Pace & Passivity

Posted on 26/11/2019 by John Kocan

Dead Calm: Waiting for the Wind to Pick Up on Our Former Sailboat, the *Arlo James*. Lake Union, Seattle

I sat down to write this thinking that I haven’t really much to offer that’s new. We haven’t made any interesting excursions to places of fascination. No big events to report. If our family was a ship, it feels as though we’ve sailed into the doldrums, waiting for the wind to pick up. And waiting …

Much of this has to do with our house and the renovations we were hoping to achieve before we moved into it. The pace of progress is agonizingly slow. It has been frustrating and a real test of our patience. Yes, it’s true: we’re retired at a fairly young age and we’re living in France. What more could we want? A fair point. And one which, especially I, have to be mindful of. But no matter how exceptional the circumstances, living in a kind of limbo, not having a place which really feels like our home is unsettling. We’re finding it hard to really get comfortable and feel that we actually live here. I suppose we still feel as though we’re still just visiting this wonderful country. Temporary. Non-residents. The doldrums.

Covering the Moonscape: Our Kitchen Floor Begins to Take Shape

But, about four weeks ago, things suddenly began to move. Our sails began to luff a bit and our ship just started to make way. Our project manager was finally able to secure a general builder who can do nearly all tasks except plumbing, electricity and finish plastering. They have very strict qualification rules in France so it’s difficult for builders to be jacks of all trades. Even more prohibitive are the insurers of building trades. Licensed contractors are required by law to guarantee their work for 10 years. Which I think is pretty great. The downside of this is that insurers are very reluctant to insure builders for more than one area of work. They assume that one cannot be sufficiently competent in more than one specialization to be able to guarantee their work will hold up for at least a decade. So you tend to get a lot of specialization here.

Our guy, James, is British, but has lived and worked as a builder in Brittany for 19 years. We like him and he seems to be doing good work so far. I’m happy to report that our new kitchen now has a solid concrete floor on top of which James began to lay our stupidly-expensive new/old clay tiles today. We can’t wait to see how it looks when he’s finished laying the tiles. A finished kitchen floor – it will be a real milestone for us.

Exposed: the Beams in the Kitchen Ceiling

Plasterboard in Place, the Kitchen and Séjour are Beginning to Come Together

We had originally planned to keep the existing plaster ceiling in the kitchen and add false wood beams to it, mirroring those that are already in the adjoining séjour (living room). James had a hunch and wisely thought to first investigate what was under the plaster ceiling. He discovered the original thick wood joists and a further large wood beam. A bit of a surprise. Although it wasn’t exactly what we had envisioned, we decided that we should simply expose the original joists and beam and make a feature of them. This not only has the benefit of being more authentic to the house, but will also be less expensive than installing new false beams. We happened to be there on the day James planned to rip out the plaster ceiling so I joined him. Together, we made quick work of it. All we needed were ladders and claw hammers. Dust masks were handy too! After a couple of hours we had pulled all of the plaster, lath and cellulose insulation down. A quick trip to the town dump (la déchèterie) and it was job done. Later that week James installed the new plasterboard between the joists and beam and prepped the gaps at the tops of the walls so they can be filled in by the plasterer. So far, we like the look of it and we’re happy with the decision to keep the original woodwork.

In the old kitchen area things got a bit interesting. When we bought the house, we noticed a small hatch in the floor. There was no obvious way to lift it, so we were never able to see what was underneath it. It remained a minor curiosity. However, a couple of weeks ago James needed to see how deep the tiles were in that floor in order to ensure that our new tiles will fit. So he took the opportunity to also crack open the hatch. What he found was an oddity of plumbing: a meter and a half deep concrete-lined pit into which empties three pipes at various heights and a pipe opening in the bottom to drain it. We tested it out and found that the old kitchen sink drains directly into this pit, as well as a rainwater drain from the front courtyard. We’re still not sure what the other pipe drains. So weird, we couldn’t help but laugh. It’s still unclear what we’re going to do to remedy this avant-garde plumbing arrangement. But, clearly, something will have to be done.

