Carnac

Sunday we drove half an hour and went back 5000 years.

The town of Carnac has the largest set of megaliths in the world (a megalith is a large stone embedded upright in the ground by human activity). The megaliths of Carnac are in alignments: long rows of megaliths. Carnac has three main alignments; the largest is ten rows of menhirs, each row with over one hundred stones, stretching over three-quarters of a mile. The second is eleven rows, again almost three-quarters of a mile long; and the third is thirteen lines, about half a mile long. In all the alignments, stones start small at the east end and increase in size, to where the western-most stones are ten-twelve feet high and weigh many tons.

Why do these alignments fascinate us? As Laurie says, “It’s nice that there are still mysteries in this world.” The menhir alignments of Carnac were likely created around 3,300 BC – almost 5,000 years ago; more than a thousand years before the first pyramids were built in Egypt. No one knows why they were created, what they signified to their builders or how they were created (how did fairly primitive cultures quarry, move and erect stones weighing so much?). But here’s an interesting clue: remember the menhirs I showed that are in Saint-Pierre-Quiberon? These menhirs are about 40 miles from Carnac, across open water, but they seem to align with some of the Carnac menhirs to mark the location of the moon at a certain point in its cycle. Other menhirs around southern Brittany mark other points in the lunar cycle. Just saying…

Anyway, we love the Carnac alignments. Here is a how the largest field looks from an observation tower:

The longest alignment, seen from an observation tower. This shows half the field; the other half extends behind the camera.

The longest alignment, seen from an observation tower. This shows half the field; the other half extends behind the camera.

And some more views of the Carnac alignments:

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Saint-Pierre-Quiberon

Okay, our trip to Saint-Pierre-Quiberon requires a little up-front explaining, as most of you know Laurie and I are not beach people, and Saint-Pierre-Quiberon is most definitely a beach community.

Our friends Jamie and Hervé Rufin have been vacationing in Saint-Pierre-Quiberon for seven or eight years, and raving about how much they love it there. This year we were in France when they went to Saint-Pierre, so they invited us to join them (and our other French friends Mary and Gilles). Because our Berlin trip had already been scheduled and booked, we were able to spend only three nights with les Rufin, so we also booked a hotel for two more nights, after they and the Germains left. We knew we would have a wonderful time with les Rufin and les Germain but, honestly, we weren’t too sure about Presq’ile Quiberon.

Well, not to worry; we did, indeed have a wonderful time with the Rufin family (daughter Sophia and son Alex were with us there) and the Germains. We also learned why Jamie and Hervé return to this place: it is just beautiful and charming and fun and all the things a special vacation place needs to be. We returned today (August 4) and we were quite glad that we woke up to rain, because we would have hated to leave if the weather had been good, as it was when we were there.

Rather than boring you again with lots of words, I’m just going to post some pictures. All I can say now is that we are so thankful that Jamie and Hervé asked us to share their “special place” with them, and that we hope we can do it again in the coming years. This is a part of France I’m not sure we would have seen had it not been for Jamie and Hervé inviting us and urging us to join them, but I can tell you that Saint-Pierre-Quiberon has become a special place for us, too.

The Group

Gilles, Mary, Hervé, Laurie and Jamie. I never seem to be in these group shots!

Gilles, Mary, Hervé, Laurie and Jamie. I never seem to be in these group shots!

Saint-Pierre-Quiberon and the Bay

Some sights around the town. We all went swimming in the bay and I have to say that, after that initial getting-wet shock, it was wonderful. Been a long time since we swam in salt water; I hope it isn’t so long to the next time.

The Cote Sauvage

That translates as the “wild coast” and wild it is. Believe it or not, Hervé, Alex and I went swimming in this surf!

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Posts on the Way

I know, I know; it’s been a while since I posted. We went to the small town of Saint-Pierre-Quiberon with our friends Jamie & Hervé and Mary & Gilles and, believe it or not, the guest house (gite) at which we stayed had no Internet! I didn’t know such places existed anymore!

