Le Chat

The Chronicles of Al, Cherise, and Automated Transport

2010-10-08T15:24:00.038+02:00

We decided to rent a car for one glorious week. We went, we did, we didn’t get the T-shirt (renting a car pretty much negates the opportunity to afford anything). But we saw some beautiful places – one more reminder of how utterly diverse yet unquestionably gorgeous France can be.

The pics are our own, by the way.

Vitre

If we could settle in France, with money as no option, this would be the place. A medieval city, filled with colour and cobbled walkways, cliché sidewalk cafes and a sense of history everywhere. Awesome.

Porte d'Embas and rue de la Baudrairie

(15th - 17th cent.)

We have no clue what this is about.

Castle of the Vitré barons

(13th - 15th cent.)

Château-Marie, Park gardens

(17th and 19th cent.)

This park was part of the suburban manor of the Barons of Vitre. Living here was more comfortable than in the castle. The beauty of this place was marred by the sad fact that apparently the French need a little more entertainment than what the landscape has to offer. A sad-looking little fawn was inside a tiny enclosure. No grass, no company. Just some concrete and wire mesh. How delightful.

Saint-Martin neo-Romanesque church

(1883)

See the gargoyles on the side? I learnt that a gargoyle is only named as such if it spouts water; otherwise, its proper name is “grotesque”.

Old porte d'En-Haut,

City wall and La Bridole tower

(13th-15th cent.)

The porte d'En-Haut (high gateway) is one of the four gateways providing access to the Middle Ages walled city. In the 15th century, it was protected by a barbican, a fortification from which cannons were fired. In 1835, the City council decided to demolish this group.

To the left of the gateway is the La Bridole tower and to the right the Prisoners tower. We actually suspected that this may have been a “dungeon” of sorts before we read up on it – very eerie. The building is so evidently old that it has greenery growing out through the stonework.

Notre-Dame church

(15th-16th cent.)

I really thought there was only one Notre Dame church – in Paris; although this one is on a much smaller scale in comparison. Silly foreigner.

Jublains

Jublains is a major historical site, famous because it began as a Roman city. There is a church in the centre of the tiny city, and inside is a museum. Apparently, when renovations were being done to the church, remnants of Roman baths were discovered beneath the church foundations, and so the place was transformed into a museum, where one can experience the actual location of an authentic Roman bathhouse. We didn’t take pics of this, we were too scared we’d get in trouble, but funnily enough, there is no one inside to monitor the comings and goings of patrons. You simply just walk in and press some button (we hoped to hell it wasn’t an alarm when we did) and listen to a whole lot of French – presumably explaining more about the ruins. It was kind of funny, because this auditory commentary is quite long, and of course we understood only the conjunctions, so we were planning to exit, and then a little family arrived and we were imprisoned within the museum, not wanting to leave in the middle of the French tutorial, in case it seemed rude that we had not bothered to finish listening to this most informative jibber-jabber.

These are the actual foundations of a Roman arena. The sandy bit in the distance was the stage and orchestral space. There are actually two sets of foundations here, both Roman, but of differing timeframes. At some point, the original plans had to be reworked because gladiator fights and animal sport (?!) became en vogue and more space, as well as protection of the spectators, became necessary.

This is pretty much the vicinity of the vomitorium. Lovely.

Saint Suzanne

Saint Suzanne is another medieval city, but quite different in character to Vitre; whereas Vitre appears to primarily function as a living space for its inhabitants, central Saint Suzanne appears to be more tourist-centric. It almost feels as if one is ambling through a museum developed around an olden-day city, which is exactly what it is, I suppose, save for the few farms on the outskirts. On an interesting note, this quaint little place is famous for having victoriously resisting William the Conqueror.

Ruins of the dungeon.

The toilet, I presume. Or at least something that smells like one.

The best thing in the world! A pumpkin in the medieval garden of the castle!

Saint Malo

The history of this maritime city goes back to the Celtic. It is a walled city, the walls being ancient fortifications – Gallo-Roman.

See intense concentration and attention to detail...

...And the gleeful destruction of the masterpiece.

I fought to not have this pic part of this. It looks like mid-air constipation.

