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Fire In The Night In France

Les Pompiers arrived before midnight — 3 large firetrucks and 2 smaller vans — with approximately 18-24 firemen and 2 gendarmes. Such a frightening event on the night of Solstice and it could have had an even more devastating results. Thank heavens for their prompt response.
 

Firemen on the job in Moyon, France


 
We are in Normandy right now staying in one of the two stone gites (cottages) that the owner Polly has created out of old stone barns on the property. Polly and her two young daughters are across the Channel in England and we have been looking after her 2 dogs, 3 cats, and the cluster of buildings.

Shortly after 11:30 PM last night, we went upstairs to bed and Mark was already deeply asleep as I slid under the duvet. But something was wrong. I had gone to bed feeling quite uneasy after thinking I heard someone crunching around on the gravel outside. I realise now that what I had heard was the crackling as the fire took hold. And I can just about pinpoint when the fire really gained momentum because a few minutes after 11 PM, the wifi went off here in our gite. The power stayed on in the gites and the barn next door because we are on a separate power box, but the wifi was being broadcast from the big house.

I was just about to put my earplugs in and go to sleep when something made me hesitate. I held my breath and listened intently and within a minute I heard several loud booms. I shook Mark again and again quite briskly to rouse him from that deep slumber and told him that I thought someone was breaking into the gite next door. He listened as we both heard another loud boom and his feet hit the floor, he quickly slipped into his clothes, and I told him to be very, very careful. I put my robe and slippers on and was part of the way down the stairs when he came storming back through the door screaming, “The big house is on fire!”

I raced out after him into the pitch black night and as soon as I came around the corner of the large stone house, I could see an eerie orange glow lighting up the night. I stood there in the dark sobbing angrily because my British-based mobile phone wouldn’t go through to the fire department as Mark ran across the field to the farmer’s house on the next property, pounded on the door, and somehow communicated to the couple that the house was on fire and they needed to call the fire department. The wife understood what he was saying because, blessedly, she spoke a tiny bit of English.

As Mark was cutting back across the fields between the properties, he stumbled into an electrical fence and got a strong jolt. So he is dreadfully sore and aching today. And I abruptly stopped crying, ran back into the gite and upstairs, threw on some clothes, and began packing our rather large quantity of cameras, electronics and clothing in case the fire jumped the roof and our gite became engulfed in flames. Then we both went outside and stood with the neighbours, waiting for what seemed like a very long time before the first response crew arrived, and then watching the blue lights coming down the road, the courtyard fill with large red trucks, and men begin unfolding water hoses and spraying the house with soap saturated water.
 

Firemen tearing out the burning roof rafters


 

Firemen cutting out roof rafters with chainsaw whilst dousing roof with water


 
The wonderful farmer and his wife from next door bundled up in warm jackets and brought over coffee, plastic cups, and cubes of sugar to serve the firemen. We went into the gite, figured out how to use the drip coffeemaker since we normally use a stove-top Italian coffee maker for our own daily use, and we took a second pot of coffee and a bottle of milk outside for top-ups for les pompiers.
 

Neighbours with coffee for the firemen


 
It was almost 3 in the morning before the wonderfully efficient firemen finished their last walk through of the house, rolled up their hoses, and went home to their own warm beds. We are so grateful for their prompt response and their thoroughness in staying until every last place, both upstairs and downstairs and inside and outside, had been checked and rechecked. Mark asked if they were all volunteers and the farmer’s wife said yes — they were. How astonishing to see such a large turnout on that winter night from men who gave freely of their time and effort because they felt compelled to give back to their own community.
 

Exhausted firemen rolling up the hoses just before 3 AM


 
Here are shots of the damage that I took a couple of hours ago. We have heard from the firemen that the fire was within inches — INCHES — of entering the main house. It’s a huge place with lots of very flammable timber beams and it would have raced through there at lightening speed.
 

Burned out storeroom and collapsed roofline


 

The gutted storeroom & garage directly attached to the house


 
We are feeling quite shaky today, rather fragile to be truthful, but oh so grateful that we were here. The house would have burned to the ground if no one had called it in — and the farmer’s wife told me that they were watching television and had the volume on so high that they never even heard the sound of the crackling timber and the exploding bottles of champagne and chutney.

The fire chief told me that even a few more minutes would have meant that they couldn’t save the house since the storeroom and the garage were hard up against the main body of the house. And thank god/goddess/universe/whatever that the HUGE gas tank on the other side of the garage didn’t explode from the heat and flames! Mark said that when one of the firemen saw it, he looked quite startled and told Mark to move away quickly.

