The internet has been down, which is screwing up my posting schedule, so I’ve been forced to combine posts for a rather large read; my apologies.Tuesday, August 8:
It’s funny how much more climatized I am to the heat because of the typically dull English weather. Yesterday at the water park, when a cloud would cause a few moments relief, everyone would let out a sigh; whereas I would run my hand over the goose bumps that would coincidently turn up on my arms. And this afternoon, we all packed up and went to one of the local beaches and when everyone was complaining about how “bloody hot” it was, I was happy to just sit and soak it in. It was about 4:00, but the sun was still operating at maximum capacity. I had a goal in coming here and that was to immerse myself in the salty ocean water, as I had not done so since I was a child. So shortly after we arrived, when Richard and Nicola went down to the water with their son, Ethan, I was more then happy to accompany an anxiously anticipating Henry and we followed shortly behind. When we caught up, Richard and Nicola were standing at the shore and commented that it was much too cold to go in, causing me slight concern. I put my foot in and was pleasantly surprised at how reasonable it actually was; granted, it would have had to be glacier cold to keep me out at that point. I turned to them, shrugged my shoulders, asked Nicola to hold my sunglasses for me and turned back with the intention of leaping gracefully over any coming waves and diving in; think Baywatch minus the bright orange bathing suit. However, when I turned and started running I was met head on with that sequential bugger of a three foot wave as it crashed into me; you know the ones that often catch you off guard after following a string of less imposing ones. I was stopped dead in my tracks, soaked through and had the impulse to then take hold of my bathing suit bottoms as the decidedly strong grip of the undertow led me to feel it a necessary precaution. Once I had my wits contained, I turned back and joined Richard and Nicola in their laughter before returning to the task at hand and taking that long intended dive in. The water near the shore and that’s swung about in the waves is about half sand and half water so I was covered in the former; I could have built a small village with all the sand that came out of my bathing suit during the shower I had when we returned home. Richard did dive in shortly after; I guess he thought if I could do it… We didn’t stay too long, unfortunately, but I accomplished my goal so I went home happy.
After spending the last two days in the blazing sun (and doing a half-ass job of putting sunscreen on my back today), my skin is a jigsaw puzzle of rare, medium-rare and well-done.
Wednesday, August 9
David and Ann left early this morning and it upsets me that I didn’t bid them a proper farewell. They are charming people and I will miss them.
We went to a lovely park today that’s stationed at the edge of a pond and near the base Talmont Castle. Catherine, Nicola and I went for a walk around the pond with William, leaving Jonathan with the other four boys; the castle and two old church buildings took their turns becoming clear through the trees as we made our way around. This evening, all of us went to “Le Port Bourgenay” and walked along the promenade around the boats to a small lighthouse and back and then through a delightful market right on the edge of the water. At one point I was walking ahead of the group and became completely captivated by a lady strolling through the patio tables of a restaurant serenading the patrons with a rendition of “Hymne a L’Amour”; that is until the sound of Jonathan’s exasperated voice ripping into one of the boys pulled me back to reality. It was quite a contrast.
