No internet connection. Two weeks, no internet connection. No phone calls, no emails, no work, no schedule. Just crepes, Cidre and sunshine. Oh la la. France is beautiful and I got to drive a Twingo at 100 km/hr. Above is a picture of Anthony, asleep on the TGV from Paris Gare Montparnasse on the way to Brest (a 4 hour ride at 186 miles an hour) They (the Mulays) arrived earlier that day and were exhausted. It was a long trip and if we ever make it back here, we're going to fly directly to Brest, which not only has a train station, but apparently an airport as well. Duh. Glad we were on top of that minor detail - could have saved ourselves like 10 hours of traveling, grumble, grumble, grumble.
Anyway, Genevieve picked us up along with her friend Laurence, a nice woman whose job as a "nose" is to sniff fragrances in Paris and who happens to live in a castle during major holidays. This is a picture of the last remaining tower on their property in Kersaint, built in the 1100s. No one lives in this particular tower (of course) but I'm including some photos of their home, which was a converted farm stable located within on castle grounds. Geesh, some people have tough, tough lives. The other picture is of Eric walking in front of some of the homes on their property. The land has been in the family for generations, with the parents living in one building, the son and his family, and the daughter and her family in another. Their main residences are all in Paris but they travel out here, to this town, every holiday. Almost all of the homes around this town are owned by families who live elsewhere during the rest of the year...families who have been coming here for generations and know each other. It's remarkable. On Laurence's property they have a pigeonnière,
a large cistern that holds hundreds of pigeonholes and was once also the house of a hermit who lived there in the 1800s. There's a building next door that is solely for baking bread, and the beams in the house are remnants from the castle with dragons carved back in the 12th century framing the master suite. The story of the castle includes a legend of a local prince who returned from the crusades to learn from his step-mother of his sister's improper and immodest behavior during his absence. He was so enraged, that he immediately pulled out his sword and cut off her head in the castle's main courtyard, without even asking for an explanation from his sister, with whom he had always been very close. As her body lay twitching on the ground, the brother realized that his step-mother had been trying to stir up trouble and had succeeded and the prince was so overcome with guilt, he renounced his thrown and gave his life to the church. He was made a saint for all the work he did for the poor. Of course, that didn't bring his sister back to life. Sucked to be her. 
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