LIGHT IN THE DARK SEASON.

THE LIGHT IN THE DARK SEASON.


Yes, it is that time of year again here in the Northern hemisphere… End of November, in the UK we are on winter time, so it is darker an hour sooner than in most parts of Europe!
This long period stretches in front of us, I know it influences and affects many people’s lives, they have the blues, they become morose, altogether down and even angry. Not enjoying life.
And of course, it seems trendy to be ‘cynical’ about Christmas, New Year, the ‘commercialisation’ of the festivities, the music, the presents, the sending of cards, family gatherings and parties, hats and party-poppers, the cold, dank- and darkness.
I’m different; I love the cold, especially snow, blue skies and crackling fresh air… that is if and when we get it, which is no guarantee nowadays, even in the North of England.
Snow makes everything so beautiful and silent; you see small details, on familiar buildings, you never knew were there.
I love the long evenings, I bring out the candles, they give off such a romantic light, I love the flickering flames, the shadow play on the walls, the smell when you blow them out before bedtime.
When I’m out, the festive lights are on, since last week, they twinkle in the wind, sparkle in the rain.
Shop windows are dressed festively, glittering and enticing.
It is the season of silver and gold, red and green. Everywhere you walk or drive, decorated homes, I agree some over the top, it again makes me smile… each to their own, it is much more pleasurable than driving through dark streets.
For many animals, winter is about hibernation, for me it is about reflection, making up the emotional balance, joy for a good year, hope for a better year? Thinking of people, making contact, touching once more… most of all the lonely ones (some with families!).
I embrace it, accept it, you see, I believe the more you rebel against something, the worst you make it for yourself! It is not going to go away!
Just imagine that whole ‘LIGHT’ period away from the dark months, how would we feel then? Many more people depressed and even more on Anti-Depressants?
The Christmas market is back in town, we are going for a visit next Sunday.
A lot of happy smiles there, blowing on a steaming hot German potato pancake, eating bratwurst fresh from above the glowing coals, drinking a cool beer, children looking wide-eyed at all the wooden toys, spinning toys, glass baubles, candy and sweets.
For many years now, Paul and I celebrated by ourselves, dressed up to the nines, having a real party, just the two of us.
On Christmas day, we saw and heard families arrive in our street… not for us, that is when you miss your loved-ones even more.
Then, one year my one son and his family came, this year, my youngest and his family will join us, coming from the Continent. OOHH the joy! I can’t wait! I’m loving ‘the preparations’ and planning even more now.
And when all is over and the baubles and bling packed away till next year, I’ll have the smile of the memories… and in the meantime, gradually, it will get lighter and brighter again, the soil will break up with the new life and colour of the crocus, followed by the daffodils and tulips… the hope of Spring, then the warmth of Summer, the nostalgia of Autumn, to come full circle to the darkness of Winter.
And so our life goes by…
I dread to think the dark season without the festive season, even with all its ‘trappings’.
Have a great one, be safe and enjoy! And thanx, M, (*_*)


For many of my CHRISTMAS IMAGES , to make you happy, view HERE

11-11-11 THE LAST POST in FLANDERS.

On our last Friday in Belgium, we had a 'quiet/free' day, and decided to just drive of into my beloved Flanders and see where the wind and the roads took us.
We came at a crossing where we had to make a decision, when I saw a road sign, which would take us to a place full of memories that we had not seen for ages. As we neared, a helicopter flew over, we saw lots of military vehicles, meandering the narrow road, crossed a small bridge and round the bend... we were stopped by military police, we were very puzzled.
With a smile they waved us into a field full of cars.
We were close to the river IJzer ( ISERE), where so many had fought, had lost life or limb, and eventually won the battle.
This was the place where in 1918 the invader was brought to a halt!
That's what it said on one of the memorial stones...
We arrived in the middle of an important commemoration.
Soldiers from all over ...
It was very moving, you see them, they look forward to these ceremonies, meeting up with old friends, remembering old friends... bringing children, so fitting, being given the opportunity to live in peace and 'freedom'...
They all look so proud.
They are the 'survivors'!
Sometimes there are tears in their eyes, then there's a smile round their lips, afterwards when the ceremony is over, the sound of laughter echoes against the wall of the old tower, drifting off into the rustling of the poplar leaves, the silence returns, another year gone, hope we'll meet again!
It never ceases to amaze me how people come together more in adversity, form bonds and unbreakable friendships for life... great, however somehow sad... nowadays there is such an alienation amongst people. You can live in a street for years, nobody knows or speaks to anybody... let there be a flood or whatever happening and everybody comes out, they all talk, get to know each other... sometimes after years! Western 'civilisation'???

