting it manfully into the jaws of a modestly built dragons open jaws. behind St George is the rescued lady in questions feeling very relieved.
Moving on we came to St Nicholas des Eaux on the bank of the river Le Blavet where we decided to have lunch – the first place we tried was closed for food and the second said the cook had left, but the owner would rustle up something for us and we had excellent salmon dishes.
A few peeps of the
Nantes-Brest canal (much less impressive than the Canal du Midi, but
gaining much more altitude) and headed home to the gite.
2 August
We did the usual clean up of the gite - just as we were finishing a delightful English woman came bearing a bundle of clean linen for the next guests. She says the owners have this Gite rented for every week of the year mostly. Nice little earner! Actually they are putting their own house and the cottage on the market as they want to consolidate their position back in the UK. When she said the price was 30,000 euro Stpehen's eyes stared to twinkle - converted to NZ $s that is around 70,000 and they earn 500 ($1,000 ) a week! However when we realised where we love the bubble burst!
We had a lovely chat with the caretaker - they are the guardians of a mansion in the district. They love France and prefer it to UK. her words were , " Britain is not a nice place to live anymore. We all are leaving to live in France"poor Britain. We still love you.
We traveled onto Josselin which is a lovely town. The city centre is picturesque with medieveal houses - some still with the original porch house held up by pillars. These jutted out about 6 feet and provided shelter from the elements for goods stored below. Often there were several of these built in a row which meant a covered alley way for shoppers! The houses now are mostly shops of course at ground level - housing remains on the first floor of what are sometimes sitting at alarming angles.
We visited the lovely Chapel de Notre Dame. The organist was practicing and the music flooded the building. What a lovely gift to sit and listen to such beautiful music in such a beautiful building. There were the usual statues and stations of the cross. There was also a double tomb where one Lord Olivier de Clisson and his wife Marguerite Rohan are interred. Their effigies lie side by side in perfect condition.Given that they died in the 16th century their condition ( of the effigies that is!) is remarkable.
We carried on wandering the streets taking in the ambiance and doing our usual admiring of all the produce in the markets . Yes - again we managed to score a market day. There were a few showers of rain ( our first since Bari in Italy) but the sun won out and so we wandered buying goodies to eat and munch on there and then. I am particularly keen to try the goat cheese we bought. Not packaged in a small cylindrical shape this time but from a round. The sliver we tasted has a stronger taste than the other goat cheese we have eaten. I will stuff peppers with this for my second try. The last one just lacked the small bite the feta cheese has.
During our tour of the market we inquired about some dried fruit for sale. the young woman in the jewelry stall next door came to our rescue as the stall holder had little English and we couldn't grasp his fast French. She asked us if we were NZers! Of course - how did she know? She is actually British but has lived for some time in France. She visited NZ with her then partner. After the birth of her daughter and 6 months trying to live in the Manawatu with said partner / sheep farmer she ran for home to be with her dying father. this was not the 'right' way for a sheep farmer's partner to behave said our kiwi chap. She then moved to France and loves it. She said life in the UK is not good ( second person saying this in one day?) and not a good place to bring up her daughter. She listed variables like drug abuse, pregnancy in children as young a 9 years old, problems related to immigrants reluctant to assimilate, unfriendliness of people in general ( our caretaker lady mentioned the same thing). Although it has taken her 7 years to sort of come to grips with French Bureaucracy she would never take her little 4 year old girl back to UK. Sobering thoughts - we are genuinely surprised. After our year in Britain we have honey colour memories of the country and the people. Maybe we were incredibly lucky. I di think that living in a small village and working in a smaller centres would have something to do with it. Also - times change.
We then walked to the chateau. This is a beautiful building in beautifully tended grounds. Its towers have witch's hats turrets - as do all Breton castles and many others of their buildings.This is also a Dukes of Rohan creation. They were the ruling family in Brittany for hundreds of years and the chateau is still lived in by members of the Rohan family today. The Rohans initially built a castle here beside the river Oust in the 1008. In Henry II ( of England and Duke of Anjou) and his son, Geoffry, pulled Josselin Castle down in 1168 and 1175. Henry II himself led the demolition and sowed salt into the ruins.This was in retribution against n 1154, Odo, Viscount of Porhoet, Although Odo was , step-father, guardian and regent of the young Conan IV Duke of Brittany he collected the Breton lords to deprive Conan of his inheritance. He was defeated by Henry VII , whose protection Conan had sought. Henry married his fourth son, Geoffrey to Conan's only child,Constance Duchesses of Brittany. It was built again by the Rohan family. they were certainly an influential family and had input into many of the chateau in Brittany. Their blason consists of 9 yellow empty lozenges ( diamonds with yellow outlines and each has a smaller diamond inside coloured a deep red). These lozenges sit on a red shield of the same colour as the interior diamonds.
