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The Epistle, March 2007



Chateau Josselin
Just another day in Brittany….

Built in the 11th century, classified as a historic monument it remains…private property.

We love it here!

Don’t let us kid you. We don’t actually work all the time. Every week we “discover” cool new places to see and things to do in our neck of the woods. Clearly, it’s what keeps us fascinated by our life in Europe. We are still very limited in our travels to the outer reaches of the continent partly because there is so darn much to see close to home and partly because we really want to finish our projects in the house before we just go gallivanting all over the place.
Recent local finds include:


The Treguier Stones: We have been doing a lot of our daily shopping in Treguier, just up the road. We have driven past the waterfront public parking lot a thousand times but recently Janice noticed a memorial plaque of sorts. Stopping to read it, she found that the 4 foot high circle of stones surrounding a grassy area was no less than an elliptical ‘belt’ having surrounded a mound of dirt that had been formed in a manner to provide housing, in 2500 BC.
BC as in Before Christ.


Tour St-Michel: This tower, also located in Treguier, is almost across the street from my hardware store. It dominates as the highest point in the area and it is said that from the top of the tower with a pair of binoculars on a clear day, you can see Jersey.
No silly, not 'New Jersey'! The isle of Jersey is a British island off of our area of the coast of Brittany. A number of executions and torture were meted out within the tower's shadows. Finally, it was also from the top of this tower that on August 14th, 1944 a German sniper shot Sgt. LLoyd W, Libben, US Army 15th Cavalry.




Sgt. Libben had the misfortune of being the only American soldier in General Patton’s army (bivouacked down the street from our house) killed in the liberation of Treguier. A memorial stone stands nearby on the sidewalk at the spot he fell .





The pillory post: La Roche Derrien is a village next door that we often take walks to from the house. Our bank is there as well as our post office. Recently, walking down the higgely piggely side street from the post office, I noticed yet another little plaque on the wall of a residence. The plaque announced that this was the spot where the town pillory post had been located and a smidgen of behavior modification had been imposed on area bad guys .






Maison du Gouffre. Another afternoon of exploring took us to Plougrescant. A private home on the beach that was actually an island twice a day when the tides came in, it is now landlocked since a causeway of sorts has been put in.
[Editors note: A boneheaded move in the opinion of one who is completely impartial regarding the subject of Islands]
It’s not easy being us you know. We have had to make a HUGE sacrifice, moving out of our family home and renting it to perfect strangers to help fund our kid’s educations while we are marooned on some God forsaken Island half the year and then having to scrape by in Europe all winter long.
[So, how did that sound? Did it have a sincere ring to it? Do you think there is any chance the kids will buy it?]


The Roman baths: Cruising down one of the local beaches with friend’s recently, they pointed out the remains of a Roman bath. While I am not sure what year this was built, I think you can know that these were not Italians that came by recently. Ingeniously designed, they allowed for a weatherproof wood storage area to stoke the fires that heated the water. The water ran under the floors through clay pipes to warm the different baths. Depending on the distance from the heat, different baths could be tepid, warm or hot. The view? The crashing surf, of course.
Like I said, we don’t work all the time
"Hey, if you like the place so darn much why don’t you move there permanently?"
That would be the next story.


Why don’t you move there?