The notes of the Last post were blown hauntingly across the skies, the tradition, from the top of the Tower of O.L.V Hoekje in Stuivekenskerke not far from The Trench of Death (Le Boyau de la Mort).

"All Wars Arise For The Possession Of Wealth" (Plato)


I merged two images for this photo the soldiers and one of a poppy-field.
Thanx, M, (*_*)
Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

FLICKR DEALS SWIFTLY WITH IMAGE THIEF.

I see and hear that there are a lot of complaints about Flickr deleting accounts... apparently for no reason????????????

I've been on the site for well over two years, it took me quite a while to get used to the 'MAGNITUTUDE' and the working of it, because each site is different, has its pro's and cons.
Now I love it, the diversity, often also the 'level' of the photography.
What I don't like is their so called highest accolade, to be in their group 'EXPLORE', I see many bad images there, it is 'calculated' by some logarithm. I want NOTHING to do with that, I prefer going on pure merit and a jury of my peers.
This rose that I uploaded was a BIG thank you to all those who were so prompt, helpful and supportive last week.
It meant a lot. I was distraught.
It was a thank you to all the administrators who immediately removed all the images and banned the thief from their group. For all the emails of support and help.
Ok, I lost half a day of my life on the one hand, time I could not afford to lose, on the other hand it reaffirmed my strong belief that there are still many 'caring' people in the world.
Also how much our images mean to us, these, like so many, had started in my brain, my heart, a lot of organising, relaxing the patient model with music, studio not too cold, not too hot and ultimately the creative eye, the anticipation, would it work or was it not such a great idea, some Polaroids taken to adjust the lights exactly to what I wanted and then, the rest of the day, the rest of the shoot with different flowers...



For those who haven't got a clue what went on, here's a quick summary.
By sheer coincidence, I discovered one of my images in a group, with someone else's name under it,
www.flickr.com/photos/9550033@N04/801423070/in/set-721576...

This was MINE!!! I took the photos in my studio on 35mm film, with my Nikon F4, in my studio, 13 years ago, as a series called SECRET GARDEN:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/9550033@N04/sets/72157600588725589/

for an exhibition on the Continent called "Salon des Dames".
It was in several exhibitions since.


The whole sorry matter was quickly dealt with.
I am happy to inform that the THIEF has now been removed from Flickr.
I received this email the same day:

"Dear Mrs Indigo

Thank you for your email. We have now forwarded this matter to the relevant
Flickr team and have requested that the offending photograph be removed from
the Flickr user's account.

We will confirm to you when this has been completed, which can take up to 24
hours.

Kind regards

UK Copyright Team."

The thief's account was completely removed a few hours after my formal complaint and immediate at the time they sent me this email! I do not know if the thief was warned, so she might think, she was kicked off 'without any reason'????? I don't think so!

Be very aware and vigilant, from what I saw, I recognised other photos on her photo stream that were also not from her, actually, I wonder if there was ANYTHING of hers, I did not have the time to research it. It could be one of YOURS!!!



Thank you again, Magda, the REAL CREATIVE BRAIN AND proud maker of the image, (*_*)

Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

AGAIN, 1 HOUR IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER. 2

...( see previous)
The rope is tied back, the monk returns, caped, to his place for more prayer and meditation…