Mont St. Michel

The origins of Monte Sainte Michel date back as far as the year 709. Basically, it is a medieval character town, built around the abbey of Saint Michael. At its pinnacle – the golden spire in the centre – is the archangel Michael slaying the dragon of the Apocalypse. The city is only inhabited by 40 people (from what I’ve read, mostly monks of the abbey), yet Monte Sainte Michel is visited by up to 20 000 people a day during the summer months. We can definitely vouch for that – you can barely walk for all the congestion. And it’s especially awesome when people considerately decide to add prams to the sardine tin of the streets.

There’s the archangel.

Here’s mine. Awwww.

...And the devil (the Black Sabbath t-shirt is a perfect addition).

The Heli-Beast

2010-08-23T13:13:00.004+02:00

Yesterday while I was outside picking some fruit, I came across the scariest freaking thing I have ever seen. As I was about to pick the juiciest, fattest and reddest pear I have ever laid my piggy eyes upon, I heard a terrible buzzing in the trees above me. My first thought was,” Helicopter”; however, I was completely wrong. What I thought was a helicopter rotor blade was actually a Hornet the size of my thumb. (Little bit of exaggeration, but it was freaking HUGE). Before I continue to unfold the next events, here are some facts about the Heli-Beasts.

Facts

Appearance: Similar to a wasp although much larger and darker brown and yellow in colour, rather than black and yellow. (They also have fangs and a penchant for human blood)

Size: Queens can reach sizes of 40mm, while workers are smaller measuring 18 - 25mm and males (drones) measure 21 – 28mm. (More like 50cm)

Diet:

Lifespan: Queens live for around one year, while workers survive for 3 – 4 weeks. (Just enough time to make you fear for your life)

Family: Vespidae (and Satan’s spawns)

I have conveniently left out the Heli-Beasts diet, as I am sure you will work that out for yourself as I continue my story.

This was not my first encounter with one of the Heli-Beasts. My first encounter with the Heli-Beast was in our bedroom (not my wife). To cut a long story short, the Heli-Beast got stuck. So before it made its own way out, if you get my drift, I decided to help the Heli-Beast. Uh, bad idea, before I could even get to it, the Heli-Beast had bent over and ejected a 5mm Missile-of-Death from its bum region. This was not an actual missile but more like a stinger the size of a Harpoon. Needless to say, I ran away like a little girl. After much trauma, I eventually got the Heli-Beast into a container and put it outside, without being harpooned.

Anyway, to continue with the actual story: I heard a terrible buzzing in the trees above me. I looked up to see the Heli-Beast hanging from a twig with something in its fury fingers. To my horror, it was actually holding a wasp that was about 1cm long. It was not loving the wasp, it was not giving the wasp a back massage, no no, it was eating its head. Yes my friends, this Heli-Beast is a carnivore. Picture this: You are a wasp, “La la la, I am a wasp, la la la, I am a wasp, mmmm, that looks like a nice pear, mmmmm…mmmmm… this pear tastes good”, then WHAM!!!! A big hornet starts eating your face. That is scary. Needless to say AGAIN, I ran away like a little girl. (After I had snapped some pics).

Evidence

Analysed Evidence

Below I have circle some important events. The red circle in picture one indicates the victim.

The smaller red circle in picture 2 indicates the victims head, and the bigger circle indicates where the victims abdomen fell after evisceration.

If you ever encounter one of these Heli-Beasts, just remember one thing. They can fly at48,28km’s an hour. They can fly up to 100km a day. If you cannot run as fast as this, and if you cannot run as far as this, pray and hope you find a truck size can of Doom. Oh, and one more thing, they travel in groups.

Pumpkins and Horsemeat

2010-08-23T12:21:00.011+02:00

The view on our way to the lake.

The locals keep their distance.

The lake.

We couldn’t get close enough, but there are hundreds of little white blooms in between the lilies. Breathtaking to have such a view just a short bicycle ride away.

This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen – a real live Halloween pumpkin patch. Uncle Bill and Woofles would have been proud.