Whooooooooaaa, cowboy! There’s no need to get your panty hose caught up in a bunch and start talking crazy. As Paul Harvey would say… "here is the rest of the story".
Finding many, many things to love about our area is easy to do but “living” here as opposed to being a seasonal visitor is a horse of a different color. We bought a home here because there was so much more that interested us to visit in Europe than in Asia or Africa or South America. As a visitor, I can smile and laugh off many things that are ‘French’ or European that I would never stand for or tolerate permanently.
You show up here as a tourist, exchange a few dollars into Euros, gasp at the fees and say, “what the heck, we're on vacation” then run off to see the Eiffel tower. It has no appreciable effect on your life. But in the time I have spent here I see that people in similar income brackets in America vs their European counterparts live quite differently. There is a significant disparity in their standard of living.
For all my griping about the high cost of living here, we are constantly reminded by our British friends that they moved here, lock, stock and barrel because the cost of living in the UK was so much higher! Yikes!
The basic formula here when you hire someone is 1/3 materials, 1/3 labor and 1/3 taxes of some sort. While there are big fines for hiring unregistered workers there are a number of people whom won't work unless they are paid in cash. All countries have an underground economy but with taxes as high as they are here, many work hard at underreporting their incomes. You can’t even hire the kid down the street to mow you lawn. Unless that is, if you pay him or other temporary workers by ‘cheque employer’. You get this special book of checks at the bank and when you pay someone with it the bank adds 50% to the amount and deducts it from your account to pay appropriate taxes, social security, ect.
No one we know here has a credit card. They are available but cost about $200. a year for the privilege of having one issued to you. They don't have a clue as to what frequent flyer miles are. Everyone uses debit cards. Free, of course at home, $50. a year for the privilege here. Yes, it minimizes debt but it also limits the financial options. Transferring money from your home bank? Free at home between the US and Canada, $30 to $80 here, no matter how little the amount --plus the exchange rate of course. Water bills? About $85. a month here, $25. in California. Building materials are quite expensive here. Not really a big deal for us as we are only doing relatively small projects but when we decided to varnish our bedroom doors, varnish ran about $200 a gallon. Excuse me? Paint is not much cheaper.
Like to futz with your computer? Vista, Microsoft’s new operating system, is sold in the US for $189, yours for a mere $350 in France. Need blank DVD’s? 100 for $25. in the US, 10 for $25. here.
Working on you car? Hey, I am not even going to mention the 3-letter ‘G’ word that makes the car run ($2.20 gal in the US, $6.50 here) A friend’s alternator was as high as $700. here, available for $89. in the US. Why? Taxes and fees.
On January 1, Germany raised its VAT (value added tax) from 16% to 19%. In Canada they call it GST (goods and services tax). We call it the ABCDEFG tax and you don’t want to know what that means! People there thought “Big deal, its only 3%”. The next day, our daughter Mandy reported that her rent in Germany went up 'to make up for it", she was told. Every business will pass their tax increase on to consumers. Besides having to register when you move from or to a new city in Germany there is, of course, a 'registration' fee. This alone would be incomprehensible in the US.
A leading presidential candidate here (the French version of Hillary Clinton) wants to set the minimum wage at $2,000. (US)/ month , with a guaranteed job within 6 months upon graduation or the state will pay for additional training. You see where I am going with this? When you keep chipping away at people you erode their standard of living. Individually they may balk but Europeans seem resigned to the fees and taxes imposed on them and quite accepting of the consequences it inevitably has on their standard of living.
So, do we not want to move here because varnish costs a few bucks more?
Of course not. The financial hit is one thing but lifestyle is another. Remember, this not about not being happy here. We truly LOVE it. But there is a reason why Americans returning from foreign travels (Ok, not necessarily from Europe) have been seen getting off the plane, kneeling and kissing the tarmac.
Its like when you visit family or friends. Its wonderful…..for a while. But at some point their lifestyle or yours will clash. It would become less fun and you don’t want to become an eternal guest. When you or they return, you can enjoy each other again.
It's a simple fact that if we lived here a hundred years we would still be foreigners. Foreigners are at inherent disadvantage speaking up in their host country. We can’t vote although we pay taxes, so local politicians don’t take us seriously. We sometimes have large farm trucks park on the sidewalk in front of our door, under a no parking sign. What I want to do is step out and say “ Hey Pal! Have you bumped your head? Make like Michael Jackson and ‘Beat It!’" But if I complain I risk being ignored or worse told “if you don’t like it here, go home” Janice feared that it would invite all kinds of unwanted attention: anti –Americanism, xenophobia or just plain scorn.
What I did was to go see the Mayor and brought pictures of all kinds of vehicles doing just that on different occasions and showing that the sidewalk was beginning to break up as a result. I offered to buy and install large planter boxes, fill them with flowers, donate them to the village and place them on the sidewalk to prevent the illegal parking. I even showed how wheel chair access would not be impeded. The town council smiled and said “No”. The temptation as a foreigner is to keep your head down. As a visitor, that’s fine, but I could never ‘live’ like that, condemned to a lifetime of taxation without representation. What this place needs is a little Boston styled tea party...





