Well the adventure and journey continues....................
The house in Montlaur was quickly and efficently packed and cleaned ...we have become well versed at this...and the blanket of dull, cold grey over Montlaur helped with the impending farewells. There were many of these, along with the exchange of gifts and contact numbers. Our last evening was spent with our nextdoor neighbours and was very pleasant and sadly a little late to discover all that we had in common.
We packed the people mover (thanks Suzie and Dezza for the Postie Plus bags)...and although I have never prided myself on mathematical ability, I was surprised as to how accurate my calculation of possession + French purchases had so exactly equated to the volume available. In fact, I do not think I could have fitted a single orange into the van once packed and family boarded.
We had the van serviced the day before by our esteemed local mechanic, Mr Foucher, who had repaired with French ingenuity our smoking vehicle on arrival to Montlaur. The van has hummed ever since, but opening the hood does have some similarity to opening an old box of 'mechano'. For us that was of little concern, we were more interested in reliability than methodology...and had a feeling of regained confidence after visiting him again.
Our planned journey from the South of France, was a little unusual, but did take in two fascinating and remote places that I had always wished to visit, however, their geographical situations always making this unfeasible. Lourdes and the Guggenheim in Bilbao. To achieve this we planned to cross the Pyrenees, visit one of France's most Southern towns Lourdes. Continue West to Spain, further west to Bilbao, check out the Guggenheim, then further west to the city of Santander where we would catch the carferry to Plymouth in Southern England. We had 28 hours to do this.
We were off! Sadly the drizzle turned to Auckland-like rain, and our hopes of the panorama of the Pyrennees dashed. It took about 3 hours to reach the alpine town of Lourdes, and entered through a plethora of hotels - it seems that Lourdes is to the mountains as Las Vegas is to the desert.
It is difficult not to make harsh judgements of this spot when driving past rows and rows of religious merchandising shops'. We found a carpark, a miracle in itself, and I am sure the last in town, from here it was a simple walk down to the river, grotto, and cathedral. I was totally stunned and awed by what I witnessed here. The river frontage was amassed by rows and rows of specially designed weather proof wheelchairs and stretchers, the occupants of various ages and ailments patiently waiting their entry to the pools of holy water and blessings. The procession of traditionally clad nurses and their charges did not stop but seemed to continue without respite.
We were assisted by very helpful custodians with the pushchair to the grotto and touched the grotto walls, smoothed by the millions of hands that had done this before us. Because of the rain, it did seem that the walls were weeping this holy elixir from the vision of the Madonna statue above us, it was hard not to be accepting of all things possible at this spot.
After our picnic lunch visited the cathedral above the grotto. Magnificent. My passion for Byzantine style mosaics overwhemingly satisfied by the series of asps covered in detailed pictures using this technique. My senses now fully overloaded. Overall, our impression of the place was not one of desperation or tackiness but more of a collective human connection to something greater than ourselves. Although not a Catholic I felt I had been humanly involved in this experience. It was pouring with rain by now and we raced back to the car all soaked through, but no one complaining as our small sufferings seemed inconsequentual to what we had just witnessed.
It was about another 5 hours to Bilbao, and although all damp and crowded, the kids were amazing and uncomplaining. John and I both wearied from months of traveling, were not our normal, efficient and decisive selves, and found it difficult this time to action a hotel for the night. Bilbao, as I had already been informed is a large dirty city, without much to offer but the Guggenheim...I would have to agree with this. We headed out of the city, towards the coast and after a quick visit to a seaside town on the basque coast, (which offered very little), stopped at a restaurant/ B&B, on a road in the middle of nowhere in the countryside. It was late, they could take us, and for the first time ever, dinner, breakfast and accomodation came way under budget.
The next morning headed straight for the Guggenheim. After yesterday, seeing what would epitomise human spirituality, today took in the equivalent to human culture.
Frank Gehry's work has captivated me for years so I was very excited to visit a great piece of his architecture. The Guggenheim was all lines and fluidity covered in titantium half a millimeter thick.
