April 2009

New and improved.

Now with video!!!!

Contrary to public opinion, we here at the Epistle don't sit on laurels all the time. We constantly strive to be on the bleeding edge of the technological evolution. As fast as we can figure out how this cool stuff works, we implement it.

Chateaugiron

This medieval fortress was built in the 13^th century and renovated between 1450 and 1470. It counted 6 towers (of which 4 remain) and a drawbridge. It is a listed monument open for public tours.

Project update

Project? What project? Projects are for people with money and our lives are all about saving for her infernal flying machine, remember? "Save, save, save", that's the mantra heard around here. However, just because we are spaghetti-o's broke doesn't mean we have to suffer from PDS. (Project deficit syndrome) So, to keep things moving along, we have been busy with a number of labor intensive but cheap-to-do finishing touches that we had hoarded the supplies for. We have done odd bits of painting here and there and made finishing touches in our Master Bedroom and dressing room in preparation for carpeting next year when we hope to have her you-know-what paid for.

We have also made changes in the kitchen that we want to remodel next year after … well, you know. The changes are minor and have transformed a counter area from not-so-very-nice to barely passable. In our view, that's progress. You will note the lack of pictures here. Finally, one not very noticeable but hugely time consuming project that has needed attention since we first bought the house was pointing the stone walls we have indoors. Pointing, if you are not familiar, are the mortar joints between all the individual and irregular stones in a wall. It is a mind numbing task that is (I am told) about as exciting as applying hemorrhoid cream. Pointing takes forever to do but adds that all important 'finished' look.

Finally, it seems that no recent winter in Brittany is complete without an obligatory forging project. This year I forged a 'Juliet balcony'. It is the waist high protective barrier that I will install on the outside of our 2^nd story bedroom door at the island. There is no outside balcony or staircase, but this allows us to open the door to the view and the air with this as a safety barrier. As I obviously could not carry it on the plane in one piece I made it so that it could be disassembled, and packed the pieces into a box which I will substitute for a suitcase. Once reassembled and installed in June, I will post a pic.

Speaking of pictures I have managed to get one that shows clearer detail of our front door entry light (the light is in the wine bottle). This is the rooster's head piece we had professionally forged two years ago. In spite of my best efforts I could never get a picture that showed enough detail to do it justice. Again, think France. This 5 foot tall piece would obviously look completely out of place in California.

Taking a stroll down memory lane

You missed a BIG deal around here about a week ago. Janice and I celebrated the big 25. Certified combat veterans, we are. It was touch and go for a while but I finally got her to re-up for 25 more when we will be only 83. That anniversary will be very special because it is 5 years after the actuarial tables say I should be circling the drain. Of course, we couldn't help reminiscing about events that led up to our wedding.

We met when I took my 4 year old daughter Kami for her first dental checkup and Janice was the dental hygienist. I asked her out, then failed to show up when my car broke down. (Honest!) It quickly became obvious that I might have a chance to marry up but I bamboozled her into asking me. The fun started when she did and I played coy and said I would need to think about it.

She didn't have to wait long for her answer. When she showed up at her office on Monday morning, she wondered why all her co-workers were giggling and hovering nearby as she walked into her operatory and opened the curtains. Her view was of the complexes' large parking lot enclosed by a chain link fence. On this fence was a 165 foot long (50 meter) banner made from blank newspaper rolls, with 6 foot high (2 meter) letters that said "YES JANICE, I WILL MARRY YOU!"

Not nearly as pleased as I had hoped she would be, she raced out in horror and tore it down before most patients began to arrive. Unfortunately, she did it so quickly that no picture was taken to record the event. My theatrical bent was evident to her years before I formally took to the stage.

Wanting to ensure that she understood my unrelenting enthusiasm, I called and had her look at the 'want ads' section of our local paper, assuring her that I had seen a message addressed to her. As you know, there are thousands of little 3 line "for sale" or "help wanted" ditties and she looked and looked in vain.

A clear case of not being able to see the tree for the forest, as hard as she tried she could not find the segment that appears below until someone pointed it out to her.

She married me in spite of it.

This very public professing of one's love and affection is risky business. The effort can easily be received with less enthusiasm than with which it was created. A few years after we were married I gave it one more try for Valentine's day when I paid a fellow who had an ultra light airplane to fly over our church just as service was letting out.

He had a way to slip large poster sized letters in clear 'pockets' under the wings so they could be visible from the ground. Releasing red smoke for effect, he buzzed the area over us for several minutes. The " I (heart) J a n i c e " made it hard to miss whom all the fuss was over.

Yes, I got teased by the guys for doing such a corny thing, but that was mostly from the scowl they got from their wives when they realized it was not for them! But… the look on my brides face (and the stupefied look on 3 year old Mandy with big sis Kami) in the video that captured the event made it all worthwhile. You can see it by clicking the arrow in the video below.

Is living in Europe

really that different ?

The short answer is that in a lot of important ways, yes. Take bankruptcy for instance. At home corporate and personal bankruptcy is not uncommon. Here, corporate bankruptcy exists also but personal bankruptcy doesn't. Why? Because the courts won't grant it. In France, if you accrue personal debt (including business debt if it is in your name) the courts will require you pay it all back, no matter how long it takes. People are very reluctant to start unincorporated businesses or take on too much personal debt knowing that if they get in over their heads, there is no way out.

