To Normandy

Ashley, Kelly I mounted up our trusty Toyota steed and headed off to the northwest and points thereabouts on Sunday December the 19th. A cold overcast morning with clear sky on the western horizon bringing hope that our little expedition to Mont St. Michel and Carnac would yeild lovely pictures and suitable weather for pleasant gawking. We took our new metal detector and planned a stop or two to attempt a metalic find as well. The first night was to be spent near/in Lemans after a tour of the 11th century castle at Fourgeres. The driving was easy and the kilometers just flew along, we got to Fourgeres about 11:30 to learn that only the gift shop was open to us!

So off to the zoo at Doux just south of Samour to reacquaint ourselves with the pack of friendly vultures we had discoverred our last trip there.
Thwarted again! Closed for the winter not to reopen until February! The web site and guide book were both wrong, alas. So off to Lemans to find dinner and have a decent nights sleep. We found the ETAP and booked ourselves in. Then out and about to locate dinner. The Maitre Kanter was right there and being a Sunday night one of the few open restaurants, so in we went out of the brisk winter air. Seating was crowdede orderred various seafood dishes, Ash had some mushroom ravioli with foie gras sauce as a starter and a lovely
alsatian Tokay Pinot Gris split for Ash and Kelly, delicious. I sipped on a straight Irish whiskey and finally orderred a glass of Reisling for my grilled swordfish. Our dinners were served in a very timely manner and well prepared to boot. Kelly had a chacroute (sour crout) of mixed seafood, Ash had the Moules Marinaire (mussels with a tomato sauce). This small chain of restaurants does the job every time we've had the pleasure of going to one, I highly recommend the experience when you are in Lemans.

Points South

The next morning found us stuffed from last night, in need of an espresso and anxious to see more of the beautifully rugged Croatian coastline. So forgeting the coffee hit off we went on the coast route towards Pula.
The water lapped at the coast just a few meters away, little villages nesttled against the mountains as they tumbbled into hte Adriatic, colorful wooded boats topped with nets and floats bobbed by the shoreline.


The weather was a lovely 70 degrees and sunny, the islands off the coast bring a feeling of both tranquility and expectation to the scenery. Kilometer after curvy kilometer went by with Kelly reading descriptions of the wonders to be found in lovely Pula. It was quite obvious that we were late summer visitors, perhaps too late, as many hotels past by were closed for the winter as were colorful restaurants. Few cars, less trucks, no tractors, no farms, but no sprawl either, no disconnected suburbs with no purpose or reason. Occasionally we would see a house on the hill above the sea apparently in process of being built, with no roof, no windows, no doors but finished in every other way. A curious and unexplained sight. The further south we got the more of these projects popped into view, a sign of coming prosperity? Or something else? Much later an explanation from a new friend the operator in a Split launderette, "Those were Bosnian houses, the people left." I was wordless as was Kelly. The war that wouldn't go away.



I can honestly say there were no straight sections of the road for many, many hours, the day grew long and still no Pula. Around the next bend a larger town somewhat north of Pula, a bridge crossed to get to Centreville and a look see for an available stop for the evening, we had given up in the dim light of late afternoon.