On one of the big pillars I see what looks like a very an ‘old’ St Michel statue, with a burning candle, the stones blackened by years of devotive soot.
Suddenly we are approached by an ‘official’ looking lady, she says the church is going to close in a minute, that if we want to stay for prayer, we can, however, if we want to see the rest we have to go now and hurry, still a lot to come!
Along with some other visitors we hurry out into the heat and bright light, we walk down a few steps and arrive in another haven of peace, because alongside the church, on top of the hill is a charming arcaded cloister garden which offers vertiginous views of the bay, and was started in the thirteenth century. Today the garden is planted with herbaceous plants. They would not have been here during the Middle-Ages but they create an unexpectedly soft domestic character to a dramatic place with dramatic views.
We have been warned that there is not much time left… we are so engrossed in what we see that we do not take much attention to it.
The cloister is rectangular, and the one side, there are windows… one almost down to the ground. Apparently, another part was eventually be added and this was to be a doorway… but now, thick safe glass is set in the arches, I can assure you, it is not for the fainthearted or those suffering from fear of height! Even ‘mildly, however the views are stunning, the bay, as far as the eye can see, the tide is out, it is the ‘low season’ that means the sea can be out 12 km!
As I am taking my images, in between the admiring, there is a commotion behind me, a French family, a stout looking mum, a dad and two small children, one in a buggy are in a discussion with the official ladies, the mum is vociferous about the fact that they had to pay so much and were never informed that there was a time-limit, the statement grabs our attention, we were here for the sunset which is still a couple of hours away, there are more rooms, staircases, and vaulted halls that make up the abbey to see.
The official lady seems quite used to this and remains calm, to the frustration of the mum, as we walk out, I approach the lady and tell her our main reason for being there, namely photography, she seems sympathetic and says, go ahead, take your shots, but we move on nevertheless.
We are welcomed in the coolness of what used to be the refectory, two massive fire –places on one wall, a long wall with view on the side of the bay, each blue window a different design. On one of the tables an hour-glass, TEMPUS FUGIT, more true that ever, lol!
Totally surreal!!!

But the tour goes on, we pass through a small anti-chambre, blink at the strong sunlight when we come outside to walk down more stairs and come in the darkness and cool of one of the oldest parts, Romanesque architecture, heavy pillars and a strange pool of water…
Once more the raised voices get louder and resound under the lower vaults; I continue to take shots… no flash… no tripod… ahhemmm, a recipe for disaster, I know!!! Eventually the official ladies come to me apologetically; she tells me something that indeed we did not know prior!
There is a day tour and an evening tour, which is more expensive, she furtively looks around, no… the other bunch have left, still grumbling and reluctant, I remain polite and shrug, she turns and whispers” venez, come with me” we are quickly rushed through a door and arrive by miracle, this place really is a maze, in the anti-chambre then I will come and fetch you and you can join the evening tour and stay as long as you like, she winks and adds… take sunset shots! “
I profusely thank her and say we are more than willing to pay more; she gives a pursed lipped tchutt and disappears, locking the massive door with the huge key, Paul and I look at each other, smiling, wondering, laughing…
We wait, I take a photo of Paul staring out over the bay, we look through the beautiful stain glass windows, see the tide coming in the other island/rock called Tombelaine, towards Avranches.
The key is turned and people stream in, we arrive back in the refectory, transformed into a music-room, red carpet on the floor, a clavecimble in place and a young musician tuning it, we hang around, she starts to play, it is brilliant!
Very beautiful, you get ‘enveloped’ by the sounds…
We decide to continue, we hear other instruments in the distance, we are curious. Via another way, we arrive back in the church, the monks and nuns have left, the familiar scent and smoke of the incense lingers heavily in bands across the high vaulted ceiling, off-setting the rays of incoming sunlight, it is awesome!
Feverishly I take more images, the sun might go… the incense is thinning.
A young cello player plays a hauntingly melancholic melody, the music tumbles and slaloms between the pillars. We wait until it’s finished, applaud and walk out onto the big terrace overlooking the bay, the heat from the flagstones hits us, we sit on the steps, first in silence, then, with a big contented smile, we agree that once more, kindness and politeness have won!
There is a morality here, you, often, will get much further with tolerance and understanding, the people who work there have their orders, they get paid to do their duties, that’s their job… and the lady remained calm and composed which also made a difference.
I do not know if it was written anywhere about the regulations, if it wasn’t… I think it should!
Another hour in the life of a photographer…





(… a suivre… more to follow)
THANX, M, (*_*)
Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved


FOR THE WHOLE STORY:
http://magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/10/again-1-hour-in-life-of-photographer.html

