Out and About

Hi all. We're back in Barcelona after a little over two weeks in France. The luggage is unpacked, the place is acceptably clean, and we're slowly coming to terms with the reality of no longer being on vacation and hence the obligation to tackle all our projects, both large and small, where we left them at the beginning of the month. Steph is still on maternity leave but I go back to the grind tomorrow.

But before delving into our daily lives in Barcelona, I thought I would post a few picks from last week. Despite a pretty full schedule of family engagements (the baby, we gotta see the baby!), we still managed to squeeze in some time to visit the area around Angers as well as the Norman and Bretton coasts.

In case I hadn't mentioned it before, the area around Angers is full of vineyards. In fact this entire stretch of the Loire valley has a number of different "denominations" of red, white, and rosé (pink) wines. That is to say, wines that are particular to a particular region and type of grape. The first picture below is of some vineyards in St. Jean des Mauvrets. Here they grow Anjou blanc as well as the red variety. In the background is the hilltop village of St. Saturnin sur Loire. As for St. Jean des Mauvrets, its where Steph's dad grew up and, perhaps more importantly, where Steph and I got married.


Vineyards of St. Jean des Mauvrets with St. Saturnin sur Loire in background

This area is the highlands formed by the Loire over centuries of flooding and the wine produced there today has no doubt benefited from this rich alluvial soil deposits found there. From the road that connects these two (and other) villages to the Loire river itself, the landscape is pretty flat as one might expect from the floodplain of a major river. In many ways, these strips of wide flat land leading up to a levee at the river's edge reminds me a lot of south Louisiana.

Our plan on this particular day was to go sip a few glasses of wine at La Guinguette de JoJo (just because I like the way that sounds). Also because it offers a rustic outdoor setting at the river's edge. Those plans were quickly dashed however by a stiff, chilly wind that made for a rather unpleasant outdoor stay. Before leaving, I managed to snap a few shots of the river. This is one with an exposed sandbar in the middle.


View of the Loire as seen from La Guinguette de JoJo

On the land-side of the levee next to JoJo's, we spotted an honest-to-god gypsy circus camp. It was complete with an actual tiger cage reminiscent of the Tiger Truck Stop between Baton Rouge and Lafayette where - true to their name - they have a very sad-looking tiger in a cage out next to the gas pumps. But anyway, as for the gypsy circus camp, I would have taken more (and better photos) but I was frankly afraid of possible hostile response from the camp's residents. The dogs and geese were already making there way toward me and I didn't want to stick around to see what other creatures would be set loose on us.


Gypsy Circus camp on the Loire

As our plans for riverside drinks were dashed, we decided to head back up-hill to St. Saturnin sur Loir to have the aperitif at Steph's uncle and aunt's restaurant and so they could meet Anselm. They have a pretty cool outdoor patio underneath a walnut tree that offered some shelter from the wind and a great view over the valley.



Walnut tree at the courtyard of La Caillote

Steph and Anselm pose

Three generations of Bourochers

Brief stop for the sunset over the Loire on our way back to Angers

The next day we finally set off for the coast. It seems every time we go to France we say we'll go and somehow we never do. I guess this time we were in such need of some quiet time for just the two, err. three of us, that we wasted no time getting on the road. Our plan was to head to Mont St. Michel on the Normandy coast. While there, we planned on going to Granville a bit further up the coast. In the end, we went to Granville first so we could drop in on Aurelie's grandparents who grew up there and have their summer house there.

Granville, at least its historic center, is an old medieval walled city perched on a granite bluff on a peninsula that protects the still-active fishing fleet in its natural harbour from the winds (and waves) of the English Channel. Its got one street in, and one street out. The rest is small little alleys and lanes like the one in the pic below. This narrow lane is simply called Rue Etroite or narrow street, not too complicated.

Narrow Street in Granville

North face of Granville with old army barracks in the background

View of the Channel from Granville

City Gates

All around the north side and the western point of Granville there are a series of large bunkers from WWII built by the Germans, to protect the harbour. The pictures below show the ruins of these huge blocks of concrete. This city was one of the first places occupied in 1940 along with other similar ports along this coast. Aurelie's grandfather told me how within the first days of the occupation he and a small group of his friends managed to steal away in a small boat in the middle of the night and made it all the way to London to join De Gaulle. Its odd to see these instruments of destruction in this quiet and pretty corner of the world.

