And the dolphins kept fishing.

End of July, as soon as I got back from Great Britain (England, I should say), I made a resolution to write again, at least twice a week. At least!

And then it looked like I would make it. I was so happy. Of course, there were hundreds of pictures still to be sorted and you know how I start writing… No writer’s block if I have pictures to build my story around…

The pictures were all there on my external drive as well as on my computer. All I had to to was to find the best ones since a travel book needs good pictures…

So there I was, getting ready to spend our family holidays in Brittany writing steadily. I had other great and good intentions… like working on my new website (along with the webmaster I have finally hired before leaving to England), like taking long walks on the beach and swimming every day. Like integrating all the new photographic techniques I have learned while going to the Nikon School… (Integrating new techniques is a long and tenuous process for me!)

This was to be a short and busy summer. I did know that we’d have a busy and great social life too. But I was so sure I’d make it!

One month later, I am back to square one.

So there I am. Alone at Les Tertres. Back to England. And not quite there though. Because it is hard to start writing again: “My Travel Book - London - Day 3” or whatever. Because the world is upside down. Well, it’s been upside down for quite a long time. Was I this deaf and blind?

My anger is growing back. I get so angry nowadays it is frightening. I am not a politician, and happy not to be one, by the way. And I am feeling so useless and so powerless.

It’s been going on for years and years! So many people dying, even while they are trying to find a place where to live in peace, where to work and to survive with their families. And they are dying every day because of our lack of concern, our selfishness while living in our affluent western world (yes, we do live in a rather affluent world, Europeans and Americans alike).

They are dying every day because of our petty fears and bigotry… Christians because they are from Africa or the Middle East… Muslims because they are believed to be terrorists or worse… invaders. Actually, they are dying because of their difference. And we find thousands of noble reasons to justify our apathy…

Then a small boy died on a beach along with his mother and his brother (and along with more or less 4.000 people, this year) . But a photographer was there and took his picture…

Things are starting to happen now. The world suddenly learns that people want to survive no matter what. Even though a lot of people will tell you without flinching that they don’t care.

We really are a bunch of amnesiacs and schizophrenics, aren’t we? We cry about one picture. But do we remember why this child died on that beach? Do we really care about what happens in Syria or Irak or wherever there has been or is a war because of our own distant or recent western history? Where are the whys and wherefores?

Oh well, we are now bickering about economics and the number of people we might welcome into our countries. We don’t seem to see faces and real people. We worry about numbers. But have you noticed that nobody seems to be dying at sea anymore? Probably because we are too busy counting the living we’ll have to accept in our countries against our will (except for Germany, of course).

And then comes hatred and xenophobia, at its worst since World War II.

Oh well, I could carry on for days and nights.

The only thing that keeps me sane tonight is remembering the friendliness of the dolphins that swam along our boat, last week. Just being friendly. “Hello, humans. Forgive us for not lingering but we have to keep on fishing because our young need to be fed.”

Life must go on.

*Good Luck, and Good Night*

"My Travel Book" - Upside down

I know, I know...

I am back.

And thanks be given to the handsome turkey-cock Swee’Pea and I met on a lovely day in a very beautiful city called Stellenbosch. Why? Because I heard it is Thanksgiving in the States and I remembered our encounter in a garden in Stellenbosch. And suddenly I felt like writing again.

Stellenbosch? Where is Stellenbosch by the way? You are kidding. You really don’t know what I am talking about?

I’ll give you a hint. Suppose you were in Europe or the States or India while I was in Stellenbosch. Suppose you were outside in your yard or taking a walk on the beach. Where was I?

Upside-down! I am not kidding. Not-at-all! I-was-obviously-hanging-upside-down since… I was in Stellenbosch, in the Western Cape Province of South Africa.

So if you were standing on your own feet, I was obviously trying not to come unhooked, sort of, from the other side of the earth. Wrong side up!

Except that it felt so delightful being there, basking in the sun, watching this poor dumb bird trying hard to frighten us in order to protect his turkey-wife and turkey-children from us. Dumb, very dumb because he did not understand nor feel we were friends. For goodness sake, we are vegetarians! (Well Swee’Pea is. Totally. Unconditionally. And I was. At the moment.)

And you know what! It was so easy to live upside down for one whole month that life the right way up is quite unbearable these days. It will take a while to get used to live in Europe again.

The sun would rise around 5 a.m. and sunset would wait until at least 7 p.m. Here in Paris, I don’t know why but the sun sure is fickle. Short, very short days and long, long nights. I hate winter. Oh, I loved it so much when my world was upside down and it was summertime.

Ever since my last post in September, I have been planning to write a post. Almost everyday ever since mid-September. Lots of ideas. So many stories yet to be told. So many pictures to yarn.

I stayed in Brittany until mid-September because Yves and I got some delirious ideas about the garden which we were able to start carrying out thanx to Popeye’s unfailing support… I’ll have to write about it all. Those two weeks were totally crazy. And we’ll have a busy late Fall and a busier Spring…

Then I came back to Brussels and Paris. Back and forth as usual. And there was a lot of planning to be done.

Things became a little bit complicated when I started going through a very thorough check-up at the hospital before I was handed my travelling license. I did pass though. With flying colors.

My first real journey in more than ten years. One month away in other climes than my beloved Brittany in more than how many years!

