Tag: France Travel

Fireworks, and the Party in My Pants

Posted on Posted in Family Life, France, ReportageTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

The calm had descended on the family and the Great Shutter Disaster of 2025 had been long forgotten and etched into the annals of family history. Tonight would be about fireworks, food (surprise, surprise), and the party in my pants.  Not that kind of party — this was France, not Netflix. But I did end up with a surprise performance later that night…

Bal des Pompiers: Fireworks, Firemen, and Fashion Crimes

We were all relatively refreshed after lunch and snoozes.  The plan was to head to Saint Cado to watch the traditional fireworks display, and who doesn’t enjoy looking at lights in the sky? Think Guy Fawkes meets French revolution, except we don’t burn anybody, and we celebrate with explosions, merriment, dancing, and firemen.

Tonight would be the “bal des pompiers” which I must remind you has nothing to do with firemen’s balls… Well, maybe towards the end of the dance, but that is none of my business. You could see a cross section of French society: the young teens trying to outdress each other, parents with children trying to keep an eye on aforementioned children, parents of a similar age to me looking at the young teens trying to think how anybody could let them out dressed like that, other older parents looking for food, and quite a lot of us looking for booze.

Organisation Française: A Joyful Mess

The organisation was very French, un joyeux bordel, and yet there were signs of some very organised organisers taking orders, firemen cooking various dishes, and others serving and selling the booze.

We drove down and Marina et al followed in their car. We saw the high-vis jackets telling people where to go to park. We were told to go to Car Park 3, because of la dame in the front seat of my car. La Dame was none other than my mother-in-law who was already in a good mood, flattered to be referred to with such deep respect.

A French Family Comedy in Real Time

We saw Louka, Jessica’s other boy, in a queue for something, and as the evening wore on there would be sightings of more offspring like in a French family comedy film.  Gisèle noticed a friend and her son, and this was the perfect opportunity to sit down, as my darling wife’s bad back was playing up.  All of a sudden we saw the Marina party, and they joined us.  

The Soundtrack to a Slightly Tipsy Night

The music from the French DJ was blaring out across the square, which is usually such a quiet place.  Not Bob Sinclair or David Guetta, but Bob Sincliair C5, and David Guet-Apens.  French hits from Claude François, whose songs are guaranteed to get French into a frenzy and doing specific dances.  Even after 30 years of living here there are still songs about the Phare d’Alexandrie, and barracudas that still traumatise me.  “They” seemed to be loving it and really getting into the “mood!”  There is a law against the shooting of crappy DJ’s.  A pity, really.

Moules Frites and Other Mistakes

Raymond and Vincent were sent away to get food.  There were so many lines of people to follow but I eventually caught up to the boys.  We were in the line for Moules Frites, which is a pretty good line to be in.  Little did I know…  but more about that later. I bought Moules Frites — fortunately nothing to do with the bathing costume of a similar name that modesty forbids me from mentioning.  But those who know will find it funny.  With the Moules Frites you had a piece of bread and either an apple tart, which had nothing to do with young teenagers dressed inappropriately, or Far Breton, which unlike the one from Alexandrie, had prûnes…  But more about that later.

Brownie Points and Last Frites

I turned up with my trays of Moules Frites, for my wife, her mother, and myself.  I was later told by my mother in law that she wasn’t really hungry and that I really shouldn’t have, as she was eating the last moule and the last frite, and that yes, she would have the apple tart.  Classic lose-lose situation.  

I had won brownie points galore when I got back with some cold beers for my wife and I.  Well, one does aime to please. 

Fireworks and Finding the Car

At just after 11.10pm the fireworks started.  We all oohed and ahhed at the appropriate times, and when it was all over played at find that car.  I’m not usually very good at that game but tonight I was on fire (more about that later), and we eventually made it home.  Bliss.

The Party in My Pants

It was up to bed for me for a good night’s sleep.  But, yes, little did I know, I was to be awoken in the middle of the night with a stomach ache.  The party in my pants was under way.  I let out a botty burp, which wasn’t the best idea of the night, and dashed to the loo.  I sat down and had my own personal fireworks display down below.  Explosions and oohing and ahhing..  I managed to clean myself up and discarded my underwear, which bore the brunt of the opening salvo…  An hour later, I had a repeat performance.  This was fast becoming a night to forget — or at least to flush from memory.  