Inheritance and divorce law is another. By French law, children can collect their inheritance 'share' when a parent dies or divorces. Like most laws, there are exceptions and limitations but this is the default position. This can result in the remaining parent having to sell their house and / or obtaining their children's permission to sell their home to pay them the inheritance they are 'owed' under French law. [Note to our kids: don't even think about it! We bought under a treaty exempting us from this statute]

Real estate prices here are not negotiated nearly as much as we see at home. Here, people set a price and frequently have a 'take it or leave it' attitude. Properties can remain on the market for ages until someone is willing to pay the asking price. Some agencies even advertise run of the mill properties without listing the asking price requiring an interested party to make some effort to find out.

Private garage sales are rare here. Instead they have what they call 'brocantes' or 'vide greniers' [empty your attic] (what the Brits call 'boot sales') Janice likes to check them out for little French treasures but it is often surprising just how high the prices are. People seem to think their old junk is worth almost as much as new.

To us, another interesting thing we see are the TV adds. Only here can you see travel adds trying to entice you to visit such fascinating places as Croatia, Azerbaijan and Angola. Heck, as long as you are in the area you could stop off in friendly Darfur!

Incoming…

This month we were delighted to have friends and family visit from America and Canada. First we had dear Thousand Island buddies Wayne and Barbara (From Ottawa) fly over and spent a week with us. We drug them from Roman ruins to Chateaux, from 10^th century Cathedrals to our favorite beaches. We plied them with French wine & cuisine, had a terrific visit and when they had quite enough of us, they were off.

We quickly changed the sheets and hit the reset button with the arrival of my favorite mother in law Lorraine and new husband Vern. In spite of having been to the same sights many, many times, we never tire of being able to share them with all who land on our doorstep. Vern is a WWII vet and was adamant about visiting the Normandy beaches. While at the American cemetary at Omaha beach he was honored by the staff by being asked to help fold the flag when it was lowered for taps. A group of students from Ohio surrounded him to form an honor guard.

As I write this we have just pulled the plug for another season and will not return to Brittany until next December. This will be a particularly lengthy transition as we have just started this year's European road trip. We are currently in Salon De Provence in the south of France for a week and will travel about for the next month. On May 11th we will be heading back to the west coast for several weeks finally arriving at the Island on June 1.

More blah-blah-blah next month.

March, 2009

Chateau de Hac

Built in 1440, this castle is a listed French heritage monument, yet is one of many in our area that remain a private residence. Restored in 1684, the castle is flanked by 5 turrets and it is furnished with a collection of medieval tapestries, stained glass and trunks from the 12th to 15th centuries.

Honey Bee Island hits the big time!

Wow! This is a big month for the Bee. Last summer we were introduced to a new friend on the river. Shortly thereafter, she told us she was a reporter for a local newspaper and was writing a series of articles on island life in the Thousand Islands. Kim said that she was always looking for new material both to continue her series and for a book about the Thousand Islands she hoped to write. Having heard of our schizophrenic lifestyle she asked if she could visit and interview us at the Bee and my agent... eh… I mean Janice made us all lunch. Originally slated to be published in April, the article was killed when Kim was among 600 reporters throughout Canada laid off from the newspaper conglomerate when the economy went truly, pants-wettingly, oh-my-god wrong.

As a reporter, she is no slouch. She is an award winning Canadian journalist and former national correspondent for some of the largest newspapers in the Canadian metropolitan areas. Her work has appeared in numerous national publications including the Readers Digest. Looking to spread her wings in new directions she began to write for the ‘Thousand Islands Life’ magazine and did a really sweet feature article on Honey Bee that appears this month. You can read the online edition by copying and pasting www.thousandislandlife.com into your browser.

That being a done deal, we were asked if the Bee could be featured in an upcoming glossy regional magazine called ‘Island Treasures’. It is slated to be published in June and will feature 10 islands in the area. With any luck, we will negotiate the movie rights, royalties and residuals shortly thereafter...:)

CH2-0209-2858

There was a very exciting development in the aviation world this month. While I have soldiered on with my online ground school, the time came to take the plunge and buy a set of floats and order my…eh…Janice’s airplane. There could be a 3 month lead time in ordering the components from the factory before they can be delivered to the Bee when we arrive in June. Over the past 25 years they have manufactured and shipped well over 3500 airplanes of this model and another similar to it around the world. That is all well and good but I am beside myself with joy that CH2-0209-2858 will soon be mine.
I mean hers.

Is life in Europe really that different?

Last month I got started on some of the differences between daily life at home and here in Europe. One of them involves gas stations. Like at home, many of them here have multiple pumps to serve several clients simultaneously. Makes sense, right? Here though, the fueled cars are then funneled into a single line of vehicles to drive by the attendant’s station to pay for their purchase…one at a time.

The attendant won’t reset the pump until the gas has been paid for, so the end result is that in spite of having 10 pumps only one customer is served at a time. Why don’t they pay at the pump with a credit card, you ask? By and large this is not a credit society. Credit cards are virtually non-existent here and are quite expensive for those who use them. Other than their mortgage or the purchase of their cars, they usually pay cash. It minimizes efficiency, but you don’t see the same level of personal financial meltdown that you see from the fiscal irresponsibility at home.