Just minutes before the firemen arrived last night, I briefly stepped inside the entry hall since I knew that the dogs were outside and Mark had safely locked them in the other gite. But as I peered into the smoke filled hallway to see if any of the cats were there, I looked to the left and the pet door was glowing with a bright orange light behind it from the roaring flames on the other side. It made me go weak at the knees momentarily and I hastily went back outside. The pet door melted and is completely missing and we are completely agog that the flames didn’t get sucked into the house.
 

Pet door where flames could have been sucked into the house -- but weren't!


 
These shots below show you just how large and lovely the main house is. And in the second photo you can see the yet-to-be-rendered side wall of our gite with that vulnerable timber in the upper section. All of that would have been awash in flames quite quickly if the main house had caught fire, so I was quite correct to begin packing in case we needed to make a speedy exit.
 

Polly's house -- still intact


 

Front view of Polly's house with vulnerable gite end visible


 
We laugh rather often about my ‘beagle senses’ of smell and hearing and I know that it is sometimes annoying when I hear things or smell things that no one else notices until I point them out. This was an instance where I was thrilled to have both heightened physical senses and a strong psychic sense that had been telling me for days that something was not quite right.

The house is intact even if it smells eerily of smoke and all 3 cats and 2 dogs are alive and well.

Blessings abound — and we are grateful!

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Head Down and Hammering Away

Head down and hammering away has a dual meaning this week. I’ve been head down and hammering away on the keyboard as I worked and head down as the rain and ice hammered away each time I left the house. Thus, I haven’t had much spare time during the last week and my apologies for the lack of posts. But between moving from the beach house in Brehal to a charming stone cottage in Moyon a few days ago and my other ‘tasks’ — it would appear that I’ve been remiss in posting online.

The rain here in Normandy has been a daily event for over two full weeks. This precipitation might be making the farmers and the people who monitor the levels of the aquifers thrilled, but it has spoiled any chance that I’ve had for splendid daytime photographs in this most charming part of France. Atmospheric photos of glossy-rainy reflections are one thing, but exposing my Nikons to gale force winds and horizontal rain mixed with chunky hail is quite another thing altogether!

I’ve managed to get in some good writing time this week on the new travel book though, so yes, progress of some kind has been made even if there is no photo documentation of that. And I’m researching the idea of producing this next book only in e-book format instead of the traditional print version plus e-book. Now that Kindles and iPads are so popular, it seems like a logical next step.

I’ll post more information about the book as it unfolds. And have a happy lead-up-to-Christmas week, everyone!

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Rainy Sunday At Brehal

Normandy beaches in winter may not always be as gray and rainy as our last week here has been in Brehal on the Atlantic coast of France, but it’s definitely the kind of weather that makes you want to stay dry, cook, and work on some sort of project.

This small video expresses those sentiments on this early December weekend. Just a tiny bit of warning, these videos sometimes take awhile to load if you have a slow connection, so be patient!
 


 
I’ve been craving something home baked for several weeks and these bananas needed to be rescued before they ‘expired’ altogether!
 

Overripe bananas about to be turned into banana nut bread


 
Feeling the need to actually get up and move around after sitting still all day with the computer in front of me, onto the internet I went to search for a recipe for banana nut bread.
 

 
The result? The gas mark on the oven was a bit off (I checked at a gas mark to fahrenheit conversion site and I had actually chosen the correct option with Gas Mark 5 = 375 degrees) and it got a bit too brown a bit too quickly. But yes, it tasted perfectly lovely. Yum!
 

Banana nut bread baked in our beach house in Brehal, Normandy, France


 

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Bombs Are Still A Serious Business in Germany

Today’s Washington Post contains an article stating that 45,000 residents of Koblenz are being evacuated from their homes as bomb disposal squads disarm one massive unexploded bomb lying alongside another, smaller unexploded bomb. Both of these war time relics were recently discovered wedged in the banks of the Rhine River when the waterline fell to a record low level.

Several months ago, we were walking through suburban Hannover when we spotted this van in the street. Since Germany was so heavily bombed by the allies during World War II, bomb inspection units still need to be called when any excavation is planned for utilities such as water lines or gas lines. And one friend in Germany told us that the basements of houses in Germany are never built until the area has been certified bomb free.
 