WHILST YOU ARE READING, WHY NOT LISTEN TO THIS? Food for the soul!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9fpmgpNDwc&feature=related

Bach's Cello Suite No. 6 - Rostropovich plays the Prélude

AGAIN, 1 HOUR IN THE LIFE OF A PHOTOGRAPHER. 1

On the MONT ST MICHEL.
(why not listen to this while you read?)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=drU7ESj4HvY&feature=related


There are many special moments in your life, of many different kinds… but some just surpass everything.
Often unexpected, and yet so intense that they stay with you like it happened yesterday, etched in the front-room (lol) of your brain.
You know when it happens, it alters your state of mind, your are in a HYPER mode, alert, you’ll remember the sounds, the smells… and record the ‘visual’, because you are a photographer!
Such an experience happened to me on the Mont St Michel.

It was getting later but not cooler, we decided to linger on in the church a while longer, we’d been around, so we sat on the benches, soaking up the atmosphere, admiring this in history-seeped monument.
Suddenly amongst the lazy crowds, I saw a fast movement, a nun dressed in a pale blue habit, a white veil… and a pair of boots!
My camera was up before I realised it, lol. I must be the fastest ‘shooter’ in the West?
Then she was gone, through another door I saw another, she walked reverently, went and stood for a moment in front of the
Madonna. And left.
More activity, I saw a young monk dressed all in black, there was a coming and going, I waited with a real sense of expectation; the ropes had been removed from around the beautifully ceramic-tiled floor in front of the altar.
A silence has descended, people whisper, the odd child cries, hushed quickly by the parents…
Another nun appears, she is wearing a white cape, carrying books and what seems like a small stool.
We watch as she enters the center of the church, she bows and greats the holy cross, then takes her place, kneels down, puts the stool under her thighs and bends forward for quite some time, while others prepare, one of her sisters comes and arranges the flowers.
A young monk, dressed all in black, brings and dons his white cape with great flair.
Eventually the nun straightens and reads, forgetful of the world around her; this all happens in an eerie silence, except for the shuffling of feet, the clicking of cameras, some coughing, overheated children whimpering, it seems like the stage is set…
More nuns arrive and follow the same ritual as the first, a few more monks, they are the oldest. One carries a small chair; he is too old to kneel, he is allowed to sit.
A gold leafed book was carried in and put on a lectern, the light from the windows falls on the few ‘decorations’ in this church, (as most of it was lost over all the years for many reasons), the small, delicate cross and the top edge of the missal.
It is a magic moment, as they all sit in deep prayer.
I am not a religious person; I respect the religions and their followers.
So here I sit, this cannot leave one indifferent, I find it emotional and almost ‘envy’ them for their belief, their apparent peace, their silent devotion and commitment.
I dare not move to take shots from a different angle, my camera, otherwise so quiet, now seems to go off with a huge ‘clack’ whenever I push the shutter.
Paul and I sit in the front
The young monk gets up, disappears behind one of the huge pillars, to return without his white cape, he smiles at us, half winks and nods like to say, “ now’s your moment, get ready…”, he walks towards the rope I photographed earlier, carries it till it is straight under the spire, where it disappears, high up.
He takes a deep breath, a good grip, looks up and with all his force pulls it down, and then up, at last we hear the solemn tolling of the bell.
The sound reverberates through everything; you hear it in- and outside, you feel it in your body.
After about 3 minutes, he starts to slow the bell down, he‘s skilled at this, handles that rope expertly till the silence returns.
The rope is tied back, the monk returns caped, to his place…



(… a suivre… more to follow)
THANX, M, (*_*)
Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights
reserved

For the story of Day 1:

magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/start-of-our-adventures-...

For the story of Day 2, part 1:

http://magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/day-2-of-our-adventures-in-france.html


For the story of Day 2, part 2:


http://magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/10/day-2-of-our-adventures-in-france-part.html

DAY 2 of OUR ADVENTURES IN FRANCE. PART 2: Le MONT St MICHEL

DAY 2 of OUR ADVENTURES IN FRANCE.

PART 2: Le MONT St MICHEL

The island of MONT ST-MICHEL was once known as the "Mount in Peril from the Sea", as many pilgrims in medieval times drowned or were sucked under by quicksand while trying to cross the bay to the 84m high rocky islet.

