This past weekend was a full one  with Easter, and the Saturday happenings in the Vieux Port. Then on Sunday afternoon, our friends Jacky and Pascale picked us up and drove us down to the Festival du cerf-volant et du vent de Châtelaillon-Plage. Châtelaillon is a coastal village just south of La Rochelle boasting a long beautiful beach with a promenade stretching out alongside it.

Not too hard to see that vent could mean wind, but I love the word for kite, cerf-volant, which would literally be something like deer-flying or stag-flying. How great is that? There was even a team of four guys that performed a choreographed ballet pour quatre cerf-volants, with four kites “dancing” in tight formation to music.

But this was not just for kites, it was really a celebration of the wind and all the beautiful things the wind can send aloft or set fluttering. Like these:

And these:

This was another event for all ages:

I’ve never really liked the wind, but this event gave me a new perspective. There were hundreds of people who were enjoying the wind and grateful for it and I found myself full of gratitude too: for the colors and the smiles and the laughter of children, and especially for our friends for inviting us to share this with them. How can you not love anything that makes you look up?

Weekends in La Rochelle everyone heads for the vieux port, where something is sure to be happening. The waterfront cafés are bustling.

The children are entertained.

The students . . . well . . . today they were engaged in the Nautics Games, which involved wearing odd things and jousting with boats:

Since preparing for the battle seemed to take forever (that may have been the low tide’s fault), the sidewalk performers had a captive audience. They’ll do anything to vie for your euros and centimes.

Some are more successful than others at keeping the attention of an audience. We saw a guy yesterday standing with one of those arm-brace single crutches, who would occasionally lift up his crutch and burst into song, singing into the hand grip part as if it were a microphone. There would be a little enthusiastic singing, then some I-can’t-remember-this-part vocalizing, then a little more singing, all offered with a twinkle in his eye as if he were giving us all a little gift. Okay, the music was not fabulous, but he got a lot of smiles, and a rather surprising number of tips. I guess Elizabeth Berg* is right, metaphorically and literally: “It is never about how good your voice is; it is only about feeling the urge to sing, and then having the courage to do it with the voice you are given.”

Sing on!

*See the Quotes page for some newly posted quotes from Elizabeth Berg.

I’m taking a month off from school, and instead will be working with a tutor a few times a week, so I have much more time during the day to join David in his rambles. Since this week is Holy Week, I’ve spent a little more time than usual in meditation and quiet. Even here in this relatively bustling tourist city, there are oases of peace to be found.

I glimpsed this very photogenic door at the end of a tiny alley one day as we were walking home from the port.

Although David visited le cimetière last year, I’d never seen it, so Monday we walked over there. We took a winding backroads route, so it took a while to find an opening in the wall, but we eventually got in. There’s a sign at the entrance that warns you to leave by 17H45 (5:45 p.m.) if you prefer NOT to be locked in for the night. Duly noted. Don’t think we would have liked that much quiet (or that kind–the locked-in kind).

There is a new section, but most of the cemetery is quite old and lovely and very peaceful.

I’m running out of synonyms for gorgeous. What is this stunning tree?

Today we went into Cathédrale Saint-Louis de La Rochelle. It’s undergoing restoration at the moment, but was silent and beautiful inside, with tranquil nooks for prayer and meditation.

I hope for you a week permeated with peace and an Easter overflowing with joy.

He is risen!

On of the best things about all this walking is discovering wonderful little shops like this one:

We popped in here the other day to find a gift for our friends, Jacky and Pascale, to thank them for their great kindness last year. One of the gentlemen inside the shop helped us and we ended the exchange with the traditional, “Merci. Au revoir!” and left. Since “revoir” means to see again, people will often add the specifics of exactly when they expect to meet again, like “à demain” (see you tomorrow) or “à dimanche” (see you Sunday), but you only add that part if you are actually expecting to see someone at the specific time or day mentioned, so unless you’re a very regular customer, au revoir is usually all you hear and say when leaving a shop.

While making our purchase, I had admired a bottle bag with handy dividers, but left without buying it, then remembered all the bottles we’re constantly toting, changed my mind, and turned around and went back immediately. The vendeur was a bit surprised to see us back so soon, but of course sold me what I wanted and even told me the French for it–sac compartimenté, since I know you’re wondering–then concluded the transaction with the traditional “Au revoir” but this time added “À tout à l’heure!” (See you in a few minutes!) What a comedian. Made us laugh, though.

Shopping takes on a whole new feeling when you’re living sans voiture. Anything you decide you can’t live without must be fetched on foot from some distance, and everything you buy must be schlepped home. Beverage consumption has to be choreographed so you don’t run out of milk, juice, wine, vodka, etc. all on the same day. The water’s safe to drink, of course, but doesn’t taste fabulous, so we also buy bottles of drinking water.

On the plus side, we’re getting lots of exercise, seeing lots of gorgeous flowers along the way:

And there’s a posh new shopping bag in the house this year from the Groeninge Museum in Bruges, with a reproduction of Jan van Eyck’s The Madonna with Canon van der Paele (click link to find a better visual and the art history lesson). I’m sure the original is stunning: vibrant and colorful and unusual–since it depicts a vision–but I didn’t get it at all at first. I thought it was some sort of time-warp version of the classic adoration of the magi theme, with a priest in full jeweled splendor, a knight in armor, and some balding white guy (the canon) instead of the magi. Despite my ignorance, it classes up the schlepping considerably. I call it “Baby Jesus Goes Shopping.”

I don’t know if our nearest neighbor speaks English, but if so, she may have been surprised the other day to hear me call back to David in the house, “Don’t forget Baby Jesus!”