Payback for being cheeky

Here's what happens when you make fun of home for the weather. On the CBC website, the weather forcast for Vancouver was 1 degree and snowing; for Montreal, it was1 degree and snow mixed with rain. Besides the fact that Vancouver and Montreal should almost never have similar weather forcasts, I am in the south of France, within spitting distannce of the sea. I was feeling smug about escaping another dreary northern winter.

Until I woke up this morning to this:

Lea bundling up to walk the dogs with me.











Palm tree, pool...snow.













More dogs and snow...and Lea!










This sign is a bit unnecessary now...












The walk up the mountain. Pretty! Cold!

The cemetary in Sacy near to Toussaint--All Saints Day.




















The broken Jesus on a very old grave that no longer bore a name.

After two and a half weeks (for me--much longer for others) we finally cleared enough land to plant trees! They are all in now, with their sprinkling of dolomite and their three broad beans. The forest wasn't particularily old--the land is still terraced from when grape vines were grown here--but it is a bit sad to chop living things down. If it were my choice, I would choose an orchard that was already established, and transition it into an organic farm rather than cutting down something that already exists. But I don't have an orchard.

I've been searching for a place to stay for January, and have not had a lot of luck. There was a glimmer of hope when a fellow from Corsica offered to pick me up after his Christmas holidays in the south of France, but he's disappeared before we could make final arrangements. My fingers are still crossed.

Other than that, it's been beautiful out with lots of sun, though a bit chilly in the shade. The other WWOOFers and I went to Collioures on our day off and ate cheese and bread and the best butter ever--a hunk of fresh butter with coarse salt mixed through it. Particularily delicious!

(Bad) photos of French food...

My favourite yoghurt in France. Comes in a pottery jar!











Tart! Maybe a current one--I can't remember now.










That's a FRIED EGG on the side of my cup.









I don't even remember what was in this, probably bread, but I love how they twist up the ends to turn a sheet of paper into a carry bag!








Cheese and bread. Lovely soft goats cheese...





Canadian Gray Apples. Sometimes just Canadian apples. They're HUGE. The woman who worked at the Montreille-sur-mer hostel brought this for me from her garden. They grow everywhere in France, but I'd never heard of them before. They're tart, quite crispy, but have a thick skin. In case you didn't know, I love apples...

St Malo is a very beautiful and old port city. Outside of the walled city (which is plagued by tourists) is the newer, resort part of the city. The sea is beautiful here, and the buildings like castles from fairytales. I didn't take many pictures, though, because it was too hard to choose which buildings to take photos of...








Some of the street names, though, begged to be photographed.








My second day in St Malo, I decided to do a little randonnering, along the peninsula. At one point, there was a small chapel--much like the one near Bazancourt--to the Virgin Mary (again) to keep the sailors and fishermen safe at sea. It seems there is little the Virgin Mary does not hold sway over.







The window of the chapel, looking through to the other side. I liked the window-withing-a-window composition. Another chapel I could look at but not enter.








Food in France! I am buying a dozen of these yoghurts before I set off back to Canada--the yoghurt is delicious, and you are left with a lovely terracotta cup once you've devoured the contents. And the lable has a great black-and-white of cows.

Cycling journey

My overloaded bicycle! I took the train from Paris (by the way: it is REALLY difficult to take your bike plus all your ridiculous baggage on the metro in Paris. One should really pass on that option. But I had so much stuff, I was worried about riding around in Paris with it all...) Anyway: I took the train from Paris to Rennes, a very pretty university town where I took no photos. There is a canal there that runs to the ocean, and a bicycle path that runs along side it. This means that there are fewer hills, but the route is much longer.

Also, taking bicycle paths means you don't see very many other people: mostly other cyclists and runners. You don't pass through towns or villages, just past lock houses and behind pretty gardens and fields. Lovely, lonely, quiet.















At the end of my first day of cycling, the auberge de jeunesse was booked full, and I had to stay in a Chambre d'Hôte--a bed and breakfast--where I was served the most splendid of breakfasts. The house was brand new and rather beautiful; the morning was fogged out, but pretty along the canal. I couldn't see much beyond the shore, but there was plenty of warmth from the sun, and the sound of people out in rowboats and kayaks.


I arrived in St. Malo not too late in the day, where I stayed a few blocks from the sea. St Malo is very beautiful--it has a wonderfully restored walled port town, but there were far too many tourists for my taste. The ocean was beautiful--it was amazing how many man made light houses and markers were in the harbour there.

Grafitti!

Paris...

























Lille.