Monday, April 23, 2012

La Belle France

A magnificent statue
in the grounds of the Abbey
After our delicious French breakfast, we asked our new ami (friend) Serge if there were any things worth seeing along the road to Carcassonne - our next stop. He replied Oui! (do I have to translate this one?) and showed us un carte (a map) of the area, pointing out a possible route we could take. After faire la bise (the well-known French practice of cheek-kissing) and waving Au Revoir, we jumped into our zippy rental car and promptly headed off on the wrong side of the road.

Just kidding. It could have happened. As it was, the little country road was only wide enough for one car, so it didn't really matter which 'side' we were on...

It was a lovely drive through the French countryside, with les vignobles (vineyards) to be seen in every direction, and we soon arrived at our first stop: L'Abbaye de Fontfroide, a former cistercian monastery.



The chapel

The exterior of the Abbey















The Abbey was founded in the late 11th Century by Benedictine Monks, and became part of the Cistercian movement in 1145. Cistercian monks are of the Roman Catholic faith and believe strongly in manual labour and self-sufficiency of their cloisters. Before long, this Abbey became one of the richest in the Cistercian movement.


The website for the Abbey today claims that it was "a bastion of Orthodox Catholicism" in the midst of the 'Cathare' country around it. Catharism was a movement that emerged in the Languedoc region of France (and was also found in other parts of Europe) that largely protested against what it called the moral, spiritual, and political corruption of the Catholic church.




During the Inquisition of the 13th century, Catharism was largely wiped out, while their Cistercian counterparts were also suffering a decline. The movement had a large following across Europe (including in Wales and Ireland) and it was difficult to keep track of everyone. Also, because Cistercian orthodoxy had such a high ideal, any failure to live up to this was a big deal.



At this stage, many monasteries had begun to relax their regulations in regards to things like dietary restrictions and sources of income. Attempts were made to reform the Cistercian movement, but its steady decline had begun.



The Cloister






In stark contrast to this, the Abbey Fontfroide was booming (perhaps due to the relaxing of it's regulations, as was mentioned in the previous paragraph??). The land development undertaken by the monks, as well as the generosity of benefactors, meant that Fontfroide was now one of the richest cloisters around.
The original well after which
the Abbey was named


But all good things must come to an end.


One of the Abbey's monks became a cardinal and then a pope (Benedict XII), and while he was in these positions he helped to ensure the protection of the Abbey . In 1342, he passed away, and the Abbey Fontfroide began its own decline.

Soon after, the Black Death rampaged through France, and numbers of monks at the cloister reached an all time low.


The living quarters of the wealthier 1700s Monks 

From the 15 - 18 Centuries, less than 20 monks resided at the Abbey, and in the 1700s, there were only 10 monks - though they managed to employ 20 staff to serve them! The Monks enjoyed a relatively good life, and spent much time redecorating the Abbey, and bringing in quality paintings and statues.


In February 14, 1791, the last monk departed and many items from the Abbey were sold and the profits given to local hospitals. In 1833, the monastery was sold to an individual, Monsieur de Saint-Aubin, who began a project of restoration.


Monk prison!! (We wanted to know
what sort of sin you had to commit to
get locked in here....)







The story does not end there, however, as a second community of Cistercian monks moved into the monastery in1858. These monks lived in relative austerity, and ended up leaving in 1901 to go into exile in Spain. The Abbey was again abandoned.

The view of the Abbey from the nearby hill


The story has a happy ending though, when in 1908, the Abbey was purchased by the wealthy Madeleine Fayet and her husband Gustave. The couple spent over 10 years restoring the property, and then enjoyed it with their famous artist and musician friends. Madeleine Fayet lived until 1971, after seeing all major restoration completed. The Abbey remains in her family today.




A Wee Note on Stained Glass
The Colours were unbelievably vibrant
The glass in the chapel was beautiful - the colours were unbelievably vibrant, especially the aquamarine colour of the singular panel shown beside.