Thursday, August 10:
What an incredible day; but not just in the sense that everything was perfect, more of a supernatural, I can die happy, kind of day. The absence of Richard, Nicola and especially Ethan, made the morning and early afternoon so incredibly relaxed and wonderful. With the boys’ hyper-active cousin around, their behavior seems to go down a notch and the volume up two. At about 4:00 we left the house and headed to a small port town called La Rochelle about an hour and a half south of Talmont St. Hilaire; the drive down was lovely. Beautiful expansive fields of sunflowers were common, their faces all turned towards the sun, and filled the horizon between timeless, little old villages with farmhouses and stone fences; where without the modern convenience of paved roads, you might expect to see an old man with a hat leading a dusty, worn out mule down the street carrying satchels of French bread and wine. As I had no idea what I was in for, I had no expectations; but we parked in a parkade that was surrounded by a few large grey buildings, so it didn’t look like much. It was only a short walk, though, that brought us around a corner and in view of what’s left of a castle that was built right on the edge of the water. A little bit further, and over a small bridge the spans the channel into the port, I first set my eyes upon this incredible city. Of all the cities I’ve explored and towns I’ve walked through since I’ve been here, this city is leaps and bounds more beautiful then anything that I’ve seen. Maybe it’s the perfect combination of old world and new living or the strange contrast between luxury and rugged beauty; or maybe it’s simply the architecture. Either way, this city captivated me thoroughly and entirely. We walked around the port and through the street market where, if the funds and the means were available to me, I could have brought home a million and one different treasures. We ate at a restaurant called “La Popote De La Mar” where I ordered the Crudités Salad and Chocolate Mousse for dessert, then took a detour through one of the side streets and came back around the port, drooling over yachts and stopping to chat with an older couple from Wales; this being apparent originally by the word “Cardiff” written on the back of their boat. They actually weren’t on the deck, but Catherine started shouting “Anyone from Cardiff down there?” so they came up to see what all the hollering was about. On the way back to the car, I was bursting, so I stopped by the aquarium to use the facilities. When I met them back, they were waiting by one of those fountains that shoot up a grid of water spouts in an unpredictable manner. The boys had just stared running through and kicking at the water when I arrived but within minutes, Henry was running over top of them fully clothed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt getting absolutely soaked through. It was one of those times where a child (or children) is doing something that isn’t the most convenient at that present time, but you’d have to be a heartless scrooge to tell them to stop; absolute glee. The sun was just setting when we left, so it was easy to slip into a euphoric contentment during the drive home; even when Jonathan switched the radio to the BBC News to listen to the latest on the terrorist crisis back in London. Because the reception was poor, it sounded more like an old 1940’s wooden radio relaying news from the war to its anxious listeners. This world will never know peace until every last one of its occupants are called home or otherwise.
Friday, August 11:
Once again, the whole lot of us met up and went out in the early evening; this time to a large children’s play park filled with random playground paraphernalia and bizarre and wonderful feats of engineering from simple sea-saws to a 20 foot slide and an odd 10 person swing where 5 pairs of people sit facing eachother one behind the other; the thing actually went pretty high. It was one of those places that could be a legal nightmare without the not-so-small print stating simply that if you want to be stupid about it, it’s your own bloody fault. There was one such precarious attraction that was basically a wooden, man-sized hamster wheel. It was also one of those contraptions that the “big kids” seemed to get more enjoyment out of then the young ones do. The boys spent about 5 minutes tumbling over eachother and whining about which direction to go before Richard and I not so subtly gave them the heave-hoe. We started at a brisk walk that turned into a light jog but it couldn’t have been more then a minute before we both got too disoriented and lost our bearings. I bailed first and him just after, both falling over ourselves, limbs-flailing, before sliding to a stop unable to get up as we were laughing too hard. Catherine and Nicola, along with the boys, witnessed the whole display and were in stitches right along with us. I ended up with a couple scrapes, bruises on three out of four of the major hinges and a bruised and slightly swollen knuckle, but not an hour after we left, while dining at McDonalds, Richard started showing everyone his purple, swollen toe with the pretense of “Look what Stacy did to me?” As we leave tomorrow, I can’t imagine a better way to have ended the holiday.
Yesterday, I booked my first coach tour to Bath and Stonehenge, due to leave Saturday morning; my last English excursion and I quite like the idea of being chauffeured around after all of my previous sightseeing experiences. I was determined to get to Stonehenge and this was the most practical, efficient way to do it. The tour includes lunch in an old pub near the stones and a tour of the roman bathes; including a tour of the pump room and a glass of the “peculiar tasting” spring water containing 40 different minerals. Despite the fact that I’ll be alone, once again, I am looking forward to it. Consider this likely scenario: me, alone on a bus, with 10 to 15 other elderly couples; should be interesting.
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