The Archangel Michael was its vigorous protector, the most militant spirit of the Church Militant, with a marked tendency to leap from rock to rock in titanic struggles against Paganism and Evil. The abbey dates back to the eighth century, when the archangel supposedly appeared to a bishop of Avranches, Aubert, who duly founded a monastery on the island poking out of the Baie du Mont St-Michel. Since the eleventh century – when work on the sturdy church at the peak commenced – new buildings have been grafted onto the island to produce a fortified mix of Romanesque and Gothic buildings clambering to the pinnacle of the graceful church, forming probably the most recognizable silhouette in France after the Eiffel Tower.

The skies were high, it was after 4, people were still arriving, some were leaving and... IT WAS HOT!!!

Little did we know all the 'adventures' that were awaiting us.

The skies were high, it was after 4, people were still arriving, some were leaving and... IT WAS HOT!!!

Little did we know all the 'adventures' that were awaiting us.

Perched on a 264 feet high rock formation sits Mont St. Michel. During the seasons' highest tides the abbey is surrounded by water. During low tide the flats provide food for the world's only herd of salt water plant eating sheep ( Les agneaux des prés salés, the meat tastes salty). Mont St. Michel's tides can rush in at incredible speeds. The tides in the area shift quickly, and has been described by Victor Hugo as à la vitesse d'un cheval au galop, "as swiftly as a galloping horse." The tide actually comes in at 1 meter per second. Popularly nicknamed "St. Michael in Peril of the Sea" by medieval pilgrims making their way across the tidal flats, the mount can still pose dangers for visitors who avoid the causeway and attempt the hazardous walk across the sands from the neighbouring coast. The dangers from the tides and quick sands continue to claim lives.

Mont Saint Michel is a small rocky island about 1 km from the north coast of France at the mouth of the Couesnon River in Normandy.

The mount is best known for the medieval Benedictine Abbey and steepled church that occupies most of the 1km-diameter clump of rocks jutting out of the waters of the English Channel.

As we enter the thick walls of this fortified place, there is a streaming river of people. We get bumped, shoved, pushed, it is unpleasantly touristy.

Paul and I look at each other, hidden in a doorway. It is almost 5 in the afternoon, we thought people coming in coaches would by now head back to Paris and wherever they were staying, that it would be ‘quieter’, but then… the car park was very full, so what were we going to do, continue or fold back? We had come this far… people from all over the world were here, judging from the shouting and screaming…

We decide to go on, walking up the one street… (GRANDE RUE, lol), which is narrow and claustrophobic, full of souvenir-shops and ‘Crêperies’, we battle our way through till we get to the stairs, where we take a break.

The climb to the abbey is hard -- by the time you have mounted the celebrated Escalier de Dentelle (Lace Staircase) to the gallery around the roof of the abbey church, you will have climbed no fewer than 900 steps -- but it's worth it…

Just over halfway, we saw that you had to pay to visit the Abbey, church and the other I interesting rooms…

Paul goes and moves slowly along with the huge waiting queue. I decide, hiding in the shade, to concentrate on some interesting detail. I must say it is all very clean and looks very ‘cared-for’!

Eventually we are able to take the rest of the climb, ticket in hand. The higher we climb, the better the light gets, it is also more ‘open’, we see the lovely architecture, we see the spire with Saint Michel, slaying the dragon, on the top, glistening in the sun, in full glory…

I find it too hot on the huge terrace in front of the church, decide to go in, and enjoy the views later.

I enter a haven of peace and silence, the light shining through the stain-glass windows give the old stones a special glow. The ceiling is high and made out of wood. Again, I see details that interest me, another boat hanging up, just like in the other chapel, only bigger.

The coat of arms of the Mont St Michel is three fleurs-de-Lys and 10 Scallops (Coquilles St Jacques), it is incorporated in one of the walls, on the pillars I see interesting hooks, and then, of course a rope, leading high up into the spire…

(… a suivre… more to follow)

THANX, M, (*_*)

Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

For the story of Day 1:

magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/start-of-our-adventures-...

For the story of Day 2, part 1:

http://magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/day-2-of-our-adventures-in-france.html

DAY 2 of OUR ADVENTURES IN FRANCE. Part 1.