Apparently the original glass was largely destroyed by the time the Fayets purchased the property, so they asked an artist friend to make some glass for the chapel. He had not actually made a stained glass window before, so had to study up on the techniques and materials used!

In the end, he made the windows in a contemporary style, and thus the pictures and colours are not an authentic representation of what the original Abbey windows would have been (though still absolutely gorgeous!).

Beautiful stained glass in the Chapel
There were also some beautiful window panels in the former sleeping quarters of the monks. It turns out that these were made from panels of stained glass windows that were damaged during World War One. We think they came from various churches around the area, and were made by the same Fayet artist friend into the beautiful windows below:






















After taking a tour around the beautiful Abbey, we climbed part of the nearby colline (hill) to take in la vue superbe (the great view). It was a gorgeous day, with sun breaking through the clouds.
We hardly wanted to leave, but with the day rushing away from us, we knew we had to get back on the road.





Saturday, April 21, 2012

Eau de Chien



After leaving Pineda de Mar, we wound our way over the mountainous roads at the Mediterranean edge of the Pyrénées and  across the border into France. La France!

We stopped for some McDos (and to use their free WiFi) and were nearly blown away in some gale-force winds. With full tummies and having made contact with the outside world by checking Facebook and emails, we continued our journey, leisurely skirting our way around the city of Perpignan and the town of Narbonne.


In the early afternoon we made our way through the countryside to our little Chambre d'hôte (B&B) just north of Narbonne where we made our acquaintance with the host, Serge.

We quickly worked out that we were all on a relatively equal footing - Serge couldn't understand our Kiwi-accented English, and we needed him to speak very slowly for us to understand his French. He was very patient and kind, and we appreciated his taking the time to tell us about Narbonne or about historical attractions we could visit on our next leg of the journey.




After depositing our bags in our chambre (bedroom), we drove to Narbonne to explore this historic town. The first thing we noticed was the pervading Eau de Chien (dog) that assaulted one's nostrils. The amount of dog crap on the ground was astounding, and we spent so much time watching our feet as we walked around that we felt it really detracted from what could have been a beautiful town.

The unfinished Cathedral
I am not kidding - the dog poop in France really is that bad... every few steps there was another pile. Such a disappointment and we felt it almost showed a lack of pride in one's towns to have them so filthy with animal poo. (We were amazed that the whole time in France we both managed to avoid standing in any.... A miracle!)

So as you look at these pictures of the beautiful Narbonne, be pleased that you can appreciate them without a certain cloying odour in the air.

I digress.

A 2000 year old Roman bath. Yeah, just walk on in.
2000 years is nothing to us French!


Narbonne was established in 118 BC by the Gauls and became a very important transport connection both between Italy and Spain, and between the Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts of France (via Toulouse and Bordeaux). The city was prosperous for many years, and became an important centre for Jewish Culture in the 11th and 12th centuries.

By the 14th century, Narbonne's fortunes began to change, partly due to the shifting in course of the river Aude, which moved sediment and made access to the sea increasingly difficult for the former port city. These days, Narbonne sits around 15kms from the sea.

Serge's house is 160 years old and the lands around it used to be a large vineyard. While we ate petit-déjeuner (brekkie) the next morning in a big salle (room - about 3m tall) on the ground story of the house, Serge told us that the large alcoves around us used to be where le vin (wine) was stored in vats. Apparently the vineyard specialised in producing large quantities of average-quality wine, and when the trend to drinking smaller quantities of good-quality wine took precedent, this vineyard went out of business.


Much of the south-west of France is wine country, and much like Serge's house, the history of Narbonne is interlinked with its wine-growing past.
Viticulture became popular during the 18th Century, and in some areas of Languedoc (the region in which Narbonne is situated) some 50% of land was used for growing grapes. By the 1880s, numerous drinking establishments were springing up across the country, particularly in the South, where many  vineyard workers enjoyed drinking in the local bars. Because wine was in such demand, growers often turned to "unconventional methods" (such as adding currants or water) to produce the quantities of wine their greedy wallets demanded. Large wine-growing estates grew very rich, and the area became known as the (self-proclaimed) Capitale mondiale du vin (World Capital of Wine). Soon there was an outcry as "authentic" winegrowers complained about the inferior products being sold.