Don't ask...







Then there are French politics, the compulsory 35 hour work week limit, global warming…..please, don’t get me going.

My man Mr. Christopher
No one promised the little man an easy first year but it would be nice to give the poor kid a break. This to say nothing for his exhausted parents who have played tag team to be with him 24 / 7 in the hospital, yet again.
Our grandson came down with a bout of pneumonia. The medication to treat him caused acid reflux, which developed a bad case of thrush all the way down his esophagus. This in turn caused him some difficulty breathing. Whisked into surgery [twice no less] to have a little extra tissue on his esophagus lasered off, he (and mom) spent the next 3 weeks in the hospital while he recovered. (He would surely qualify for frequent patient miles) He was released to go back home but required a feeding tube, as he was unable to nurse and breathe. He will be on it until he grows out of this condition, which is expected to take from 6 to 18 months.
Within days his condition worsened and he was returned to the hospital where he was given a tracheotomy. He and mom will be in the hospital for some time to come. We wish him a quick recovery, mom and dad a long vacation and a hospital free future for all.


Problem solved
We are thrilled every time we find a way to solve some logistical hiccup in the way we live. For instance, we resolved banking issues long ago by having accounts in California, Canada and France. You know how it works, as long as you put more in than you take out, they are happy. The real solution of course was when we were able to not only keep tabs on our finances instantly online but to pay our bills electronically in different countries from a click of the mouse from anywhere.
On occasion we have needed to send or receive faxes without always having immediate access to a fax machine. Well, sometime ago we found a free online faxing service. With it, we have been sending and receiving faxes from anywhere with a ‘local’ US based phone number. Pretty handy when you are in some village in Italy and you are expecting a fax over something you’re dealing with in Canada. It arrives as an email attachment and we can print it if we like. I am currently setting it up with a European based number also (free of course, as it is a US based service) because people are loath to call a phone number on another continent to send you a fax. Just darn convenient.
A huge weight was lifted off our shoulders with our ability to call long distance with Skype, the Internet based phone service. Yea, I know. Some of you guys HATE our calls when we have a bad connection or when we sound like we are at a bottom of a drum. Truth is, we make many, many hours of calls and inevitably, 99% are long distance whether we are in Canada or France. Some are very, very long distance. This has allowed us to be able to call anyone, anytime without giving it a thought. On a number of occasions we have even made conference calls while located in France, speaking to Mandy in Germany as we were talking to Cassie in California. Or, my sister in Toronto Canada, my brother in Montreal, and my mother in California, simultaneously. I don’t know about you but we think it’s wild. We have great add-on external laptop speakers, a desktop microphone and a web cam so we don’t have an uncomfortable headset to wear and it sounds much better to us than a land line. We absolutely love it.
The Internet with all its available services has made how we live possible.
The last fly in the ointment was mail. For two years we have been frustrated with our mail forwarding service in California. We have tried to alleviate the problem by having a PO box on the US side of the mainland at the Island in the summer. This is needed for magazines and packages we order while we are there. We have refrained from having mail sent to us in Canada from the US as it takes too long to clear Canadian customs. Much easier for us to zip over to the post office by boat right to it’s dock.
Recently though, we did get a Canadian PO box because, again, there are Canadian magazines that won’t ship to the US or Canadian mail that will not be delayed if we get it ‘in country’ so to speak. It’s weird because both mailboxes are only a mile apart but in two different countries. The real bugaboo was mail in California. We kept our ‘main’ PO box there because for serious stuff like taxes, insurance companies and the like we wanted one central permanent address for it all to be collected at then twice a month forwarded to wherever we are at the time. Great in theory but touch and go in practice.
We have had mail sent to the wrong end of the country, mail not sent (ooops, we forgot!) mail sent twice in 5 days then not sent for 6 weeks. We felt that we had little choice but to continue, as it is a major logistical headache to notify some 60 odd contacts that we have a new address for a different mail forwarding service.Enter the Internet to the rescue again! Recently, I found a California based company that gives you a physical address so that all of your mail gets directed to them. (Yes, that means those 60 some odd contacts will be notified that we have a new ‘permanent’ mailing address) Each day they get our mail they scan the front of the envelopes and post the images online to our account. If we chose, they will open the envelope, scan the contents, post them online and we can print it or have them forward it to us. Whatever we don’t want (except for a check that would be pretty much everything) gets shredded. No delays, no lost mail, no forwarding costs. This way, we get our mail everyday (not twice a month) even if we are traveling and the cost is about a third of what we currently pay.
Is this a great country, or what?

