White Gold In Guerande. Monday 29th June 2009.

Alex remains the undisputed fooz-ball champion of Nantes. We had our best game so far this morning. It went down to the wire, nine all. He won again, we laughed and laughed it was such a great game.

Not all medieval villages are alike and medieval Guerande stands apart from many others we have visited. Its cobbled rues own fanciful names like ‘Rue du Beau Soleil’, rue of the Golden Sun. Every street inside Guerande’s fortress walls are clean and full of old-world character.





We had booked a tour at 'Les Maison des Paludiers' in Saille, Guerande at 2.30pm. A palaudier, (salt worker) with ten years experience, met us before the tour and answered all of our questions about his industry. We joined the tour and listened to him share the secrets of the Guerande salt trade explaining how the salt-pans work, then we watched a film. We were all enthralled and learned so much. Our guide was excited to learn that I have been using Guerande sea-salt at home for over ten years, he was amazed.

Just after 4pm we drove out amongst the salt-pans, this is the time many palaudiers return to work after siesta, to harvest their white gold. First, the surface of the salt-pans are cleared of the most precious salt, the fleur de sel. The salt bloom lies on the surface of the pools, shimmering in the light and tinged with a soft pink hue. The palaudiers were only too happy to show us their trade, some boasted wheel-barrows filled with fleur de sel, others scooped the crystals into bags along the narrow clay walls dividing one pool from the next. After the harvest of fleur de sel is finished, attention is turned to the gross sel that lies on the clay bottoms of the salt pan, this is the grey tinged Guerande salt we know at home.

We were happy as pigs in mud driving on the narrow roads of the Marais Salants, with salt-pans on either side. One of the palaudiers we all thought looked like Papa, his mannerisms were the same too. With my hand on my heart, I told him he looked so much like my Papa, he smiled and invited us to follow him through his little maze of clay walls as he worked happily, chatting away.
The paludiers sell the products of their labour roadside, Fleur de Sel, Gros Sel, Salicorne – the weed that is plucked from the salt-pan walls and is only good when green. We saw it growing in green and red, we watched a paludier pluck the red weed from his salt-pan, place it in a bucket and throw it out. He waved a finger at us , shaking his head, “it’s no good in rouge, only vert” he said.

Like every artisan or person who works with their hands, part of them is in the end product. This, along with the sun, the wind, the moon, and the tides all play their part in making Guerande salt a very special and precious commodity.

We could have stayed forever in this world where white gold is produced entirely by hand and such pride is taken in a good days work but we had to return home. We leave Nantes tomorrow and we have so much to do to get ready for our 1pm departure.

People That Warm Your Heart. Sunday 28th June 2009.

Sleep evaded us last night. The neighbours behind us had a party. They had knocked on our door and warned us but we had no idea they would have the music pumping until 6.30 am! We dragged ourselves out of bed feeling as though we had been hit by a truck. To soften the blow, the neighbours invited us for drinks on Monday night at 8.

Etienne, who we had met at the fete yesterday, arrived to pick us up at 6pm with a face full of smiles. He drove us via the new home he and his family would move into in 3 months time. We arrived at his apartment, Morgane was there and their three young kids.

The champagne corks popped and before long Vincent and Annie were ringing the door bell. What a great time we had.

Etienne had lived in Australia years before, he fell in love with it and was preparing to move down under permanently when he met Morgane. Now, three kids later, part of his heart still belongs down under. His little girl Julliette Sydney, was named after the city he has such fond memories of.

After our visit I received this email...
“Thank you for your visit to our little home. It is always a pleasure to share moments with people that nothing should meet. (Australia is so far) You allowed my memories back to my brain. This will further motivate us to organize a trip in my second country in the heart. You will always be welcome. Bon voyage and see you soon.”

Meeting families like Vincent, Annie’s, Ettiene and Morgane’s will remain a very special piece of our home-exchange in Nantes.

We look forward to seeing you all in Oz!

Fete de L'Ecole. Saturday 27th June 2009.

Happy Birthday Bugs! I had sent Julie home with a birthday card on her departure from Nantes and last night I had emailed and sent Skype messages so she would wake up to Happy Birthday greetings. I hope Collingwood won for you Bugs!

We met Vincent and Annie at the fete, Annie was on the patisserie stall which I gotta say left the Aussie cake stalls for dead! Vincent introduced us to Morgane and Etienne, Etienne had lived in Australia years before and had so many tales to tell, so before long we had an invitation for drinks on Sunday night, Etienne will pick us up at 6.