But we had a fabulous time, and I’m working on a couple posts of our time there and our visit to Carnac. Soon, real soon now. As in, no later than tomorrow.

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Last Berlin Clara Post

We leave Berlin tomorrow, back to Paris, so here’s a final Clara post from Berlin.

A wrap-up of Berlin…
I doubt we would have ever come to Berlin had it not been for Craig and Annie moving here in 2008. For that, we are grateful to them, because we really like Berlin. Its many-layered history fascinates us, in all its manifestations of buildings, monuments, cemeteries, parks, streets and ghosts around every corner. Craig and Annie and Clara will almost certainly be moving back to the States in the next six-nine months, so this is probably our last night in Berlin. But this city will always hold wonderful memories for Laurie and me, of Berlin itself, and of the wonderful times we’ve had here with Craig and Annie and Clara.

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Berlin

Berlin has a fascinating political history, which is on full display for those willing to look a bit. We have had the great fortune to have an amazingly knowledgeable guide to show us this aspect of Berlin and explain it to us in terms we can understand (that would be Craig, who has an encyclopedic knowledge of Berlin). Today I’ll write about some things the East German Communist government left behind and how they appear today.

By the early 1950s, the German Democratic Government (GDR), which was largely a puppet government of the Soviet Union, was firmly in charge in the east Berlin sector allocated to the Soviet Union at the end of World War II. Housing was in very short supply still, and so the GDR decided to build a street of apartments that would a.) add to the pool of housing; and b.) show the world that the GDR was providing excellent living conditions for the “workers.” The result, named Stalinallee, still exists and is, I think, one of the most intriguing streets I’ve ever seen. (I might point out that Stalinallee has been named “Karl-Marx-Allee” since 1961.)

For about a mile and a half, Stalinallee was constructed with apartment buildings that were different, but similar in height and general design, so the street has an amazing architectural coherence that exists in few places. It is 100 yards wide, with four lanes of traffic, sidewalks thirty feet wide and trees down both sides and on a median strip. It is, as the GDR planned, an impressive sight. Today, many of the buildings have been renovated to repair the damage of years (just because the GDR had the money to build them didn’t mean it had the money to maintain them) and contain desirable – though very small – apartments and stores.

Okay, I know: a picture is worth a thousand words…

Though the apartments on Stalinallee were said to be for the “workers” (who, I might add, rebelled in 1953 at the low pay and high hours they had to work; the resultant suppression of the rebellion by Soviet armed forces took at least 125 lives. So much for the “happy workers” building a “workers paradise!”), it didn’t work out that way. As the apartments were completed, nearly all went to Communist Party functionaries; few workers actually lived here. In 1961 there was a discussion – of sorts – about re-naming the street, since by then it was known and publicly acknowledged that Joseph Stalin had been a murderous thug of the worst kind. Arguments for and against the renaming raged, but the German Democratic Republic, which wanted the renaming, won, in the way it won most arguments: it ignored the opposition. One night a huge statue of Stalin disappeared without a trace, and all the street signs were changed from Stalinallee to Karl-Marx-Allee; overnight, Stalinallee was no longer.

Stalinallee, Karl-Marx-Allee: makes no difference. I think this street is one of the most interesting and beautiful streets anywhere. I can’t imagine a visit to Berlin without a stroll down it.

Then we went to another Communist monument that went awry. Ernst Thälmann was the leader of one of the two communist parties in the 1920s and early 1930s. Unfortunately, the two communist parties spent so much time and energy fighting each other that the Nazis were able to take control, to the detriment of every communist in the country. In 1934, Thälmann and many others were arrested by the Nazis. Thälmann spent eleven years in solitary confinement, was then transferred to the Buchenwald concentration camp and executed there in 1944.

After World War II, the communist East German government mythologized Thälmann as a hero of the anti-fascist workers of Germany. When a new housing area was developed, it was named after Thälmann and a huge monument was raised to him. Here’s a picture of that monument, which still exists (note that Laurie is showing solidarity with Thälmann, with that raised fist); this is a HUGE freaking monument – over 40 feet high:

Laurie shows solidarity with Ernst, with a fist and a determined look.