After the hatch unveiling, James was able to jackhammer out most of the hideous tiling in the old kitchen in preparation for laying new stone flooring. That area will be subdivided into a guest bathroom and a passageway/laundry area. For now, we’re keeping the old cabinets and sink in place so that we will have them to use until our new kitchen is completed and ready for action.

Paintwork in Progress: The Guest Bedroom

In the adjoining guest room we have continued to paint. Progress has been a little bit slowed by the bare plaster walls which suck up the paint and therefore required several coats. We intend to adorn the walls with framed wallpaper panels. Hence the bare rectangles you see in the photo. Cherie has been doing most of this work while I fiddle around with other tasks. James tends to rope me into helping him when we are there, but we’re happy to have me doing this as it saves us a good deal of money. I also took the opportunity to try out our new pressure washer. I have never used one before. But after having used it to remove a slick layer of algae from our sun terrace, I am a believer. There is nothing like having the right tool for the job and this electric wonder proved to be perfect for it. I can’t wait to clean more things – even if they don’t need it.

No Longer a Slimy Skating Rink: Pressure-washing the Sun Terrace

Crowded House: Our Kitchen Fittings Poised for Installation

Lastly, we finally received delivery of our new kitchen fittings. Now there is a big pile of cabinets and appliances crowding our séjour. Unfortunately we had to postpone the installation date yet again (for the fourth time) because the kitchen space was just not going to be far enough along to allow it. Things got a bit heated between our project manager and the kitchen fittings company representative over this last delay and there were some very exasperated emails flying around for a couple of days. For a while there, it was looking like we would not be able to get the installation rescheduled until January. But, thankfully, a détente was reached and a date is now set for December 4th and 5th. Placement of the countertops will be done in the week following that. It has been such a long road to get this kitchen completed. We are keeping our fingers crossed that there will not be any further complications.

We’re Waiting! (19th Century View from inside the Pacory Shoe Factory Which Used to Envelope Our Tower)

So, while the pace of our house renovation has been nearly imperceptible since last February, now there is finally some actual, visible progress. When will we be able to move in? That’s a question which is still seriously up in the air at this point. But at least now we feel like we are moving steadily towards it. We’ll keep you posted.

In other news, we somehow convinced the French government to allow us to stay in their beautiful part of the world for yet another year. Hooray! A couple of weeks ago we were notified by text that our Titres de Séjour were ready to pick up. A quick and surprisingly painless trip to the Préfecture offices in Rennes (conjure in your minds a very large Department of Motor Vehicles – and all that entails) resulted in us skipping merrily back home with our official identity cards. It felt like a real milestone. And a big relief. We will have to reapply again next year before we can then request permanent resident status. But, still, it’s good to know that we have reached a certain level of acceptance here in what we hope will be our forever home.

Oh, and we made a couple of new friends. Noël and Guylen are a french couple who moved to Bretagne from Marseille a couple of years ago. We met them while out on a walk one day and they invited us to their home for a visit. Amazingly, given what we consider to be our still rudimentary french, we are able to converse pretty well with them. They speak even less English than we do French, so we feel like this is a real accomplishment. Noël and Guylen are our age and have a nice older home in Plumelec, a small town just 20 minutes west of Malestroit. They have renovated quite a bit of it and made it a nice home with a zen-like garden. We shared crêpes and hot chocolate and discussed music, politics, regional differences, food, etc. It was a good time and we hope to spend some more time with them in the near future.

Larry, Shereen, Cherie, John & Saxon in Josselin

Speaking of friends, we had the pleasure of welcoming some old friends from Seattle for a visit to Bretagne. Larry and Shereen spent a week with us in October and we enjoyed showing them a few of the highlights of our corner of France. We have known them both for a long time, having met and worked alongside Shereen for 20 years. They are such great people and so fun to hang out with that we felt really honored that they would come all of this way to spend a good portion of their vacation in France with us. We strolled around Malestroit; took them to Fougères, of course; visited the historic towns of Vitré, Rochefort en Terre, Auray, and Josselin; and walked amongst the evocative neolithic stones at Carnac. Overall we were fortunate with really good weather and it was really good to see them again. Hopefully they left with fond memories as they continued onward to Le Mans for some racetrack adventures, then to the south of France and, finally, Paris.