We calculated time and distance to our northern Brittany Gite and decided that, as we still wanted to see Foret do Paimpont we should fore go the guided tour of the castle in an hour's time.
We then traveled ( gyrated more like a high speed, down narrow French roads meeting on coming French drivers going the same speed! Rrrrr! this is the legendary place where King Arthur received the Excalibur sword and where Vivianne turned her enemy Merlin into a stone! The town of Paimpont is very pretty - we sought out the tourist office - and went to the "Valley of no return" . After a short walk you come into the very pretty forest. The trees are very leafy and meet high overhead, filtering the light to greenish tones. Actually the forest is like many in South Brittany we have seen but it was fun to imagine as it the setting for enchanted business!
Time beckoned so after a short encounter with the forest we headed back to the car and en avant to Northern Brittany.
Our gite is part of an accommodation complex. Gite du Domaine de Grenier in the commune of Yffiniac. It was a working farm for many hundreds of years. The buildings still stand but renovation has been extensive but retain the original features. The farm house is now accommodation for Bed and Breakfast. The surrounding farm buildings have been converted into little houses - one and 2 bedrooms. The windows are large and ours has huge sliding doors onto a a pretty paved patio. There is a small marquee behind our building and a hard stand where they hold a weekly evening for guests to chat and comapre travel tips. Children also get to meet and greet and this is cool as they can hang out on the pretty play ground. A spa is on offer but no pool - I am yearning to swim again.
Waiting for us in this lovely apartment was a tray of home grown garden produce and a bottle of local cider. How lovely. I used the carrots, spring onions and market potatoesin a spup for our dinner. The gas stove top is a horror but Stephen came my rescue - as always. After a few kind words he decided two of the elements were useable!
3 August
It is Sunday today so after skyping Steph and Aaron and Chris and Sheeka we went to nearby town of Quessory to grab makings for dinner and we drove around looking at our current locale. Still plenty of fields being cropped and harvested, large stands of forest in amongst the field - quite flat land and several small hamlets without shps.
2 August
We did the usual clean up of the gite - just as we were finishing a delightful English woman came bearing a bundle of clean linen for the next guests. She says the owners have this Gite rented for every week of the year mostly. Nice little earner! Actually they are putting their own house and the cottage on the market as they want to consolidate their position back in the UK. When she said the price was 30,000 euro Stpehen's eyes stared to twinkle - converted to NZ $s that is around 70,000 and they earn 500 ($1,000 ) a week! However when we realised where we love the bubble burst!
We had a lovely chat with the caretaker - they are the guardians of a mansion in the district. They love France and prefer it to UK. her words were , " Britain is not a nice place to live anymore. We all are leaving to live in France"poor Britain. We still love you.
We traveled onto Josselin which is a lovely town. The city centre is picturesque with medieveal houses - some still with the original porch house held up by pillars. These jutted out about 6 feet and provided shelter from the elements for goods stored below. Often there were several of these built in a row which meant a covered alley way for shoppers! The houses now are mostly shops of course at ground level - housing remains on the first floor of what are sometimes sitting at alarming angles.
We visited the lovely Chapel de Notre Dame. The organist was practicing and the music flooded the building. What a lovely gift to sit and listen to such beautiful music in such a beautiful building. There were the usual statues and stations of the cross. There was also a double tomb where one Lord Olivier de Clisson and his wife Marguerite Rohan are interred. Their effigies lie side by side in perfect condition.Given that they died in the 16th century their condition ( of the effigies that is!) is remarkable.
We carried on wandering the streets taking in the ambiance and doing our usual admiring of all the produce in the markets . Yes - again we managed to score a market day. There were a few showers of rain ( our first since Bari in Italy) but the sun won out and so we wandered buying goodies to eat and munch on there and then. I am particularly keen to try the goat cheese we bought. Not packaged in a small cylindrical shape this time but from a round. The sliver we tasted has a stronger taste than the other goat cheese we have eaten. I will stuff peppers with this for my second try. The last one just lacked the small bite the feta cheese has.
