Tag Archives: Arts

Storms in Brittany

A storm at Pors-Loubous, Plogoff, Finistère, F...

A storm at Pors-Loubous, Plogoff, Finistère, France Français : Pors-Loubous (Commune de Plogoff, Finistère) un jour de tempête 日本語: フランス、 フィニステール県、Plogoff、Pors-Loubousの嵐 Português: Uma tempestade em Pors-Loubous, Plogoff, Finistère, França (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

I vividly remember standing on the rocky coastline of Brittany, near the small village of Penmarch in France’s Brittany region, and watching the wildest surf possible come in and strike the outcrops, dashing them again and again. It was a blast for a fourteen-year-old!

 

 

 

The first couple of times it happened, my mother and I were flabbergasted! We couldn’t believe our eyes. The cliffs were at least thirty feet high and still the waves hit the tops of them.

 

Balade dominicale....

Balade dominicale…. (Photo credit: Laurentquinquis *Lolo*)

 

My memory is embalmed with the smell and taste of the salt as the water lashed my face. And the lighthouse! Oh, the lighthouse…shining its thunderous beam through the mist. Its rotations, calm and orderly, provided  soothing and beautifully surreal feature to mother nature.

 

 

 

Eventually, we learned to adjust to the weather. But we never ceased to enjoy it and often a drive to the beach was in order. Wind would blow in our face and we’d lick the salt off our lips. What a time. Our journey would often take us out to the headland.

 

 

 

Memories like these make me happy to write on the blog. They are precious and are rarely encountered on somebody my age. I look back on them and realise that, whether it is the icy wind that slices through you in Norway or the allures of the Indian Ocean, travelling is a great pastime.

 

 

 

Well, if anyone feels like having a go at learning to speak French and shift geographical locations, then come here. You’ll love it!

 

 

 

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All the King’s Men

Stockholm, Sweden 073 - Early morning - Royal ...

Stockholm, Sweden 073 – Early morning – Royal Guard at the Stockholm Palace (Photo credit: Claudio.Ar)

Late August in Stockholm. How about that? How about seeing the Palace Guards? If you go to the city, then you have the chance to experience that privilege. Although, you’d best be warned. DO NOT touch anything beyond the guard rail. If you do, it will be on pain of death.

That was what a young man tried to do during the ensemble before the changing of the guards the day we were there. The guards, a magnificent sight in their gold pickelhaube helmets with screaming sky blue trousers, will make their intentions very clear and bark at anyone who trespasses.

Stockholm, Sweden 068 - Royal Guard at the Sto...

Stockholm, Sweden 068 – Royal Guard at the Stockholm Palace (Photo credit: Claudio.Ar)

This particular individual reached across the flimsy rail and had the nerve to touch a cannon that lined the main path to the palace entrance. I did not see this.

What I did see, however, was the guard who briskly marched toward the scene of the incident and yelled “UT!”, waving his hand in the air and brandishing a heavy-duty rifle! Lesson well-learned, not that I needed to.

Afterwards, the changing of the guard happened and we were subject to a wonderful display. The Marines that were taking over from them put on a fantastic march.

Marvellous people with kind and helpful hearts inhabit the city that will leave its charm lingering in your memory forever.

What more could be said about this dreamy fairytale land other than we had a lovely, joyous time in the Swedish capital and it was the experience of a lifetime!

Buses Don’t Run On Sundays

Copenhagen Central Station

Copenhagen Central Station (Photo credit: Airelle.info)

So, as I stand there, in Copenhagen’s central square, looking at the bus timetable, I realise, while supressing the rising panic in me, that the “Sunday” column is empty. Oh dear. That’s not good. Especially when your flight is that evening. I had to be at Malmo airport by nine fifteen that night. I was in it deep. So I call my mother and leave a message of the trouble that I am in.

I decide to head for the train station and see if there is a train to Malmo. There is. I can breathe again. I hop on the next possible one. As I recall, it left around six in the evening and the journey lasted about an hour. So I get to Malmo central station and glance briefly, while hurrying to the bus stop, at the city around me. Quite a pretty centre.

Malmo Central Station

Malmo Central Station (Photo credit: khoogheem)

Eventually, I catch a bus headed for the airport around eight o’clock. It got in at eight fifty. Jut under an hour before my flight. No time to lose. Check in. Then head for the gate. Walk. Quickly, now! Ok, we’ve made it. That was a close one.

Ryanair

Ryanair (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

My mother was furious with me for having sent a message like that and not calling back to say I was alright. “No”, I told everyone when I got back, “I wasn’t arrested”.