Brussels

History, chocolate, mussels, chocolate, churches, chocolate, mussels, oh and did I mention Cherry Beer, a Belge specialty?

Back in The US of A

It has been too long since I last wrote in this blog. On our way home we spent a view days in Brussels before our departing flight left. Gilles, Ludovic, Yaelle, Alec and Jeff drove from Scy Chazelles and stopped off in Waterloo, yep, the famous battle site, to see some more uniforms. Gilles wasn't exactly thrilled as this battle was against the French and British and, well, the British won. Rachel and I took the more leisurely route to Brussels travelling by train. Brussels, the seat of the European Parliament, of Belgian waffles covered in chocolate and Kriek Cherry beer with mussels. Except for the parliament a rather appropriate description of heaven. A truly cosmopolitan city where one can hear many languages spoken. When I ordered a coffee at the airport I asked the young woman what languages she spoke. Her response, "Zwahili, French, English and Flamish." The Belgians we met seemed to be a friendly, open sort, curious and knowledgeable about the US of A. When speaking in French with a woman on the subway I mistakenly used the informal "tu" -you conjugation of the verb to be. There is a serious distinction between formal and informal usage of you in French and it is considered disrespectful to use the informal with people you do not know. When I corrected myself with the woman on the subway she replied that only in France is that a concern, that the Belgians are much more informal. Now if the Belgians could just improve their bread I would consider Brussels anear perfect city. Stay tuned for photos.

Back in Lessy and Scy Chazelle

A quick post to let you know we have returned from Normandy, Portsmouth, Brittany and Cazhiac in the south of France. The boys took a ferry from Caen to Portsmouth to visit Lord Admiral Nelson's flag ship. I believe the women chose the better part by travelling to Britanny but Alec may dispute this. When I asked Alec if Lord Nelson's flag ship was all he dreamed it would be he replied, "qui maman." And now for Le Tréhou, the land of my ancestors from my father's side of the family These images are of our gite in Tréhou, the "clos" or walls which encircle a church in Sizun and some wooden sculptures inside the church in Tréhou, some of which date from the 11th century. We met a ceramist who, after hearing about my search for my ancestor said he knew the mayor and a priest friend who worked in the archives in Quimper. The potter's name is Michel le Gentil and he truly was kind. This wooden sculpture carved into a beam dates from 1616 and is in the entry of the church in Tréhou where my great+ grandfather was baptized in the 1600's. While we thought his name was Préjean we now think it is spelled Prigent or Prigant. I am hoping Michel le Gentil can help me find out more...when in doubt call the mayor. We visited the village of Huelgot Jack Kerouac was born. Brittany, we will return.

On Our Way To Normandy

Tomorrow our two families leave for Caen, Normandy and the beaches The men and boys will then depart by ferry to Portsmouth to see Lord Admiral Nelson's flag ship. Rachel, Yaëlle and I will drive south west to LeTréhou in Bretagne where my french ancestors on my father's side are from. It is no wonder that I love the water was my mom's side of the family hail from Scotland and then Cape Breton Island.

So what have we been doing these last few days? Jeff has been searching the area to find the woods where his grandfather fought during WWI. We landed in St. Hilaire de Woevre, walked into an old church, yelled Bonjour and were greeted by a woman who was painting a sacristy door.

The church of St Hilaire was razed during the war of 1914 and was restored in 1928 There was an order of Carmelites here who also perished during the war While this lovely lady did not know where the exact woods were where Jeff's grandfather fought she knew lots about St Xavier, St Anthony Padua and numerous other Saints! She was more than happy to show us this church which she and her husband lovingly clean and paint. Not far from here we drove off a country road into a nearby forest We drove past a large, crater-like indentation within the woods which could only have been made by a bomb. After parking the car Jeff walked into the woods perhaps only 200 feet and discovered a bunker and trenches.

Today we drove to St Avold to see the WWII cemetary, the largest cemetary in Europe for American Soldiers; 10,000 soldiers are buried here; ten thousand crosses, ten thousand sons, spouses, brothers, friends Words cannot explain seeing row upon row of white, marble crosses and white marble Stars of David. After seeing such a sight I want to return to Marie and Michelle's garden and sit amidst their flowers.

A Memorial Mass at Lessy

You may not think this is going to mass but we actually went to mass this morning with Marie and Michel and the soldiers. The uniforms for this batallion were made by a gentleman from Lessy who died two years ago. Michel invited the batallion to come to Lessy for a memorial celebration of this man who took his own life at only 54. While this may look like pomp and glory it was quite sad. I asked about the women in the batallion who appeared to be wearing soldiers coats. Jeff explained that the women often wore cast offs from the soldiers and made their money by washing for the soldiers and performing other "duties."

Le Jour de Bastille

I will explain later why Jeff and Alec were sleeping at 11.30 this morning when a batallion of Napoleonic Soldiers marched past our window. The drums I think were the best alarm clock Alec has ever heard. It is la jour de Bastille when the peasants rose up and overtook the aristocracy. In small villages throughout France it is a day long picnic. I followed the soldiers as they marched throughout the village of Lessy. The tailor who made the uniforms was from Lessy and the Mayor, Michel, invited this batallion to celebrate Bastille Day in honour of the tailor who died here last year. We followed the soldiers to the Parc of St. Anne and there spent the day enjoying a fabulous picnic with the village of Lessy, complete with an accordian player, soldiers, wild pig (cooked), and wine of course. Last night, or this morning at 2 a.m we returned from Verdun, a visit to the museum and memorial for all but Rachel et moi; we went shopping and for a drink along the river en centre ville . Later that night we saw an incredible "spectacle" about the fighting around Verdun during World War I. 500 volunteers, french and german, plus actors and actresses staged a spectacular retelling of this time in history. The stage was a huge quarry and the show began just as the stars began to appear. Photos were not allowed and my words cannot describe how moving this even was. Here upon the soil where the worst battle of WWI was fought between the French and Germans and finally the Americans, here where if the bell tolled for the dead it would ring every second of every day for four months, here a group of French and Germans joined together to honour their history, to remember the dead and to finally leave us with an incredible fireworks display in hope for a future filled with peace and reconcilliation.

Jeff is about to enter a German Fort built around Monsieur DeLettres, an 80 year old neighbour spent the afternoon touring Ludo, myself and Jeff around two German forts. This gentleman reminds me so much of my Uncle Bill with his love of history and an energy that puts us to shame. Monsieur DeLettres has walked this hills around about here since he was a young boy and knows the forts all around. I spent the afternoon translating Jeff's numerous questions into French about the German Fort. I never thought I would be learning words for trenches, bombs, canons. Ludo is inspecting one of 4 bombs ontop of the German fort 3 meters beneath is the German fort with incredible brick work usually done by Italian Masons living here. There are forts scattered throughout the entire area and Monsieur DeLettres told us he could show us many more For me I think this will be my first and last fort. I find it sobering to walk beneath the ground where years ago thousands of soldiers boots echoed off the tunnels.