June 21, 2014, Luxembourg- It was the Solstice! How to ring in the Summer? For me, there was no better way than to walk down to the Alzette River, passing the three segments of the old fortress district of Luxembourg-Ville along the way. The path to these magnificent sites passes along Rue Marche des Herbes.

The walker passes Luxembourg’s Palais de Justice.

Around the corner is L’Eglise Saint-Michel, honouring the Archangel.

Then comes Rocher de Bock. This is the oldest area of Luxmbourg-Ville, having been built by Count Sigefroy, on the site of an old Roman castellum, in 963 AD.

This is a view of a casement, under the Bock.

From the Bock, a viaduct, built first by the Romans, then restored by the Spanish, still shows usefulness.

The “new Luxembourg” of the Europe Center is visible in the distance.

Ville-Basse, the lower city, has its vibrance and trendiness, much as do the city centre and Quartier Gare, both in Ville- Haute.

Maybe Not Bob’s is an eatery that has been open for 21 years. The name comes from a compromise between the two owners. One wanted to call it Maybe’s and the other, Bob’s. So they disagreed in the middle, but continued to serve good food, or so I’m told. I saved my appetite for New Color’s, later that evening.

On I went, past the confluence of the tiny Pertrusse with the moderately-flowing Alzette, towards Wenceslas Wall.

The Alzette offers a short, but tranquil, walk in shady woods.

Then, the woods clear, and the Spanish Turrets (Tres Tours) of Wenceslas Wall let us know why this city was called Gibraltar of the North.

Wenceslas was an early Duke of Luxembourg, allied with the Spanish, during the days when Spain was ruled by the Hapsburgs. His wall was intended to keep out the French. This worked until the War of the Reunions, which I mentioned in the previous post. Vauban, who led the French to victory, left his own fortress.

There is a third fortress, Thungen, in the Kirschberg District, but I did not get over that way, this time.

Instead, I circled around and took in Ville-Basse’s small but scintillating garden.

After this brief respite, it was back up to Ville-Haute, past the area where the Wenceslas and Vauban strongholds blend.

New Color’s is a brasserie, built by some of the employees of Color’s, a now defunct eatery, which ruled the Luxembourg dining scene for several years, or again, so I’m told. All I know is that this new establishment provided a delectable five-course meal, and has one of the most energetic staffs I’ve seen anywhere. I was the first dinner guest, and by the time I left, there was zero room on the patio. Hugo became a friend, and I gave my payment standing up, so that he and his wife would not lose four guests, for whom mine was the closest table to being available.

Then, the show was about to start.  Luxembourg Philharmonic presented an evening of Disney and movie themes.

The Orchestra ended its performance at 10 PM. In Place d’Armes, however, Dany Kohll and Maxim were just getting started.

Graceful Mme. Kohll and her troupe, which includes her husband, Felix Schaber, a horn virtuoso, kept everyone gleeful, with a mix of pop, show, blues and rock anthems. We all got to join in for “Silly Sally” and Phil Collins’ “Take Me Home”, with which Dany sent everyone home, right at Midnight.

This was the most eclectic day of my journey, certainly, and what an honour to have been able to take part in the little nation’s big weekend. By the way, the Duke whose birthday is the basis for this celebration was the first Grand Duke of an independent Luxembourg: Adolphe I.

NEXT:  Morning in Luxembourg, Evening in Metz.

( I must let everyone know, all the photos taken during the last week of my time in Europe were lost yesterday, in a computer mishap.  I am looking into long-shot possibilities for restoring the SIM card, or extracting the photos, but Best Buy says its impossible.  The remaining posts, therefore, will have accredited photos by other sources.)

June 10, 2014-  Depending on who is digging where, the megaliths of Carnac were first erected in 4500 BC, 3300 BC, or somewhere in between.  There is an equal diversity of opinion as to the WHY of these magnificent fields of stone.  Some say they are astronomical indicators.  There are others whose take is that they are strictly for religious ceremonies.  Another group postulates that Merlin turned the Roman legions here into stone.  These are, of course, the same people who say that a Nineteen-Foot Tall Giant is going to land in Antarctica, next week, and take us all to Planet Pneumonococcus.