That’s all of the news for now. Work on the house in Fougères is not as exciting as trips to Paris, for sure. But this has been our lives of late and we thought we should give you an update as to what we have been doing. We’re hoping that we can resume more interesting travels as things progress on the house and we find ourselves relaxing a bit more. There’s so much to see and do here. We’re eager to do it all! When we do, we’ll keep you posted. Promise. With fair winds and a following sea, we’ll get there soon.

The Two Towers – Elven and the Lords of Largoët

Posted on 08/10/2019 by John Kocan

As a certified Tolkien geek, I was bemused last year when Cherie and I first came across a road sign announcing that the next exit would lead one to Elven. How cool is that?, I thought. But we were on our way to Vannes down the road at the time so we didn’t stop to investigate. A couple of weeks later we discovered that there is a town called Rohan not too far away. Elves, Rohan. Surely we have discovered Middle Earth!

After a few further drive-bys (we always seem to be on our way to Vannes for one thing or another) we finally decided to check out this magical-sounding town of Elven. Would there be houses of sinuous design as at Rivendell? Perhaps timeless glades of statuesque mallorn trees such as would be found in Lothlorien?

Nope. Elven is really just an average French town. We stopped and had a walk around its small center, grabbed a couple of sandwiches and pastries and noted that the town unfortunately appears a bit down on its luck. We discovered a nice little chapel on a knoll and the parish church was undergoing an extensive restoration. But apart from that, we found nothing of particular interest. And definitely no sign of elves. How disappointing.

But. We also saw signs for the Tours d’Elven, or the Forteresse de Largoët. [Tours is French for “towers”] Despite the different names, these appeared to refer to the same site. Intrigued, we attempted to find it. Or them. Or whatever “it” was. Following the signs will get you nowhere. Literally. But with the help of Google Maps we were able to track it down. Finally, we had found it. Unfortunately, we found it out of season. A long rural driveway brought us to a lovely gatehouse with a not-so-lovely paper sign suggesting we try again a few months later, in springtime. This place was proving harder to get into than the Black Gate of Mordor.

One thing led to another and we had many distractions (see previous posts) to keep us away from the mysterious towers in the forest and we had nearly forgotten about them. But last weekend we were wanting to take a walk somewhere new. Suddenly I recalled the mythical Tours d’Elven. Quick, we thought, we had better seek them out before they disappear for yet another off-season hiatus. So we launched the Audi southward from Malestroit, tingling with the anticipation that, at last, we might finally catch a glimpse of this legendary place, shrouded by ancient charms as it was in the misty forest.

This time, Fortune favored us. We arrived to find the gates open and welcoming – as long as we plunked down our five euros each, that is. Tickets in hand, we discovered that this is a privately-owned monument. The gatehouse/ticket office was built in the beginning of the 20th century as part of a regeneration of the property. It’s a beautiful stone cottage with classic, stately lines mottled with lichens and well settled into the landscape. One peculiarity of the gatehouse are the several stone hares which decorate the gable ends and entrance stairway. They’re beautifully carved. A bit fanciful and, in one case, energetically straddling the bannister leading up the stairway to the front door in a way for which bunnies are well-known.

Past the gatehouse a gravel road led us on a tranquil stroll through woodland filled with chatter of songbirds. In the distance, we could hear the baying of hounds on the hunt. Not surprising this time of year. The French are mad about hunting (also fishing). It’s not uncommon to come across an organized hunting party while driving country roads. They usually place a couple of warning signs on the roadside to let people know that there are armed enthusiasts milling about in a nearby wood or field. Proceed at your own risk. The sound of gunshots is fairly common out here in the wilds of Bretagne. It makes hiking the trails a more piquant experience.

Suddenly we emerged into a clearing filled with majestic medieval ruins. We assumed there would be a few remnants of broken wall jutting out from a tumble of brambles. We were mistaken. Confronting us at the end of the road was a moat guarding a stone gatehouse, behind which rose two massive towers. “Quelle surprise!”