One of the little traditions here in Brittany is to lay your spoons and forks backward (tines facing down) when setting your table for company. The story goes that people with family crests would have the emblem embossed on the back of their utensils then turn them backward so guests would be sure to notice it. Although these crests are rarely seen today, the tradition is kept alive. While here, we play along.



Most milk sold here is of the UHT variety. (Ultra High Temperature sterilization) The boxed product is kept at room temperature (until opened) on store shelves like cans of soup and has a shelf life of 6-9 months. It took me a long time to be willing to try it fearing that milk that had been kept at room temperature for who-knows-how-long would kill me. To think that this is from the same people who cringe at our genetically altered foods.

In France, just like at home, the major banks have branches all over the country. Any similarity ends there because in many important ways, they all operate independently. Yes, you can withdraw cash from an ATM with your debit card at any branch, but if you attempt to make a deposit to your account from outside of your area, they seal your money in a pouch and use a bank courier to forward it to your branch. This process can take up to 10 days.

Recently we have all heard a lot of fuss being made of developing alternative energy sources. Wind, solar, geothermal….everything seems to be in the mix. Yet another first for our little backwater is the La Rance tidal power plant near St. Malo in Brittany. It is the only utility-scale tidal power system in the world and has been operating without a problem for 42 years.

Finally, I was in the hardware store recently, looking for a manual stapler but the one I saw was $80. And you wonder why we carry 250 pounds of ‘stuff’ with us when each time we fly over…..

What, me work?

Every month, I have some smarty pants, tongue-in-cheek comment about my being unemployed. You’ve seen it, right next to the ‘THE EPISTLE’ masthead at the top of the page. Not wanting my kids to think I was a total slug, I almost applied for a job. With the economy in shambles, our investments evaporating into thin air and home values dropping like a rock, I thought that prudence would call for a greater effort and flexibility on my part to keep the wolf from the door.

Recently, when the Queensland Australia office of tourism published an opening as caretaker of Hamilton Island, I thought that I found something that would reasonably compensate me for my efforts and would fit in with our chosen lifestyle. The job which paid $100,000 for a six month stint, involved 12 hours of ‘work’ each month. Duties included swimming, fishing, snorkeling, producing a blog extolling the area’s beauty and fetching the mail. I mentioned that I ‘almost’ applied for it since my application could not be submitted because the agency’s website crashed after receiving over a million applications in the first 3 days. Still, I am open for similar opportunities.

Taking a stroll down memory lane

Everyone has their own memory of the time they left their childhood home for good. That is, the very first night that you knew you were completely on your own and there was no going back. For some it is when they went to college or when they got married. For others it is when they joined the military. Some perhaps were runaways. God forbid that you were kicked out.

I left at 18 under… well… ‘difficult’ circumstances. We did not agree about some important issues in my life and I supported my parents position that while living under their roof I should abide by their rules.

So, we had a little ‘regime change’ and being fiercely independent, I left with only the clothes on my back. I spent my first couple of nights at a flop house for homeless indigent alcoholics and derelict drug addicts. I would have gladly slept in my car but I didn’t have so much as a bus ticket so my tab was ‘comp-ed’ by a local church. I looked and felt like a fish out of water and I remember sleeping with my clothes on and with my shoes under my pillow as I feared not finding them in the morning. Thinking ahead, I had lined up a week-end job as a sales clerk in the mens clothing department of a large store to get a little start up money.



I was within two weeks of finishing my first year of University while in the mist of my final exams. Kicking my accommodations up a notch, I talked my way into being able to sleep on the sofa in the recreation lounge of an on campus men’s religious fraternity (I was attending Loyola). Not having a place to cook, I bought a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter and ate sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner. When I got really sick of them, I had another peanut butter sandwich.

Being me, I thought this would only need to last a few weeks before my parents came to their senses, realized the error of their ways and begged me to come back. 40 years later, I’m still waiting. In fact, my father did contact me. We talked but there was too much daylight between our positions and we were unable to come to an acceptable understanding. So, I figured they needed to be convinced that I meant business and I was not like a sibling who had been a serial runaway. “This might take a couple of months” I thought, so I dug in.

I got a summer job which allowed me to get a room off of someone’s basement garage and frantically started saving for next fall’s tuition… just in case. In spite of the fact that I was completely self supporting, I was denied any student loan because my parent’s income was too high. I had no dishes so I would heat and eat soup right out of the can. I kept thinking that surely I would only have to hold out a little longer and I would prevail. After about a year I realized that the jig was up so I had better man-up, get a grip, figure out what I wanted out of life and just do it.

It was not my intention here to bore you with the story of my life. Nor to whine about how tough I had it. You might well have had it much harder. It is also not my intention to disparage my parents because I know that they have always seen things differently. While they didn’t intend it, I have believed that in the end they did me a huge favor.

I also know that my own kids often thought that we were born at 50, never had a life and always saw us live comfortably from the day they were born. But on March 27th, I will sit in front of the fireplace with a glass of Champagne and remember that first night 40 years ago. Some things have a big impact on a boy’s life.

Menhir de Pergat

This month we visited the Menhir de Pergat, a 10: 30 meter (Over 33 foot) tall standing stone we are told was erected in 5000 BC and is the 4th tallest in Europe. Standing stones are fairly common in Brittany and were hewn from local rock and erected by the pre-Celtic people of Brittany during the Neolithic period. They were raised as part of a larger Megalithic culture that flourished in Europe.