During our tour of the market we inquired about some dried fruit for sale. the young woman in the jewelry stall next door came to our rescue as the stall holder had little English and we couldn't grasp his fast French. She asked us if we were NZers! Of course - how did she know? She is actually British but has lived for some time in France. She visited NZ with her then partner. After the birth of her daughter and 6 months trying to live in the Manawatu with said partner / sheep farmer she ran for home to be with her dying father. this was not the 'right' way for a sheep farmer's partner to behave said our kiwi chap. She then moved to France and loves it. She said life in the UK is not good ( second person saying this in one day?) and not a good place to bring up her daughter. She listed variables like drug abuse, pregnancy in children as young a 9 years old, problems related to immigrants reluctant to assimilate, unfriendliness of people in general ( our caretaker lady mentioned the same thing). Although it has taken her 7 years to sort of come to grips with French Bureaucracy she would never take her little 4 year old girl back to UK. Sobering thoughts - we are genuinely surprised. After our year in Britain we have honey colour memories of the country and the people. Maybe we were incredibly lucky. I di think that living in a small village and working in a smaller centres would have something to do with it. Also - times change.
We then walked to the chateau. This is a beautiful building in beautifully tended grounds. Its towers have witch's hats turrets - as do all Breton castles and many others of their buildings.This is also a Dukes of Rohan creation. They were the ruling family in Brittany for hundreds of years and the chateau is still lived in by members of the Rohan family today. The Rohans initially built a castle here beside the river Oust in the 1008. In Henry II ( of England and Duke of Anjou) and his son, Geoffry, pulled Josselin Castle down in 1168 and 1175. Henry II himself led the demolition and sowed salt into the ruins.This was in retribution against n 1154, Odo, Viscount of Porhoet, Although Odo was , step-father, guardian and regent of the young Conan IV Duke of Brittany he collected the Breton lords to deprive Conan of his inheritance. He was defeated by Henry VII , whose protection Conan had sought. Henry married his fourth son, Geoffrey to Conan's only child,Constance Duchesses of Brittany. It was built again by the Rohan family. they were certainly an influential family and had input into many of the chateau in Brittany. Their blason consists of 9 yellow empty lozenges ( diamonds with yellow outlines and each has a smaller diamond inside coloured a deep red). These lozenges sit on a red shield of the same colour as the interior diamonds.
We calculated time and distance to our northern Brittany Gite and decided that, as we still wanted to see Foret do Paimpont we should fore go the guided tour of the castle in an hour's time.
We then traveled ( gyrated more like a high speed, down narrow French roads meeting on coming French drivers going the same speed! Rrrrr! this is the legendary place where King Arthur received the Excalibur sword and where Vivianne turned her enemy Merlin into a stone! The town of Paimpont is very pretty - we sought out the tourist office - and went to the "Valley of no return" . After a short walk you come into the very pretty forest. The trees are very leafy and meet high overhead, filtering the light to greenish tones. Actually the forest is like many in South Brittany we have seen but it was fun to imagine as it the setting for enchanted business!
Time beckoned so after a short encounter with the forest we headed back to the car and en avant to Northern Brittany.
Our gite is part of an accommodation complex. Gite du Domaine de Grenier in the commune of Yffiniac. It was a working farm for many hundreds of years. The buildings still stand but renovation has been extensive but retain the original features. The farm house is now accommodation for Bed and Breakfast. The surrounding farm buildings have been converted into little houses - one and 2 bedrooms. The windows are large and ours has huge sliding doors onto a a pretty paved patio. There is a small marquee behind our building and a hard stand where they hold a weekly evening for guests to chat and comapre travel tips. Children also get to meet and greet and this is cool as they can hang out on the pretty play ground. A spa is on offer but no pool - I am yearning to swim again.
Waiting for us in this lovely apartment was a tray of home grown garden produce and a bottle of local cider. How lovely. I used the carrots, spring onions and market potatoesin a spup for our dinner. The gas stove top is a horror but Stephen came my rescue - as always. After a few kind words he decided two of the elements were useable!
3 August
It is Sunday today so after skyping Steph and Aaron and Chris and Sheeka we went to nearby town of Quessory to grab makings for dinner and we drove around looking at our current locale. Still plenty of fields being cropped and harvested, large stands of forest in amongst the field - quite flat land and several small hamlets without shps.
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