The Seafood God Has Spoken

The seafood god had sought vengeance, and it was my turn to pay.  The French have a healthy respect for the seafood god, as his attacks are notorious, and the scars are worn as badges of honour.  Lesson learnt.  More respect and an extra pair of undies.  A true rite of passage.  I just wasn’t very fond of him having that right to my passage…

The Pyrenees Mountains – and the Pont d’Espagne which isn’t in Spain

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Catholic, Family Life, France, Landscape Photography, Reportage, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 3 Comments

If the Vendée is Jane Birkin — elegant, understated — then the Pyrenees are full-on Marilyn. Proper mountains. Vast. Unapologetic. Even in May, some peaks were still capped in snow.

I was in Lourdes hoping to strengthen my faith. I think Killian needed that too — but more than anything, he needed his mountains. Now, finally, I get it. Up there, I saw him more clearly: less the boy I once knew, more the man he’s becoming.

Like most of us, he has his issues — but he’s working through them. And sometimes, he even lets me help. Those are the moments I think I might just be getting somewhere as a father.

He’d decided we were heading to see his beloved mountains. The place? The Pont d’Espagne — yes, in France, despite the name. I may have mentioned that. Maybe.

We left the impressive foothills of Lourdes behind and climbed into the real mountains. Snowy peaks against blue sky and drifting clouds. Windows down, music low, we drove toward the famous pont. It had better be worth it.

Killian and I travel at a relaxed pace. If the view’s good, we’ll pull over. Get the camera out. Take a few shots. See what happens.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it’s a fiasco. But more often than not, we come away with something.

Oh no! Catastrophe! A village where you can park, and go and get an ice cream. Ah well. We took one for the team, and the lady behind the counter told us that the previous week they had snow and were shut, yet this week everything looked just like a day in May should look like. Ice cream seems to have this way of just hitting “that” spot. It’s not the tidiest of foods to eat, but it’s one I’ve developed a great fondness for it over the years.

I was already learning how to approach the infamous concept of the hairpin bend. As you know, a full head of hair hasn’t been my issue for years — let alone hairpins. But the name fits. The main thing is to drive slowly, carefully, and not die… Given I’m writing this now, reports of my untimely demise were, as they say, greatly exaggerated.

We arrived at the Parc National des Pyrénées. You go through a barrier that didn’t seem to be working — one that had given up on life and was just standing to attention, waiting for whatever ‘it’ might be. So, being the thoroughly decent chaps and all-round good eggs that we are, we tried to find a ticket. We couldn’t, but since we had tried, we said something that rhymes with bucket, and started walking to see, at long last, the bloody bridge. It had better be worth it.

I had the X100F with me and Killian was carrying my DSLR and kit. What a good lad he is. He later said that if I wasn’t lugging it around, we might’ve gone just that little bit further. So back to the pont…

Before we even saw the bridge, we heard it: the sound of the water was tremendous. Water is a primeval force, and this was huge. I wanted the “money” shot, and decided to try with the X100F, giving it a sporting chance. The Canon 6D Mark II, with its stabilised lens, would come out on top. Handheld at 1/6th of a second? Not ideal — but fun to try. You get the feeling of movement in your shot, and with the magic of ND filters, you’re not overexposed.

The site itself is just astounding — not just because of the view or the sound, but because of the raw power of the place. Killian led me grumbling up the hill and we sat down to have our picnic. We fed the ants a bit of our pâté en croûte and watched them discover it, then devour it completely. And devour it they did.

He led me past the téléphérique — closed, of course — and followed the river until we reached a wide, flat-bottomed valley with water snaking through it. We saw traces of horses and wild boars, which are a lot less boring than you might think. I noticed the clouds coming round the mountains as they go, but not singing. I don’t know a huge amount about mountains, but that’s usually a cue to get back to the car…

The walk back to the car was just about being father and son — taking the mickey out of each other as we went. It seemed to be the way we operated, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

The Opening of the Film Archives—the Hangar à Bananes August 2016

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Café Culture, Film Photography, Landscape Photography, Nantes Photography, The Film ArchivesTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

In my last venture into the film archives, I talked about how there was a time that my daughter hadn’t yet seen me the way I see myself and how she actually still liked me, before turning into a teenager.  This is the second part of that special day.

We had explored the Jardin des Plantes and discovered what they had to offer.  This of course builds up an appetite in a young lady, and convinces her that she really needs to drink something Daddy.  And why couldn’t we go to the Altercafé (now the D3) at the Hangar à Bananes.

So what else was I to do but drive us to the Hangar à Bananes.  You will have seen the Hangar in this article, and you will now be completely up to date and know nearly everything there is to know.

Don’t forget that this is a girl who gets an idea into her head and then just goes through with it.  That idea is so rooted that it is nigh on impossible to change that idea.  I knew what was coming.  I would order a chocolate brownie, and Kate would have an Orangina.  I could have a beer.  How gracious of her.

