The Life in My Years

A French Journey: On The French Road Part II. Brittany – The 14th Century Castle

Paul

May 5, 2026

An American’s observations of a first time trip to France.

“Brittany has something of Ireland’s melancholy and Spain’s passion, with its cliffs like fortresses and its villages like sanctuaries.” ~ attributed to Victor Hugo.

Every July, year upon year, almost without fail, I cruised the French countryside. I rumbled over the narrow cobblestone streets of quaint country villages, where I marveled at the centuries old churches that seemed to want to grasp the very heavens above. I traversed rolling hills, and cut through vast vineyards where row upon row of vines stretched so far that only the birds above could appreciate their boundlessness . I marveled at the magnificence of chateaus tucked in green valleys or perched on rocky hilltops. I journeyed on winding roads that snaked up mountains or provided panoramas of crashing coastal waves.

Every July I did that, and year after year it never dawned on me that I should take the time to see those sights in person. You see, every year I saw France through the eyes of the commentators covering the Tour de France. There really is no better travel video than a stage of Le Tour. And there’s a different episode nearly every day of the month of July. This was my annual journey to France until the long hiatus that came when the truth about Lance Armstrong emerged. The truth that cyclists like me wanted to believe was all vicious rumor – until there were no denials left to find in the bullshit bag.

During all those years, why did it never dawn on me to see the beauty of France, learn its history, and experience its culture?

In the end, it wasn’t even Le Tour that inspired us to go. Early in June of 2025, Cora and I, both of us history buffs, were watching a documentary about D-Day. As the film was winding down I turned to Cora and said, “Fuck it, let’s go to France.”

Done.

We started in Paris and then drove to Normandy (both documented in previous posts).

I’ve locked up the rental house in Ver-sur-Mer that was our Normandy home and we’re headed six kilometers up the coast to Courseulles-sur-Mer, one of the many little seaside resort towns that eighty-one years ago were the first to be liberated from the German Army.

Breakfast of pastries and coffee at Boulangerie du Port – Maison Trihan. Because when you’re in France you don’t pour yourself a bowl of Sugar Frosted Flakes. Even Tony the Tiger would concede that compared to a French croissant, Sugar Frosted Flakes are not so grrrreat!

We’ll be driving southeast today, slicing across the bottom of the Cotentin Peninsula and into Brittany. But not so fast. Just outside of Courseulles-sur-Mer is the Juno Beach Memorial where, on June 6th 1944, 14,000 Canadian soldiers landed. It’s a last brief stop to pay my respects to Normandy, and to take a few photos to share with Eden, my Canadian friend.

Below: The Signal Monument of Juno Beach. Designed to represent the bow of a ship coming from the Channel, this is one of ten similar monuments erected on the Normandy Coast.

Below: The “1 Charlie” Tank Monument is a Canadian AVRE (Army Vehicle Royal Engineers). At nine in the morning on June 6th, “1 Charlie” landed on Juno Beach. It soon became mired in a 65 foot crater. Of the crew of six, four members were killed and two badly wounded.

The tank was buried until 1976, when it was recovered and refurbished and placed as a memorial.

Bill Dunn, the driver of “1 Charlie” gave an account of what happened that day. Dunn described how the design of the tank restricted his vision. Because of his restricted view, and because the Germans had flooded the entire area, Dunn didn’t see a culvert in front of the vehicle before the vehicle plunged in. As Dunn tried to drive the tank out, the track snapped. The vehicle began to take on water.

Dunn said, “For me being in the front I was the last one out.” He continued, “The bullets were flying all over the place. I was the last man out and I started to swallow water. I was the last one out and as my co-driver got out he put his knees on both sides of my head . . . as he came out he dragged me with him.”

Dunn went on to describe how the crew took cover in the dunes. Shortly afterwards a mortar round struck, killing three of the men outright. One of the wounded attempted to crawl to get help but died after making it 100 yards. Dunn rolled to a place that he thought was safe but that turned out to be a minefield. With one leg fractured in five places, Dunn managed to run to safety.

Seventy years later, Bill Dunn’s ashes were scattered at Juno Beach.

Further down the beach I come across the remains of a German pillbox.