When we started to plan this trip in August, one of us came up with one bright idea. “Cape Town and the Western Cape Province. Great. But let’s go on a safari in Kruger Park!” Sounds like me, I know. So much like me but Swee’Pea worked very hard with travel agencies because he wanted our trip to be perfect. My first voyage in more than ten years.

Early October, I started freaking out. I so wanted to take the best pictures ever. So I enrolled at the Nikon School in Paris. A two days crash course where… I discovered that I knew a lot about taking pictures after all!
Now you start getting the idea about my being so silent for so long.

And I flew away. And I walked upside down for one whole month, my life a real whirlwind. And I loved it so much. It was gripping, amazing, staggering, dazzling and so sobering and fun, fun, so much fun. So much happiness too.

And I want to share it all with you. You’ll just have to be patient. You see, it is so hard to be standing on my own two feet again.

Oh, I loved it so much to be upside down.














*Good Luck, and Good Night*

Deceptive Advertising and other stories - "Look at the Little Tern"

“Look, dad, look! It is a tern. A little tern!”

The accent was definitely American. From the West, I’d say. Not that this is relevant except that all day long I had been surrounded by Dutch people. Quite natural since I was in Zeeland (Netherlands). But I was feeling rather frustrated since I do not speak nor understand Dutch.

Finally, friendly words. So much fun to understand what was being said around me.

But sorry, guys. The bird was NOT a little tern. I know, I know. I love birds a lot and throughout the years, I have become quite used to distinguish a lot of different species.

And this “little tern” was definitely a big European herring gull, the “carrion eater” that has invaded all our coastal areas to inland towns.

This one was looking triumphant indeed. People stopped by. It was not afraid. Herring gulls are used to human beings. Terns are not. They are hard to spot except when they are flying and fishing around. And indeed a very protected species.

The impostor was posing for posterity. So many people were stopping by to take its picture.

Sideways. Once.

Sideways. Twice.

Click!

One little tern because... Because it says so, so there!

Deceptive advertising. Quite a joke actually! Except for a few people who will go home very happy to have spotted a tern in Zeeland... Imagine!

That day Zeeland was a lot of fun for a storyteller.

Zeeland means “Sea land”. Land that has been won over the sea with great efforts and determination for centuries. This is a very lovely area where sea, man-made lakes and vast expanses of land meet everywhere.



Sailboats and windmills and flowers and food crops and cattle breeding and birds and birds and birds.

Zeeland is a dream place for ornithologists. It is. An excellent place of rest for migrating birds. I’ll never forget the evening when close to Tholen, I think it was, thousands of brant geese landed by us on their way from Siberia to Northern Brittany.

You can still see thousands of birds at the end of spring with their young. Lovely, lovely.

You probably remember this very interesting story by Hans Christian Andersen: “The Ugly Duckling”.

We were told the story when we were young in order to assuage our growing pains. Everyone can be transformed into a much better person and find one’s place in life after all. Sobering, wasn’t it?

 

Here is Walt Disney’s version... just for fun!

Well, in Zeeland, this beautiful story is not really truthful! I have evidence that in real life, a cygnet is raised by its parents, Mr and Mrs Swan! 

And by its parents only!

The indirect consequence being that it knows from the start that it is beautiful! And emotionally secure!

Why should we start life the hard way, experiencing rejection and inferiority complexes?

I still can’t forget my mother’s witticism she’d repeat ad nauseam. Since I was not exactly her dream daughter (none of her children ever came up to her expectations), she claimed that I was found in a dumpster. How sad for me that she was the one to find me. 

Another thing I was reminded of: “Grass is always greener on the other side of the fence” even when there are no fences. Only natural barriers. 

We stopped by a stretch of the sea not too long after entering Zeeland. So typical of the area. Sea and land so intertwined that there is nothing unusual about watching sailboats gliding along fenceless pastures where a herd of cattle grazes peacefully.

That day, some Limousin cows did find the grass greener on the other side even though they had to cross a small and shallow stretch of sea water to reach their new dream meadow which looked more like a copse than a real pasture.

So maybe it is very true that the grass is always greener elsewhere... no matter what kind of grass we’ll end up finding. This does account for our willingness to move and travel around and change course so many times in our life.

Just like those cows that eagerly crossed sea water to make their dream of greener pastures finally come true...

*Good Luck, and Good Night*

Writing Interview - Mammodouy's Way

Why do I write?

Well, I write because I like to write. I always loved writing. I spent 25 years of my life translating so writing became quite a habit. I very rarely experience the writer’s block, lucky me.

Then why do I blog? I am old enough to acknowledge that blogging can be a scary experience at first. Sharing your thoughts and your stories, most of them very, very personal, on the web. But it ends up being a lot of fun and quite a sobering experience too since throughout the years I have been able to  bond with so many people from faraway lands. Yes, sharing is important after all.


Why do I write in English?
 
I am French and I deliberately chose to write in English. My field of study was American Literature and Civilization. I also spent a few years in the United States and Canada besides working as a translator.

But the main reason I chose to express myself in English (more or less properly, I know) is subjective and healing. My faithful readers know that I am still dealing with unsolved family problems, most of them springing from a somewhat bitter and twisted mother. So when it came to writing, it had to be done in my own, personal and chosen new mother tongue, so to speak!


How do I choose the topics I end up writing about?

I usually don’t choose them. They choose me since I do not use my blog to write about everyday life.

From time to time some personal event will set up the post. Like the aftercare of a very nasty metastatic cancer or my friend’s life with Alzheimer. I try to be positive about it all and this kind of post is extremely therapeutic.