Laurie shows solidarity with Ernst, with a fist and a determined look.

The disintegration of East Germany pretty much put paid to the myth of Thälmann. Research showed that many of his heroic anti-fascist activities were, well, myths. In fact, it turns out that he was far more interested in fighting other communists. But mostly, no one cared anymore about “anti-fascist workers’ revolution” leaders; today, his monument is pretty much ignored and unmaintained. Why isn’t it torn down, you might ask? That possibility has been raised and the result has been that because the thing is so big, no one knows how to tear it down. So it remains, unloved and ignored. But I have to say, it was pretty amazing to visit this monstrosity, and think of the efforts at propaganda made by the German Democratic Republic.
Ernst Thalmann
Lenin
In 1917 Vladimir Lenin was in exile in Switzerland. As the Russian political scene descended into chaos, he wanted to return to Russia and lead the Revolution, but no country would allow him to transit through (he was pretty well-known as a trouble-maker). Finally, the German government arranged for him to transit Germany in a sealed railway car. He arrived in Berlin at one station, from which the railway car had to be shipped overland to another station, the one shown below. It was from this railroad station that he (and 30 followers) left Berlin, next stop: Russia and Revolution. Interestingly, he disappeared from sight for eight hours while in Berlin and it’s thought that during those eight hours, he received a huge amount of funding from people or groups unknown – maybe the German government, which wanted to de-stabilize its long-time foe, or a private financier – because he left Switzerland almost penniless and arrived in Moscow with tons of money to finance the revolution.

Lenin left Berlin for Russia from this train station in 1917.

Lenin left Berlin for Russia from this train station in 1917.

Templehof Airport
The Templehof Airport may be the most historic airport anywhere. In 1948/1949, it was the airport where almost all the planes of the famous Berlin Airlift landed. Today, the field and its amazing buildings remain, but not as an airport. The buildings are being converted to offices and the field, with runways and taxiways intact, are open to the public, for walking, running, riding and general enjoyment.

Laurie asked me to add some info about the Berlin Airlift, so:

After WWII, Berlin was composed of four sectors, one each controlled by the Soviets (East Berlin), France, Great Britain and the United States (those three sectors together comprising West Berlin). The four countries were supposed to jointly govern Berlin, but it was, of course, the Soviet Union against the Allies all the time, and the Soviets wanted to control all of Berlin. In 1948, the Soviet Union decided it could force the Allies out by blockading all land and river routes to Berlin; the Soviets believed the Allies could not and would not expend the effort to keep West Berlin (which was essentially an island in Soviet-controlled East Germany) alive, and the Soviets would be able to establish control over West Berlin.

They guessed wrong. The Allies launched an unprecedented airlift to supply West Berlin. Because West Berlin was completely cut off from West Germany, the Allies had to fly in everything – food, coal, equipment, everything. After a rocky start, the Berlin Airlift settled into an astonishingly effective routine: airplanes left three airports in the West carrying supplies, flew to Templehof Airport, where they were unloaded quickly,and returned to the West. At its peak, airplanes landed every 30 seconds, 24 hours a day. Crews were given coffee and food at their airplanes (served by hand-picked young German girls); if a plane approaching Templehof could not land for some reason (the preceding plane not clearing the runway quickly enough, for example), the plane aborted the landing approach and flew back to its home base; there was no way for it to re-enter the landing pattern without disturbing the flow of flights.

A somewhat tired C-54, the type of airplane that flew the most part of the Airlift supplies. It could carry about ten tons per flight.

A somewhat tired C-54, the type of airplane that flew the most part of the Airlift supplies. It could carry about ten tons per flight.


In the eleven months of the airlift, Berlin was supplied with an astonishing total of over 2,236,000 tons of supplies, including over 1.4 million tons of coal and an entire coal-burning electricity generating plant.