After a good night’s sleep we get ready, have a good breakfast and leave an already overcrowded Honfleur behind.
The sky is blue, the sun is out, it looks like a glorious day.
I remember from over 30 years ago that there was a small area called La Côte Fleurie, just up the Coast, South of the mouth of the Seine.
Up winds the narrow road, we squeal with joy, we found it, well, blink and you miss it… a strip of field filled with flowers. Surrounded by a natural hedge of brambles and ‘wild’ roses, it is almost impossible to access, Paul finds a gap…
I photograph from the verge of the road, camera zoomed into the max.
Le Havre is ‘sunning’ on the other side.
Paul is having a great time, it is beautiful, I catch him with the dappled light that I love so much…

Full of excitement, we continue our trek, the road winds on, along the Coast, soon, we see a sign towards another ‘must-see’ place that I remember from my youth… the Côte de Grâce… another ‘blink’ and you’ve missed it…
We drive past big, beautiful old house set in their proper land-settings of orchards and gardens.
This is part of La Côte Fleurie, on the hill some 1,5 km from the town centre of Honfleur, with spectacular views of the Seine estuary, the harbour and Le Havre.
Now shaded by 300-year-old elms, La "Chapelle Notre-Dame de Grâce" is one of the region’s oldest sanctuary chapels and a gem built between 1600 and 1615 on the steep hilltop west of town.
Here it gets a little confusing, some say Notre Dame de Grâce, was founded by Richard II and rebuilt between 1600 and 1615, others claim it to have been founded in 1034 by Robert the Magnificent of Normandy and rebuilt in 1606.
One thing is certain, quickly, the site became a point of pilgrimage for sailors about to embark on transatlantic journeys.
One such sailor-pilgrim, Samuel de Champlain, set sail from Honfleur and founded the colony of Quebec in 1608.
And also somewhere in history it was used by royalty…. (Say no more, hihi.)
Pilgrims still arrive for an annual Seaman's Festival and blessing of the sea each spring.
The sky is almost white from the heat; the trees give a welcoming relative coolness. I seek refuge inside. As soon as I enter, I am enveloped with the strangest feeling of sadness, I cannot explain it, not something I normally experience, hhmm.
The small church is full of plaques for thanks everywhere, some very old some more recent, devote candles flicker, the silence is tangible, some people come in and light another candle, a prayer and gone again. France is still a very Catholic country…
The sun warmly brightens the stained-glass windows, statues and bas-reliefs tracing the usual biblical themes, but alongside them are images and models of elaborately rigged ships from centuries past. (There are also a few pairs of cast-off crutches, leaning in a dark corner, whose stories are not offered.)
Outside, very peculiar, a huge stand with the bells, chiming every 15 minutes…
Their sonorous sound carried far and wide… resounding in your ears long after they stopped...

In the welcoming coolness of our car, we continue, trying to find our way towards Pont-l'Évêque, where I want to buy the famous cheese.
We drive in the shade of tree lined lanes, when it suddenly opens into a clearing with a stunning panoramic view, it is the Mont Joli, and about 50 meters along the road there is a steep, but well made footpath down to the old town.
We don’t seem to be able to get away from Honfleur, beautiful and interesting as it is… it reminds me of a Jacques Brel song, Vesoul , where he sings:
T'as voulu voir Honfleur et on a vu Honfleur
(You wanted to see Honfleur and we saw Honfleur)
… ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8T1n7TPF8As )

From where we stand is a great view across the top of the town, the river Seine and on to the Pont de Normandie.
There is a plaque, and it reads:

Honfleur seen from the Mont Joli.

The chapel and the plateau, although situated on the commune of Equemauville, belong to the town of Honfleur since the revolution. The Mont Joli, also belongs to Honfleur since the beginning of the 19th century.

From where you are standing, do not forget to view the monument next to you. It was erected to the glory Of Notre dame de Grâce, as thanks for her protection of Honfleur, Lieuvin, Roumas and the Ouche, during the Battle of Normandy in 1944.

Here also the view to Honfleur, The Côte Vassal, the commune of Riviere Saint Sauveur and the upper valley of the Seine is one of the most interesting you will find.