Sometimes I’ll pick up ideas from places I go to or from walks I take. My so-called “Travel Book” is more about thoughts than travel tips.

And then there are times when I get really upset about life and/or politics and/or environment. Writing posts about those irritating events/issues/subjects/worries provides quite a safe outlet.


How does my writing process work?

Being a photographer helps a lot. Most of my posts are organized around pictures. Sometimes the post is born from looking at a picture I took before I even get the idea and start writing.

Sometimes I take pictures because I know what I want to write about and I’ll need them to back up the story I will be telling sooner or later.

The following story is a great example of my writing process.

This year, we barely survived through our own “annus horribilis” while our son was confronted to an unparalleled violent perversion i.e. harassment at the work place in a faraway foreign country. The fight was hard and long. We fought gallantly and we won.

At the time (when things really took a turn for the worse) I did not feel like writing at all. I was aching all over because of all the suffering and unfairness my son was going through besides a strong feeling of helplessness, at first.

I spent a lot of time taking long walks in Brittany, all the while mulling over documents to put on the file for the lawyers, pros and cons of decisions to make and ways to sound solutions to the crisis and endless round of family/lawyers meetings on Skype.

I no longer could write except long reviews of the case and/or mails to our son and his lawyers.

And then one day while I was walking on the Ebihens (it is a 4 hours’ walk all in all), I got an idea for a post I had to put on hold until the case would be solved. So I kept going back to the island and taking pictures I knew I’d be using. I knew all along that it had to be an all-purpose summary of this wretched experience, more of a metaphor actually.

The day we heard that Swee’Pea would be flying home soon after his lawyer had finally driven his employer to reach a "proper" settlement, I sorted my pictures and started writing this post, the first one in more than six months. "Once Upon a Time - One Bogged Down Life".


What am I currently working on?

Well, right now, I am trying to find my balance again. I want to write. I feel like it again and then I am overwhelmed with all the pictures I want to tell stories with, all the thoughts I want to share and it is very hard to resume writing but this is a good start, I know, thanks to Myrna, my Canadian friend (and sister).

I am also working on a couple of projects that should lead to photography exhibits. Because I am a photographer. First and foremost.

A long time ago, I wrote a novel for young teenagers (in French). I got good and thoughtful reviews from most publishing houses I sent it to but it never got published anyway.

I filed it away but now I am thinking “Kindle” which could be a great opportunity for sharing. So I am rewriting it in English. And to tell the unabashed truth, I still like it a lot.


One last thought (because I am older than most bloggers)


I do not trust the web nor Big Brother.

I never write directly on Blogger. I write my post with Pages (yes, I am an Apple fan) and paste it on Blogger along with the pictures. Then I save the computer/typescript and the pictures in a dated and titled file on a hard disk! Do I hear “paranoia”?

Wait because there is another “one last thought” -- I am French and therefore setting great store by my personal freedom. Which is the reason why I am using a pen name and fictitious names for my family.

And yes, you are right. This is acute paranoia.







*Good Night, and Good Luck*

My Travel Book - August 15 in Brittany - Love Is Blind

This story happened quite a long time ago. Those were times when I was still using my traditional Hasselblad a lot. Hence the square pictures, my Hasselblad being a 6x6 camera.

I am sure it was the 15th of August. How can I be so sure so many years later besides the fact that I always file my pictures?

As you now know if you’ve been reading my blog, Brittany is a seafaring country. Fishermen trawling as far as Newfoundland, seamen sailing around the world, master mariners, privateers even (a very, very long time ago).

In most graveyards in Brittany, you’ll find a special plot with a couple of steles, several ceramic funeral wreaths, nothing fancy though and a cross made of driftwood (from a wreck usually). And then a few very frightening words on the cross: “Sailors lost at sea”. No names usually except on a stele and only if the whole ship was sent to the bottom with its whole crew. Something that still happens nowadays.

France claims to be very secular but most of our public holidays are based on catholic feasts. As is the case with the 15th of August. The day when the Catholic Church (and the Orthodox Churches and most Anglicans by the way) celebrates the Assumption of Mary, Mary being Jesus-Christ’s mother who "having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory” (from the official Catholic dogma).

It seems that Brittany is still staunchly Catholic even though Bretons tend to vote massively in favor of the Socialists.

Brittany is very binary, remember?

Well to get back to the subject... Every year in my village which is part rural and part sea-going (another binary feature), there is a big ceremony aimed at commemorating those men dead at sea. The parish priest goes on board of a trawler along with bereaved families. They bring a funeral wreath which they will throw overboard after it has been blessed by the priest.

Sailboats go along too.

Hopefully no accident will happen during the ceremony like the one time, a few years ago when the trawler keeled over when they threw the wreath overboard. The sea was very rough. All those taking part in the ceremony felt like checking on the wreath and rushed towards the same side all together... A couple of people drowned.

The wreath usually floats away and goes with the current and the tide and sea breeze. It ends up on a beach... usually the same one where you find the bodies of drowned persons. Sea currents and winds are very predictable after all.

Well anyway, it is a lovely small beach.

Back to my story. I was taking pictures there. I remember I was on my own.

Popeye and Sweet’ Pea were probably boating not too far away. Those were times when our boat was quite small and I’d get so scared of drowning if it were to capsize which it never did by the way. So from time to time I’d jump overboard and swim back to the beach... to safety. Which really was a stupid thing to do and never failed to upset Popeye.