It’s enough. Time to go back to the car. Walking the beaches of Normandy you could shed enough tears to float a ship. You’re at once awestruck by the heroism, while saddened by the sacrifice and loss. You’re also left shaking your head at so-called leaders who are so ignorant that they feel that they can start a war on a mere whim. Because it’s not they who will be asked to kill, or to risk being killed.

A Hungarian Lesson

Paul

11 comments

April 24, 2026

An authoritarian has been toppled in Hungary. The rise and fall of Viktor Orban should provide a lesson for nations in the grip of authoritarians, and those struggling with creeping authoritarianism. And that especially goes for

the United States.

Viktor Orban was in power for sixteen consecutive years. His total stay in power was twenty years. Up until he lost the recent Hungarian election by a landslide, Orban was the North Star for right wing populists. His rise to power, and subsequent iron grip on Hungarian politics and society was the primer that guided budding dictators in Europe and

the United States.

In the late 1980s, Orban was himself a liberal dissident, a brave individual who championed the Hungarian, anti-Soviet movement. He was the Viktor Orban who, during his brighter days, stated in a speech,”The best weapon against tyranny is to steel oneself . . .” Orban’s benefactor during those days was none other than philanthropist George Soros, who was, and still is, perceived by the right wing, worldwide as the bane of civilization. If it isn’t Obama, or a Biden, or even Hillary, then it must be George Soros who’s behind some sort of Satanic globalist plot.

Orban’s first political shift came in 1998 when he moved from liberal to center-right conservative, a position that earned him his first term as Hungary’s Prime Minister. As they say in basketball, “no harm, no foul.” In this first term, Prime Minister Orban was pro-Western and pro-NATO.

Four years later Orban was defeated by Hungarian Socialist, Peter Medgyssey, and Orban and his Fidesz Party made a radical hard right turn and in 2010 Orban won re-election as Hungary’s Prime Minister. By now Orban had repudiated his former liberalism and Soros, his former benefactor, and was proceeding on a corrupt, despotic path that would lead to the downfall of Hungary, the ruination of its economy, and the putrefaction of Hungarian society.

Lesson one: Never assume that the lust for power won’t eclipse integrity and long standing beliefs.

“I go back and forth between thinking Trump is a cynical a–hole like Nixon… or that he’s America’s Hitler”. ~ J.D. Vance in 2016. J.D. Vance who has shown that he will march under any flag that he thinks will propel him up the power ladder. J.D. Vance, who maligns immigrants while being married to the daughter of

immigrants from India.

“NATO is an important alliance. If NATO didn’t exist, we’d have to create it.” ~ Marco Rubio, who, as recently as 2023 co-authored a bill that would prohibit any President of the United States from withdrawing from the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) without Senate approval or an Act of Congress. The same Marco Rubio who was once taken seriously as having expertise in foreign policy. The Marco Rubio who has now become a full fledged member of the Trump cult and has taken to disparaging NATO and our (once) European allies.

Monochrome Madness: It Begins With P

Paul

16 comments

April 22, 2026

The blog site Travel With Me, published by Sarah Wilkie is one of my favorites. There’s an old country song titled “I’ve Been Everywhere,” recorded by various artists (I’m most familiar with the Johnny Cash version). The lyrics of this novelty song lists the various places the singers have (purportedly) visited. Sarah could record her own version and literally put the other travelers to shame. This week Sarah hosts Monochrome Madness and the subject is, “Begins With P.”

Banner photo is the Pantheon of Paris. I do love the old ceilings.

Below: A Plant that I can’t Place. This unknown, to me, flower is naturally purple, but in monochrome it takes on the appearance of parchment.

People at a Parisian Patisserie (say that fast three times)

While in Paris I shot a lot of images of patisseries and outdoor cafes. I particularly liked this one because (for me) it illustrates a classic Parisian scene (said the man who’s been to Paris – once).

A French Journey: On the French Road Part I. Driving Madame Cora.

Paul

15 comments

April 13, 2026

An American’s observations of a first time trip to France.

“You’re driving in France?” That’s my friend Jenny’s response after I’ve told her that I’ll be renting a car during our trip to France. Her reaction is troubling. Not the question so much as the tone. Her inflection could’ve said, “oh how exciting,” or “what fun.” But it doesn’t. It’s more like, “have you lost your blinking mind?”

Jenny was born in France, has spent a fair portion of her adult life in France, and has driven in France. And so, her alarm is, well, alarming.