Want to see any of the above pics really big? Easy, just double click on them!!

The Epistle, Febuary 2007





Le château de Costaeres




Yes, that was my reaction the first time I saw it too. “Yea, that would work”.
Built in 1892 within yards of Ploumanach by a Pole who was hired as an expert in electrification by the French government, he made his fortune by inventing electrical gizmos. He died before completing the chateau but left it to his daughter who was later killed in the Auschwitz concentration camp. The place came close to being lost in a fire in 1990 but remains in private hands. (Until I win the lottery)
I rarely suggest any web sites to visit but if you have any interest in seeing our favorite haunts as seen from the air, there is an excellent one that actually allows you to ‘fly’ over the entire French coastline from the French Riviera in the south to the border with Belgium in the north. Check it out at: http://www.francecoastline.com/recherche.php Click on ‘Bretagne’ or click on the map itself (Brittany is the part that sticks out to the left). You can also simply enter the names below in the search box.
In our neck of the woods, Bugueles, Ile de Brehat, Plougrescant, Ploumanach, Port Blanc and Perros Guirec are our neighborhood beaches. The way the photos are shown you can start at any one of them and follow the coast in either direction as far as you like.
We know that we are here partly off-season and as a result a number of touristy places are closed until April. It is amazing though to see that the closer you get to the ocean, the more homes are boarded up and unoccupied. The thinking is that they are all fat cats from Paris waiting to return to their summer homes. There are just so many (I figure in some waterfront areas it could be as much as 80%) that if that were the case Paris would have to empty in the summer. (Some say it does)



Does Honey Bee freeze
in the winter?


















Is the Pope Catholic?
The short answer: Yes. It freezes harder than a constipated Rhino!
Being in somewhat of a micro climate lying in the middle of the river the surrounding area tends to be a little warmer than just a few miles inland. ‘A little warmer’ is a relative term. It still freezes like the dickens but there is less snow.
You ‘might’ be able to walk over the ice to the island but then again you might not make it. The gentle current keeps the ice rather thin making it at best a risky proposition. We have never had any ice damage to our wood dock, which leads us to believe that the ice is very thin. People have asked us if we fear someone going over in the winter to break in while we are not there. We are not.
The river acts like a giant moat around the island. There are lots of unoccupied cottages and homes within sight of us that would make much easier targets. Besides, someone would have to risk life and limb just to get there….and for what? Are they going to take our refrigerator? Our clothes? Our TV? Then what? Carry it back over the ice? If they were lucky enough to make it there it is unlikely they would be lucky enough to make it back. Besides, that is what we have insurance for.
We don’t heat the cabin when we are gone all winter so we go to some lengths to think through our departure and we have developed some rather elaborate checklists. Paint, glue and cans of tomato soup go because they will freeze and explode. Window cleaner stays because it has alcohol in it and won't freeze. Portable phone battery and soda cans go, Vodka stays. (You might need emergency liquid rehydration when you are marooned on an island)
Sometimes we still get it wrong though and we are still on the way up on the learning curve. Before we left last year I made sure to carefully go through room-by-room looking for anything that would not survive freezing. When we returned for the summer I found a little puddle next to the UPS (Uninterrupted Power Supply) for the computer. I had forgotten that it too had a battery. It froze and was history.
A problem that that both the Bee and our house in France share are our computer printers. When we first arrived in Europe this year, it became obvious that our printer was having seizures and would not print several colors. I did all the usual stuff like run it through print head cleaning programs and when that failed I put in new ink cartridges. When that failed I found some print head cleaner for just such a problem but it made absolutely no difference. I had not removed the ink cartridges before I left last summer so that the ink would not dry and clog the print heads. Fine, so now the whole shebang dried up like a prune. Chaching! Another printer please!
But wait! Before you reach for another box of tissues to wipe your tears away because of how hard and unfair life is for us, there is much more sadness….. At the Island, I have to remove all the ink cartridges before I leave in the fall so that they don’t freeze, burst and make a mess of our printer there. Fine, but now I have a printer that has no ink in it so the print heads will dry out also and probably also need to be replaced. Chaching! Another….
Win some, loose some. It sounds like I might loose one every six months.