I really do ramble a lot today, don’t I.

So I was taking pictures when I noticed this wreath bobbing up and down very close to the shore.

I watched it for a moment probably linking it to my fear of boating but I am also pretty sure I enjoyed the sight. Flowers riding the wavelets.

While I was deep in my reverie, one young couple came into my sightline. They were young and obviously very much in love. Maybe they were very much in love because they were so young. Well anyway... They walked straight to the water’s edge, a few feet away from the wreath.

They were so totally absorbed in their budding love that they did not notice the flowers so close to them.

They walked into the water while kissing and hugging and laughing while the wreath was getting closer and closer to the sandy beach.

And then after a short while they walked away. Where they went to, I have no idea.

They just went away.


The wreath finally landed on the sand but by then my negative had come to an end. So you’ll have to take my word for it.

Anyway a wreath bobbing on the sea can turn into a very poetical symbol. Its lying wretchedly on the sand only brings your mind back to wrecks and drowning... At least this is the way I felt at the time if my memory serves me right.

Which brings me to my conclusion at last... Love is blind. It really is.


Postscript: I really should have used this French expression for this story: “Les amoureux sont seuls au monde.” (“Lovers behave as if they are the only ones in the world.”) But I won’t start rambling again...




*Good Night, and Good Luck*

We did it!

Well, back to Brussels for a while again. I have not been around much though since my main purpose for being here is trying to get the house pleasant to live in again.

We’ve been working at it quite regularly now even though “renovating the last renovations” is not over yet. After the big flood in 2009 and very bad  renovations in 2010-11, there still are quite a few leaks here and there, and problems with plumbing and electricity. Old houses in Brussels are hard to fix once they start deteriorating - that is when your landlady does not do what’s necessary to get her house fixed once and for all... (while we still pay our rent cash on the nail).

So back to our victory over untidiness and filth!

There was a time when I became so discouraged about what our house had turned to be that I threatened Popeye never to go back there... only once in a while to get stuff and clothes. After all, I am not working in Brussels... He is. Most of the time -- whenever he’s not flying all over the world.

Threats... But I’d go back because this was our home after all. I mean, not our second home. And I’d start getting very upset because whenever Popeye would be staying there by himself... well... let’s say that he’d expand his own private kingdom, from top to bottom.

The house is quite big (and used to be rather lovely, you see). It is one of those Belgian town houses with lots of stairs. The previous owner had an apartment built over the last floor. A real apartment with a kitchenette and a mezzanine floor... (A “studio” in French!) supposedly for an au pair girl. We thought it would be just wonderful for Swee’Pea and his friends who surely would love to come and spend every week-end in Brussels... They never did actually. They were busy studying and enjoyed vacationing at Les Tertres instead.

After a while, Popeye decided it would be an excellent place where to store his guitars and amps and drums...

It was a great place to play music except that as soon as flooding problems started, Popeye had to move his stuff around and his stuff became very invading...

Those of you who are old enough to have read “Charlie Brown” probably remember a character by the name of “Pig-Pen”...

©Charles M. Schulz

Well, do not think, not for one minute, that Popeye truly is “Pig-Pen” because Popeye is always clean as a new pin. He does enjoy taking showers and he’s quite a stylish dresser...

But when it comes to tidying up, well... you remember “Pig-Pen” and his dust cloud? Popeye’s world is cluttered up with guitars and amps and music books and scores and music and guitar stands and guitar parts and guitar cases... and this world/cloud is no longer held within the studio/apartment boundaries. It overflows onto the whole house -- which is a big house... after all.

The renovation work did not help, I know but it was becoming quite frustrating because Popeye was feeling overflown, I guess. His stuff was spilling out and he no longer knew how to manage! My own Sorcerer’s Apprentice!

So I moved back to Brussels for longer periods in order to support him in his endeavour to clean up this mess. Mainly because I am a tidiness freak. Which I think arises from my unremitting fight against death... because I used to be very untidy... a long time ago that is!

At Christmas, Swee’Pea gave me a book about Feng-shui... Nice thought but it did end up turning my love of tidiness into some kind of obsessional neurosis. Just kidding.

So back to Popeye and his ever-growing guitar/amps/parts ‘dust cloud’...

We fought about it. We talked about it. We fought about it again many, many times. Then we made plans about it and we finally started to act except that when I was on my own, I was totally forbidden to keep on tidying up which was very, very frustrating...

The progress was slow, very slow until one day, not too long ago.

Suddenly, we had a goal to meet. Our Canadian “children” were flying to Brussels for us to meet our “granddaughter”. And Swee’Pea would be there too. Easter week. Time was running fast.

The ‘studio’ was in a much better shape and the clutter was slowly disappearing from the other rooms.

But now the house looked very dirty. It needed a very thorough cleaning out.

Popeye did find a cleaning lady but she was just doing some very slight cosmetic improvements. We needed to ask a cleaning firm to take over the house after so many months of renovation... Once and for all.

Which meant that we needed to make an appointment and keep to it. Which meant that poor Popeye was under a lot of pressure and stress. (He’s a very busy man too. He works a lot and travels a lot, remember.)

Two nights ago, I really doubted that we’d make it on time -- the cleaners were coming over today.

Well, guys, we did make it.