The Forteresse de Largoët is a compact site, much of it in ruins, but dominated by its two magnificent towers which still reach to their original heights. The castle was primarily built in the 15th century and, at one time, formed a small island surrounded by a water-filled moat on three sides and a small lake on the other. The rear elements of the gate (two flanking towers) date from the 13th century. It’s the only gate complex that I’ve ever seen which has arrow slits opening into the gate passage itself. Ingenious and, I imagine, quite effective if attackers ever managed to batter the gate down and get into the passage.

The main tower (the donjon) is open to the public. It’s also open to the rain, the snow, the wind, and pigeons – sadly, it has no roof. So it is somewhat of a shell. But one can still wander about, investigate its many alcoves. [“You use this word, alcoves?” – that’s for all of you In Bruges fans. If you are not a fan of this movie, well … it beggars belief.] There are also two winding stairways which climb nearly the full height of the tower. At each level you can gaze out over the beautiful forest and lake, or wander into empty spaces still containing fireplaces, window seats, garderobes (medieval toilets), arched ceilings and wonderfully carved doorways. The larger halls and chambers of the two central cores running vertically through the donjon apparently had wooden floors which long ago rotted away, leaving precipitous views of fireplaces and other elements now hanging in mid air.

Despite its partly ruinous nature, the donjon is really impressive. Seven floors. Forty-five meters tall! It’s huge. And it must have been mind-numbingly expensive. Elaborately decorated with gargoyles, stepped machiolations, molded edgings, the entirety of the exterior and interior is faced in fully-dressed stone. None of your cheap rubble construction at Largoët.

The other tower, the Tour Ronde, is less statuesque than the donjon, but it, too, is beautiful and imposing. It was restored in 1905 when the top bits were reconstructed and used as a residence for some time. Unfortunately, this tower is closed to the public so we weren’t able to have a peek inside.

It’s easy to imagine how this castle in the woods must once have looked. In spite of the many ruins, the remains are substantial enough to allow one to form a full image of its walled might when the complex was complete and filled with the many inhabitants who must have lived and worked there. For the lords of Largoët it was surely a life lived in the height of fashionable architecture and security. Exciting as it is to explore such amazing sites, I am always left with a bit of sadness that a building of such beauty, so cleverly conceived, and having required such effort to complete, could be left to fall into ruin, largely forgotten or, at the least, discounted. A place no longer valued. To me, it’s a form of disrespect. Not just to the noble elites who conceived and enjoyed the many advantages of such a place, but also to the countless men and women whose names we will never know – those who toiled to build, maintain, and serve the Forteresse de Largoët. We could certainly do them more honor.

As for the elves? Not a one. Nor dwarves, hobbits, orcs or goblins. Not even an ent in the woods did we see. We certainly found the two towers. But Middle Earth? Well, I guess my search continues. Nonetheless, we had a fine day and we were so happy we persevered in our quest to find this place. Should you ever find yourselves in this magical part of the world, you will not regret a visit to the Elven Towers.

The Sweetness of Serendipity: Langon and Grand-Fougeray

Posted on 19/08/2019 by John Kocan

Two Towers Across the Lake – Grand-Fougeray

It was time for yet another random outing. The weather was fine. Not too hot (we’re from Seattle, remember), and we had not been out to sightsee for a couple of weeks. Determined not to neglect any of our fortunate time here in France, we decided that we needed to get out and see something new. So, late Saturday night I leafed through one of our guidebooks and found a few interesting spots located to the east of us. Not far. Perfect for a short day-trip. Having settled on two sites, we set off on Sunday morning. And, yes, technically, it was still morning (11:30). Just. Unless we’re compelled by some unreasonably early appointment, 11:30 is about as soon as Cherie and I are likely to step out of the door. It’s a well-established family policy.

First on the agenda was the small town of Langon. This community sits on one side of a valley through which runs the Villaine river. The town is also fortunate to have a rail station on the line which runs from Redon to Rennes, giving it connections to Nantes in the south and Lorient to the west. After a nice 45-minute drive through undulating countryside and pleasant little villes, we arrived, winding gently down through pretty stone buildings into the center of town. The sun was shining through a tattered carpet of pillowy clouds, the temperature was just perfect for a t-shirt, jeans and cardigan – and it was quiet. Like, really quiet.

