Bonjour tout le monde,
Here we are in a rustic stone farmhouse in Normandy just outside Bayeux, with a free and easy internet connection - hurrah! For the past few days, the lucky ones amongst you have been receiving urgent correspondence from the far corner of Hotel de Ville carpark in Vernon. That's an excellent travel tip but this is far more comfortable - and much easier than embroidering a 68 metre long tapestry to tell of our exploits!
But I digress by a number of wars and about a thousand years...
After Paris, we picked up our Citroen Picasso and headed north to the WWI battlefields of the Somme with the help of our velvet-voiced GPS, Paloma. We stayed near the small town of Villers-Bretonneux which, by coincidence, was recaptured by Australian forces on 26 April, 1918. It was the first time that Australian troops had fought under Australian command (General Monash) and, along with Gallipoli, this is the only place in Europe that celebrates Anzac Day. We knew all this but we were totally unprepared for the warmth of the welcome we received and the genuine feeling held here for the Australian people.
It was so sweet and unsophisticated - from the fluttering flag outside our homestay to the painted plywood kangaroos in the grounds of the Town Hall and the children's artwork in the local school. We spent the 24-25 April visiting various war cemeteries and memorials and attending a fabulous game of Aussie Rules between the very serious team from Villers-Bretonneux and a bunch of knockabout Aussie tourists thrown together in the wake of the volcanic cloud. The locals won by 20 points but, true to form, the team called Aussie Spirit found plenty of excuses for that! It was a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon and the atmosphere was amiable and relaxed. The town had held Aussie Rules workshops for local children during the morning and in the quarter breaks, they threw a ball around with Australian (Victorian) children.
It was the local primary school, however, that really brought a lump to the throat. It is called Ecole Victoria in recognition of funds raised by Victorian children to rebuild the school in Villers-Bretonneux following WWI. Entering the playground, the boys were astounded to see the huge painted motto "Do Not Forget Australia" emblazoned across the weather shed (see photos) . The WWI museum itself is housed within the school grounds and was staffed by eager school children during the Anzac Day weekend. As a touching footnote, children from this school have spent the past year diligently raising funds to rebuild a primary school destroyed by the Victorian bushfires.
We stayed in a farmstead converted into a number of small gites which - surprise, surprise - were all occupied by Australians at the time. It was a great and varied group of people (a number of whom are reading this now - hello y'all!) and, to the satisfaction of our jovial french hosts, we came together to share an impromptu and memorable barbecue under the trees the night before Anzac Day. Among us was Professor Linda Shields from Curtin University, who was preparing to represent Australian nurses on the Somme for the very first time - a personal crusade for her and a moment of real connection for the rest of us at the dawn service the following morning.
The dawn service itself was really beautiful. As many of you know, John and I are not huge Anzac Day/Australia Day afficionados but driving through those darkened fields in the chill of pre-dawn towards the Australian Memorial illuminated on the hill was one of the more memorable moments of my life. About 2,500 Australian and French people attended. My ALP comrades will be glad to know that Steven Smith spoke beautifully on behalf of the Australian people and that he is known here as 'le renard en argent'. The bugler stood atop the looming monument as the sun rose behind and during the minute's silence, all you could hear was the rising twitter and song of birds in the surrounding fields.
Afterwards we returned home for breakfast and then hurried into Villers-Bretonneux for the (very french) ceremony outside the town hall celebrating the town's liberation - complete with hatted gendarmes, Mayor, local band, Steven Smith etc.
In our three days on the Western Front, however, the real stars of the show were the fields of France themselves. From the ploughed furrows to the lines of poplars, from the Roman roads to the rows and rows of white war graves, the entire landscape there was all about straight lines and squares. I had expected something drab and dreary but the pastures were emerald green, the canola fields were unfurled like scarves of blazing yellow and the cemetries scattered across the landscape were lined with almond blossom. It was beautiful and it was sad and you couldn't help thinking of Willie McBride or 'thighbones tugged excitedly from the soil by french children on picnics'.
We have since moved south to Giverny where we dabbled briefly in the peace and quiet of Monet's watergarden before subjecting ourselves to that second great conflagration - the D-Day landings in Normandy. These beaches are truly dreary, I can tell you, even in this unseasonly bright weather. They are no less interesting for that, however, and at least we are able to return each night to the bucolic pleasures of our stone cottage at the end of a beautiful country lane leading to the village of the Cahagnes. There are dogs, there are cats, there are black and white cows, there are four-week-old kittens - the boys are happy and we are all looking forward to a few weeks respite in our little house in Brittany.
