Carnac, It's Prehistoric!

There was perhaps something in the air in the mysterious region where the infamous megaliths of Carnac are found. One satiated day spent in the south of Brittany had generous amounts of adventure, old things, and good memories.

I’ll just narrate the pictures I’ve chosen to share with you. As you began to glance at the first picture you see someone with a hammer ready to smash any available part of an old, foreign vehicle. Said person decided against this and instead finished his lunch alongside his two travel companions. You must know that two of us, to whom the vehicle does not belong, were feeling as free as something that feels free since we had motorized and non-public transport. “What luck!” I thought to myself. This was before something went wrong between gear #3 and gear #4 and the poor, exhausted Citroën (the car) puttered to a depressing halt. To make a long story short, some police came and helped the hammer-holder push the car whilst the non-hammer holder steered. The car owner stood aside with her cane. The police did NOT offer any help and were quickly on there way. (It was near noon – They were hungry I guess.)

I mentioned that several old or aged things were a part of this day and one was a little old lady named Lucienne. She’s the car owner and quite a character. My friend Johannes has become her new chauffeur since she’s unable to drive. Lucy’s insurance came to the rescue in record-breaking time and made us all feel like fools when just after lunch their representative popped the car’s hood, stripped some wires, reattached them to something important and the engine happily decided to restart. And we were off again.

SELAH

In part two our hero is standing in front of some really big, old rocks. Exceptionally old even for Europe, these rocks are known by Breton names which you’ve probably heard like “dolmen” and “menhir” meaning more or less “rock table” and “long rock” respectively. Breton is quite a descriptive language, eh? Though I’m not usually one to take my own picture in front of a bunch of important stuff that everybody wants to see, this was an unordinary incident. These rocks range from about knee high to really big and the biggest weigh about 40 tons (because someone picked one up???!).

SELAH

As the sun set on our day-long journey, we sat peacefully on a deserted beach. No longer at Carnac we spread out our copious feast (er, leftovers from lunch plus a new baguette) ahem, and we ate to our hearts delight on the savage coast of Quiberon, extreme southern tip of Brittany.

Inspired by the accomplishments of this day, I layed aside my hammer of hate and gazed into the distance with peace and contentment.

SELAH

Though not pictured, we did meet up with our friends, la police, again. I was in the middle of my most extensive French car driving experience when we were waved to the roadside by a slow gesture from a flashlight-clad hand. In the blinding light of man-made electricity accompanied by a few authoritative phrases, I began to feel around the car for my backpack. Offering a driver’s license marked “Kentucky, It’s That Friendly,” my resident papers, and an short explicatory anecdote, I hoped for a favourable outcome. “It’s ok,” was my response and with two false starts and more than one “Thank You/Goodbye’s” I breathed a few more prayers of gratitude as my eyes kept their focus on the road in between swipes from my uni-wiper windshield apparatus.

FIN

Up the coast from my school in Saint Quay Portrieux is the maritime village of Plouézec (a great, Breton name) and its amazing windmill. Look closely and notice the scaffolding and the little guy in his blue uniform (this is the universal blue collar gear - talk about stigma!). As I cruised along on my borrowed bike a lost couple in their beautiful Mercedes asked me where the road to Paimpol was. I said I was lost too, but humorously we were both coming from the desired destination of the other. "It's just that way a bit," said the lady while pointing. I found the windmill; hope they found Paimpol.

Just outside the city of Verdun in the Lorraine region (in the East of France) is "the Red Zone" where the 10-month Battle of Verdun was fought in 1916. On this site alone rest 15 thousand known French soldiers and 130 thousand unidentified ones.

The lesser known Saint Remi's Basicila in Rheims (Champagne). This is where King Clovis was baptized by the Bishop Remi in the 5th c. AD thus making France a Christian nation.

Little village in Champagne - Sainte Menehould. A local monk born in 1639 named Dom Perignon is reputed to have created the mixture which resulted in the creation of Champagne. (Thanks for letting me visit, Reba.)

Why 2 months don't bother me

First of all you all must know that I’m officially unemployed! But don’t worry, I wasn’t fired; no, I finished my contract at the end of April with my school. Finishing at La Closerie gave me a wonderful feeling of completeness. It was somewhat like when you finish a good, long book. You’re happy to have read it, learned great things from it, it’ll stick with you, and you might just revisit it in the future. I’m also asking myself, “What do I read now??!” But for the next two months I’ve got plenty of quality things to do.

I’ve really put down some roots here in Bretagne. There’s no doubt about it that this year I’ve been flat out BLESSED with a big ‘ole B. With all the good things that have come my way, there’ve been several occasions where I’ve been reminded of how much I receive that I don’t merit. Make’s me quite thankful for all the free things I receive, and I mean this from the tritest to the deepest of graces I benefit from.

One of those smaller things which I’ve appreciated is welcoming bus drivers. I know that I’ve sung my ballads of thankfulness to the T-bus before, but bear with me. I see the same couple of bus drivers almost every day and one of them looks like Santa Claus before his hair went white. He’s really kind in a grandfatherly sort of way. Upon my last descent from the large green bus I told him thanks for his kindness. Really not a big deal. He responded, “It was a pleasure” (normal) and after added a very un-French response of giving me a little shoulder pat. I think that often we don’t realize what we’re doing for other people on a daily basis through our smiles and our hello’s.

Besides thanking bus drivers one thing I feel is a valuable use of my time is singing with a very informal choral called “Let’s Gospel.” We’re the students from Sister Act II only we don’t have their talent. I guess the only similarity is that we sing “Oh Happy Day.” Among things I didn’t know I’d do in France, singing Gospel songs in a bar is one of them. I guess that willingness to invest oneself in creative ventures can lead down some interesting paths.

Well this is not a “What I do in Bretagne” blog (that’s been done). I just wanted to let you know that I’m feelin’ good, France decided I could stay longer than it originally wanted me to, and I’m happy to have time to ride in buses, sing in bars, and eat as many baguettes as humanly possible.

God bless.
Lawrence