Ruins of German bunkers with town in background

Lighthouse with bunker at right

After leaving Granville we headed for Mont St. Michel a bit further south and west along the coast. Here again the land is pretty flat and then you come around a bend and see this...

Mont Saint Michel at dusk

A good choice for the monks that selected the site for a monastery, it's a huge granite rock that has remained after the surrounding land eroded away around it. The flat land of this coast stays the same way well beyond the shore. The result is a spectacular tide and that can vary by several kilometers making the mount an island twice a day. At least, that's how it used to be. Today, the mount is connected to land by a man-made causeway that has caused the bay to silt up to the point of preventing the sand to be washed away by the tidal action. Plans are said to be underway to replace the land-bridge with one that would restore the bay. Still, the sight is pretty spectacular and well worth a visit.

The mount as seen from the land bridge

The abbey at Mont St. Michel

At low tide the shore is out of sight

As cool as MSM was, I have to admit that I couldn't wait to get away. The place was absolutely choked with tourists making it impossible to even move. I thought I was gonna loose it. I think I'd like to go back in winter. They say it gets bitter cold with very strong winds so, as much hate the cold, at least the place will be less crowded. I also get the feeling the place might be quite spectacular in winter.

We got out of there as fast as we could. One diaper change and couple of feedings later we were in Mt. Malo on the Britanny coast. This is another one of those walled cities built on a rocky bluff enclosing a natural harbour like Granville. Unlike Granville however, St. Malo is a larger city and home to a thriving maritime industry from fishing, to shipping, and everything in between. Also unlike Granville (and perhaps because of this), much of St. Malo was destroyed during the war. Many of the buildings there today have since been restored. The result is a well preserved medieival walled city with a rich maritime history.

The sea wall in St. Malo at low tide with one of the protective forts in the background at left. They say the waves crash over the walls at high tide during storms

I liked St. Malo alot. Although it is also a bit touristy, you can definitely see this is a real working seaport town. We spent a nice afternoon checking out the place and could definitely go back to spend some time exploring. On our way out we came upon a little plaza with this...

Nice.

We capped our stay tasting the local specialties: galettes, crepes, and apple cider. A good weekend.

And a good trip indeed. Perhaps the greatest thing is that we got to see some amazing changes in Anselm in this short period of time. He is now officially obsessed with his hands and has found new pleasure in sucking a varying number of fingers depending on the occasion. Speph's mom has been teaching him how to roll over from his back to stomach and back and he's actually done it on his own for the first time today! He now smiles spontaneously and has even started to burst into actual laugther. It's been pretty amazing so far and it's a bit scarry to see how fast it goes. Everybody tells you, but you have to live it to understand it. And it's just the begining for us.

So now we're back in Barcelona. In a few hours I'll be back in the office to see what awaits. We're about to start a new project in Armenia and two others in Panama and Mexico in addition the the one in Angola (if it comes through) so I'm sure that between those travels and Anslem's new adventures, there'll be lots to write about. I'll try to write as regularly as I can but don't be surprised if my frequency drops off as spare time will be hard to come by. Until then, take it easy and I hope you're enjoying it. Take care.

Lagniappe
(see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lagniappe, I love wikipedia)


Here are some pics of our trip to southern France in July. We went there for Natalie and Jerome's wedding who despite meeting and currently living in Dallas, are both French and decided to have their wedding in his home town. Sara and Chono hopped the pond from Big-D for the ocasion and met us in Barcelona from where we drove for Anselm's first hard-core road trip. It was tough, but he pulled through nicely. The same cannot be said however for Sara and Chono's luggage which never arrived, but more on that in another post.

Saint Andeol de Vals is a cute little mountain village of around 500 inhabitants. It is in the Ardeche Department in the Rhone-Alps region near Lyon and despite its proximity to one of France's top three cities, its remoteness has left it with a rustic otherworldly beauty that seems almost anachronistic at times.