Our culinary skills have not ended with misshapen cherry pie. Here is a rhubarb & green gooseberry meringue square, rhubarb and gooseberries courtesy of our neighbours’ garden.

Getting ready for the afternoon walk.

And rude as ever.

Ozzy and his dinner.

It’s easy to laze around here. So we decided to be constructive and drink.

Candyfloss Martini.

The elusive Litchi caught on camera. As well as Manson’s not-so elusive rear-end.

Manson’s snout sniffs out a truffle.

Here are some pics taken at the Chateux Gontiers market. The markets here are where families buy their weekly groceries, and by weekly groceries I mean live turkeys, rabbits, geese, chickens and ducks. If buying a live animal isn’t really up your alley, a few stalls down you’ll find pre-prepared horsemeat for those in search of convenience.

One of the few things on sale without a heartbeat.

A preview of Al and I a few years on. I’m in the front.

There is an awesome chocolate shop across the road from the Chateux Gontiers market. You can watch the making of decadence through glass windows, where each stage of the production is visible to the customers. I felt kind of weird standing there watching the people work, but it was cool nonetheless. Inside the shop there is also a mini chocolate museum, where we found a chocolate Mona Lisa reproduction (La Jaconde), chocolate Lego and a chocolate Little Red Riding Hood and Big Bad Wolf.

Alastair suckling his raspberry meringue.

2010-07-28T16:45:00.030+02:00

We finally have our fietse. No more 14 km walks. No more sunstroke

Al got the new bike. Damn him.

With our new mode of transport we were finally able to ride to our first market in the town centre. Sadly, we did not realise that the market closed at 1 ‘o clock. To summarise, we rode 30 km in the inferno that is the sun to buy a baguette from a supermarket exactly like the one 7 km away from our cottage. Good times.

But now we have thighs of steel. And skin of lizard.

This is, in fact, a pie.

It’s best not to look at it and just eat it. Which is what we’ve done. With all five pies.

I am OBSESSED with fruit picking. It’s a rather surreal experience eating food that you haven’t paid for. I’m sure our landlords wonder why the raspberries are taking so long to grow. That’s because they’re all in my breakfast.

This is Manson’s breakfast.

This pony lives a few roads down from us. He’s our buddy. We like him, and he likes Alastair’s crotch. In this photo I am actually restraining him from taking a friendly bite out of the member. Hence that really authentic smile from Al.

Here’s a rare appearance from Hannibal Lector.

For safety reasons, we keep him in the drawer.

Just kidding.

We felt it was important that Manson got to experience the thrill of bicycle riding.

See how thrilled he is?

Mans may not think it’s funny, but we sure do.

Footnote: You see those trees on the embankment in the first and second photos of Mans? There are rabbit holes between the roots of the trees. Al excitedly called me to come look at the “animal” he had found in one of the holes. He was talking to “it” so sweetly that I almost didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was in fact a soccer ball with whom he was chatting. Luckily, my heart is rather small, so I told him, and it was flippin’ funny.

Monuments such as this one are scattered all over, from the rather macabre nativity-like scenes (macabre because we’re pretty sure that the cave beneath it is in fact a crypt) to the tiny porcelain figures in the exterior alcoves of people’s homes which bear little resemblance to anything human, let alone religious. You’d think this overt display of Catholicism would be cloying, but surprisingly, it isn’t. There is something about the simplicity and natural state of this place that cannot be encumbered by the ideologies and rituals practiced by the few who inhabit it.

If you want to know for sure that God is not confined to any structural institution, this is the place.

Until next time, au revoir.

When I met Uncle Yeti and Aunt Midget for the first time.

2010-07-25T13:20:00.005+02:00

When Mommy took me into the lounge on Saturday, I got such a fright. I saw a yeti and a midget lying on the floor. I was so confused. I spent the whole day trying to figure out who those strange creatures were. I kept on giving them dirty looks, and wondering who the imposters were.