By 1905, "genuine" winegrowers had had enough with the producers of inferior wine, and with the authorities who had failed to regulate the viticulture industry. Two years later, the crisis had only intensified after state regulations made it easier for cheap Algerian wine to flood into Languedoc. This caused an economic crisis in the region, and wine prices dropped sharply.

To add insult to injury, The French Society of Winegrowers released a report calling for a new tax for "authentic" winegrowers who used sugar in their manufacturing process. As a result, many small winegrowers went under, there was large-scale unemployment, and other trades suffered too.

Never get between a man and his wine.


Michelle loves the pretty tiles on this house
Over the next few months, meetings, rallies, and protests took place, and over 250,000 people joined the cause.This period was known as La révolte des vignerons du Languedoc (The revolt of Languedoc winegrowers).

Eventually both the police and the military got involved, and it became quite a Big Ordeal. It wasn't until later in 1907 that Clemenceau's government finally passed legislation that would help to protect the "genuine" winegrowers. Even though the authorities tried to lessen the crisis by finding a use for the excess wine (by giving wine rations to soldiers...), Languedoc continued to suffer well into the 1960s due to overproduction and poor sales. Things only began to improve once the canal du Bas-Rhône Languedoc was constructed, which brought new irrigation to the area, and things now seem to be fully recovered, with the region providing 18% of all French wine exports in 2009.

So that is some of the history of Narbonne, and of the Languedoc region.


Staying at Serge's place was delightful: it was a beautiful old house with shutters on every window; we could hear the wind in the large trees outside our window throughout the night; we saw stars in the dark sky outside (Stars! Don't get many of those in London); I woke to a chorus of birdsong that accompanied the dawn; and we were treated to a breakfast of baguette with home-made jam, pastries, and a large bowl of coffee.

Bliss.

Serge informed us that squirrels often sit in the trees bordering his property and throw small pinecones at his guests. Unfortunately,  it might have been a bit cold for them as we didn't see any, and we certainly didn't get hit by any pinecones!

Nevertheless, we enjoyed hearing about the history of the area and staying in Serge's lovely maison (house) in the beautiful campagne (countryside) at the Domaine du Petit-Fidèle.

A Bientôt! (See you soon!)

Friday, April 20, 2012

Our Holiday Begins

After a dreary English winter, we were pleased to have a gloriously warm March that saw record temperatures up around the 16 - 18 degree mark most days and 19-23 on the really good days. Unfortunately, April saw an end to that, and brought the 'April Shower' - an intense burst of rain, sometimes with hail or thunder, that blows through quickly and is often followed by a brief period of blue sky and sun. This can happen numerous times throughout a day, and the weather for much of April has trended this way. May is looking to continue the grey, rainy trend, and as one recent letter to the editor of the Evening Standard commented, 'this must be the wettest drought on record'. I concur.

In light of this, we were extremely lucky to have planned an overseas holiday for 8 days in late April, and as it turned out, we escaped a week of horror weather here in the UK, and our neighbour told us we were fortunate to miss golf-ball sized hailstones!


With sunny Mediterranean days in mind, we left London on Wednesday April 18. We began our journey with a one hour train ride to London Gatwick Airport, then flew Easy Jet to Barcelona.

Easy Jet, one of the two main low-cost British airlines, was not as bad as as we anticipated after hearing horror stories about delays, cleanliness, and stampedes for the unallocated seats. The service didn't seem that different from what you get on a trans-Tasman Pacific Blue or Jet Star flight, and we had no problems. We were lucky to get a whole row of seats to ourselves as the plane was only half-full.

Customs at Barcelona was quick, and we are the proud recipients of six new passport stamps (Two each from Spain and one from Gatwick) - mine now has a total of 7 stamps in it!!