Sundays are quite lazy days in France unless you find yourself in a larger city. Very few (if any) shops are open and, if they are, only for a couple of hours in the morning. Usually one can find a café, bar or restaurant open during the lunch hours (12pm – 2pm). And boulangeries are generally open throughout the main hours of the day. Given our accustomed late starts, we nearly always end up at a boulangerie, grasping for the last sandwiches or quiches remaining in their glass cases. But, this being France, they almost without exception prove to be excellent fare. Even if the sandwiches or quiches aren’t so great, we never leave a boulangerie without patisserie (also family policy – the first item on the list, as a matter of fact); so, a mediocre meal will always be made infinitely better by finishing off with a lovely fruit tart or at least a pain au chocolat! It’s pretty hard to lose under such circumstances.

Apart from a couple of other visitors and some locals in the lone café to be open that day, we had the town to ourselves. Our aim was to see the Chapelle Sainte-Agathe. This chapel is one of the few surviving examples of Gallo-Roman architecture in Bretagne. It it thought to have begun life in the 4th century as either a mortuary vault or as a bath. At some point it became a temple for venerating Venus and then transitioned into a Christian church. The history seems rather unsettled, but regardless of that, this little building is a rare survivor in this part of France. Over 1,600 years old. Amazing!

But, O Fortuna! The chapel was closed. Not entirely surprising. But disappointing nonetheless. The interior is supposed to contain a fresco of Venus rising from the waves and Eros astride a dolphin. Racy. It would have been great to see the inside, but that’s the chance you take when you make spontaneous sight-seeing trips on a Sunday. It’s not far from Malestroit so we will have to make a return trip to view the interior of this lovely little chapel.

An unexpected bonus of our visit to Langon was the town’s parish church: Église St. Pierre. The church is literally steps away from the chapel and we were delighted to see a marvelous display of twelve bell-turrets arranged around the tower, each one keenly pointed and individually shod in slate tiles. It was plain to see that this church has been entirely restored – inside and out – within the past couple of years. And a fine job was done. Very impressive work. We were especially taken with the interior. The lime-render of every wall surface had been completely renewed and sensitively redecorated in a period fashion which evokes its original state when first constructed between the 11th and 12th centuries. It is magnificent. Just the kind of restoration we like to see.

Sublime Decoration: the Nave and Chancel

We had the entire church to ourselves, allowing us to appreciate undisturbed the harmony of the architecture and its decoration. The peace of our visit was only broken once, momentarily, when one of the church bells suddenly (and loudly) struck the hour somewhere directly above. At the time, I was having one of those sublime out-of-body moments that I experience whenever I am confronted by a beautiful medieval building. The bell shocked me so much I nearly let fly with a pithy selection of invective from my vast vocabulary of swear words and curses. Luckily, I managed to swallow my frothy utterance before committing an outrageous (though witty) sacrilege. I’m not in the least bit religious, but I have a great respect and admiration for these buildings, as well as for the people who maintain them and the congregations who keep them alive. The last thing I want to do is dishonor a place so precious to them. This time I had had a narrow escape!

12 Bell Towers Surrounding a Central Spire (the Apostles and Their Lord)

Admiring chapels and churches is hungry work. It was also mid-afternoon. Cherie spotted a boulangerie just up the street from the church so she just managed to squeak through their open door before they closed while I minded Saxon. Distraught, as he always is, to be separated by more than three feet from the love of his life, Cherie, the dog and I fidgeted outside while she grabbed lunch. Out of sandwiches, the boulangère sold her a couple of individual quiches, a strawberry tart (for Cherie) and a pear tart (my favorite). We quickly munched them in the car in a very un-french manner, and then set off for our second destination: Grand-Fougeray.

Crossing the Villaine river and continuing further eastward for 15 minutes brought us to Grand-Fougeray. It’s a small-ish town of around 2,500 souls with a lovely square. Even though the end of lunchtime was fast approaching the restaurants terraces were still lively with diners enjoying their meals en plein air on this relaxed summer’s day. It made for a nice atmosphere amidst the backdrop of well-maintained 18th and 19th century facades and riots of flowers blooming in the numerous planters dotted around the square. So typically French. These scenes, so common in France, make us smile every time.