We saw the class room of Tristan, the boy of the family we are home-exchanging with. The kids put on a concert, there were games and stalls. Alex hooked up with Vincent and Annie’s eldest girl, Clemonce, and he and her group of friends hung out together.

The French administration bamboozled us again, this time at a school fete. We lined up and ordered 2 cafes, they were made for us but we had not understood that we needed a ticket to purchase coffee. Luckily Annie was nearby and explained we were Aussie tourists and she would look after it. We worked it all out, went and bought our two tickets, and paid our debt.

Alex was invited to Vincent and Annie’s for dinner and to hang out, he was so happy about that. He went over at 7 and Vincent delivered him home at about 11, they had pizza for dinner, and Alex and the girls went to the movies together. JR and I jumped on a tram into the city and had dinner together which was lovely. I am so happy Alex has had another batch of kids to be with. He came home beaming.

La Baule Beach. Friday 26th June 2009.

Over the last few weeks, the dairy farmers had been making their presence felt during protests regarding the price of milk they receive per litre (€0.21). They certainly made their presence felt this morning.

We were on our way to the beach at La Baule, the traffic was nose to tail not too far from home. We soon learned why. The farmers had positioned their tractors four abreast on a major roundabout, only allowing one car to pass through the middle of their blockade. We navigated our way through the roundabout along with the thousands of other people on their way to who knows where.

Along the freeway was another blockade, again allowing only one car through at a time. As our car approached the blockade, a young guy stared us down, through our bug splattered windscreen, John nudged gently forward until our car kissed his leg, after that we had no choice but to stop. The gap between the tractors closed before us. No one was going anywhere, these farmers meant business. Time for some good old Aussie sweet talkin’. We all got out of the car and began to engage them, slowly they came around. I explained that we had met their mates in the city a few weeks ago and that my sister lived on a dairy farm, we understood their reasons for fighting and sympathised with them. They were lovely guys and after they spoke to the head honcho, they assured us to wait for five minutes and they would let us through. They gave us a few litres of UHT milk for our troubles, opened the gap in the blockade and waved us on our way. “Bon chance” we yelled as we continued on our journey, a little later than expected.

The beach at La Baule sparkled under the summer sunshine. We made a car-boot picnic baguette and wandered without a care in the world along the shore. The sand glistened as though it had been sprinkled with gold dust as the waves retreated backwards down the beach. I collected some shells for Grandma to give her in Paris in August when they will visit. I think I found a few ‘raries’ Grandma. Strange brown jellyfish were deposited along the shore line along with tiny crabs.



Tonight we had dinner with friends of our Nantes home-exchange family. Annie and Vincent live about 5 minutes walk from home in a home they have lived in for ten years, they have only recently renovated and the front room was just finished today. It is a lovely home, three stories, the kitchen is at the back and opens up into a small garden via bi-fold doors framed with a grape vine, laden with grapes. Their kids are all lovely, Clemonce (14), Leah (12), and Louis (10), Alex had a great time as the kids speak quite good English after studying it at school.


We all went for a walk to a little park called Parc Potager de la Fournilliere, where the family rent one of 100 vegetable plots to grow vegies. What a great idea. The city of Nantes pays for the water and provides a little garden shed. They love coming to the garden as a family, each of the kids has their own section to look after. They are growing, celery, zucchini, mint, dill, tomatoes of which Annie is very proud, strawberries, raspberries, and salad leaves, the list goes on.



The BBQ was cranked up when we returned to their little garden at home while Alex and Clemonce set the table inside. Vincent cooked skewers of tuna marinated in lemon and herbs and Clemonce had made a couscous dish tasting of lemon, radish and mint, she is quite the little cook. We finished with a platter of aged cheese, ash covered chѐvre, young and old Roublechon, Roquefort and others, followed by fresh peaches, apricots and cherries.


We all had a ball and agreed to meet the following morning at the Fete de L’Ecole for Louis school just around the corner. It sounded like a perfect plan.

Time To Just Be. Thursday 25th June 2009.

We headed to Parc de Proce, about 20 minutes walk from home, cricket bat and ball in hand. We had a few rounds of French cricket (how fitting!) and a few throws of the ball, AJ found some guys to play tackle football with. We all watched Mums chasing gangs of unruly toddlers, the boys with sticks in hand; the ducks, geese and swans their target. The girl of the group was more interested in how the sunlight played on the branch of leaves she had acquired, the differences between girls and boys.