Thank goodness, our old modem died on us and our Internet connection went down yesterday morning which meant that Popeye could not spend a lot of time working on a meeting he was going to this morning. (He was not very happy about it even though I tried very hard to restore the connection to no avail. Thanx to Belgacom which did not give me the right modem. (Our ADSL line is very antiquated and they gave me the latest modem hence totally incompatible.)

And that’s the reason why very late at night, our house was finally ready to welcome the cleaning team at 9 a.m. sharp!

Popeye won’t be coming home until tomorrow night... Too bad!

The house is sparkling clean. I love it! It is tidy. It is immaculate. It smells good and fresh. I love it!

I only hope that tomorrow the phone won’t ring... to let me know that a building firm needs to come and check our roof... for the umpteenth time.

*Good Luck, and Good Night*

Roses on the Beach

Yesterday, our first walk on the beach was noticeably short. Very depressing indeed. After so much work in Belgium, we had been dreaming about resuming our long walks on the beach in Brittany. We were hoping for sunny skies and fair weather.

There we were, battling with a very wintery Northern wind. The sky was awfully grey and the cold was extreme (for Brittany and the beginning of March that is...). I know, I know. I am being terribly unreasonable there and quite ridiculous too.

When we woke up this morning, it was still very cold and foggy. But the weather report was hinting about a warming up as early as noon. A sunny afternoon, so they said.

Well, we had to wait until 1 p.m. But the sun did come out of hiding and we rushed to take a walk right away even though Popeye was supposed to go back to Belgium in the early afternoon.

There it was. Our beloved beach looking so cheerful. There is nothing better than a ray of sun to brighten your day after all. Even though a not so nice east wind was a bit chilly. The sun was shining at last... for the first time in more than three weeks, at least as far as we were concerned.

We started our walk as usual, straight towards the water’s edge. The tide had been ebbing for the last couple of hours.

We were half way to the shore when we stumbled upon the unexpected... Roses planted out in the sand... Seven of them. Whoever had done this knew etiquette. Odd numbers... (Unless we are talking about one or three dozen!) At least in France in olden times.

A long line of roses facing the sea.

Real roses. Beautiful roses shooting up from the sand.

Now who could have done this less than an hour before, right when the sea started to go out?

Could love be strong enough to drive someone to believe that roses would grow in salty wet sand because all sorts of miracles happen, don’t they?

Were those roses paying a tribute to some very special and precious person or some happy event maybe? Did they symbolize an offering to life? To love? To happiness?

The marine gardener could have put them down together on a rock like a beautiful bouquet but he or she did not.

The roses were planted in a line. Why? Were they pointing out some thread that the uninitiated would never see nor grasp?

Why were they left there with no one to watch over them? Were the very few people out for a Sunday walk on the beach supposed to pick them?

Everybody was walking around them, very carefully. We heard a few remarks. People were thoroughly mystified.

And then we realized that they were there for us to be filled with wonder.

The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. There are good days and bad days. 

 

This was the perfect day when roses could and would grow from a golden sandy beach.

*Good Luck, and Good Night*

My son never was an astrologer. He is an astronomer, thank you.

I imagine you do remember December 21, 2012.

Who doesn’t? Well, of course, it was the day Winter officially started in the Northern Hemisphere. It also was the day Summer started in the Southern Hemisphere!

For many, many people, it was a dreaded day all over the world. Yes. Now you remember! The so-called Mayan predicted end of the world... I won’t start again on one of the biggest hoaxes we lived through last year.

It could have been very funny but so many people were so afraid and so sure that the end of the world had come that it was pitiful.

I know it was getting on my nerves a lot because this is all you heard or read about for quite a long time... and not only in France nor Belgium.

My sister lives in Southern France and she called me early December... It must be said in her defense that people were trying to hide in a village not very far from where she lives, a place that was supposed to be protected from all evil. Well, stranger things have happened in France, you know!

Don’t get me wrong. I am not implying that she really believed that the end of the world was getting close. But I have to admit that I cringed when she asked me this question.

“Your son is an astronomer. He’s working for NASA. Was he told something specific about December 21?”

One long sigh.

“I guess he wouldn’t be able to say anything to anyone, would he?”

Well, my dear sister, how wrong you were!

Because actually, my son, Jean-Christophe aka Swee’Pea had said quite a few things about the ‘2012’ scare. And where? On TV! Wow.

Now you are hooked, aren’t you? 

I was when I heard the quite hilarious story as told by my beloved and only son, the astrologer. Oops, I did mean the astronomer! Just kidding! (So many people do make this mistake though!)


Swee’Pea’s job with NASA involved going to Chile where he’d spend a few nights at La Silla Observatory from time to time, analyzing directly data from far-away galaxies. Hard to work all night long... I know! But if you think that he was observing them from space telescopes below starry skies, you are wrong. His observing and analyzing were done on computers down below in windowless rooms!

Every time he’d go to Chile, he’d spend a couple of days traveling around though. Tit for tat!

Swee’Pea loves T-shirts. He buys them all over the world... (Being an astronomer can be fun too.)

Which brings me back to 2012 and to the end of the world. Did you think I had forgotten all about December 21?

You see, it was a beautiful sunny day in California. Early October I think it was... but so sunny outside that he went to work wearing a T-shirt. Not just any kind of T-shirt though. A T-shirt he had bought a few months before in Chile. A kind of worn-out T-shirt still sporting a Chilean flag.

There he was, going to work when a beautiful young woman came up to him...