After collecting our luggage, we headed off to the Avis terminal, well-rehearsed Spanish phrase on the tip of my tongue, to collect our rental car.

Unfortunately the Spanish Avis staffer didn't have the same script as I did, and responded in rapid-fire Spanish, to which we had to reply "Er, sorry. Do you speak English?"

The journey through the centre of Barcelona in 5pm traffic was hairy - I think we both (me, the driver, and Adam, the passenger) were equally scared by the new experience of driving a left-hand drive on the right (=wrong) side of the road!

Once again, I would like to praise the invention of the GPS - a truly marvellous machine. We thoroughly recommend them, especially to married couples!

After over an hour of driving, we arrived safely at our beachfront hotel in Pineda de Mar, a small town on the coast north of Barcelona. The town is located in Catalonia and apparently has a population of over 25,500 people, though it seemed pretty sleepy to us.

Again, I tried my fantastic Spanish phrase, thinking I'd be better prepared, but alas, the hotel receptionist had a different script too and we again had to confess our ignorance of the Spanish language.

We bravely headed out for some dinner, only to discover that many Spanish restaurants don't open until 7pm (a trend that was to plague us in France also, especially annoying for us early eaters). With our very limited Spanish, we decided to play it safe and ended up buying a basic tea of pastries from one of the local bakeries that was still open.

A Beautiful Day!
It's amazing how easily one can get by with 'Hola' (Hi), 'Gracias' (Thank You), 'Si' (Yes) and some pointing. (Wished we had the effervescent Hannah Burnell with us to act as translator though :) )


One thing that did take us a while to work out was why our hotel appeared to be overrun by "white-haired" people (or as the French say, those in the 'Third Age'). Everywhere we went there were groups of seniors standing around or slowly making their way up ramps or into lifts. It wasn't until we handed our key over at reception the next day that we noticed (and managed to translate) the large sign reading "SENIORS WORLD" in the hotel lobby, and we understood that there was some sort of gathering happening.



The next morning we woke bright and early and after a hotel buffet breakfast, walked across the road to the beach and then looked around the town centre.
Me getting some Mediterranean air

Cheered by the sun and fresh sea air, we headed back to the car and continued our great adventure, programming our trusty GPS for France.
The Spanish roads were great - we took 'national roads' that were slightly smaller than the large motorways, and they had rumble lines in the centre as well as on the right-hand edge. And quite often the oncoming traffic was separated. Great for inexperienced right-side-of-the-road drivers!

And so we began our adventure with a lovely, though crisp, day in Spain, and finished in the French countryside. Our only disappointment was not to receive a passport stamp when crossing the border into France!

Monday, April 16, 2012

An English Birthday

On April 14, Adam turned 30 and we celebrated by eating tasty things. Unfortunately we couldn't have a nice big party with all our friends, but it was nice to spend the day together drinking coffee and playing board games and eating squirrels. Well, replica squirrels.
Second attempt was a winner - these are Edmonds basic biscuits flavoured with a little cocoa and cinnamon.

They look so tasty... (they were - I tested a few for quality control purposes)
The icing process begins...

Lots of squirrels!

Ever wondered what a small woodland creature tastes like?

Icing was easy with those squeezy plastic bottle things - best invention ever!!

I found some special bronze edible paint to make some of the squirrels look more authentic


The Birthday Roast Dinner

Now for Adam's cake - a replica doughnut!

Is it a cake or is it a doughnut? Trippy.

Who needs a fork when you've got a giant, sharp knife to taste with?

Verdict: delicious!
Actually Adam is lying in that last picture. Lemon cake with chocolate icing is definitely not a combination I'd recommend.... Oh well - I'll have to try again some other time. I can't see Adam complaining about being a doughnut/cake tester...

Thank you to all who contributed to Adam's birthday fund - he is going to choose something like a concert or a West End show to buy tickets for. We're both looking forward to that :)


(Ooh - looks like we're even on the lying front - I did promise that the next post would be about our holiday to Spain/France.... Better luck next time!!!)