The Clisson Valley. Wednesday 24th June 2009.

Imagine a sun-kissed valley, caressed by cool flowing rivers, surrounded by vineyards, lush and green - this is the Clisson Valley.

We visited the crumbling Chateau de Clisson after a trip to the tourist office where we were pointed in the direction of La Bonne Auberge for lunch. Mr. Tourist Office know his stuff and we had a great meal accompanied by friendly but polished service. Chef Serge and his lovely wife Chantal, have owned the Auberge for 10 years, it is their passion. Allow the photos to give you just a hint of the wonderful dishes we enjoyed. I finished with a smooth bauble of marbled white and milk chocolat, inside was hidden ripe raspberries, lightly coated in fine, crunchy toffee. As our waiter delivered my dessert, he poured over the chocolate bauble, a hot raspberry sauce, melting the bauble and creating a wonderful marriage of sweet fruit, crunchy toffee and luxurious chocolat. It was quite a moment.






We chatted in the courtyard with Chantal; she shared her passion with us and marvelled at stories of our year long adventure.


Our car had been visited by a parking inspector during our long and decadent lunch. We had parked in a blue zone, and although it was free, we were required to display a wheeled device on our dash advising the time we had left our car. This system was news to us and JR only learned about it through animated discussions with fellow parkers in the same blue zone. There was not a sign to be seen explaining the rules.

So, it said on the ticket to pay at Hotel de Ville (remember the ones you admired in every town and village Julie!!!), so off we went in search of it. No, no, no, we had to pay at the Tabac store. We had to purchase stamps to total €11 and then return to Hotel de Ville to pay the fine with the stamps. It sounded like double handling to us, but this was French administration after all. Off we trotted to the Tabac. The Tabac did not have any €11 stamps left, there was only 15 minutes left until the Hotel de Ville closed for the day and we would not be back in town again. Back we marched to Hotel de Ville with much head shaking and tut-tutting; I could see the funny side though. I think somehow the French administration has softened me over our months living here, now I just expect complications like this.

Back at Hotel de Ville, we asked to see the Directeur and were sent through a doorway into an office to be met by a smiling lady. She had heard our plight as we explained ourselves at the front desk on two occasions and was ready to help. “Come back tomorrow” she offered. We explained that we could not and we were merely Australian tourists visiting the pretty valley for the day. She held the parking fine in her hand, shaking her head, mouth downturned. I kept thinking, it couldn’t be this hard, it’s only a parking fine. I asked could we please just pay cash? “Oui”, yes you can. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I wonder why we just couldn’t pay cash in the first place???

We explored Clisson on foot, crossing Pont de la Vallee and La Sevre Nantaise River. We stood on top of the Viaduc that spanned the Moine River, lined with Italianesque inspired villas, their gardens meeting the green banks.

JR choofed off to enjoy the evening light and capture some photos, while AJ and I found Parc de la Garenne Lemot where we lay on the cool grass making pictures out of clouds – well, I managed to persuade AJ to find at least one picture, apparently it is not very cool to play games like this with your Mum.

Our helpful friend at the tourist office had called one of his favourite wineries and organised a private wine tasting for us beginning at 8pm. Bruno Cormerais Vins de Nantes is snuggled away in La Chambaudiere, St. Lumine de Clisson in the Vallee de Clisson. The smiling Marie-Francoise met us at the cellar door, Bruno was summoned from his vines soon after.

Bruno layed before us bottle after bottle of lovely Muscadet wine, so typical of this region. It was surprisingly high in minerals and some vintages showed a distinctly salty twang. The wine flowed and the laughter bubbled up and out of Bruno time after time again. It was obvious he has great pleasure in showing his wines, he is very proud. Marie-Francoise gurgled her wine, consciously drawing air through each mouthful, concentrating on her experience. We began to talk food and she left the room returning soon after with a small book of recipes she had written to compliment each wine from the vineyard. The book is mine to keep. Before we left, Bruno brought out a wine he explained as, “for pleasure only”. It was a 1990 Muscadet and is very special, the bottle was opened just for us.

We left the wine cave with smiles on our faces. The sun has transformed into an orange ball and was suspended above the leafy vines. It was such a beautiful way to end the day.