In May 1949, the Soviets realized the Allies could continue to supply Berlin as long as necessary. Without ever admitting defeat they announced that the “technical problems on the roads and railways” that had closed them had been corrected, and land traffic could move again. Afterwards, Berlin settled into clear East-West sectors that went their separate ways and by 1951, there was no pretense of Berlin being one city – it was a communist East Berlin and a capitalist West Berlin. This was most clearly seen when, in 1961, the Soviets erected the Berlin Wall.

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Clara – II

I promise that I’ll post some non-Clara photos Real Soon Now. But yesterday, well, I accomplished a goal I’ve had for a long time, and Clara was part of it: we went to a Beer Garden that has a playground for kids.

Now, honestly, can you imagine such a thing in the United States? But here it is, with a jumpy-house, and climbing toys and areas for kids to run around in.

And, of course, while I was there, I had to take a few pictures of Clara.

Ok, now I’m going to work on a post about Karl-Marx-Allee and Ernst Thallman. Bet you can’t wait, eh?

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Clara – I

I think most of you know that our five-month sojourn is really nothing more than a thinly-disguised excuse to see our granddaughter Clara, and her parents, Craig and Annie, here in Berlin. For those of you who are watching this blog for Clara pix, here ya go:

Tomorrow, it’s back to regular programming, with a report on my favorite street in the whole world: Karl-Marx-Allee, originally named Stalinallee.

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Off to Berlin!

It’s Sunday night; we’re in Paris at Mary & Gilles flat, on our way to Berlin tomorrow. We’re looking forward to seeing the “Red Tomato!”

Explanation: my Aunt Marjorie, after Craig, Annie and Clara spent three or four days at her house, called Clara “the Tornado.” We added the “red” part, then Mary read an email about the “Red Tornado” and mis-read that phrase. She thought we’d called Clara “the Red Tomato.” And so we’ve called her since.

Anyway, we’ll be there mid-day tomorrow. We are sooooooooooooooo excited to see Craig and Clara. Annie is at a conference until Saturday (the Gordon Research Conference of Microbial Adhesion and Signal Transduction – those microbiologist know how to live large!), and we will be sooooooooooooooo happy to see her when she returns.

And we’re excited to be back in Berlin. Although not high on most travelers’ wish lists, we love Berlin and find it a fascinating city. I am sure I’ll walk down my favorite street in the world – Karl Marx Allee, originally named Stalinallee when it was built in the early 1950s – at least once. Twice. Maybe three or four times. Photos to follow.

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Ramble – Troyes

Okay, let’s start with the pronunciation of the city of Troyes. One would, at first glance, think it was pronounced as we pronounce “Troy” in English; I mean, after all, there are only two lousy letters tacked on to the end, and everyone knows that in French, you don’t pronounce the ‘s’ at the end of a word, and the ‘e’ only serves to force the pronunciation of the letter before it, so it’s “troy,” right.

Well, no. This is French, remember? So here’s a little help. The French word for the number three is trois and is pronounced “twa.” Totally ignore that you think maybe it would be a good idea to actually pronounce the ‘r’ in the middle or the ‘s’ at the end, and that ‘oi’ might be pronounced like it looks. Anyway, now that you know how to pronounce trois, you also know how to pronounce Troyes because, although trois and Troyes don’t look a lot alike, they are pronounced exactly the same. Yep, exactly the same. Crazy language.

But I digress… Troyes is an interesting city. It’s big – population of some 65,000 plus probably an equal number in the area. In terms of famous people, not so interesting, though Pope Urban IV (Pope from 1261 to 1264) was born here. Joan of Arc and Charles VII freed the city from the English in 1492.