Bicyclists own the road

It’s a simple fact of life here that bicyclists own the road. Personally I don’t like it but I have yet have anyone ask me for my opinion or cared what it was. Whether it is a lone bicyclist making his way up the country lane or a 50-member bike club on a typical Sunday road trip, they ride as if they are “tolerating” vehicular traffic.
They don’t ride on the edge of the roadway allowing you to pass them safely; they ride well within the traffic lane forcing you to slow down behind them until you see far enough ahead to safely pass. The bike clubs ride 2 or 3 abreast forcing you to come to almost a stop behind them until you can pass the whole group stretched out over a few hundred feet. They couldn’t care less if vehicles have to follow them for any distance. They will not pull over, stop or attempt to accommodate in any way. They have an attitude of entitlement second only to Liberals (Oops, sorry that just slipped!) or to some people here trying to park their cars.
I have mentioned before that sometimes and in some places, parking here is a whole new experience. I have photographed cars parked on sidewalks, cars parked in all 4 crosswalks at an intersection, cars parked in front of fire hydrants, ambulance entrances and partially on the center islands on the roadway. (I say partially because the front half is on the island while the back half of the vehicle is actually still on the road) Law enforcement in this area is all but non-existent, as they seem to have simply given up.
We regularly see people parked so illegally in city parking lots that they cause absolute gridlock. The exit lanes out of the parking facility are sometimes blocked by illegal parkers forcing those trying to enter to back up for someone wanting to leave. It’s a zoo. This creates a situation where some people are so frustrated that they just stop being courteous or civil in any sense of the word.
More than once I have seen someone who had been patiently waiting for someone else to back out and leave from his or her parking spot, be cut off by some aggressive driver who just flat ‘stole’ their place. In America it would cause instant road rage and be a clear case for justifiable homicide. Usually you can spot them as they hover into place like vultures.
Spotting such a scumbag who saw me signal and pull up next to an empty spot, he positioned himself directly behind me. I waited for him to go around but he was waiting for me to move forward a few feet positioning myself so that I could then back in (Proper parallel parking). Had I moved forward, he was planning on driving in (forward into the spot) and claim my space. I waited a while but seeing that he was not going to leave, I got out, walked up to him and explained that I was retired, I had a good book to read in the car and that he could wait till hell froze over if he wanted to but that I would not move until he left.
He did.

Life is a party!

Fully aware that we only have about 30 more years to live (statistically at least), we decided we had better start partying big time. So, in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, we threw a little bash for 20 of our nearest and dearest friends. A number of them are parents with younger children (some with very young kids) so we decided that this one should be for grown ups only. We were somewhat surprised at how many leaped at any excuse to have the chance to get out on their own.