But before then, we have to conquer Britain and the Bayeux tapestry - allons-y!
Love to you all. It's so nice to receive your messages back, no matter how brief and newsless.
XXX
Alison, John, Lawrence and Francis
22 April, 2010
Clear Blue Skies Above Paris, France - 16-23 April
Hi all,
How lucky were we to have train reservations from Amsterdam to Paris last Friday! We could have flogged them for a packet at Amsterdam Central where the ticket office was in meltdown. As things turned out, the only 'eruption disruption' for us was the train being 1.5 hours late as they attached extra carriages and the daunting challenge of pulling two children and four suitcases through the mayhem at Gare du Nord on arrival - possibly the most panicky moment of the trip so far!
Once settled into our tiny two room apartment on the left bank, however, the only volcanic fallout for us has been bright clear skies above us, shorter queues and one extraordinary chance encounter in a Paris metro tunnel at peak hour.
Once again, Paris has well and truly lived up to the hype and we have had a fantastic time here. Even those obligatory tick list items - the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre etc which John and I may not have done again have been fresh and thrilling with the kids. We spent hours up that tower - hours - lift up and stairs down with Francis counting every step of the way. We spent a long time with the lovely lady Lisa at the Louvre but better (and bigger) by far was Veronese's Wedding Feast at Cana on the opposite wall. The boys know every inch of that painting having spent much of the January holidays doing a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle of it and here it was in all its glory 'and not a single piece missing'!
We have wandered for miles through the city and passed a golden Saturday afternoon with at least half of Paris, walking on the grass, eating icecream and watching furiously competitive petanque in the nearby Jardin du Luxembourg. We have enjoyed astonishingly affordable meals in the little bistros of Rue de Mouffetard where the boys have both developed a liking for snails. They are both going well with their bonjours, bonsoirs, mercis and pardons and have each managed to go and buy bread by themselves at the boulangerie across the road. All good.
On Tuesday we went our separate ways - the men to les Invalides to check out Napoleon's tomb, and me to the Marais via Lafayette to fossick about in the shops. On my way home, trudging through miles of metro tunnels under the Place de la Republic during the evening rush, turned a corner and ran straight into my cousin Margaret, Peter and their son Michael trudging the other way. They were not even meant to be in Paris but had been grounded here on a two day stopover from London. In twenty years of living in Sydney, I have never run into them by accident and the Gibbses amongst you will be amazed to hear that Margi and I were momentarily struck dumb. We quickly recovered, however, squealed a bit and went upstairs for a beer. We did make plans to meet for dinner the next day but by that time, Malaysian Airways had them back on a plane.
Indeed, as we strolled the vast corridors and gardens of Versailles yesterday, the sky was criss-crossed with jetstreams. Europe is back on the move. And so are we tomorrow when we pick up our car and head north to the Somme for the Anzac Day dawn service at Villers Bretonneux, a town liberated by Australian troops in 1918. Perhaps it's those jets that are cloud seeding Europe's drizzly skies because we are expecting our first drops of rain on the 25th -suitably sombre, perhaps.
Today is small scale pleasures, after the rigours of Versailles - African hot chocolate at a Belle Epoque salon de the and the like...
This has been quite a post and the breakfast croissants have gone cold. For those of you who have skipped straight to the end, hello!
Cheers,
Alison, John, Lawrence and Francis
How lucky were we to have train reservations from Amsterdam to Paris last Friday! We could have flogged them for a packet at Amsterdam Central where the ticket office was in meltdown. As things turned out, the only 'eruption disruption' for us was the train being 1.5 hours late as they attached extra carriages and the daunting challenge of pulling two children and four suitcases through the mayhem at Gare du Nord on arrival - possibly the most panicky moment of the trip so far!
Once settled into our tiny two room apartment on the left bank, however, the only volcanic fallout for us has been bright clear skies above us, shorter queues and one extraordinary chance encounter in a Paris metro tunnel at peak hour.
Once again, Paris has well and truly lived up to the hype and we have had a fantastic time here. Even those obligatory tick list items - the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre etc which John and I may not have done again have been fresh and thrilling with the kids. We spent hours up that tower - hours - lift up and stairs down with Francis counting every step of the way. We spent a long time with the lovely lady Lisa at the Louvre but better (and bigger) by far was Veronese's Wedding Feast at Cana on the opposite wall. The boys know every inch of that painting having spent much of the January holidays doing a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle of it and here it was in all its glory 'and not a single piece missing'!