I was so tired that morning. On the way to collect Mommy’s Death Stars tickets, I fell asleep on the bus. I got a fright when I woke up because I realised that I had fallen asleep on the Midgets lap. I don’t think she was trying to steal me, because Mommy was in the seat next to her. My Mommy is like an android, so no one would be able to get me, she is abnormally strong, even stronger then the yeti, but not as strong as my Daddy, my Daddy is the strongest, he carried me on his shoulders the whole way to the Cake shop. The Midget was really nice to me that day, she was talking to me about all sorts of things. I like the Yeti to, he held me for a long time and his fur kept me so warm. I started to feel a little less suspicious of the two creatures.

The next day, Mommy told me that the Yeti and the Midget were actually my Uncle and Aunty. That made a whole bunch of sense; they are nearly as crazy as my Mommy and Daddy, so they must be family. My Uncle Yeti and Aunty Midget were still lying on the floor when I woke up, so I decided to tell them the story about a Great Big Whale. I got into my Jolly Jumper, asked my Mommy to give me Molly, and then I began to tell them the story. But because Daddy was at home that morning and not at work, I got so excited, so instead of finishing the story I decided to squawk a bit. Well, a lot. The midget didn’t like my squawking, she kept on putting a pillow over her head and groaning. But my Mommy tells me that the midget misses my 6am squawks now.

For some reason, when I go out with Mommy and Daddy, lots of Chinese people want to talk to me and take pictures of me. So when we went to the market on Sunday morning, my Daddy and I did a ground survey to make sure that the market area was clear of crazy Chinese people. We had to do that a lot while Uncle Yeti and Aunty Midget were here visiting us, Uncle Yeti can only survive on Chinese food, so we were at lots of dodgy Chinese markets. I like Uncle Yeti and Aunty Midget, they bought me some really weird puppets, the one was an alien, and the other was a lobster. I think Daddy and Uncle Yeti had more fun with them then I did.

We went to the park near Daddy’s work on Tuesday. I wanted to suck on the camera but my Mommy wouldn’t let me. My Mommy loves to take pictures of me. My eyes are always open really wide, and I am always smiling just in case Mommy has the camera out. My Mommy also loves to give me kisses and cuddles. I love my Mommy.

Molly and I can’t wait to see my Uncle Yeti and Aunty Midget again. I love them and they love me.

Bastille Day

2010-07-15T21:18:00.007+02:00

Yesterday we celebrated Bastille Day in a town called Laval. We had an awesome meal next to the river Mayenne, and then we watched some crazy loud fireworks. It was really fun. I have posted some pics. I have also added a brief history on Bastille Day, and why it is one of the most important French holidays.

History lesson:

France in the late 1780s was a country ruled by a corrupt aristocracy. The country was nearing bankruptcy, the poor had little to no food and the growing middle-class (bourgeoisie) felt powerless over the future of their country. Outraged, the a group of Parisians banned together on July 14, 1789, and stormed the Bastille prison, releasing the seven prisoners inside. On July 16, King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette recognized the revolutionaries, prior to fleeing to Versailles for refuge.

This march on the Bastille, a symbol of the hypocrisy and corruption of France's political system, marked the beginning of the French Revolution. The lasting significance of this event was the recognition that power was not held by the King or God, but by the people.

Bastille Day was proclaimed a French national holiday in 1880 and in 1848 the motto "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" was reinstated. An annual celebration of their independence, Bastille Day is generally celebrated with an impressive parade up the Champs Elysées, festivals, parties and fireworks.

Nipple Cripple Fatality

2010-07-09T19:39:00.006+02:00

Last night was an awesome night. For the first time in about 720 hours, I was having a really good night’s sleep. The fan was keeping me super cool, extra...super cool. The cats were not acting like they were in a shabeen on pay day. Just to top that off, my pillow was nice and soft...extra soft. Sometime around 3:30 in the morning, I was wrenched out of my dream - just as I was about to level up might I add – by a scream that sounded like it came from a Harpy sitting in my ear, and a searing pain located on my right nipple. Needless to say, I was really, really, confused. I had two questions, why the hell am I deaf, and why does my nipple feel like it’s on fire? Both answers were lying next to me in the form of my beautiful wife. Apparently, as she awoke from her slumber, she saw an old man showering in our bedroom. But before she could realise that her mind was simply playing cruel tricks on her, she - like any normal person - screamed and latched onto the nearest thing possible, which happened to be the right nipple on my chest. As the pain subsided and I slowly...very slowly fell back to sleep, I could not help but wonder if she was actually practicing her finishing move.