But our goal in this area lay instead on the edge of town. So, this time, at least, we didn’t tarry in the centre-ville and made straight for La Tour du Guesclin. This tower, or donjon, is the only substantial remnant of a castle that had once guarded not only the town of Grand-Fougeray, but also the border of Bretagne which, for most of the Middle Ages, was an autonomous duchy, independent of the kingdom of France. Such vigilance was necessary. For several french kings had made military forays against Bretagne. The only land approach being from the east, several large fortresses were constructed on Bretagne’s borders to guard against recurring french invasions. The castle at Grand-Fougeray was one of these (our new home to the north, Fougères, was another of these guardians of the marches). This string of defenses served as a bulwark to help maintain the duchy’s independence for centuries.

A Strategically Stacked Pile of Stones – Tour du Guesclin

Our guide-book merely includes a brief mention of the Tour du Guesclin. No photos. From the description, we expected a stumpy ruin poking out of the grass, just recognizable as having once been a tower. But as we drove into the casually-marked parking lot, we were stunned to be confronted by an intact monumental stone tower 34 meters high and 13 meters wide. Wow! Although once part of a walled castle, the tower now stands alone, the last sentinel still keeping watch over this part of Bretagne’s ancient border. A beautiful and serene park and arboretum has grown up around the tower, resulting in a very pleasant setting. The tower’s neighbor next door is an eighteenth-century château-cum-convent and on this day several of the nuns had ventured out between their daily services to enjoy the park and take a jovial turn up the spiral staircase of the edifice which overlooks their garden walls.

The fortress of Grand-Fougeray was begun in 1189. In 1350 it was captured by an english pirate (seriously) and occupied by the english for four years until Betrand du Guesclin, constable of France, recaptured it. The tower has borne his name ever since. When we first arrived, the tower appeared to be closed. It looked like, if were to get a look inside, we would ourselves have to lay siege to it. But we forgot to bring our battering ram. So, after a first look around the exterior, we took a stroll through the arboretum, Saxon having great fun sniffing around and watching the many ducks in the ponds with his ever-present fascination for such things. When we returned, the door of the tower was wide open and people were casually entering. Not a battering ram in sight. What luck! It must have been closed for lunchtime. Opening (and closing) times in France are highly unpredictable, changeable and often seemingly random. Sometimes you get lucky. We were quite happy to find that this was one of those times.

Sensibly, the French tend to take a dim view of allowing a large black standard poodle who is lavishly uninhibited in demonstrating his love of meeting new people to wander around inside national historic monuments. So, I entered the tower first to have a look around while Cherie waited outside with our celebrity dog. Ostensibly, the tower was open for an art exhibition. A number of local artists had their works plastered all over the interior spaces of the tower. Although the “art” was a bit distracting, it was still possible to see the beautiful architecture it was concealing.

Clearly, this was once a lavish building. Still visible are the numerous carved moldings, capitals, plinths, lintels, architraves and other decorative features. It was easy to imagine the now-bare stone walls once covered with lime plaster and brightly painted with patterns, figures and/or solid panels of color, some hung with tapestries or painted cloths. Even though it is now a bit stark, it is easy to feel how comfortable and luxurious the rooms of this tower must have once been. Each floor, joined by a projecting spiral stairway, features a large central space from which smaller peripheral chambers radiate around the exterior. The floors were laid in red or buff-colored terra-cotta tiles adding a further sense of solidity to the spaces (as if it needed it). I lingered as long as I dared. After a last look, I reluctantly exited so that Cherie could take her turn. She found it no less impressive than I did. All in all, we both felt that this was a real gem and one of the better medieval buildings we have visited.

Our visits to Lougan and Grand-Fougeray were further proof of our theory that, more often than not, it is the unexpected things which turn out to be the most rewarding travel experiences. It is the surprise discovery or the unforeseen event which gives us the most pleasure, the most long-lasting memories.

Serendipity. We swear by it. And it almost never lets us down. We hope that it works in your favor as well.

Finding Our France

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Tag Archives: Medieval Tower

Pace & Passivity

The Two Towers – Elven and the Lords of Largoët

The Sweetness of Serendipity: Langon and Grand-Fougeray