I had a nice bus ride from Vannes to Carnac-Plage, on that afternoon.  The town drunk of Carnac was on board, and while he had been yelling about the bus to Paris being late, prior to this bus’s arrival, he promptly fell asleep, once we got rolling.  We went through nice little towns along the way.  One of these was Auray, which has the Cathedral of St. Goustan.

I would return to Auray later that night, but more about that later.

When we arrived at Carnac-Plage, the resort end of town, I learned that most of my fellow riders were more interested in the beach, than in the rows of rocks.  The town imbiber, of course, still wanted to go to Paris, but figured he’d make do with his own flat for the time being.  I took a quick look at the shore.

The modern gem of Carnac, though, is Jardin Cesarine.  The town park has an imaginative rope course.

The garden itself held my attention, happily, for twenty minutes, or so.

It was the Parc des Megaliths, which stayed in my head, and drew me in short order.  There are three large sections of the park:  Menec, Kemerio (House of the Dead) and Kerlescan, and a smaller area, Petit-Menec.

Here are some scenes of Menec, the western, and largest, segment of alignments, with a few single menehir (Stones that are partly buried), in between.

At this fence, and road, I left Menec and came to Kemerio- the House of the Dead. To be sure, parts of this area looked like a cemetery, and it is here that the Merlin Theory got started. There was a busload of Italian senior citizens with me, for part of the time. Their chatter was constant, but it was actually quite refreshing. Looking at rows of stones for two hours does get a bit lonesome- unless one believes they are actually Roman soldiers.

The farm house in the background is occupied, and there is a herd of Brittany sheep doing landscaping duty. These sheep are a Heritage Food Source, so are prized by Slow Food France and other people concerned with the diversity of our diet. I am a member of Slow Food USA, so the sheep captured my interest.

There were lonely menihir in this section, as in Menec.

This horizontal piece looked like a beached whale.

This piece reminded me of the donkey at Block Island Petting Zoo, last year, who came up to the fence and couldn’t get enough food

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The Kerlescan section is smaller than the other two main sections, and rounds out the park, at the east end.

Kerlescan was also more of interest to local farmers, as a source of stone and water.  This abandoned cistern bears witness to their efforts.

One enterprising pair of sisters is making a go of serving up fine food and beverages:  Chez Celine, where I enjoyed one very filling crepe- the only meal I would have on that evening. Since it was chocolate, with orange marmalade, who’s to complain?

I was the only American who had been there in quite some time, so the ladies took to giggling to themselves, amusing me and a German gentleman who was enjoying a glass of wine.

Across the road from Chez Celine is Petit- Menec, the baby brother of the Big Three.

Crucino Dolmen was once a tomb, but acid in Brittany’s soil has worn away the bones.

To the east of the Dolmen, I entered Bois Saint-Michel, a hiking trail which a honeymooning couple had taken, an hour or so earlier. It would lead me back to Carnac-Plage.

There are two landmarks associated with St. Michael (the man, not the Archangel), on this path. First, I came upon his fountain.

The tomb of this French patron saint is at the northern edge of Carnac-Ville.

I saw a similarity between the tumulus, and Mont St. Michel.

The “cone” turned out to be Chapel St. Yves.

It was late, but still light, so I was fooled a bit. My arrival back in town left only one mode of transport available. A kind boulangere called the first taxi, which got me to Auray. After I used the ATM, a gentleman on business in Auray called the second one, which brought me to Place Verlanne, from which I was able to use my legs to get to the hotel. All’s fair in love, war and an extended evening at a remote place of interest. Carnac shows that we indeed come from highly intelligent, imaginative stock.