The view over the valley from Jerome's mom's place in Saint Andeol de Vals



Tiny alleys are the norm in this small village



Typical street scene in a very peaceful place


Along the way to Saint Andeol we stopped off for overnight stays at Nimes and Avignon. Nimes is known mostly for being France's stronghold for tauromachy, or the cultural ritual of bullfighting. It also is home to the world's best preserved Roman Arena. Although the Coliseum predates it by a few years (less then ten I think) the one in Nimes is not only much better preserved, its still in use! The city's bullfights are held there during the annual "Feria" and while we were there, preparations were underway for a theatre and concert series.



Chono, Steph and Sara in front of the Arena

Inside the Arena

On our way to Avignon we stopped off at the Pont du Gard, an impressively well preserved Roman aqueduct (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pont_du_gard).

The aqueduct carried water for some 50 km to Nimes

A nice spot under the shade trees by the riverside at the Pont du Gard

As for Avignon, the main claim to fame of this wonderful walled city is that it was that it was home to the Papacy for almost 100 years during the years of turmoil in Rome during the 14th century. The Pope's palace is a rather ostentatious display of papal power that borders on the obscene. This impression was supported by the audiotour which described the feast for the coronation of one of the popes. It detailed the inventory of supplies purveyed for the occasion and went along the lines of: 400 head of cattle, 16,000 eggs, 840 pigs, 500 sheep, 4,000 chickens, and so on and so forth. Like I said, obscene.

Today Avignon is also known to be a cultural hub. Our stay happened to coincide with the annual theatre festival. There were literally hundreds of productions that ranged from small one-man shows to large-scale plays and operas. The streets were choked with the actors handing out fliers for their show. Pretty Cool.

Family vacation portrait before the Pope's Palace

Marauding band of actors in Avignon

Pope's Palace

Pope's Palace, Like I said: Ostentatious

Fliers and posters for theatrical productions in Avignon

Of France and Other Wandering Observations

I may not have mentioned it but the current and previous two posts have been written from France where Steph, Anselm and I are vacationing. One of Steph's more than thirty cousins was getting married last Saturday so we came for that and decided we would stay for a couple of weeks for our summer vacation. This gives us some much needed R-and-R and allows the family to get a good eyeful (and earful) of young Anselm.




Moment of truth just before boarding for Anselm's first airplane ride. He came through like a champ. No crying, no fussing, slept right through the whole thing.



On the TGV to Angers. Again, the guy is a born traveler (gypsy?)



Anselm "Nature Boy" Frazier lets it all hang out on the day after the wedding


For the benefit of those of you who have never been to a French wedding, or to France for that matter, I think it may be worthwhile to spend a little time describing what a week in this country means from a culinary standpoint among others. By my rough estimate, I figure we spend about a third of our waking hours at the dinner table. This is for lunch and dinner only not counting breakfast which, despite popular regard as the most important meal of the day, I don't consider a real meal. My reasoning is that if there is no wine and/or desert involved, then it can't be granted full meal status.

But I digress. a full third of one's waking hours eating, not counting preparation and cleanup, is a fairly conservative estimate. On special occasions involving formal family gatherings the time-share can skyrocket to upwards of 50%. During the Christmas season, one could easily spend a string of days in which the entire 100% of waking activity is dedicated to eating, preparing to eat, or recovering from eating. This reminds me of what Stacy recently wrote in her blog (http://family-of-five.typepad.com/family_of_five/) about New Orleans: A city in which at any given time all its residents are either preparing for, attending, or recovering from a party. It may not be any coincidence that the most French city in the US displays such extremes in the search of the sensual pleasures. Jesus (The Spanish name hehSOOS, not our Lord and Saviour) is a good friend of our's from Galicia who is fond of saying of eating: "It is one of the few pleasures from the waist up".

And that's what makes France so cool: the amount of attention to detail that is paid to ensuring one draws the maximum from the simple pleasures of life. On my first trips here from the US, this was one of the first things I would notice: the emphasis placed on form as well as function. The style of how something is done elevated to a level of equal relevance to the act itself. The result is an elegant beauty that is noticeable to anyone who has visited Paris or a simple country village in France.