Munition van on the streets of Hannover. Germany searching for unexploded WW II bombs


 

I’ve mentioned in past articles that World War II is still a living, breathing fact-of-life here in Europe and friends have frequently had their own episodes of discovering remnants of that war in their own back gardens or in the walls of their homes as they began renovations. Today’s Washington Post article just reminds us yet again that the actions of our predecessors generations ago still echo solidly through our contemporary time period. Although we might be temporarily inconvenienced, it is barely fathomable in our present mindset to even try and imagine what it would be like to live a day to day life with bombs dropping on our heads.

Our parents’ and grandparents’ generations would have known those sensations of impermanence quite intimately.

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Stone Cold Ferocious

The stunning Notre Dame de Bayeux or Bayeux Cathedral in the Normandy region of France is a medieval masterpiece with a heavily ornamented exterior.

Amongst the elaborate gargoyles and grotesques that are liberally sprinkled on the surface are these ferocious stone dog-like creatures — forever glaring outward in a sinister manner. Although some of the similarly shaped carvings along the roofline appear to be true gargoyles that transport water into the downspouts, these examples seen below are instead known as grotesques, not gargoyles, and I discovered them on the side of the cathedral closest to the grassy square.

The common interpretation for the usage of this type of imagery is that the ordinary citizen of the medieval world was unlikely to be educated, therefore simple lessons were often told quite effectively ‘in stone’ via images and sculpture. Previous spiritual beliefs in the pre-Christian world embraced the concept of monsters and demons or spirits that could be capriciously good or evil. In the case of these types of ferocious stone carvings, it was believed that they would stand guard over the church and its ‘good people’ and protect them from the intrusion of dark forces.
 

Ferocious stone creature on the side of the Bayeux Cathedral in Normandy, France


 

Ferocious stone creature on the side of the Bayeux Cathedral in Normandy, France


 

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Photo Of The Day: Attack On All Fronts

Here’s another example of the vintage posters from World War II that are on display at the Caen Memorial Museum in Normandy, France.
 

Attack On All Fronts vintage Canadian World War II poster at Caen Memorial Museum in Normandy, France


 
This strikingly diagonal 3 person image from 1943 summoned up a spirit of patriotism and reminded the Canadian public that the war was fought on the home front as well as the front lines of the battlegrounds.

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Choucroute Soiree in Normandy, France

Posh food? Not really. Sophisticated music? Not really. An entire Friday night of fun in France? Absolutely!

We’ve met some lovely people as we’ve travelled through France this year and those include our friends Marian and her husband Fred in the Calvados region of Normandy. A few weeks ago we were invited along to a village ‘do’ in Sept-Vents and Marian told us to expect a lively evening. She certainly wasn’t exaggerating.

The food was choucroute, a French version of sauerkraut and pork with potatoes — and along with the starters, wine, and dessert, it was quite a hearty meal and well worth the €15 per person since there was entertainment to follow. The picture below is of my own plate after I had smeared the tops of the sausages with a punchy Dijon mustard.
 

Choucroute dinner at a soiree in Sept-Vents, Calvados in Normandy, France


 
Almost everyone at our table spoke only French, but they were charming to us and Marian translated when necessary. The highlight of the evening arrived rather late though and it was well after 9 PM when the musicians finally began to play. What a surprise was in store.
 

Marian and Fred at the Choucroute Soiree in Sept-Vents, Calvados in Normandy, France


 
Country music — Billy Ray Cyrus “Achey-Breaky-Heart” style American country music — and the hundreds of people there all seemed to know the words by heart! Slowly at first and then gaining pace, people rose from the tables and flowed onto the dance floor to do the Texas Two Step, the Boot Scoot Boogie, or plain old line dancing.
 

American style country line dancing in the French countryside of Normandy


 
We were flabbergasted at finding this hard-core group of country music enthusiasts in rural Normandy, but then again, these were all country folks — farmers and truck drivers and people who worked in tiny village shops. I guess for some people country music transcends national boundaries.

Next we heard Celtic music coming from the stage and the country dancing morphed into Celtic circle dancing. From young to old, the floor was packed with smiling faces. And didn’t they let their hair down and dance, dance, dance the night away. From new-style country music and movement to old-world traditional country songs and dancing, it was an evening that we will never forget.
 

Celtic circle dancing at a Choucroute Soiree in Normandy, France


 
Even if you are travelling in a country where you have little ability to speak the local language, I’d like to gently suggest that you try to get past your anxiety about the language barrier and go out with the locals as you travel overseas. You’ll soon see how friendly and welcoming people can be, especially in the smaller towns and villages where a smiling face and some hand gestures along with a lot of please and thank you in the local dialect can get you a very long way.
 
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