The serene inner garden of Mission San Gabriel Arcangel  exists in four parts.  There are indeed four points in this lovely arrangement:  The Grape Arbor; the manufactory; the Peace Garden; the Tongva display.

When entering the garden, through the Mission’s Museum Store, one encounters an area that links the four points of this amazing island of serenity.  Here, it is explained how the big picture of Spanish settlement fit the work of the monks and friars into its warp and weft.

An archway brings the traveler into the Peace Garden.

From here, it is wise to listen for any signs that there might be a Mass, or other worship activity, going on, as the Mission Church is immediately ahead, to the south.  As Mass was in progress when I walked through the Archway, I contented myself with walking about in the Tongva quadrant.  Cherry blossoms were abundant.

A lion glared out from the fountain.

As was the case at the Playhouse, there is a full set of  miniatures of the California missions, in this section of the garden.  Here is a miniature of Mission San Gabriel Arcangel.

The garden path weaves in and out, through the various sectors.  This area, for some reason, invoked Gethsemane, for me.

Around this corner, next to the bust of an unknown Spaniard, is the replica of a traditional home of  the Tongva, or Gabrieleno, people.  These indigenous folk dominated the Los Angeles Basin, from Malibu and Santa Monica to the area now called the Inland Empire.  A band of Tongva still lives in San Gabriel, and shares the traditional culture with interested friends and neighbours.

A Tongva image is featured on this nearby stone wall.

From the northwest, or Tongva, quadrant, I moved into the comforting realm of Peace Garden.

The Blessed Mother, Christ and His Stations are here, bringing into focus the closeness that God and His Messengers are always willing to have with each of us, provided we open the channel.

Mary’s countenance gives solace in two places within the Peace Garden.  Here, she is addressed as Our Lady of Guadalupe.

The Passion of Christ is reflected in the illustrations of His Stations, such as that below.

All the more so,  Christ’s Presence is felt, in this depiction of the Crucifixion.

There is a very quick transition from the Crucifix to the Grape Arbor.  This small area represents the first winery in the Los Angeles Basin.    The monks initiated grape cultivation, at first to provide ceremonial wine to be used at Mass.  As with all such libations, however, pleasurable uses soon proved an incentive for wider cultivation.

Padre Junipero Serra’s statue greets us here as well.

Through the Cypress Arch, one is escorted into the workaday realm of the Manufactory, the northeast quadrant.

Here, tallow soap, candles  and everyday implements needed by the Mission were crafted, as well as all cooked food prepared.

Below,  here is a view of the outdoor ovens.

The aqueduct was fashioned from similar brick and mortar.

This iron cauldron was essential to the life of the community.

So, of course, were soap and candles, fashioned from animal tallow, in vats such as this one.

With the heat inside close to 450F, woe betided the careless and unwary of those venturing into the Manufactory.  Making the necessities of life was quite hazardous.

Life in this mission, as in other such communities, was however, generally rewarding for those of good heart.  Control of the property was batted back and forth, especially after California’s admission into the Union, in 1850.  By 183, however, the Federal government had restored control of the Mission to the Claretian Order.

On Easter, I will post scenes of the Mission Church, the Parish Church and Mission School buildings.

I had plenty of time, after my friend Janet left, to take in Doheny Beach and the south jetty of Dana Point Harbor, before my evening visit to San Clemente.

The titular line is from an old song, “Surfer Joe”, by the Surfaris: “Down in Doheny where the surfers all go / There’s a big, bleached blondie named Surfer Joe / He has a green surfboard with a woody to match.”  Joe’s successors were not in Doheny in abundance on the delightful afternoon of Friday, March 21, but there were about five families, a lone kite flyer and two middle-schoolers, who appeared to be brother and sister.

As is my wont, I covered various aspects of the beach park, starting with San Juan Creek.  This brackish channel is the focus of a potential desalination project- quite important in an Orange County that has faced prolonged drought.

 

Of course, my attention turned to the ocean, in short order.