In heated tones she tells me about the nightmares of driving in Paris, and then she cools off when I tell her that I’m not driving in Paris, I’m driving in France. That said, her level of agitation goes down from a five alarm conflaguration to a sputtering birthday candle.

Once we get to Paris, and I get a look at Parisian traffic, especially the (barely) controlled chaos at Place Charles de Gaulle (home of the Arc de Triomphe), I understand Jenny’s concern.

I’ve pre-booked an Audi with Sixt at the Paris airport. I usually rent with Sixt whose slogan is, ‘Don’t rent a car, rent the car.” And If I’m driving in Europe, I want the car. I want to be Sam, Robert DeNiro’s character in the movie, Ronin. Seriously, I don’t plan on driving through vegetable stands, or dodging oncoming traffic while going the wrong way down a highway, and I have absolutely no gun play in mind. All I want is to drive a car that enhances the adventure. Not unlike driving a 1963 Corvette Sting Ray on Route 66.

In Spain, I rented a Mercedes. From the moment I started up the car, I told Cora, “I want one.” She said, “We have money, buy one.” The woman who gives me grief when I buy a 25 Euro souvenir T-shirt was giving me permission to spend at least $65,000 for a Merc. I could’ve asked her to repeat that statement while pressing record on my phone. She has a history of conveniently forgetting such permissions when I dredge them up later. I immediately passed on the notion of a Mercedes.

For a trip the previous year through Austria and Bavaria I had prebooked a BMW. Because on the Autobahn, you don’t want anything that says Honda or Nissan. Sixt didn’t give me either of those. Nor did they give me the BMW, or an Audi, or a Mercedes. They gave me a

Volvo?

Not the car –

a car.

On the Autobahn I pushed the poor dear to 115 miles per hour and eased up when it seemed like she was getting the vapors and shuddering. Meanwhile, an Audi R8 sped by in an electric blue blur.

We’re at the rental counter in Paris and I’m ready to pick up my Audi when I get buyer’s remorse, or, more accurately, a jolt of fiscal responsibility, because in six Parisian days we’ve already blown through the budget. I end up choosing a VW Polo. It’s definitely

a car

and not

the car

What would Sam/DeNiro say? It would probably be a one word answer, beginning with “p” and ending in “y.”

Monochrome Madness: The Beauty of Minimalism

Paul

19 comments

April 8, 2026

This is my first foray into the Monochrome Madness Challenge. The topic is Minimalism.

I tend to be long-winded but in keeping with the topic, I’ll keep my comments to a

mimimum.

Opuntia cactus needles. Shot through a hole in one of the pads

All three images above and the banner image were taken during COVID, when going out meant

the backyard.

Lens-Artists Challenge #392: Framing Your Shots

Paul

25 comments

April 4, 2026

This week Patti Moed has issued the challenge to share images using the technique of framing. But Patti’s challenge is a little more, uhh, challenging.

She writes, “This week, we’re focusing on one technique: framing the shot using the 3 grounds (or layers)—the foreground, the middle ground, and the background.

Foreground: the part of the scene that’s closest to the camera. Think of it as the introduction to the scene and an invitation for the viewer to explore the image.
Middle Ground: the central area of your image, between the foreground and the background. It’s often where the main subject is located.
Background: the farthest point from the viewer. It provides the context and completes the visual “story.”

Not quite so simple as just shooting through an arch at a distant building. It took some searching but I think I managed to come up with three.

I got out of our hotel before dawn to capture some photos of Old Quebec City before the hordes came out. The photo below uses Saint-Jean Gate as a frame. The middle ground is Rue Saint-Jean and the old buildings, and the background is the yellow light of dawn.

Lens-Artists Challenge #390 – Color in Black and White

Paul

17 comments

March 22, 2026

When I first saw Egidio’s challenge and the words “Black and White,” I thought, well, this is right up my alley. I love monochrome. I literally chase scenes that ask for monochrome.

And then I read on, “Even when a scene is presented entirely in shades of gray, our brains—conditioned by a lifetime of experience—can effortlessly “see” the familiar hues we expect. We project our own memories onto the print. This week, we will explore this cognitive phenomenon, showcasing how the absence of color can often create a deeper, more personal perception. That is this week’s challenge: seeing color in black and white.”

Oh. Wait.