The purpose of Menhirs has provoked a great debate. Over the centuries they have variously been thought to have been used by Druids for human sacrifice, used as territorial markers or elements of a complex ideological system, or functioned as an early calendar. This particular one is only 14 miles (23 Km) from our door. The tallest one in Europe is in Carnac, Brittany, a few hours from here where we have seen it and over 3000 more aligned in a 2 mile row.

(RED) Face Book

A couple of weeks ago I got a request from someone to accept him as my ‘friend’ on Face Book. Anyone who has not been under Taliban rule knows it is a social networking site which I had pretty much written off as a place where 14 year old girls brag about many boys they know. Not wanting to be unfriendly I went to the site to ‘accept’ him thinking that some people just have too much free time and really need to get a life. Unfortunately, when I clicked on ‘I accept’, I failed to notice the default setting where I had authorized Face Book to contact E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E in my email address book to ask them to be my 'friend' also.

Crap.

Within hours I began getting dozens of ‘I accept you as my friend too’ notices from people I thought should know better and I was amazed at who I knew who had a page there also. Fair enough, to each his own. It got awkward though when I realized that my ‘please accept me as your friend’ requests had gone out to everyone from my proctologist to my mechanic, insurance agent and the IRS. To all those who did respond, thank you. I am glad you reaffirmed what I hoped was the case all along. For those who did not, I hope you will accept my apology and not think less of me for unintentionally asking. As for the IRS and my proctologist, I hereby officially recind the offer altogether.

February 2009

Manoir de Kergaric

Being a village of only 1000 souls, Langoat (the village we live in) has no Chateaux of its own. This ‘Manoir’ however, is the most significant and imposing abode in these parts. Built during the war of succession in Brittany in 1427, it was last restored in 1990. Among its many features are a private pond and an orchard on beautiful grounds. It is but a 3 minute walk from our front door. I don’t want to suggest that we are coveting the place but we have thought of taking the old codger who owns it for a long walk out on the beach at low tide…

Taking a stroll down memory lane
with… my Valentine

I was reflecting back to past celebrations we have had. In 1997 we had a particularly difficult one when Janice was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer on Valentine’s Day. Mandy was 12, Cassie was 10 and we were facing the very real prospect of losing our wife and mom.

My favorite though was when we were building our home in California. We were living on our property in a single wide 2 bedroom mobile home with four kids, both of us working full time and Janice pregnant with Cassie. I worked nights (graveyard shift) while Janice was at home with the kids so that she could work days while the older kids were in school. During the day, I would then be at home with Mandy who was a newborn, take her next door to a safe place on the job site where I could watch her constantly, and build all day.

The article can be read by merely clicking on it

Diaper changes and feedings could just as easily happen on a pile of lumber as play time was amongst drywall scraps. We would spend the whole day together even though she would spend a good part of it sleeping. Speaking of sleeping, I did too. Two hours in the evenings before going to work and two hours when I got home in the morning before Janice left for the day. On my days off, I dared not alter the routine except at night. Instead of going to prison I would turn the work lights on and build all night. I know the newspaper article said we would build the house in a year but that silly talk was for the bank. We kept this schedule up 7 days a week for 2 full years.



Building my own home, alone, was a goal I set for myself since I was 5 or 6 years old after seeing the family home my grandfather had built. At 16 I decided on a dome but had to wait 17 more years to find the woman who would support me in this hair brained scheme.

This project was quite a burden to lay on a bride of 4 months at the time we broke ground. As the years went by I would come to appreciate just how much she was capable of (and how fond of projects she was!). At the time though, I was looking for something that could tell her in a big way just how special she was to me. I happened to have a 33 foot high (11 meters) blank canvas I was working on and she caught a glimpse of it on the way home from work while still nearly a mile away.

Who would have thought?

Every once in a while I get really blind-sighted about some aspect of French society. Recently I was chatting with our village grocer in his shop when I saw an older woman I knew ride up on her bike. I was surprised to see her stop across the street to use the only phone booth in the village. “Doesn’t she have a phone at home?” I asked. “No” said the grocer, “or a TV”. In fact, she had recently moved into one of the few ‘affordable homes’ that the community is required to subsidize, the French version of low income housing. Apparently it was quite a step up for her as she had moved out of her home in the village that had no indoor plumbing. That’s right, no running water, no hot water and no indoor toilet.

I knew that some homes still had bare light bulbs hanging in some rooms and that heating was pretty marginal in some places. What I didn’t know was that there were still a number of homes either without or with limited indoor plumbing. Even one of our next door neighbors has her toilet in a concrete outhouse in her enclosed back yard. I have no idea if she has a shower.

The thing is, France has some homes that are every bit as opulent as any that could be found in America. Add the history of a renovated Chateau or Manoir, and no home in America could match it. But still, unbelievably, there are some homes with dirt floors. While the outside of most homes in Brittany are similar (stone exterior, slate roof) the interiors can range from completely remodeled, modernized, European “je ne sait quoi” luxurious to one step above medieval. The medieval thing can be extraordinarily cool. During our travels throughout Europe we have walked through righteous medieval towns and cities on numerous occasions. These, complete with ramparts, moats, dungeons, arrow slits in the walls, the whole shebang.

The homes in them are still lived in today, but I had assumed the interiors had all been renovated long ago. Yet, I have been in a home less than 100 yards (100 meters) from our front door where its owner lives without heat, cooks with a small propane bottle similar to those found on a camping trailer and part of the structure has a dirt floor. This can be found not only in our village, but in many other areas of the country.

WWW.honeybeeisland.com

Last summer, I wrote about our launch of the Starfire intercontinental rental conglomerate by adding a Canadian division. (It sure sounds cool, doesn’t it?) Seriously, I wrote about putting our big toe in the water and managed to rent the Island out for the two weeks while we went traveling about. We did this by putting a ‘cutesy’ little posting on a free web site just to see if there would be any interest and we were buried in inquiries.

As a result, we turned the task of creating a professional web site over to Carl who had done such a beautiful job of our last one in France (www.my-holiday-in-brittany.com ). The new site is finished and we have already received our first inquiry. It is dead of winter, snow up the ying-yang, ice and -20C (like -200 F!) and someone wants to rent an Island. Go figure. Carl made the place look so good I want to go there myself! You can take a peek at www.honeybeeisland.com (If the link won't open just copy and paste it to your browser)

Mandy is an ICCC winner!

Mandy just finished competing in the International Client Counseling Competition. Held yearly, it assesses law students skills in meeting with "clients", covering everything from people skills to making assessments as to whether a client has a case to begin with. Recommendations are then made based on the applicable laws, etc.

The competition is held in law schools all over the world and the finals are held in Las Vegas , where the rest of us mere mortals know lawyers go to fritter our hard earned money. (Ooops, sorry Honey) Being a student in Maastricht, Netherlands she competed in the Dutch Finals and her team came in second in the nation. You go, girl!

Is life in Europe really
that different?

Some of the curiosities about spending months at a time in Europe are the things we see or encounter that we don’t get to experience at home. Off the top of my head there are so many that I will write of a few each month. Among them for example, is the scheduling of TV programs. In America, all programs begin and end precisely on the hour or half hour. Here, sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. Many programs begin and / or end at odd hours like 7:54 or 8:10. We have never quite figured out why as there seems to be no particular rhyme or reason to it but it does make it tricky to plan when to look for something to watch. I am guessing it is because they have fewer commercial interruptions but are much longer than ours. Here you would have time to prepare dinner, use the washroom and write a quick email during a commercial break.

We find it quite revealing (pun intended) that full nudity is permitted and occasionally used to advertise products on network TV stations during family hour. Being from conservative prudish California, we are quite shocked!

The use of military time is quite prevalent here also, so Janice has a hard time figuring out when ‘2130 hours’ is. (9:30PM) She insists her favorite program will start at “21 thousand three hundred o’clock” (!) and wants to know what time that is. I tell her it’s in three weeks.

We are not big on watching French TV as our satellite dish picks up programming from England. It is interesting to us though to note that a huge number of movies watched by the French are Hollywood blockbusters that have been translated. There are no subtitles and these are not the weird voice-overs where you see the actors mouth words seconds after you hear them end speaking. This is high quality synchronized voice over film and I have no clue how they pull it off. The kicker is that the top actors (Bruce Willis, Tom Hanks, Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, etc) all have an exclusive ‘French voice’ when the movies are translated. That is, a contracted actor who is their consistent French voice in every movie where they have a part. Occasionally, I have had trouble convincing people here that who they are hearing is not Denzel Washington because in real life he doesn’t speak a word of French.

Every two years (four if it is brand new), owners take their cars in for a state required ‘technical inspection’. This is a souped up version of the smog checks we are required to have performed in California. Here, the vehicle is subjected to a thorough and vigorous safety inspection before you are permitted to drive it on the roads. Everything from tires, brakes, windshield wipers, lights and smog emissions - soup to nuts- are checked by computer and compared to the manufacturer’s specifications.

You are given 60 days to correct any identified deficiencies, (We needed new tires as we wore the last set out having too much fun) and the vehicle needs to be re-inspected before they will sign off. On the other hand, there is no yearly vehicle registration fee here. That is done only once when you first purchase your car.

Something we don’t see at home is the way people park here. It is apparently legal to park on either side of the street facing any direction. So, if you are driving down a city street and you see an open space on the other side you just drive in and park, nose to nose.

Finally, France recently passed a law requiring that all drivers have a reflective Hi-Visibility safety waistcoat within their reach prior to getting out of their vehicles in the event of an accident or emergency. Many now hang it on their seat backs or keep it in the door pocket as you can be fined for having it in the trunk or ‘out of reach’.

See you next month

January 2009

Le Chateau de Dinan

Built in the 1300s as a defensive fortification for the city of Dinan, it 's the real deal. It is a little over an hour from home and provided a great tour.

Sadness

I had a little incident the other day. Having just finished laying the last of the sound insulation boards on the stairs to our Master Bedroom , I had not secured them before racing down the staircase as I am prone to do. I slipped and went down the entire flight seeing my life flash before my eyes. Not because I was hurt mind you, (we double-tough types brush those little abrasions, cuts and bruises off like water on a duck's back) but because I had been carrying my laptop and it went careening like a football, flying so fast it could only hit every third step on the way down until it all but embedded itself in the cement wall at the bottom.