The pics below are from the village where the civil ceremony took place. Nothing fancy, but there's been some obvious attention paid to proportion, color, texture, etc. This is typical and would be ordinary where it not for its pervasiveness in French daily life. The combined effect can be quite striking.

While I've been here many times before, this is the longest stint I will have spent since moving to Barcelona. Compared to the chaotic exuberance of Spain, France gives off a vibe of cosmic order that leaves me with the sensation that they've somehow figured out how things are supposed to work: with consistent elegance and beauty. If one must nourish the body, it should be done with the palate in mind. And the same goes for the other four senses as well.

I hope to continue exploring the remaining senses over the next week. Tomorrow we're off to Mont Saint Michel (see http://www.ot-montsaintmichel.com/histoire_gb.htm or http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mont_Saint-Michel) and perhaps some of the Normandy and/or Brittany coast. I'll be sure to report on my findings there.

So it works!!! OK then, here goes what everybody has been wanting: Pictures of the boy.

Yours Truly on day 1. Setting the tone for the forthcoming relaitonship. Ominous indeed.

Mom seems to be having better luck at it and has reached som sort of entente cordiale

Our first family portrait on Day 2.

Things progressing nicely as Dad lulls Anselm to sleep

Three generations of Fraziers.

Peace

Aahh

A moment for reflexion on the day's events.

Favorite sleeping position

Anslem obviously awestruck by the majesty of the ocean. Mom just glad to get a breather.

Gabriela and Anselm on one of several public sightings. What's really going on?

It's a hard life.

So I'm trying to see if I can use blogger as my fotoblog. Since Anselm's birth two months ago, we have sent all our friends, families, and and co-workers a total of ONE (1) fotograph of our first-born. At the same time, I keep telling myself that I want to start blogging again.

SO...the natural confluence of these two basic needs lead to blogger as our fotoblog. But before we get to what everybody wants, we have to establish some ground rules. After all, we can't just have what used to be a travel blog suddenly turned into family blog. Il faut pas melanger les choses.

At the same time though, the thought of creaing a new website and/or blog with the accompanying need to create yet another user name, password, and all the related parafernalia is the last thing I need in my hectic lifestyle and would go counter-current to my world view of simplification.

Hence, the new Altropico. In this new encaration it will be where I post text and fotos of our adventures as may relate to family, leisure travel, work, and the things we see around us.

For this test, I chose to post some pics of a recent trip I took to Angola. I was in Luanda for a lightning two-day trip to meet with our local partners and the client for a potential project. I had been to Africa only once before (again for work) and only for a couple of days in Morroco, spending one night in Casablanca and another in Rabat. I was intrigued to find how this mix of French and Arabic cultures worked. The overall feeling I got is that it was a place I would like to spend a good deal of time in to get to know, but in the end, I always felt very much a stranger in a strange land.

In Angola the story was very different. There was an immediate familiarity to the place. Being from Honduras, the chaotic traffic, dirty streets, and happy people made me feel immediately right at home. Luanda is definitely a city that has seen better days. But then again, one gets the same feeling in Lisbon. To its credit, Luanda has the excuse of having endured 30 years of civil war. The peace in Angola is only five years old and you get the sensation everyhere that the entire country wants to wake from that nightmare and start rebuilding itself. Lots of time was lost and they have a lot of catching up to do.

Old Luanda with ships bringing in new Luanda in background

One of the popular SUV models. However, THE most popular one is Toyota's Prado Land Cruiser (not pictured)

Once upon a time, Luanda was known as the "Paris of Africa". Today, it may well be the new frontier. At least, that is the vibe the town gives off. The brutal juxtaposition of desperate poverty against the influx of massive amount of petrodollars can be jarring. The poverty is no worse than what you see in most developing countries, but the oppulence that swims around it is hard to reconcile. The streets are choked with new SUVs and they can't build office towers and hotels fast enough.

BP's new office tower in Luanda, a twin structure is being errected behind to house the colony of foreign oil workers...and execs.