I may not be an engineer or an architect, but, there is something missing in this Gehry design and should I ever meet Frank Gehry I would have to offer him some advice....."Hey Frank...love the Guggenheim...we all love it...we all want to see it....but there is something lacking...it's called a CARPARK....you know, a wide open space, sometimes underground, sometimes revenue generating, where people wishing to see an attraction can leave their cars"
Enough said................................
Time was becoming tight and it was a dash to Santander...much prettier than Bilbao, filled the car with petrol (to avoid those UK prices) and boarded the Pont Aven- our ship that would deliver us to England. This is a fantastic way to travel...especially with kids, a dog and an overflowing car. We had our own little cabin, complete with ensuite.
There are restaurants, theatres, soft play areas, entertainment stewards for the kids and even a swimming pool....hung out by the pool in the afternoon and made the most of all these things. Kids had a great time, and exhausted crashed early to our bunks. The weather calm, sea smooth and the gentle pitch and roll reminescent of those waterbed years of the 90's.
Next morning picked up Piper from the ships kennels she had had to overnight in...Not Happy!, and without event passed customs, all, including the dog accepted...phew!
We had arrived and headed non-stop to London.
John had done a terrific job finding our new home in Ealing London....we could want no more. House lovely, around the corner from a huge park, with playgrounds, and a playgroup area. There is a library around the corner, cafes and restaurants everywhere, and of course my lifelong friend Anna is a 5 minute walk away.
Trading a small French village for one of the worlds largest cities will take some adjustment. I have exchanged rows of vines for rows of houses, French cuisine for every taste and flavour the world can offer, a village for 10 million people, tolling bells for Heathrow's approach, museums, theatres, shops, historical sites for simplicity. But we are all ready now for the excitment and opportunities offered.
I must say a very special thank you to my husband, who endured fatigue, 3 train rides and Ryan Air to commute to and from London, imposing on strangers (now friends) for London accommodation ( thanks for making this possible), time away from his family, endless visitors, and budget blow outs for yet another one of his wife's crazy ideas.............thank you, thank you, thank you it was marvelous.
I ...I mean we...have many more adventures and goals planned whilst in London....
Thanks for all the great feedback on our tales, and will give you all a break now from our summer adventures and look forward to hearing yours.
The house in Montlaur was quickly and efficently packed and cleaned ...we have become well versed at this...and the blanket of dull, cold grey over Montlaur helped with the impending farewells. There were many of these, along with the exchange of gifts and contact numbers. Our last evening was spent with our nextdoor neighbours and was very pleasant and sadly a little late to discover all that we had in common.
We packed the people mover (thanks Suzie and Dezza for the Postie Plus bags)...and although I have never prided myself on mathematical ability, I was surprised as to how accurate my calculation of possession + French purchases had so exactly equated to the volume available. In fact, I do not think I could have fitted a single orange into the van once packed and family boarded.
We had the van serviced the day before by our esteemed local mechanic, Mr Foucher, who had repaired with French ingenuity our smoking vehicle on arrival to Montlaur. The van has hummed ever since, but opening the hood does have some similarity to opening an old box of 'mechano'. For us that was of little concern, we were more interested in reliability than methodology...and had a feeling of regained confidence after visiting him again.
Our planned journey from the South of France, was a little unusual, but did take in two fascinating and remote places that I had always wished to visit, however, their geographical situations always making this unfeasible. Lourdes and the Guggenheim in Bilbao. To achieve this we planned to cross the Pyrenees, visit one of France's most Southern towns Lourdes. Continue West to Spain, further west to Bilbao, check out the Guggenheim, then further west to the city of Santander where we would catch the carferry to Plymouth in Southern England. We had 28 hours to do this.
We were off! Sadly the drizzle turned to Auckland-like rain, and our hopes of the panorama of the Pyrennees dashed. It took about 3 hours to reach the alpine town of Lourdes, and entered through a plethora of hotels - it seems that Lourdes is to the mountains as Las Vegas is to the desert.
It is difficult not to make harsh judgements of this spot when driving past rows and rows of religious merchandising shops'. We found a carpark, a miracle in itself, and I am sure the last in town, from here it was a simple walk down to the river, grotto, and cathedral. I was totally stunned and awed by what I witnessed here. The river frontage was amassed by rows and rows of specially designed weather proof wheelchairs and stretchers, the occupants of various ages and ailments patiently waiting their entry to the pools of holy water and blessings. The procession of traditionally clad nurses and their charges did not stop but seemed to continue without respite.
We were assisted by very helpful custodians with the pushchair to the grotto and touched the grotto walls, smoothed by the millions of hands that had done this before us. Because of the rain, it did seem that the walls were weeping this holy elixir from the vision of the Madonna statue above us, it was hard not to be accepting of all things possible at this spot.
After our picnic lunch visited the cathedral above the grotto. Magnificent. My passion for Byzantine style mosaics overwhemingly satisfied by the series of asps covered in detailed pictures using this technique. My senses now fully overloaded. Overall, our impression of the place was not one of desperation or tackiness but more of a collective human connection to something greater than ourselves. Although not a Catholic I felt I had been humanly involved in this experience. It was pouring with rain by now and we raced back to the car all soaked through, but no one complaining as our small sufferings seemed inconsequentual to what we had just witnessed.
It was about another 5 hours to Bilbao, and although all damp and crowded, the kids were amazing and uncomplaining. John and I both wearied from months of traveling, were not our normal, efficient and decisive selves, and found it difficult this time to action a hotel for the night. Bilbao, as I had already been informed is a large dirty city, without much to offer but the Guggenheim...I would have to agree with this. We headed out of the city, towards the coast and after a quick visit to a seaside town on the basque coast, (which offered very little), stopped at a restaurant/ B&B, on a road in the middle of nowhere in the countryside. It was late, they could take us, and for the first time ever, dinner, breakfast and accomodation came way under budget.
The next morning headed straight for the Guggenheim. After yesterday, seeing what would epitomise human spirituality, today took in the equivalent to human culture.
Frank Gehry's work has captivated me for years so I was very excited to visit a great piece of his architecture. The Guggenheim was all lines and fluidity covered in titantium half a millimeter thick.
I may not be an engineer or an architect, but, there is something missing in this Gehry design and should I ever meet Frank Gehry I would have to offer him some advice....."Hey Frank...love the Guggenheim...we all love it...we all want to see it....but there is something lacking...it's called a CARPARK....you know, a wide open space, sometimes underground, sometimes revenue generating, where people wishing to see an attraction can leave their cars"
Enough said................................
Time was becoming tight and it was a dash to Santander...much prettier than Bilbao, filled the car with petrol (to avoid those UK prices) and boarded the Pont Aven- our ship that would deliver us to England. This is a fantastic way to travel...especially with kids, a dog and an overflowing car. We had our own little cabin, complete with ensuite.
There are restaurants, theatres, soft play areas, entertainment stewards for the kids and even a swimming pool....hung out by the pool in the afternoon and made the most of all these things. Kids had a great time, and exhausted crashed early to our bunks. The weather calm, sea smooth and the gentle pitch and roll reminescent of those waterbed years of the 90's.
Next morning picked up Piper from the ships kennels she had had to overnight in...Not Happy!, and without event passed customs, all, including the dog accepted...phew!
We had arrived and headed non-stop to London.
John had done a terrific job finding our new home in Ealing London....we could want no more. House lovely, around the corner from a huge park, with playgrounds, and a playgroup area. There is a library around the corner, cafes and restaurants everywhere, and of course my lifelong friend Anna is a 5 minute walk away.
Trading a small French village for one of the worlds largest cities will take some adjustment. I have exchanged rows of vines for rows of houses, French cuisine for every taste and flavour the world can offer, a village for 10 million people, tolling bells for Heathrow's approach, museums, theatres, shops, historical sites for simplicity. But we are all ready now for the excitment and opportunities offered.
I must say a very special thank you to my husband, who endured fatigue, 3 train rides and Ryan Air to commute to and from London, imposing on strangers (now friends) for London accommodation ( thanks for making this possible), time away from his family, endless visitors, and budget blow outs for yet another one of his wife's crazy ideas.............thank you, thank you, thank you it was marvelous.
I ...I mean we...have many more adventures and goals planned whilst in London....
Thanks for all the great feedback on our tales, and will give you all a break now from our summer adventures and look forward to hearing yours.
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