Friday, April 13, 2012

We Get the Royal Treatment

(Just to remind the less computer-savvy of our fans: you can view the pictures in a slideshow-type format by clicking on the first picture then pressing the right arrow to move through the rest.)

At the end of January/start of February, in the middle of a cold snap, the borough of Greenwich ascended to the rank of Royal Borough. The week of celebrations began in exciting fashion, with Woolwich getting its own fireworks display, which I watched from our lounge. The fireworks were let off from the town centre, which is a 3 minute walk from our apartment, so it was like being treated to a ten-minute personal display! Every time I thought the fireworks had finished, there was another big bang and another round of sparks began. 

The next night, it was Eltham's* turn. Another day, another fireworks display from the comfort of our apartment. This time, however, it was in the distance and we could only see the highest fireworks explode above the horizon line. 
(*Eltham is another town in the borough of Greenwich. A borough is a bit like the divisions you have in Christchurch for voting - e.g. Wigram, Fendalton-Waimairi, etc. Although in the case of London you can have quite a few people living in each borough - in our case, just under 230,000 people. And there are 33 boroughs in London in total.)

Finally, it was the turn of Greenwich itself on February 5th. 



The end of January/first week of February saw unusually cold temperatures in the UK and on the 4th it snowed here, with the snow not particularly thick, but remaining on the ground for near a week because the days rarely rose above 2 degrees.





 So on the 5th, we bundled up as warm as our limited wardrobes would allow and slided our way to the train station, making it to Greenwich in the early afternoon.









This is me doing the Asian-pose outside the Dial Arch, which is the gastro-pub* belonging to our apartment complex.

*for those who don't know, a gastro-pub is a restaurant that lures you in with the word 'pub' but actually has posh (read: weird) and very expensive food. You won't find bangers and mash at one of these.




At Greenwich we wandered around the markets for a bit and ended up getting some hot chips and eating them in the gorgeous Greenwich Park. This is a huge big reserve (183 acres) that reminds me a bit of Victoria Park on the Port Hills, and has an observatory at its peak - this is also where the meridian line sits.

Needless to say, we didn't climb very far up the hill as the paths were slippery. We sat down and ate our chips, and I contributed to the early-death-by-heart-failure of a squirrel by feeding him some of my chips.

Greenwich is a lovely place, a maritime town historically, and the birthplace of Henry VIII whose castle became the site for the Naval College. We enjoy spending time there, as it is only a 20 minute train ride, and is a much cheaper journey than that into the heart of London. 


Because of the historic connections with Royalty and with the Navy, as well as being the home of Prime Meridian (hence Greenwich Mean Time), and being a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Queen decided to make Greenwich a Royal Borough. There are only three other London boroughs that have Royal status, and this is the first to be awarded in over 80 years.

From the Guardian, "The new regal status is, in effect, similar to a person being awarded an honour, but far more exclusive, since the only others members of the club are Kensington and Chelsea, Windsor and Maidenhead, and Kingston-upon-Thames. ... Greenwich also has several buildings with royal status including the Old Royal Naval College, built on the site of the old Greenwich Palace where Elizabeth I, Mary I and Henry VIII were born."

Greenwich now has a new crest which features the god of the sea on it, so that explains why we saw a guy dressed as Neptune, and also Jupiter, who apparently signifies the commitment of Greenwich to astronomy.

To celebrate the day, Greenwich had organised a sort-of Medieval Festival, complete with authentic costumes and events. We managed to catch the end of some sword-fighting - complete with chain-mail - and we briefly watched a falconer with some birds, but the giant owl he had in his tent gave me the creeps so we quickly moved away. 

Unfortunately it was such a miserable day that we felt thoroughly sorry for the medieval volunteers who stood around in the slush beside their games areas or exhibits. We assumed that one poor man was there to hold running races for children, as he had those wooden horse-on-a-stick things, but there were no children around and the melting snow was dripping from the trees above onto his head, and he stood looking sodding wet and utterly wretched.