“You are Chilean, aren’t you?” His Spanish was good enough to understand this kind of question... but he then switched rapidly to English and told the girl about being French and working at La Silla from time to time, et cætera, et cætera...

Well, the beautiful girl was a TV reporter from Chile, hoping to find a genuine Chilean astronomer on campus, ready to expound the scientific issues concerning the so-called Mayan calendar and the end of the world!

Swee’Pea knew quite a few genuine Chilean astrophysicists, all of them living and working in Chile though. He gave their names and whereabouts to the girl who was overjoyed, of course! Imagine, being able to get in touch with Chilean astronomers, just like that - by meeting a nice French guy at Caltech!

You’d think that she could have done some research beforehand. But anyway she had a meeting planned with a very important NASA astronomer at Caltech, a few minutes later... (Someone who would be wearing a suit and a tie by the way!)

I imagine she did not want to be rude and dismissive after getting so much help so she asked our son a few questions about the ‘end of the world’ which he answered very gracefully. Have I mentioned that the reporter was very pretty? I think I did.

Swee’Pea enjoyed being asked questions and being filmed of course... but he forgot all about it very quickly. He did not even mentioned it when we skyped a couple of days later!

In December, his friend Alessandro (whom he’s known for a very long time - ever since they both were working on their PhD in Paris) went to Chile to get some data on another project. Alessandro is an Italian astronomer working for NASA too. (I think. Well, I know he’s Italian, that’s for sure.)

One morning, Alessandro comes up quite early from the depths of the Observatory. It’s breakfast time. He’s very, very tired and longs to go to bed but the TV is on and the show is about Chilean astrophysicists he knows very well. And guess what they are talking about?

And all of a sudden, there he is! Swee’Pea! Swee’Pea's on TV...

And Swee’Pea's talking about a possible danger astronomers are well aware of: asteroids in the remote future.

And Swee’Pea's explaining that what’s going on about the Mayan calendar is nothing else but an urban legend and that people get a kick out of being scared... It probably keeps them from thinking about more serious and very authentic problems.

Well, Alessandro is truly flabbergasted. Swee’Pea never mentioned to him nor to his other friends in Pasadena meeting the Chilean TV crew on campus, not once. You see, he never thought he’d make it in the documentary when some very distinguished Chilean astronomers were supposed to be interviewed.

And what about the French touch (wearing a Chilean T-shirt), Swee’Pea?

By then our son had flown back to France, getting ready and waiting for his work permit to come through for his next assignment.

We were together when he heard the news from Alessandro who also sent the link to the program! We did have a lot of fun watching it on my computer... Very interesting by the way. I downloaded it... This, my friends, will be a classic!

And this is how I was able to tell my sister all about my son who never was an astrologer and therefore could not predict the end of the world... My son, the astronomer, was able to express a few scientific ideas about a very real urban legend.

In January 2013, humans are still alive for better or for worse depending on which part of the world they live in but the end of the world never happened after all.

One of these days, another story will spread and another one and another one because this is what people love to feed on - urban legends.

I do not care. My son is an astronomer, thank you.







*Good Luck, and Good Night*

Sun, Where Art Thou?

I am spending a few more days in Paris since our son finally landed there from Los Angeles on his way to... (This is his story after all.)

He had been living in California for the past three years. He did land in Paris at the worst time ever... for him, not for me because I am very happy to get to spend some time with him after all those years he’s been away... Five years actually. And before he flies away again to faraway lands as usual.

Ok, this is not a post about the loneliness of a mother because I do not feel lonely and I am pretty happy I have raised a son who is happy to live and travel all over the world.

No, this is a post about “the worst time ever”. Why do I choose to use such a drastic stock phrase... The worst time ever!

Well, I was hoping that this year would be a lot like last year... No real winter except from time to time and only for the shortest time!

Swee’Pea landed in Roissy some time during the last week of November.

The weather had been so sunny and nice almost all the time for the longest time... even in Brussels. We had enjoyed a lot of wonderful rainbows in Brittany which meant that even though it rained from time to time, the sun did shine a lot!

The very week I was expecting my men to fly back from California, the nice and bearable Fall weather suddenly took a turn for the worse... Winter was there, everywhere... in Brussels and in Paris!

No snow but very ugly and distressful grey skies bringing a lot of cold weather and chilly winds all over France and Belgium.

Well, we are not living in California. What do you expect early December in Northern Europe? A miracle, I know.

I am so used to dreary weather that the only thing that bothers me is the shortening of the days...

I did know that Swee’Pea who has always hated wintry weather would have the hardest time to get adjusted to the Parisian December weather... But add wintertime to jetlag and you get quite an explosive mixture!

I have been staying with him and every day brings its share of surprises!

Which are not really surprises after all...

“I am so cold, mom. I am so cold!” Well, is 42°F to 50°F this cold? 

Let me reassure you, we enjoy a rather mild temperature in the apartment after all. 50°F is outside! 

(And then I made sure not to remind him that last week, his roommates had turned the air conditioning on in their house... I hate air conditioning! So cold!)

Yesterday was quite sunny, if I remember right. At least, we had rays of sun shining down on the building for quite a long time. We spent the whole day with the lights on though... When I pointed the sunbeams, he said: “But it is so cold, mom.”

Great answer. The center light did substitute to summer sunny days, I imagine.