Janice is an experienced, skilled and frequent entertainer and she sure did herself proud. Because the numbers precluded a sit down dinner, she set up one of her favorite ‘table scape's’. This allowed her to serve a gorgeous 3 course buffet dinner. We had a great mix of friends (English and Francais), a number of who had never met before. The long and the short of it was that we had a blast.
We were taken aback by the manners of our predominantly French guests. As Americans, we like to think of ourselves being a little more laid back and casual in social settings. Sometimes that can mean being a little too casual for the circumstances. These folks showed up with the most elegant and breathtaking 'hostess gifts' I have ever seen. I mean, Wow!
I must admit that I hesitated inviting our family doctor. He is a really nice man but I just wasn’t sure I wanted to “get to know him better” considering the man had just performed a prostate exam on me days before. ‘Male bonding’ was completely out of the question of course, but we did hit it off (I am getting myself in deeper and deeper here, aren’t I?) partially because of the oddity of our being the only Americans around, I suspect. All in all, it was about as international of a mix of people you could imagine. All we needed was a 3-legged midget, a Democrat and a Burka clad Jihadist to complete the set.

Life in Europe.

OK, it’s been a few years since we have been going back and forth to Europe so how is it working out? Well I guess if we added all of the time we have lived here it would amount to about 18 months total. It has not been continuous time so it is surely not the same but it is still 18 months.
We have made about as many British friends as French but like many of the Brits that live here, we make a point not to surround ourselves with only other English-speaking people. None of us came to France so that we could avoid the French.
For us, “English speaking” is a relative term of course as all the English we hear here is mispronounced. (note to our British friends: Whilst I art just kidding, mates!) (Note to our American friends: I rest my case!) We still find it fascinating to notice all the little idiosyncrasies in our different lifestyles (American and European) that we come across in our everyday life. There are absolutely brilliant ideas that we see in all aspects of life that we wished we had or used in America, and then there are positively stupid things (to us) we see that we cannot fathom why they are done here. I guess that is what keeps the experience so interesting.











It is perfectly understandable that by and large people here do not hold the same fascination that Janice and I do when it comes to historical stuff we see everyday. Barely worth mention is an aqueduct we found that was about 10 minutes from home. I say barely worth mention because while a splendidly preserved specimen it ‘only’ dates back to 1610. Spending this much time in Europe has given us a whole new view of history and time. There is SO MUCH historical stuff to see all over the place that I can’t bring myself to get real excited unless the site is at least 500 years old. It is an extravagance that here, we can afford.
If there were such a thing at home, there would be signs on the freeway for a hundred miles around directing you to it. There would be a huge parking lot next to it with shops, restaurants and park rangers supervising your visit. Here, we had a heck of a time finding it and when we did it has only reachable down a dirt path on private property. (Good thing no one was home)












Oh yea, on the way home, we found a 13th century ‘Colombier’. Also known as a ‘pigeonerie’, it is a stone structure that housed up to a couple of thousand pigeons to provide meat for the Lord of the Manoir. (See The Epistle, December 06)
“Time” takes on a new dimension here. In some ways, I have come to relate to other busy retired people I have talked to who say “ the older you get the faster time goes by”. I can’t explain it but I now know exactly what they mean. Time is shooting by a mile a minute. On the other hand, life is a lot slower also. When I worked, I remember thinking how every free minute had to count and be ‘productive’. Well I don’t have any time to waste now either but there is not the same frantic rush. Now I am perfectly comfortable to not finish what I had intended to do on any given day and to simply say to myself “Oh well, maybe I will do it tomorrow”. If I feel like it…….
That is a whole new attitude for me.
Predictably, wine is a big deal here. Sure there is a lot of good French wine and it is somewhat cheaper. What I had not expected is how the exchange of bottles is as common as a handshake. We take a bottle over to friends whenever we are invited over for dinner or for a visit and they do the same when they come over. (We could probably just use the same bottle over and over!) Bottles are given as thank you’s and for generally for no apparent reason at all.

A well-traveled letter.

Sometime in October our friends and neighbors next door to us here sent us a letter when we were still at the island. Unfortunately it got there after we had already left so the letter got forwarded to California. As we were in Seattle at the time, our mail inadvertently got returned to our summer post office in NY (our professional mail forwarding service is staffed by minimum wage earning teenagers working their first job. Their work ethic mantra is "What-ever!") They [in NY] in turn cannot forward mail to Europe but could only “return it to sender” so, back it went to California (during the Christmas rush) so that it could be forwarded to France. We received the letter on January 10th, after the letter had traveled some 16,000 miles (25,000 Km) to go a total of about 3 feet (1 meter). The living rooms of our homes share a common structural wall.