You can measure the importance of the harbour of Honfleur, as the third biggest import harbour of wood and wood products, you can admire Le Pont de Normandie, the longest cable-stayed bridge in the world ((at that time, not anymore), inaugurated 22nd of January 1995, the ‘connection' between Haute and Basse-Normandie, with a length of 2.141m, resting on two pylons of 214m.
The span, 23.60 m wide, is divided into 2x2 lanes for traffic.

From here, at one glance, you penetrate the heart itself of our old town of Honfleur. At your feet, huddled together, the fishermen's houses forming alleys and narrow streets.
Behind these old 'cottages’ you’ll often find hidden, small gardens.

The inhabitants of Honfleur (Honleurais), live in the shadow of the Sainte Catherine, Saint Etienne and Saint Leonard churches.
Their lives in rhythm with the tides, close to the old bassin. They nostalgically dream about the great discoveries, navigators, painters, writers and poets who were always so inspired by this magical place.

The 'Honleurais' are very attached to their town. They are proud of it.
They continue to protect it for generations to come, so that they also will always be able to enjoy this highly privileged corner of France.

We take it all in, photograph a few scenes and realise we have to push on again if we want to get to the Mont St Michel, find a place to stay…
We have to cut across Basse-Normandie, decide against the motorways, so the routes Nationales, which takes you from village through village, through small town to small town…
We stop in Pont-l'Évêque, see one of the few shops open… this is inland, and the French HOLIDAY in August!!!
The lady behind the counter is most friendly, ‘vacuums’ our cheese, to keep it cooler, well, stop it from ‘running’?
I also buy a special Cidre vinegar. (which I haven’t tried yet).

Pont-l'Évêque is a French cheese, originally manufactured in the area around the commune of Pont-l'Évêque, between Deauville and Lisieux in the Calvados département of Basse-Normandie, and probably the oldest Norman cheese still in production.

Pont-l'Évêque is an uncooked, unpressed cow's-milk cheese, square in shape usually at around 10cm square and around 3cm high, weighing around 400g. The central pâte is soft, creamy pale yellow in colour with a smooth, fine texture and has a pungent aroma. This is surrounded by a washed rind that is white with a gentle orange-brown coloration. The whole is soft when pressed but lacks elasticity. It is generally ranked alongside Brie, Camembert, and Roquefort as one of the most popular cheeses in France.
The cheese has been made in Normandy since at least the 12th century, and local legend claims that it was first made in a Norman abbey. A manuscript from the time writes that a fine meal should always end with some "angelot", the name used for the cheese at the time.
The cheese became popular across the country from the 16th century onwards, when it obtained the name of the village around which its production was centered.

After that it is straight on, we pass ALL the Saints, Saint Georges de …
Saint Hymer, Saint Pierre de…, St Martin…, Sainte Marguerite, Saint Sylvain, even St Samson…, St Rémy, if we do not pass them, we see signs for them…
The architecture is so typical with the wood and the stones, flowers and orchards everywhere, beautiful hills. Our progress is too slow, so we do take the motorway once past Caen, the capital city of the département du Calvados.
We pass places with wonderful names, I photograph from the car again, passing by more Châteaux and history…
France is so big and we are now in a hurry, when suddenly, I look to my right and I have my first glace of the Mont St Michel… in a haze, it looks like a giant wedding cake, yummy, can’t wait…

Pass another board, Avranches.
World War II was great ordeal for Avranches: after 4 years of German occupation, the American bombings destroyed the vast majority of the town. However in succeeding the "breakthrough of Avranches", General Patton's tanks delivered the town on the 31 July 1944 and this became the prelude to the liberation of the country.
The town was founded on high ground overlooking the dunes and coastal marshes along the bay forming the corner between the peninsulas of the Cotentin and Brittany. From Avranches, it is possible to see the Mont Saint Michel, which was founded by Saint Aubert, Bishop of Avranches in the 8th century.
I visited it years ago, not this time we HAVE to reach our goal… it is a very winding road, we get closer, then further away again till suddenly… there she is, La Merveille, Le Mont St Michel!



(… a suivre… more to follow)
THANX, M, (*_*)
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For the whole story of Day 1:
magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2009/09/start-of-our-adventures-...