 

This time around, I had my surf shoes on, so it was easy to walk about the fairly-deserted sand, and take in Doheny’s small stone jetty, and service area.

 

 

I always have an urge to see things through to the end, so I walked over to Dana Point’s stone jetty, the dividing line between the two beaches, and walked to its western terminus.  Boulder scrambling is a good way to focus one’s heart and mind.  Along the way, I encountered a couple of families fishing, one human, the other avian.  The cormorants didn’t mind being photographed.

 

Here is what I found at the end of the jetty.

 

 

To and from the end, I got different views of Dana Point’s beach front.

 

 

Doheny’s “dry side’ was a place of respite for some picnicking families,

 

and a lone kite flyer.

 

There are nesting herons and egrets here, as well.  The Nesting Tree, a melaleuca, is a Doheny Beach staple.

 

The Butterfly Garden is the icing on Doheny’s cake.  It had only a few monarchs on March 21, but there were several birds’ nests in the eucalyptuses along the trail.

 

There is also something magical about California coastal palms, as out of place as some find them.  They are a sign of “endless summer”, even when it’s a tad cool out.

 

 

 

Satisfied with this day at the beach, I took in a celebration of the Divine Springtime, Naw-Ruz, at San Clemente’s Baha’i Center.

 

The following two days would also be jam-packed, with visits to three Los Angeles County beach towns, then San Gabriel and its mission, and downtown Redlands.  So, after a couple of hours with my OC Baha’i friends, I headed up a surprisingly empty I-405, to Torrance, then over to Lomita, and the comfortable little motel where I stayed on my last visit to west LA.

Next:  Manhattan Beach

 

Each time I have visited my son in San Diego, I stop in Orange County before heading home. The beaches, missions and gardens in the home of Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm have given me a far greater appreciation for all that Southern California has going for it- beyond the traffic and smog, which weren’t bad this time around, and which are only the small price we pay to enjoy the O.C’s many sublime beauties.

I have been to Dana Point twice before.  The town, named for Richard Henry Dana, whose statue adorns the town’s harbourside park, has a lovely promontory, to its north.  I have climbed the trail to the summit of that striking overlook, and walked the harbourside path, once before, as well.  This time, March 21, accompanied by my O.C. friend, Janet, I saw and heard things from a bird’s perspective, specifically that of a heron.  There are two species of heron in Dana Point and neighbouring Doheny Beach.  Janet and I witnessed a raucous chorale of nesting Blue Herons, as we walked along the harbourside park.

As is customary with our visits, we enjoyed lunch first- this time at Harpoon Henry’s, on the east end of the harbour area.  It’s hard to not get a good seafood meal in an OC beach town, and mine was fabulous.  Henry’s gave Janet a good chicken lunch as well- not every maritime-themed place does landlubber fare well, so this was a plus.

Here is a refresher of what Dana Point Harbor looks like.

 

 

Here, again, is the harbourside park.

 

The above photo shows a eucalyptus tree, which, along with the melaleuca (tea tree), serves as a nesting place for both the Blue Herons and their cousins, the Night Herons.

Here are some shots of blue herons and their nests.  Look carefully, and you can see the heads of one or two birds in each nest.

 

 

 

One of our avian friends decided to go for a food run.

 

 

Meanwhile, back on the ground, a blond squirrel was competing with his grey California ground squirrel relatives, for the generosity of  California park goers.

 

On the beach rocks, an oyster catcher was finding its prey.

After Janet left, I lingered a bit at the south edge of the park, taking in the raucous commotion of the Night Herons, whose call sounds like a cross between someone gargling and Chewbacca the Wookie, from Star Wars.

One Night Heron obliged me by sauntering in the nearby rocks.

I was fascinated for the two-and-a half hours spent watching and listening to these awesome creatures.  The afternoon gave a new meaning to “Stop and smell the roses”.  There were more wisteria than any other plant, but that’s another story.

NEXT:  Doheny Beach