Troyes’ claim to fame is that, for some reason, the city has maintained hundreds of half-timbered buildings in the downtown area since the 16th century. Recently, the city has revamped that downtown area to remove automobiles and leave the area to pedestrians; as a result, many restaurants and bars and stores have thrived here. I will post below some pictures of the streets and buildings of Troyes; during the day – and especially on a hot Friday evening – these are jammed with folks. If you want to see them without the crowds, be there at 7:30 in the morning…

Troyes Buildings

Streets

Iglise St. Madeline
I wanted to see this church because my guidebook said it has one of the few remaining “rood screens” in France. The rood screen – jubé in French – was a partition between the nave, where the parishioners sat for a Mass, and the choir, where the priests conducted the Mass. This jubé, besides being one of the last, is one of the most ornate – an example of Flamboyant Gothic sculpture.

The jubé (rood screen in English) at St Madeline

The jubé (rood screen in English) at St Madeline

It was, indeed, worth seeing, but better were the stained-glass windows. Created in the 16th century, they are beautiful and unusual in two respects: they have been recently restored; and they are down low, so a person can see them quite clearly. In many churches, the stained-glass is so high in the walls that it’s difficult to see them in detail.

We liked Troyes, though it’s not high on our “return-to” list. We wouldn’t make a special trip back here, but if we were in the area, we’d probably return, if for no other reason that to see those windows again.

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Ramble – Langres

This is our second visit to Langres. We’ve found that when we told someone here that we were going to Langres, the universal response was “Why?” Langres has nothing of note to draw tourists. But readers of our 2010 blog, when we also visited Langres, know why.

In the 1950s, the American writer Elliot Paul visited Langres and wrote about it in a book about his travels in France. Here’s what he wrote about Langres:

The old city, and there is no other, covers the top of a hill, one of the foothills of the Vosges. The wall still stands, and one may walk on top of it, around the city, and on the outside is the fertile plain, those white roads lined with poplars, on hilltops red-roofed villages set off with stately trees, surrounded by farms that make patchworks of color in concentric bands. Inside the city you will find the Middle Ages you have heard so much about, and you will learn that they had something we have lost, and lacked much we have discovered. There is nothing else remarkable about Langres, few relics in museums that bring pilgrims hence, no restaurants whose specialties are watchwords of gourmets. The food is excellent and plain, and not expensive enough to be frenziedly praised. You will tread stones that were old when Columbus sailed the seas, if you care for treading stones. You will look into windows out of which the age of chivalry has passed, leaving behind its aroma and flavor. You will feel the ache of wondering what was the past, of what is now, and what, if anything, shall be. You will not be talkative on the way back toward Paris, and home.

That, in one paragraph, sums up what we love about Langres and about small towns everywhere, I think. It certainly reflects why Laurie and I love to go to small towns and stay in them. We see a part of the country that simply doesn’t exist in the cities.

Anyway, Langres, 2013. We had a bit more time this trip to just walk and see Langres, and I can say that it still fits Elliot Paul’s description. Nothing notable, but something special. Rather than write about it, I’m just going to present some photographs.

Walls – Langres does indeed have walls


Streets of Langres

Buildings

And a fountain

One huge disappointment: in 2010 we had dinner at the restaurant in our hotel here and encountered the culinary surprise of the trip: superb food, presented beautifully, served with style and grace, in a restaurant where our expectations were not high. We all looked forward to another great evening of dining at that same restaurant in Langres.

Alas, ’twas not to be. The restaurant has changed names since our last trip, and likely chefs and owners. For a $40 menu, our first course was two – count ’em – two gambas, on skewers, stuck into a daub of some mediocre paté. Main course for three of us was a fish from the Loire River, the sandre. There must have been a shortage that night, because our servings were about 2 ounces each, really; each of us got a piece that was about 1 inch by 2 inches by three-quarters of an inch thick. And that was all that was on the plate, except for a tiny potato – maybe an inch round – cut in half. Dessert was nougat glacé, which is available in 90% of the restaurants in France, except in 90% of the restaurants in France, you get a decent-sized serving; this was a disk of nougat glacé about an inch in diameter. Honestly, we could not have had more than five ounces of food in the three courses combined and none of those five ounces even reached the level of average. What a disappointment! Our dinner on the Canal Bourgogne the night before was far better, at a far lower price.

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