By this stage we were thoroughly frozen too but we had the luxury of being able to leave, so we went for a coffee and waited, eagerly checking our watches. Watch-watching mainly because the only cafe that was open that late on a Sunday afternoon was a paint-your-own-pottery-cafe and Adam was feeling his masculinity rapidly melt away.

Just as Adam began to slip into a state of delirium, we heard the sounds of a marching band and we knew our relief had come.

We ran outside to watch the parade, seeing bands, dance groups, medieval-imitators, and acres of bored, cold, and tired-looking school children limply waving flags featuring the new Royal Crest. After watching the parade, we headed over to the Naval College and managed to get ourselves a prime spot for the fireworks.

They definitely made up for the sad affair of our New Year's Eve fireworks. Front-row position on the Thames waterfront, directly facing the barge from which they would be let off. I have never been the biggest fan of fireworks - all that money burning up, and all that jazz - but fireworks in England are something else. Huge, flashy, and lasting for ages! The New Year's Eve fireworks and all three displays in Greenwich borough each lasted ten minutes and were utterly spectacular. The New Year's Eve ones even featured firework Olympic rings...

I must say, too, that standing on a path along the Thames, watching the fireworks and hearing a band play tunes like 'Land of Hope and Glory' and 'Rule Britannia', it felt very magical. Standing on a site where former Kings and Queens of England were born or raised, and great Naval forces were sent off, it felt like it all made sense.

I think personally it feels a bit strange in NZ at times to bow to this Queen who doesn't have a lot to do with 21st Century NZ life, and read about things that happened to our long-distant ancestors but who don't really seem related to us. But when you're here, standing on a spot where these things happened, listening to the music that was composed in this country, for these people, it feels quite right. When the final set of fireworks burst forth and God Save the Queen was played, I had a shiver down my spine. Perhaps it was because the snow had seeped through my sneakers and my toes were beginning to freeze solid, or perhaps it was the magic of Olde England that was in the air that night.

(We have waited so long to post this because we were going to insert a video of the fireworks. You will all die wondering as we have had more exciting things to focus on - like planning a trip to Europe!! Next time you hear from us it will be to tell you about the adventures we recently had in Spain and France...)

Ahoy!

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Perving on the Neighbours

So we have some new neighbours! Well, they are rather reclusive, so it is possible we have been living next-door to them for a while without knowing it...

Either way, we have recently made the acquaintance of a family living within a stone's throw of us. (And no, I haven't actually tested the veracity of that statement). We have seen them three or four times now, and when we were returning from a friend's wedding celebration on Sunday evening at 1am (That's what happens when you miss the last train) we even bumped into one of our new friends. Scrounging in the bushes at the foot of our apartment block.
Yes, that's right - scrounging in the bushes. We gave our neighbour The Eye, and the neighbour eyed us for quite some time before turning and running away into the night.

Did I mention our neighbours are the Fox family? Possibly a single parent job, though they all look so similar - a bunch of gingers - that we can't really tell the family apart.

This morning I saw them out on their balcony enjoying the serenity and sunshine - before the building site started back up at 8am. It was so thrilling to see the neighbours out and about that I got out the telephoto lens and snapped some shots of them. Hope that wasn't too pervy?! Anyway I don't think it counts if your neighbours are a bunch of foxes....

See? A pebble - yes, a rock - no. So, more-or-less a stone's throw.

It's not like I've been scoping the place out or anything...

Their lodgings are not so well-finished as ours


The neighbour looks as tired as I feel after the long weekend and all those sleep-ins

I think I've been spotted...

I didn't ask what the neighbour was doing here


Junior joins his Mother

Time for a little family bonding
(Is it a bit weird that I photographed them with a zoom lens and then made it into a film-strip-style photo with an editing programme?)

Our Neighbour scowls at the arriving workmen