As Promised

2010-07-06T23:09:00.043+02:00

So here’s the blog we promised. We’ve decided to keep it short, sweet, and really honest. Well, short and sweet may prove to be debatable in the coming months, but what we don’t want is to use this as a forum for plugging the French life. Read what we’ve written, look at our pics, and decide for yourself.

This is Shadow, by the way, a.k.a. ‘The Womble’. He doesn’t like his alias much, but he can’t escape the resemblance. He’s chased Litchi and Mans in the garden, but his advances have been spurned. Poor Womble.

Below is our cottage.

Just kidding.

Here’s our crib. Fashizzle.

And this is our backyard.

This Chateux de Feu is a few blocks down from our backyard.

Here’s some foliage.

You get the point. It’s freaking beautiful.

Here are a few pics of some of the friends we’ve made so far.

These two are rather unsavoury characters, but they’re good for a party. And, yes. We did post a photo of a dandelion as one of our friends.

Thankfully, there’s quite a selection of fruit growing in the orchard here. I say thankfully, because stealing fruit may be our next and only option when the money runs out. Which leads to me to the justification for frantically stuffing my jowels with French bread and brie fromage now. And the brie here is awesome indeed. And when we are penniless, our selection will include(we’ve already begun thieving and freezing in preparation – see below): cherries, raspberries, strawberries, pears (red & white – I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a “red” pear), apples and apricots.

This is the fruit samurai.

Watch his stance as he slays the hapless fruit.

Look at his sexy man-arms.

Mmmmm....Fruit

This is the city centre of Juvigne.

Let’s not forget the reason(s) why we are in this amazingly awesome place.

Mans is surprisingly nimble for his gargantuan size.

And unsurprisingly gorgeous.

In keeping with the theme of honesty, we have compiled a “list” of pro’s and con’s about our current home.

· The idea of living in a rural village initially seemed pretty dull. Until I got here. Why did I have such a misconception about rural living? Because the synonyms for “rural” in France are: idyllic and picturesque. The synonyms for “rural” in South Africa are: shack-infested and shithole.

· Anyone who knows me will know that being unable to afford make-up and hair dye for a while is a trying task. The upside of this is a) there’s hardly anyone around to notice or b) those who are around no longer have the advantage of sight.

· The bread here is far too tasty. That’s a negative. The positive is that we have to ride 12km to get the bread.

· The language barrier can make us feel like real twats. But being thrust into practical exposure of the language is the best way to learn.

· Not being proficient in French right now is a real obstacle in the way of jobs.

· France is so full of fabulous culture and history; it’s difficult to know where to start. The good thing is that we actually live in Europe now, and a plane trip to almost anywhere can cost as little as 10 pounds or a few hours by car.

· The sun goes down at 10:30 in the evening. Initially it was so confusing; we were eating dinner at nine and going to bed at one in the morning. Apart from feeling as though you have more hours in the day, you can go for a late-night stroll. This is of course also possible because there is not the clinging fear that you will be accosted and robbed during your late-night stroll. In fact, we slept with our front door unlocked for the first few nights, but then started locking it when I thought about Ed Gein having grown up in a small farming village like this one.

· We have limited internet availability. This is really sucky because we cannot keep in touch with family and friends via Skype like we planned. We do, however, have very gracious landlords who give us free access to their internet connection. Also, I am not sure that I would want family and friends to see me right now, for I fear I have actually turned into a piece of French bread.

· We have Sky T.V. (British satellite television).’Nuff said.

· The Dutchman (as in the South Africanism, not the literal Dutch man) is a phenomenon ubiquitous to all countries. This is both amusing and comforting.

· This place has given us a definite direction: we know we want to open a B&B somewhere in France as soon as we have enough cash saved, and we know that a place like this is where we want to raise kids – no question.

· I’m about to make cherry pie.

We have a huge crush on this place called France. The cool thing is that there is plenty of it to go around. We don’t mind sharing.

Nor does he.