Surprisingly, it was still in one piece but when I tried to turn it on the screen was obviously dead. Within hours, I was on the phone to my daughter Mandy who was still in America for a few days before returning to Europe after the holidays. The plan was to have her return with a new laptop (Not only much cheaper in the US but here they have a weird French keyboard)

Meanwhile, my friend Carl had disassembled my laptop, gone online and downloaded virtually the entire service manual for my Dell. He found the one microscopic plug in the guts of the computer that had been jarred loose by the impact and TA-DA! It has been running better than ever.

My kids on the other hand were merciless. One itsy-bitsy slip and there is now talk of getting me one of those "Help" panic buttons with the ambulance on speed dial that old incontinent people wear around their necks when they have their 'I fell and can't get up' emergencies.

Lesson learned? If your hands are full just toss your laptop down ahead of you and hold on to the handrail. You will both do fine.

Old dog learns new trick!

The boy version:
Anxious to get one small step closer to knowing everything, I have begun my long trek towards becoming a no fooling around, all the way live pilot. This is my chance while I am still a young pup, before I turn into a crotchety old fart. Of course this effort is required because Janice insists that we save every spare dime we have towards the purchase of this infernal amphibious airplane that I don’t want but readily admit we desperately need. Never mind that we have to live on beans and rice, curtail our travel plans or hold off on more cool renovation projects, her airplane comes first.




To this end I have been feverishly working on completing the required ‘ground school’ online while I am hiding out here in Europe awaiting summer weather. The next step of assembling and certifying the beast upon our arrival at the Bee in June will be followed by seat time (flying lessons) thereafter. It’s what a man has to do to keep his bride happy… Hey, it’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

OK, the drama queen wants to add a few words but for the more accurate and impartial version just re-read the above.

The girl version:
That no good useless husband of mine has had his head in the clouds since we have arrived! (This being a family publication, I’d rather not say where his head has really been). He spends his days with his arms spread out like wings making dive bombing sounds. If he calls me his “wing man” one more time I think I will scream.

We can’t even drive around the corner without his referring to ‘pitch’, ‘roll’ and ‘yaw’. We don’t park, we land. He even tries to calculate our fuel consumption based on ‘tailwinds’. He has been stuck to that computer for weeks studying as if our lives depended on it. Well, maybe he has a point there… As for me, I’m going to ‘flare out’ and relax because he’s causing enough ‘turbulence’ for both of us but if he gives me anymore ‘prop wash’ I’ll put him on ‘final approach’ ! Why couldn’t he take up golf like normal men?

Taking a stroll down memory lane

This is the first in a new series of little stories about fun memories we have been reminiscing about. This Christmas, most of our kids got together at our daughter Amy’s place in Washington State. It was more or less a last minute decision as they all have busy lives and were not sure they could pull it off. We, on the other hand, had purchased our tickets to return to Europe last July and were thus already committed. By the way, thank you all for the Christmas cards. We should have gotten most of them by now. (Overseas mail at Christmas can be 4-6 weeks)




We were reminiscing about Christmases past when the kids were all so much younger. They used to love how we would decorate the house with lights all over the dome and how small aircraft would circle overhead at night during the holidays to check it out.

( To read the article, just click on the picture)

This year we had a quiet uneventful Christmas with friends but New Year's was something else. We were invited to a French couple’s home for dinner to bring in the New Year and we were joined by her 90 year old father who lives with them. We had met the fellow a few times before and really liked him. He was gregarious and full of stories of his WWII exploits as a French Air Force pilot in Africa. He reminded me a lot of my grandfather as he too read constantly and could discuss any subject proving himself to be quite knowledgeable. This time, we had a great dinner and visit, he excused himself to go to bed and went up to his room and by morning had -died.



We got a frantic call from them early New Year's day, crying and saying they had just found her father and didn’t know what to do. Janice and I raced over and got there long before the doctor (who certified the death) or the mortician arrived to pick up the remains. It seemed to take them forever to arrive in part because a number of homes in the rural areas here don’t have a physical address. It would be kind of like looking for ‘Mike’s place’. It’s tough when you don’t know where Mike lives. To make matters worse, it’s on an unnamed street. Try entering that into your GPS .

I have rarely seen a dead person and then usually only in a casket. I say usually because the only other exception was when I entered a prisoner’s cell where he had just been strangled with a wire coat hanger by a jealous lover in a homosexual love triangle, but that is another story.

Attending a French wake

This time though, I had to get up close and personal. The doctor had to move him from a much undignified position in an incredibly cramped room to the man’s bed. He was unable to move him alone and asked for my help. Great (!) Then, when the lone mortician arrived, he took one look at the narrow spiraling staircase he would have to take him down, turned to me and asked if his grandson and I would give him a hand. Sure… It was my first time putting someone in a body bag and despite trying to deal with the situation with as much respect and dignity as possible it was still effectively carrying him out willy nilly.

Yet another occupation I have found that I have no intention to pursue.

IT’s FREEEEZING here!

People here often keep an eye on the weather in North America because invariably a week later we get the remnants of it on these shores. I thought you might take comfort in that we too have suffered mightily. Sometimes it has been overcast and so unbelievably cold that for a few hours we have even had... (Horrors)...

...FROST!!!

At last, the set is complete

For the past 3 winters we have been going on and on about our fireplace. First we built the darn thing then we commissioned all the hand forged metal implements for it. Yea, yea, I know. If I’m supposed to be such a hot shot blacksmith, how come I didn’t forge them myself? (Because this job was above my pay grade...)