We have wandered for miles through the city and passed a golden Saturday afternoon with at least half of Paris, walking on the grass, eating icecream and watching furiously competitive petanque in the nearby Jardin du Luxembourg. We have enjoyed astonishingly affordable meals in the little bistros of Rue de Mouffetard where the boys have both developed a liking for snails. They are both going well with their bonjours, bonsoirs, mercis and pardons and have each managed to go and buy bread by themselves at the boulangerie across the road. All good.
On Tuesday we went our separate ways - the men to les Invalides to check out Napoleon's tomb, and me to the Marais via Lafayette to fossick about in the shops. On my way home, trudging through miles of metro tunnels under the Place de la Republic during the evening rush, turned a corner and ran straight into my cousin Margaret, Peter and their son Michael trudging the other way. They were not even meant to be in Paris but had been grounded here on a two day stopover from London. In twenty years of living in Sydney, I have never run into them by accident and the Gibbses amongst you will be amazed to hear that Margi and I were momentarily struck dumb. We quickly recovered, however, squealed a bit and went upstairs for a beer. We did make plans to meet for dinner the next day but by that time, Malaysian Airways had them back on a plane.
Indeed, as we strolled the vast corridors and gardens of Versailles yesterday, the sky was criss-crossed with jetstreams. Europe is back on the move. And so are we tomorrow when we pick up our car and head north to the Somme for the Anzac Day dawn service at Villers Bretonneux, a town liberated by Australian troops in 1918. Perhaps it's those jets that are cloud seeding Europe's drizzly skies because we are expecting our first drops of rain on the 25th -suitably sombre, perhaps.
Today is small scale pleasures, after the rigours of Versailles - African hot chocolate at a Belle Epoque salon de the and the like...
This has been quite a post and the breakfast croissants have gone cold. For those of you who have skipped straight to the end, hello!
Cheers,
Alison, John, Lawrence and Francis
14 April, 2010
Spring's awakening - Holland, 9-16 April
Okay, here are a few photos for those of you who are hassling. We had to leave it a few days until (a) we'd done some some stuff and (b) I'd taken the time to learn how to drive this blog thing but I'm driving it beautifully now - and on the right hand side of the road!
We are having a beautiful time back in Amsterdam. Spring is busting out all over and the sky is actually blue - John and I may have lived here back in 1991-1992 but it was autumn/winter then and blue skies and tulips are both things that we have never seen here before.
As you can see from the pics, both are suddenly in abundance now and we had forgotten how much we love this gorgeous little city. We are staying in a -let's call it cosy - houseboat on the Kaisergracht (the third canal from the centre of the Amsterdam horseshoe), waking every morning to the clang of church bells, the whirr of bicycles and smells from the bakery beside us.
Nothing in Amsterdam has changed a bit on the surface, which is great for people doing lots of traipsing down memory lane. Our old house on 3e Helmerstraat is still owned by the same grumpy artist in the garret and Cafe Helmers is still on the corner. I went swimming yesterday in the beautiful old swimming pool behind the Reichsmuseum where I set my first published short story and we have loved showing the boys "best hot chocolate", "best hot chips with mayo" - all pretty much where we left them. That said, it is such an excitingly modern city. As Lawrence said, every glimpse you get inside these 350+ year old canal houses looks like a page out of a state-of-the-art interiors magazine. John and I are getting a little annoyed with working offices that contain nothing more than a Mac on a white wood desk, a red apple, a bunch of tulips/daffodils and a quirky piece of modern art on the wall.
We've done lots of wandering along the canals, the Van Gogh Museum, the Amsterdam Historical Museum and Anne Frank's House. Francis has already managed two performances in the Leidseplein, a famous place for buskers, once playing a nice bit of Percy Grainger on the trumpet (courtesy of a very nice Colombian trumpeter with whom he struck up a conversation) and secondly doing football tricks (called on because of the dimples in that case, not for any particular proficiency at football tricks!)
Today we took the train to Haarlem, hired bicycles and headed south towards Lieden through the tulip fields which, after a very cold spring, are suddenly bursting into bloom. They were quite spectacular and the riding was great - you never even have to change gear in a country that has been made with the aid of a spirit level. Did the whole cliche catastrophe at one point - up a windmill, looking out at tulips, following a man in clogs, listening to a steam organ playing "Walk Like an Egyptian".