TIP: If you don't see any of the photos or would like to see them larger, just double click on them.




















The Epistle, January 2007


From the desk of the editor

Welcome to our shiny new version of the Epistle. Always striving to be on the very bleeding edge of technology, all of our staff here at the Epistle welcomes you to our new format. (Ok, so I work alone, big deal. When I am rich and famous, I will hire minions so I can babble my rants while they dutifully post them online)
I was well aware that the format I was using was choking many friends e-mail boxes and creating a real burden for those interested in what we are up to but couldn’t handle hour long downloads and our hogging their email quotas.
Being a sensitive millennium kind of guy with several friends making good suggestions I got a little help to set up the current format to solve the problem. While not quite ideal but I hope acceptable, the primary advantage of the format is not taking ANY space on your email account and being a simple link that can be opened instantly. I am still trying to figure out how to get rid of the weird code you see between the paragraphs. I am open to any ideas.
Once a month I will email you the link, inviting you to take a peek. Of course this Internet thing is a two-way information highway and we would love to hear about your latest goings on also.

Fort La Latte


Two hours up the road from us lies Fort La Latte. The original fort was built on a much smaller scale in 937 AD. As seen, the existing fort was built around 1350. Over the centuries it has been submitted to a number of unsuccessful sieges, including by the English in 1490. Alas, it has suffered fires, pillaging, plundering and partial dismantling. Only the ‘donjon’ survived.

Not to be confused with a dungeon, a ‘donjon’ is a keep, the last fortified stronghold in the center of the fort (the tall tower looking thing) where the owners could seek refuge when the mongrel hordes (figure of speech) invaded and breached the outer defenses. The fort does have what the French call an “oublier”. Translated, it means, “to forget”. This is a 3-foot wide, 20-foot deep hole in the ground next to the entrance guard’s post where you could keep a prisoner (but most often a disobedient soldier or a guard caught sleeping). It was not wide enough for a man to lie down, had no ‘facilities’ and offered little in entertainment value. It was a place where they would ‘forget’ about you for a while. If the guard remembered, he could lower a pot for you to do your business or toss down some bread scraps.
And my kids thought I was too strict!

In 1793 they built an outdoor oven that looks like a giant bread oven. (It’s the little building at right and above in the large open area that has a chimney at one end) They would get a roaring fire going inside and load cannon balls into several troughs at the high end. The metal balls would take up to 90 minutes to work their way down to the low end of the building where the soldiers would pick them up with metal tongs. Red hot from the heating process they would be loaded into cannons where when fired would not only damage passing ships but also set fire to them to boot.

In 1815 the fort saw it’s last unsuccessful 100-day siege and thus ended it’s warring history. It was later abandoned and decommissioned by the war ministry in 1890. Largely in a state of ruin it was declared a historical monument in 1925. It was bought by a private family in 1931 and has been slowly restored since. The fort has been a movie backdrop for a number of films including “The Vikings” with Kirk Douglass and Tony Curtis.
Still owned by the same family who live within its walls, it is open to the public and is the most visited Fort in Brittany after Nantes.



Michael goes back to school
Always looking for ways to mitigate my poor mothers feeling that I will never amount to anything (Just because I spent 30 years in prison doesn’t mean I am a bad guy), I decided to go back to school. Confounding the theory that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, I thought I would try my hand at blacksmithing.
Last winter I wrote about “Batiste” our village blacksmith. A man straight out of the 9th century, he fits right into what had been his fathers shop. The place looks like the torture chamber in the movie “Nights of the living dead”.