It all seemed counter intuitive to find images that seem meant for color and transform them into black and white. It took some hunting but after a few tries it came rather naturally. I think that some images work and others . . .

The golden pyramid of the Louvre at night and it’s reflection on the pavement is a classic image. This image was taken from across a street and included the light trails of cars. I did boost the red to enhance the light trails and I increased the contrast. For me the pyramid becomes more of a bit player in this image.

Tout passe. — L’art robuste / Seul a l’éternité

Paul

10 comments

March 19, 2026

“All passes. — Robust art / Alone has eternity” ~ Théophile Gautier

Lens Artists Challenge #389: Time to Relax

Paul

6 comments

March 16, 2026

Relax. Just relax and have fun doing what you’re doing. Don’t worry so much about being results oriented. Just commit yourself to the moment.” —John Goodman

This week’s Lens-Artist prompt, “Time to Relax,” comes from Anne Sandler of Slow Shutter Speed.

Relaxation isn’t an easy thing these days. High prices, a little war here and there, social media. How do you calm the jitters?

I’ve often found relaxation in the pages of a book. I guess books are a sort of balancing act. I do read about politics which can raise the blood pressure, but before I turn off the lights at night I enjoy delving into poetry or maybe a good detective story.

“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”
― Groucho Marx

There are stories, personal ones, in the pages of the books above. The Pickwick Papers, This Is My Best, and Here is Your War all came from my father’s library. The latter of the three is still timely. My heart was warmed and my faith in the future generations was boosted when my grandson asked to read Maus. Frank Deford’s, Over Time was personally autographed by the author, an accomplished sports writer whose pieces I looked forward to reading every week when my copy of Sports Illustrated arrived in the mail. I met Mr. Deford at a talk he gave at San Francisco’s Commonwealth Club. What a twist of fate that when I left the talk and turned on the radio, Giants pitcher Matt Cain was throwing a perfect game. I got home just in time to see the last inning.

The book on the far left? Required reading.

One of my favorite things is to go out for coffee and find a table in the sun and just sit and get lost in a book. The two sitting outside of a patisserie in Paris seem to be unwitting soulmates.

A French Journey: An Evening in Paris.

Paul

10 comments

March 11, 2026

An American’s observations of a first time trip to France.

It’s alternately called the ‘the bridge of wishes,’ or ‘the lover’s bridge.’ Tradition holds that lovers should kiss and make a wish when passing beneath the little span called Pont Marie. Opened in 1635, Pont Marie links the Left and Right Banks of Paris.

The photographer’s ‘blue hour’ is fast approaching. That’s the magical, oh too short, window when the sun has just set and everything takes on a blue-ish hue; when the lights of the city add points of gold and yellow and the red neons of restaurants and bars add a flourish of gaiety (as if Paris needs a flourish of anything).

I’ve made the short walk from the Saint Paul Metro Station. Standing mid-span, leaning against the sun warmed stone of the bridge I watch the throngs heading from work to home and family, or to a cafe for evening cocktails with friends, or heading for an early dinner at a bistro overlooking the Seine, to luxuriate in a cassoulet.

Or just out for a stroll,

because

good God dude, it’s Paris and that’s what you do.

I suppose you could stay home, have KFC takeout and watch reruns of Friends. In that case you don’t deserve to be in Paris. Okay, maybe Paris, Texas, or Paris, Illinois (yes they exist).

I’m waiting for Clara, my Aperture Tours guide who will take me on a three hour night photography excursion. My night photography experience is limited, hell, almost non-existent, because in America a photographer carrying around a tripod at night might as well be wearing a sign saying, ‘mug me please.’ Safety at night with a thousand dollars worth of photo equipment is one of the many topics that Clara and I will talk about during our walk.

Cora and I have been in Paris for four days and I’ve fallen in love with La Ville-Lumière. Don’t try to tell me that Parisians are snooty and hate Americans. They’ve been the friendliest, most accommodating people I’ve met anywhere. They might hate our president, and rightly so, but if they sense that you’re a sane and un-MAGA’ied American, and during your stay you’ve been tossing around some ‘bonjours’ however poorly pronounced, then you’ve become a member of the club.

Turning to look out on the Seine towards the setting sun, the clouds are irresistible. There’s enough light that I don’t have to set up the tripod. Just steady the camera on the bridge.

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring