A Nice Sunday Drive

I would have liked to entitle this 'A Nice Sunday Ride,' but, Betsy's in her garage awaiting the recall repair I received a couple of months ago.  Since I wasn't riding during the cold months I saw no reason to pay for expensive insurance, so she's just been waiting patiently since our last ride in late October.  But the weather's getting better and better and I'm getting anxious to start riding again.  Of course, I dropped my recall notice off at the Kawasaki dealer and he promised to talk to the factory folks (I'm sure about being reimbursed for fixing this) and, as to be expected here in France, he's not breaking a pick trying to get it done.  I expect that's because the factory knows how long it should take to do the service and they can't "boost" the time on them.

Anyway...the weather's a little cool, 4°C ( 39°F) when I left the apartment this morning, reaching about 9°C (48°F) by the time I returned.  But, it was brilliantly sunny and clear...a great day for a ride through the woods.  So, to the woods I went.

After my morning café and email and FB catchup, I head out of Nantes toward Rennes.  My destination is Paimpont, a small village located in the center of the Forêt du Paimpont, reputed to be the famous Forêt du Brocéliande of Authurian (as in King) legend (Paimpont_Forest).  Local legend has it that this is the home of King Arthur, Merlin, and the famous Lady of the Lake.  Of course, no one knows, but the local tourism and artifact salespeople.  They have kith and kin in England selling the same things and willing to argue the point.

One of the first things you have to come to grips with when discussing ol' Arthur and his court is whether or not they really existed.  According to pro-believers, he was a great king who fought against the Anglo-Saxon invaders of England during the late 5th and early 6th century (475-550 AD?).  There is considerable mention of him in Breton and Welsh legend.  Of course, it's the Breton part which puts him in this section of France.  I don't know about the rest of my American friends, but until coming over here and studying local history in much more depth, I, somehow, missed how interconnected and "woven-together" the French and the English are.  Of course, I knew they'd fought each other for about 1,500 years; even having one war which lasted over a hundred years by itself (1337-1453).   But there is, I think, as much to draw them together as to wedge them apart.   They would deny it, both sides, of course;  that many years of strife certainly leave a desire for segregation...but they are definitely builders and molders of each others' civilizations.  Point?  Well, ol' Authur could well have existed and could easily have been a Breton.

As related on my Hail Bretagne post (September 2010) the Breton people were anti-dated by the Celts. And the Druids were a priestly, or religious, class of Celts.  They ended up populating England, Wales, and Britagne across the channel.  The earliest mentions of Arthur appear in the early 12th century.  But the sources, though written in latin, the lingua-franca of the time, are not clerical in nature.  They are reporting of legends and mythological events from previous times.  And, the absence of mention in Catholic writings, at least, from my point of view, could well be a leading indicator of his actual existence.  During the purported period of Arthurian reign, Christianity was spreading throughout Europe and, obviously, a mortal enemy to Druid or any other form of belief not associated with Catholicism.  One can easily suppose that church writings would not legitimize his, or his people's suzerainty over anything.  Especially, when faced, later, with peoples nostalgic for some of the old beliefs.  Based my experience, one can be sure some looked backwards to some of the more pagan rituals;  for cryin' out loud, we're still doing it.

Just south of Rennes I turn back west toward Paimpont.

Some roads are just better than others.  Among my favorites are these little country lanes.

Abbey of Paimpont

Did the Lady of the Lake live nearby?

If I throw a sword into the water here will a hand reach out and catch it?
Or, must it be Excalibur?

Downtown Paimpont

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Square behind the Abbey

 Memorial to Paimpont fallen in WWI.  I've never thought Americans could relate to the human losses experienced by France and England in that war, or the Russians in WWII.  We always managed to trade implements of war for their bodies.
(I know we fought and participated, and our service was honorable.  But it was July 1944 before we had more troops engaged than did Britain in WWII.  In WWI France and England lost an entire generation of young men; and Russia 20,000,000 people in WWII.  It's staggering to consider.)

A little further down the road and one starts appreciating the rocky hill country terrain.

Also known as ancient building material.

Beautiful country

And spring's a-comin'.

As Kenny Wilkins says,
"Spring has sprung,
The grass has riz,
I wonder where the birdies is?"

On the ride home some more of my "Peacock" plantings.
( See Day Four: Lost Ball Weekend )




And home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

Old and new friends - I hope

Having gotten well with the French bureaucracy (a rather innocent story...to be told in full at a later date) I decided Wednesday after work that a drink at my local watering hole was in order.  It's not really my fault, you know.  My co-expat Morgan returned to the states early leaving me to my own devices.  He spent an inordinate amount of time at John McByrne's Irish Pub in downtown Nantes, a rather special place to those who like a pint every now and then, and someone had to pick up the slack; it seemed to have devolved to me.  In any event, I'm glad I decided to go.

After the usual greetings (I sort of feel like Norm there), I settled down with my pint of Stella Artois (founded in 1633) to shoot the bull with Dave behind the bar and try to keep up with the rugby game on the tele.  Adjacent to me was this young fellow somewhere in his late thirties-early forties, and, after a greeting in English we struck up a conversation.  He was very nice, bright, well informed, and laid back in that distinctly British way of sort of observing the world.  Turns out he was a first for me; an opera performer, in town rehearsing for performances of Verdi's Falstaff in late March.  Now I gotta tell you one just doesn't meet such a one in your normal Texas bar.  I just love this place!  New horizons.  We traded contact information and I certainly hope to tip a few beers with him in the future because, even without the exotic vocation, he's a nice and interesting fellow.

I'm making plans now to attend one of the performances with some friends.  His name is Colin Judson and he's performing the role of Dr. Caius (tenor).  Neat fellow!  And, oh by the way, he went to school with  Damien Lewis who did such a great job as Lt./Capt./Major Winters in the Hanks/Spielberg production of 'Band of Brothers.' (Colin Judson - UK )  Again, this stuff just doesn't happen in my Texas bars.  (btw - Know how to tell a Texas bar?  You walk in and they frisk you...you don't have a gun, they give you one.)


Returned to McByrne's tonight (Friday) for a little break and a pint.  It was early so the crowd was a little slow, but ran into some of the usual suspects; Roger was there, he programs on the SNCF (train system) reservations system, and Adrian, Jo, and Elois my friends from the Sunday party a few weeks ago.  Eloise just loves my iPad and seems to have a knack for navigating around on it.  I got home tonight and, upon checking my emails found the following notes sent by this wonderfully precocious little 6-year-old.

 

Don't laugh.  She speaks two languages.  How many do you?

So...if some of you received a rather cryptic message from me you'll understand the source.  I'm cracking up thinking of all the stack dumps the computers at the NSA may be having trying to figure these out.

Have I mentioned I love this place?