At the crack of dawn tomorrow, we'll (hopefully) be seeing the other end of the industry at the massive international flower auction at Aarlsmeer, about 20km from Amsterdam. Every day, crateloads of fresh flowers - tulips, daffodils, hiacynths etc - are auctioned off and flown all over the world from what is apparently the largest commercial building in Europe. You can see it on googlemaps. It's the size of a small town.
But hark, I hear the Westerkerk bells strike eleven so I'm not going to get to the flower auction if I don't leave this alone now.
Nice talking with you all. Lovely to hear from those of you who have responded.
Love etc, Alison, John, Lawrence and Francis.
We are having a beautiful time back in Amsterdam. Spring is busting out all over and the sky is actually blue - John and I may have lived here back in 1991-1992 but it was autumn/winter then and blue skies and tulips are both things that we have never seen here before.
As you can see from the pics, both are suddenly in abundance now and we had forgotten how much we love this gorgeous little city. We are staying in a -let's call it cosy - houseboat on the Kaisergracht (the third canal from the centre of the Amsterdam horseshoe), waking every morning to the clang of church bells, the whirr of bicycles and smells from the bakery beside us.
Nothing in Amsterdam has changed a bit on the surface, which is great for people doing lots of traipsing down memory lane. Our old house on 3e Helmerstraat is still owned by the same grumpy artist in the garret and Cafe Helmers is still on the corner. I went swimming yesterday in the beautiful old swimming pool behind the Reichsmuseum where I set my first published short story and we have loved showing the boys "best hot chocolate", "best hot chips with mayo" - all pretty much where we left them. That said, it is such an excitingly modern city. As Lawrence said, every glimpse you get inside these 350+ year old canal houses looks like a page out of a state-of-the-art interiors magazine. John and I are getting a little annoyed with working offices that contain nothing more than a Mac on a white wood desk, a red apple, a bunch of tulips/daffodils and a quirky piece of modern art on the wall.
We've done lots of wandering along the canals, the Van Gogh Museum, the Amsterdam Historical Museum and Anne Frank's House. Francis has already managed two performances in the Leidseplein, a famous place for buskers, once playing a nice bit of Percy Grainger on the trumpet (courtesy of a very nice Colombian trumpeter with whom he struck up a conversation) and secondly doing football tricks (called on because of the dimples in that case, not for any particular proficiency at football tricks!)
Today we took the train to Haarlem, hired bicycles and headed south towards Lieden through the tulip fields which, after a very cold spring, are suddenly bursting into bloom. They were quite spectacular and the riding was great - you never even have to change gear in a country that has been made with the aid of a spirit level. Did the whole cliche catastrophe at one point - up a windmill, looking out at tulips, following a man in clogs, listening to a steam organ playing "Walk Like an Egyptian".
At the crack of dawn tomorrow, we'll (hopefully) be seeing the other end of the industry at the massive international flower auction at Aarlsmeer, about 20km from Amsterdam. Every day, crateloads of fresh flowers - tulips, daffodils, hiacynths etc - are auctioned off and flown all over the world from what is apparently the largest commercial building in Europe. You can see it on googlemaps. It's the size of a small town.
But hark, I hear the Westerkerk bells strike eleven so I'm not going to get to the flower auction if I don't leave this alone now.
Nice talking with you all. Lovely to hear from those of you who have responded.
Love etc, Alison, John, Lawrence and Francis.
10 April, 2010
Arrive Amsterdam - 6am, 9 April
We are here! Well, not France yet, but a sunny, warm Amsterdam.
The flights were long. Even so, the boys coped wonderfully and were wide eyed - until they couldn't keep their eyes open.
Lots of straat and gracht walking today. Visited our old home on 2e Helmerstraat. Survived bikes and trams driving on the wrong side of the road. Absolutely brilliant weather. The cafes are out on the streets.
Our houseboat on the Keizergracht is cosy - photos tomorrow.
The flights were long. Even so, the boys coped wonderfully and were wide eyed - until they couldn't keep their eyes open.
Lots of straat and gracht walking today. Visited our old home on 2e Helmerstraat. Survived bikes and trams driving on the wrong side of the road. Absolutely brilliant weather. The cafes are out on the streets.
Our houseboat on the Keizergracht is cosy - photos tomorrow.
01 April, 2010
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