Again, clicking on the pic brings up a lot of detail

At the time we were promised everything would be completed within 6 months, but it took a year just to get our andirons. They were spectacular and well worth waiting for, but it took a year nevertheless. It took another year to get our fire screen and log holder. Once again the man outdid himself but it was another year and at his advancing age and health we feared his passing on before he completed the set.

Upon our arrival this time, we were pleasantly surprised to discover that he had finished forging all the tools. [The set weighs 61 pounds or 28 kilos and is not for ‘girly men’] Ironically he seemed taken aback by our surprise saying “well, I did promise to have them finished by Christmas, didn’t I?” Yes he did.

3 years ago.

Brittany

Last month I wrote a little about our neighbor, the city of Treguier. This month, I thought I would share a little more about the US version of our ‘state’, Brittany. In Brittany, as in all of France, food is a serious topic. Each town has a weekly market with live chickens, artichokes (as tiny as golf balls or big as softballs), homemade cassis jam, caramels, fresh seafood, and stunning handmade Breton lace among many other local products. The most popular merchants travel from market to market. The cheese truck for instance, offers a selection of more than 200 cheeses from all over France.

Wednesday is market day in Treguier. After a morning of shopping, you can buy lunch from a market stall, perhaps some sausage, potatoes, and apples sizzled with hard cider or a traditional ‘galette de Breton’—a thin, buckwheat crepe, the size of a large pizza, that’s cooked on a round griddle, filled with mushrooms, spinach or seafood and usually served in a paper cone. The traditional dessert is a ‘crepe’, served with jam, chocolate or other yummy stuff.

Invariably, the artichokes are picked and the oysters harvested the day you buy them. In addition to the weekly market, Treguier has several ‘crepe’ restaurants and ‘patisseries’, as well as a butcher shop, bakery, and tiny fish store, where you can order a platter of oysters and pick them up later, semi shucked and on a tray of ice.

One of our endless beaches

Among the best ways to see Brittany is on foot, bike, or horseback, with its 800 miles of coastal paths offering a variety of terrain. The rugged coastline has thousands of inlets, which made it a prime area for illegal landings and smuggled goods in the mid-1800s. Soldiers and customs officers walked these paths day and night to patrol the area. Now they are protected sites, developed for walkers and hikers, with clear markings and detailed information.

The numerous coastal islands offer plenty of opportunities for exploration. Ile de Brehat, a charming island with a picturesque lighthouse, is a short ferry ride from the mainland. We have often walked the six-mile trail before stopping for lunch in the courtyard of its tiny town. The Sept-Iles archipelago is a well-known bird sanctuary, where I am told the rare Atlantic puffin struts its plumage.

While Brittany’s beaches are great for walking, we are always mindful of the legendary tides, which are so dramatic the beaches can expand from a quarter mile to three miles wide, depending on the moon.

Brittany’s gardens are full of roses, palm trees, and thick hedges of rosemary and hortensia, an enormous multi-colored hydrangea. The region is also the birthplace of ‘thalassotherapy’, a type of spa treatment using the ocean’s brine and sand. The nearby town of Perros-Guirec has a renowned thalassotherapy center, as well as beaches surrounded by rose-hued granite rock formations where we love to hang out.

Not too far a drive from Treguier, Saint-Malo is a gorgeous sixteenth-century town of charming walls and trellises where the tides are quite significant. Throughout the year, the little towns along the coast host festivals celebrating their ‘foodies’ specialties. The city of Carnac displays some of the greatest vestiges of megalithic artifacts, offering a glimpse into ancient rituals, ceremonies, and astronomy.

The historic capital of Tregor enjoys a particular prestige in Brittany. As a centre of intellectual prowess and critical appreciation it has inspired men of letters, law and the cloth, from Saint Tugdual to Saint Yves, Ernest Renan to Anatole Le Braz and Angela Duval to Henri Polles... and me. :)

Have a great month.

December 2008

Le Chateau De Quintin

Built in the 12th Century, this castle is a wonderful backdrop for many Christmas events. Lit up at night it is simply magical. It is about an hour away from home

Transitioning again

Reporting from an undisclosed location while in political exile, we have temporarily left the Golden State behind yet again while we continue on what seems like ‘Pee Wee’s’ big adventure. After my visit with Kami in Los Angeles, we flew to Seattle Washington to catch up with Vance and Amy and 5 of our grandkids, arriving just in time to celebrate my man Christopher’s second birthday.

Kami and Dad

Many have asked how he is doing and the long and the short of it is that he is stable, whatever that means. He is not in the hospital and that’s good. On the other hand, he is at a stage where he is not making huge medical progress either. As you can see from the photo he is still on a humidified oxygenated ventilator with his trach. As a result, he is unable to make a sound, cry out loud or speak so he has begun to learn the very fundamentals of sign language. Christopher is quite adept at asking for his favorite cartoons and loves to operate any remote control. He has a feeding tube as he is still unable to swallow, is in a wheelchair as he is unable to walk and will need 24 hour nursing care for quite some time to come, perhaps permanently.