This morning, he left very early to go visit a friend in Germany. To go there, upon hearing that they had been having a lot of snow there, he packed part of his snowboarding equipment... not to go snowboarding but to make sure he’d be warm!

I did think we were having a problem there but tonight on my way out of the building, I met one of the neighbors...

The day had been cloudy alright but not this cold after all. The snow they had forecasted (safety-first principle) never really hit inner Paris. It rained instead and it was much less cold than anticipated.

I had been shopping earlier and I had felt much too warm in my down jacket...

“Watch out,” said the neighbor on his way to the elevator. “It is awfully cold out there.”

I smiled a warm thank you and refrained from telling him that I had been outside already and that it was not this “awfully cold”. But it sure was dark and cloudy outside.

On my way to the bakery, I couldn’t help thinking about the past week and this last remark. Actually what we need here is a bright sun shining over Paris. It will bring quite a chill, of course since we are getting close to mid-December. But it will be sunny outside.

We need light. I have heard so many people say again and again: “Oh, what a beautiful day...” It is actually freezing. It is really, really cold but the sky is blue and the sun is shining.

Winter is so much all about lack of sun and darkness after all and our ancestors spent so much time fearing this very gloom. “The sky is going to fall over our heads,” they kept saying.

I may be wrong but I doubt that this complaint was heard during the summer months.








*Good Luck, and Good Night*

"Scary Sandy" and Associates

Brittany has been beaten so many times by really bad storms and the like. It has been shattered, smashed to smithereens, crushed, ravaged so many, many times, both inland, in its coastal areas and at sea.

And now hurricanes, ever since 1987... (We just ‘celebrated’ the 25th anniversary of our first hurricane.)

We usually do not remember the names of the hurricanes. The years, yes... And every time , we talk about the ‘tempest of the century’... knowing very well that next year or one year from now, maybe two or five, another one will come, even more forceful and scarier.

And no one knows when it will happen again. It usually comes from the Atlantic Ocean which means our western border or sometimes from the south-west. (Those winds never fail to surprise the old people in Brittany.)

To tell the truth, hurricanes are fairly new in our history. We were used to wild squalls, terribly strong winds that could totally wreck houses and boats and woods, of course. But here and there. Several houses in a village. A few boats in one harbor.

We are learning to live with hurricanes with eyes and paths and whose track may destroy a huge part of a region and a country.

In 1999, I remember taking walks and drives throughout our area and realizing that there really was a straight path where havoc had been wreaked, leaving places on both sides totally undamaged.

Les Tertres had been badly hit just like our friend Bernard’s farm because they were on Lothar’s path. Our ‘neighbors’ were safe and sound. Fortunately, I’d say. Because this is the sort of fate you don’t wish on anybody.

High winds and squalls and strong gusts are so usual in Brittany that you know how to live with them. Even when it is blowing a gale, bringing trees down or slates, creating a few electricity shortages from time to time... You learn to live with winds that blow for several days and nights sometimes up to 70 miles/hr and over.

It is exhausting because it is so terribly noisy but you live through it because Brittany is windy, always windy. Some days more than others.

But a hurricane is quite something else.


For days now, ever since “Sandy” hit the Caribbean Sea and was said to go straight to New York, I have felt very distressed. I am always very worried whenever a hurricane wreaks havoc somewhere in the world. Because I’ve been there. I know how terrifying it can be and how dreadful it is bound to be for thousands and thousands of people.

Nature will bounce back. It always has.

But people will remain traumatized for a long time... not only because they have lost a lot but because it is so hard to face a severe hurricane. Frayed nerves at a minimum. More like PTSD though.

No wonder our ancestors were living in caves, usually well above the sea or the river level... I imagine that it took a few generations though to get to the point where it was much better to live above water level than below. Those were times when their only fear was that the sky would literally fall in and kill them. But since it was their one and only fear, their life was not any easier than ours. They probably spent an awful amount of time looking up.

Nowadays, we watch tv. We listen to the radio and we read newspapers.

Our lives are more overcrowded with mundane (and yet so important for us) concerns. And most of us live in cities where destruction will be a hundred (a thousand) times more important than it would have been in a desert... Well, cities versus desert... Maybe not to be compared but you understand what I mean, don’t you?

Conurbations brew disaster.

In 1987, Brittany was hit by a hurricane. It caused a lot of damage. But not this much when you think about it.

But in 1999, after hitting Brittany, the hurricane carried on till it struck Paris and the destruction was huge even though “Lothar” had somewhat weakened.

My anxious thoughts have been turning towards all the people who have been living through this terrible ordeal, from the Caribbean Sea to the American Eastern Coast, a few days ago and right now.

In Brittany, the wind has been blowing steadfastly but there has been no sudden silence and then no huge, terrifying crash like whatever happened on December 26, 1999... It’s windy, just windy.

“They” have been saying that we are bound to live through many hurricanes to come because of global warming. “They”, being scientists and green activists. But those are environmental issues that are obviously best left aside by our leaders considering our economy problems...

Then the well-known proverb will prove to be true... “He who sows the wind shall reap the whirlwind.”

That’s a great comfort, I know!

Unfortunately...





*Good Luck to all of you, and Good Night, I hope*...

I am back and on my way. But somehow 2011 slipped away...

In 2011, mankind went through high hopes and despair, revolutions and repression, peace and wars, disasters of all kinds.

I spent most of the year glued to the news before truly realizing that I had no power whatsoever over things and I guess this is how I finally became a grown-up. Sad, I know. Sensible... I hate being sensible.

