A port abstract. Dolphins below, a forest of masts above.

One re-enters the old city via the Porte Saint-Vincent. The current gate dates from 1742. Vincent Ferrier was a Domincan militant who spent 20 years f (...)

All the King's horses and all the King's men, nor a national revolution, could enforce building codes in Vannes. It was every house for itself.

Port Louis from the breakwater. Almost home.

I left the cathedral and tumbled downhill to the port. Vannes has a sea port despite being some 50 km from the Atlantic. It sits at the back of an inl (...)

Aaaaahhh! That beer sure tasted good after that walkabout. We relaxed and snoozed and then made plans to tackle Lorient that afternoon. Dad suggested (...)

Dad relaxing with a nice cold beer. Lunch consisted of artichokes and cheese - Camembert and a delicious cheese, whose aroma stayed with me like an ev (...)

Hey, a straight street! OK, it didn't go far. My destination was the Cathedral looming over the rooftops.

I wandered along this street on my way to the port. At times, it was a kaleidoscope of light bouncing off walls, windows and signs. It was a technolog (...)

The cathedral was re-built in 1020 AD but fell on hard economic times. New construction began in 1454, continued through 1520, only to be submerged by (...)

Not much is known of the early days of the Cathedral Saint-Pierre. In 919 AD, the Normans burned both the church and the cathedral to the ground. They (...)

Still, the architecture of the cathedral is stunning. A massive monument to faith.

The juxtaposition of candle light against sunlight through stained glass appealed to me. The camera did the rest.

I wished a few more candles had been burning to put smoke near the ceiling. Then, the sun beams pouring in would have been stunning.

Another trick of light as my eyes followed a hidden call. Stained glass pattern on organ pipes and gothic details lit by two different glows.

The tower sits adjacent to the cathedral and houses the tomb of Saint Vincent Ferrier. The light in here is amazing, after the gothic gloom of the mai (...)

Och Aye! I know my friend, Steve, would love to play this mastodon of the organ world. Oh, how I would love to hear him play it. From Bach to Purcell (...)

Do not adjust your monitor. This is not an optical illusion. The houses are leaning but they do not touch. They are separated at the closest point by (...)

On the way home the road passes through the town of Auray. Murielle took a side road that leads down to the port village of Saint-Goustan. It is now a (...)

We came down this alley that leads to the bridge. Its claim to fame is that Benjamin Franklin once slept here. He even has a wharf named after him. Wh (...)