He maybe disabled but he’s no dummy. He is a mischievous 2 year old, a handful under the best of circumstances. Lately he has taken to disconnecting his ventilator, knowing full well that the monitor he is also connected to around the clock will sense a problem and set off a warning alarm. This in turn will cause Dad, Mom or the nurse to come running to his side to reconnect it. As a two year old it’s fun to ‘snap your fingers’ day or night (by disconnecting) and watch someone run to your bedside. Mr. Funny Guy is scheduled to meet his behavior modification therapist shortly……

Typically, if there is such a thing, he will make most of any medical progress he is going to make between his 3^rd and 5^th birthday. This however, is by no means assured. While this little boy will clearly have a special place in heaven, I believe his mom and dad will have earned a place right next to him for have knowingly, willingly and lovingly turned their lives inside out to meet his every need.

Kayla, grandma and Cassie

While visiting with the rest of the munchkins, we drove down to Oregon for a week to spend time with daughter Cassie and the newest, sweetest addition to the family, Kayla Marie. Both Cassie and Amy are blessed with their youngest that seem to want little more than to be fed, changed and spend the day smiling from ear to ear.

We did not get to see son in law Matt as he was off to Texas working on the installation of commercial wind turbines. It was great giving another one of our kids a little mom and dad face time, helping with ‘honey do’s’, having mom cook and help with laundry and get to spend some time with Kayla and 5 year old Marilyn who followed me around like a magnet. It was wonderful seeing Cassie’s cute little house and giving her a much needed break from being a brand new mom alone at home.

Glad to be home

Few things put a bigger smile on my girl’s face than to be boarding the plane to go back home to France for Christmas. We love spending time with the kids but flying to Europe marks an almost uninterrupted 5 delicious months of no responsibilities. Then again, the Bee does that too…

Within 24 hours of our arrival we had restocked the larder** and put up our Christmas tree, as well as decorated the house for the holidays. We are among the last here to do so as the village had all its seasonal decorations up already.

Lannion (the nearest little city) literally rolls out the red carpets on its sidewalks for Christmas shoppers. This month’s blog is being posted on the fly as we will not have internet at home for perhaps another week as it takes a long time for the phone company to reconnect us. Having just arrived, it is too early to contemplate any ‘projects’ but I am beginning to see the gleam in my bride’s eyes. I know trouble when I see it.

The big news here is the giant peeing contest between the French president Sarkosy and his detractors over a new law he is trying to pass regarding allowing people to work on Sundays. The French, who seem allergic to work, fear that simply allowing people to work on Sundays will encourage employers to put pressure on them to fill those positions. Even the provision of double time pay won’t budge many into messing with their traditions. By and large it is a replay of last year’s battle over a proposed law allowing people to work more than a 35 hour work week.

**Every six months when we transition from the Bee to Europe or back, we clean out our refrigerator and pantry and give or toss any remaining contents. Then we fly 9,000 miles and restock everything from scratch. When we reintroduce our home in California into the mix we will get to do it every four months. At least the ketchup won’t go bad…

Treguier

Last winter I wrote about our little village called Langoat. (Invariably mispronounced by English speaking people as ‘Lan-goat’. The correct pronunciation is more like ‘Lawn go at’). This month I thought I would share a little about our adjacent town called Treguier. It’s only 4 miles from us but is within a larger area known for its rugged pink-hued granite coastlines, incredible beaches, fertile farms, and mysterious moorlands. Of all of France’s provinces, Brittany is the least “French.” Fiercely independent, Bretons are loyal to their families and traditions, while sharing the Celtic heritage of Ireland, Wales, and Normandy.

Brittany only officially became part of France in the fifteenth century, a relationship that remains precarious to this day. Road signs are in Breton (a Celtic dialect) as well as French. Roman ruins and aqueducts are tucked into many of the hills. ‘Menhirs’, tumuli, and dolmens (giant stone monoliths) erected between 4500 and 2000 BC dot the landscape. The area drew Gauguin and fellow painters of the Pont-Aven School, and later even Picasso and Matisse. As on the coast of Britain, it’s never too hot and there are no bugs.

Clearly, Brittany is a food lover’s paradise. Within an easy drive from the house are the great salt marshes of the Guerande peninsula, where the famous fleur du sel (sea salt) is harvested. The surrounding bays and estuaries are plumbed for oysters, scallops, shrimp and mussels. The farm lands grow artichokes, as well as leeks, lettuces, potatoes, and cauliflower. There are sweet grasses for cattle grazing, goat and sheep that produce Brittany’s distinct milk, butter, cheeses, and lait ribot (buttermilk).

One of Janice’s favorite walks is down by the flax ponds. Many of the Manoirs ’in the area dating from early in the last century were built from the profits derived from the highly sought linens that were extracted from the flax harvested then treated in these ponds.

Designated a Cite de Caractere (city of character) by the French government, the sixth-century walled city of Treguier is a port for sailboats, small fishing vessels, and yachts from around the world. It is located on the Jaudy River, where it developed around a monastery and served as a capital for the Tregor region. Built in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, La Cathedrale Saint-Tugdual, a spectacular cloister of forty-eight arches and three spires that stands above the city, is a masterpiece of Breton religious Gothic architecture.

The Cathedral houses the tomb of St. Yves, the patron saint of lawyers. The town’s maisons à colombage (brightly painted houses of wood beams and plaster) from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and hôtels particuliers en granit (residences constructed of granite) from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are typical examples of the region’s architectural character and style.

Other cool Treguier factoids; it was where the first French/ Latin /Breton dictionary was ever printed in 1482. Also ‘Le Guindy’ stone arched aqueduct built in 1610, named after the river that flows under it is on the edge of town.

Happy Holidays to all and please write when you can.