In our inner circle, things went crazy from time to time, oscillating between pure bliss and grief, grief and pure bliss or mere happiness which is so wonderful to start with.
 
This year, we attended one wedding and two funerals. Three babies were born not too long ago and three are to come in 2012 and they do count in my statistics because they all were conceived in 2011.

Oh and yes, Swee’ Pea’s dear old cat died. Our Byerly.

Going to a wedding was pure bliss...
 
This year, the Ankou was not idle around Les Tertres. I hate funerals. I hate goodbyes.

The babies are yet to be met. Twins (one girl, Victoire and one boy, Titouan) and another baby girl, Sofia. They are beautiful, of course. Have you ever seen an ugly baby?

My life took a new turn, this year. I have been feeling good enough to start travelling.

For those past 8 years, going away meant going to Les Tertres, which was not bad, not bad at all... I always felt so happy there that I never thought I’d go somewhere else. I did dream of travelling to far and distant lands though... You can’t help dreaming about going round the world when you spend most of your life watching the sea from your home.

Well, you are going to laugh... I have not been round the world yet but I did leave Les Tertres...

Madrid, Barcelona (Spain), my old village down South (Southern France) and Carcassonne and many places long forgotten, then Montreal - Quite amazing... Three days in Montreal for our dear Marc-Antoine and Marie-Claude’s wedding... Three days - Paris/Montreal/Paris and I survived. I loved it!


Then last but not least, five wonderful days in Venezia, Italy. We got there very early on the 30th of December 2011 and left very late on the 3rd of January 2012. What a wonderful transition!

The future is promising! Watch out, a very adventurous Olive is on her way and nothing will restrain her.

Next stop? Probably India... Or the Galapagos... Or Rome... Or New York... Any idea?



I wish you all a very Happy New Year and I do hope that we will run into each other one of these days.


«Hi. I’m Olive. Je m’appelle Olive. Me llamo Olive. Mi chiamo Olive...» Ok... there still is talking with my hands and I am pretty good at talking anyway.


Remember? I am the «Storyteller». Oops. Guess I'll have to resume my storytelling too!




*Good Luck, and Good Night*

Do You Like to Be Alone? I Do. A Lot.

Who knows what this beautiful girl was thinking about? (Believe me. She was beautiful.)

She also was very much alone amidst so many people on the beach. She did not look sad nor lost. She was looking at the sea and she was dreaming. Period.

The weather was delightful. Very warm. 5:00 p.m. On the 23rd of October. Quite wonderful, I know.

I was feeling elated when we started our walk on the beach. We were having such a nice time in Barcelona.

Those past few months, Popeye has been going through real bad times and he was getting ready to brave even worse weather.

Barcelona was such a peaceful touchdown for us. We had one whole week-end to try to get our breath and to restore our inner strength. Together.

Barcelona was an excellent choice. Popeye has been there quite a lot ever since it started changing into a very modern, huge, wealthy and ebullient city. The last time I had been to Barcelona? Oh well... Swee’ Pea was 5. So let’s say more than 25 years...

At the time, Barcelona was a little bit dreary. It was a port more than a city. I remember visiting the Miró museum and Gaudi’s Park Güell and Sagrada Familia...

Popeye loves Barcelona and of course I fell in love with the new Barcelona. We did a lot of things in the few hours we were to spend there together. It was fun and delightful. We walked around a lot which for us is mandatory to get to know a city. 

Quite late on Sunday afternoon, we decided to go take a walk on the beach after a storm.

This is when and where I noticed this beautiful girl, so lost in reverie  that she was totally oblivious to people around her.

I still had not really made up my mind about what I’d be doing during the following week while Popeye would be attending a seminar a few hours away (by car) from Barcelona.

I was supposed to fly back to Paris and then go to Brussels... and all of a sudden, the answer was loud and clear. I was going to stay in Barcelona, by myself. In a city where I did not know one single person. In a city I did not know my way around...

You see, I am a lot like the girl on the beach. I love being around people but I need to be totally on my own from time to time. When I saw her, she reminded so much of my own life.

I like loneliness. I have to, of course. My husband is away a lot. But after spending so many years in my beloved Tertres, I know I love to be alone without feeling lonely. Actually I love being on my own. Maybe because I know it won’t last too much... From one to three/four weeks at the most.

I am so used to being on my own that I get through life quite easily. Just like the girl on the beach, I can spend hours just watching the sea (when in Brittany). Lucky me with enough time on my hands to waste a few hours doing nothing else but watching and dreaming.

Except that I do not feel I am wasting my time. Something new and usually great, something interesting anyway comes out from those moments of intense loneliness. It always does. Ideas. Projects. Decisions.

All of which would not have come through nor to my mind in the hustle and bustle of my daily life. My normal daily life, I mean. The life with my husband, my son or my friends.

Of course, being alone because one’s husband or wife is away or gone is totally different from choosing to be alone because one needs to be completely alone.

I hope the girl on the beach was lonely because it was her choice. All of a sudden, it hits me. Maybe she was downright lonely and unhappy.

Well, tonight, all by myself at Les Tertres, I am not lonely nor unhappy. I do need time to be on my own. Lots of things to do, lots of things worth thinking about, lots of books to read... Lots of freedom!


Some people need their beauty sleep. I need my beauty loneliness, I guess.







*Good Luck, and Good Night*