Ok, so my instructor is not certified but he is an artist. We seemed to hit it off last winter when I asked him to do a few things as part of a project I was working on. Soon, I was doing things on my own and this winter I asked him if he would teach me the craft, as I wanted to make some forged objects to take back to Honey Bee.
Enjoying the company, he agreed and started me off by teaching me how to weld. It wasn’t pretty but I soon got the hang of it and realized that my teacher did not like to repeat himself “I showed you that once already, so figure it out”. Next, I graduated to making forged nails, just like in medieval times. The heads looked great even if the points looked a little crooked but I figured no one would see that when I pounded them in the wood. If I were learning to be a mechanic, this would be the equivalent of being allowed to tighten and loosen (but not remove) the lug nuts on the car. Baby steps…
I have not worn a watch since the day I retired (why bother since the only thing I have to do is die) but here it does not matter. I always know when it’s lunchtime as the French version of the factory whistles blow (the village church bells).
In any case, next came my first project. I am forging some seriously bitching looking hinges for the heavy wood door at the Bee. You know, hinges that are almost as wide as the door itself and have scroll work on them, kind of what you would expect to see on a castle door. No sooner had I got started that I almost got myself kicked out of school.
Realizing that red hot metal was quite workable but white hot metal was even easier, I thought to myself: “step aside old man, I have been doing this for a couple of hours and I will show you how this is done”. Pumping the forge as fast as I could, I figured the hotter the better. When I pulled the tongs out of the fire, not only was the piece of metal I was working on gone but half the tongs also. Not the slightest bit amused, he eyed me with that "You are as stupid as you look" look and said, “what happened”?

Instinctively, I wanted to respond like my kids used to in similar circumstances:“Nothing!" Thinking the better of it, I thought I would try to take credit for the feat: Behold! I am a magician who can make solid steel disappear!!! What I didn’t know was that I had heated the metal to over 3200 degrees and like a foundry, melted the steel like water. And so, having temporarily lost the masters trust, I was back to…….making nails. Blacksmithing is hard work and I have discovered a hundred new ways to burn myself. What I came to realize is that if I was working out at the gym I would have to do 900 to a 1000 repetitions of 5 pound curls (right arm only) to replicate what I do with the hammer each session.
This blacksmithing thing is but one of many things I have had stored in the back of my mind for years in the “one of these days” category. It is a real kick to be able to have the time to finally do it.
Church bells are tolling so it’s time to go back to work. Our house is about to become a "husband free zone" for the next several hours.

The River Jaudy


At the edge of our village lies the tidal river ‘Jaudy’. A popular local fishing spot it also has a number of walking paths that run along side. There is a school that teaches kids kayak racing and there are endless places to photograph, sketch and paint.


The real kicker are the tides. Twice a day, the river empties completely right down to the mud flats. Six hours later it refills completely bank to bank. Draining into it are two ponds within Langoat (our village) that also offer walking paths, picnic areas, horseback riding trails and access to roadway remains built by the Romans.






Christmas in Brittany


Last month we mentioned that we were spending the first Christmas in our married life alone without a single kid. We teased about celebrating with a bottle of wine and a night in the Sauna. While we did have mixed emotions about it all we still had a good time. It is a milestone in all our lives that we experience.
Our Christmas was a quiet but busy one with our being invited to and inviting friends here. I am sitting here at the computer writing this on New Years Eve so I guess there won’t be any wild parties here tonight either. We did spend the day at the beach where we had a picnic with friends and we will have friends over tomorrow also.



So how is Janice’s French?
Challenged.
It would be fair to say that she understands quite a bit more than she can speak. Pretty normal for someone attempting a second language I am told. She is quite able to go off on her own (and does) to shop, run errands and manage quite well in the process.
She can make herself understood sufficiently to get and do what she wants although she would not attempt to do serious banking, straighten something out with the insurance company or deal with our Internet service provider. The best way to describe her French language skills is to think of the movie “Borat”, the refugee from Kazakhstan who invites you over: “Mine smile your came for houses to me?” then turns to me proudly to confirm that ‘that was right’.
There is no doubt that there is some linguistic babysitting that occurs while we spend our months here and that we tend to make friends that are at least somewhat bilingual. It is tough for her to be with someone who does not speak a word of English. I end up like a United Nations translator going back and forth with time delays built into the punch lines of any jokes.
Language aside, Janice simply cannot contain her enthusiasm for being in France.

She loves it


Hey, guess who I miss?


December 2006

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