She had been my model for most of the day and even a top model needs a rest, and just has nothing left to give a photographer.  You just know when enough is enough…

The Opening of the Film Archives—Jardin des Plantes August 2016

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Family Life, Film Photography, Nantes Photography, The Film Archives, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 13 Comments

There was a time when my daughter wasn’t a teenager.  There was a time when she quite liked her Dad, and she would accompany me everywhere.  It was good being that child’s hero.  It was a more innocent time.  It was a time when she actively tried to spend time with me.  It was a time when she didn’t see me the way I see myself…

One of her favourite places in Nantes was the Jardin des Plantes, a huge botanical garden in the middle of Nantes just across the road from the station.  I could talk about the fact of it being a haven of peace in the bustling city.  I could talk about it being an oasis of green in a sea of concrete.  I could talk using clichés ‘til the cows come home…

These photographs are not clichés, but real attempts of capturing a specific moment in time allowing me to travel back through time.  And looking at these images, I’m definitely back in time.

Let me introduce you to my daughter from 2016.  She was a 7 year old that already knew what she wanted but was slightly more subtle about it.  She would suggest that we go into town.  That I could take my camera.  That we could go to such and such a place.  That we could do such and such a thing.  And all this as if it were completely natural.  And I was a very willing victim.   

This time she suggested going to the Jardin des Plantes.  She would take her camera (my old Sony bridge) and I would take my Olympus Trip 35.  I used the Olympus Trip quite a lot at that time and its ease of use, the zone focussing, and general lack of buttons to press, made it quite the fool proof piece of kit.    

As usual, I let her lead the way.  This was here outing after all, and kept a respectful distance, so I could photograph her and record her for posterity.  The Jardin des Plantes has not only plants, the clue is in the title, but also is the backdrop to the Voyage à Nantes, and certainly was that year.  

I think the images speak for themselves and I’ll let you peruse them at your leisure.  They were taken on Ilford HP5 Plus film shot at box speed.

The Opening of the Film Archives – Clisson May 2016

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Camera reviews, Film Photography, France, The Film Archives, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 6 Comments

Introduction

Welcome back to the film archives.  Today I’m going to share some photos of the first reel from my “new” Canon AE1.  Well, not new, but certainly new to me.  The Canon AE1s were produced between 1976 and 1984.  It is one of those iconic cameras and at the time I must have paid about 50€.  When I say iconic, I really mean iconic.  It is a shutter speed priority camera using Canon’s FD lenses. I used it an awful lot that summer.  I liked it so much that I even bought a second one that I ended up giving to a photographer friend. 

Colour

To some people of my generation they represent their first cameras, and were so popular.  Talking of popular, the photographs from this part of the archive are from the very popular and photogenic town, Clisson.  Also you will have noticed that the photos are in colour.  Which only goes to show that not all film photography is black and white photography.

Clisson, as you can see in the photos, is one of those beautiful French villages that oozes Gallic charm.  It also exudes a certain Italian charm, and is known for its Italian style architecture.  

Canon AE1

I have both a Canon AE1 and AEI Program. The AE1 is the big brother of the AE1 Program, and doesn’t have a program mode, but as you can see from the photos it still works a treat.

FeatureCanon AE-1Canon AE-1 ProgramDifferences
Release Year19761981AE-1 Program released 5 years after AE-1
Exposure ModesShutter Priority AEShutter Priority AE, Program AEProgram AE added to AE-1 Program
MeteringCenter-weighted AverageCenter-weighted AverageNo difference
Shutter Speeds2s – 1/1000s2s – 1/1000sNo difference
Viewfinder DisplayLEDsLEDsNo difference
Film Speed SettingManualManualNo difference
Self-timerYesYesNo difference
Depth of Field PreviewYesYesNo difference
Motor Drive CompatibilityYesYesNo difference
Other NotesFirst Canon SLR with microprocessor; revolutionary for its timeSimplified controls for easier use; appealed to wider audienceAE-1 Program aimed at beginners and enthusiasts
As you can see there’s not a huge differece between the two. The major difference being the Program option, and the other allowing for easier changing of the ASA film sensitivity setting.

On the day in question I must have parked just next to the river and concentrated on this picturesque  area.  You can see the castle, the bridge, and the river, all making for a peaceful spring moment.

I think the film was Fuji Superia, and I just wanted to use colour.  Thetones are slightly muted and warm, and the flowers, trees and plants were just screaming out to be photographed.  I remember the excitement of loading the film into this “new” camera, and the novelty of simply using an iconic camera.

Here is what fuji tells us about the film:

FUJICOLOR SUPERIA X-TRA400

An all-round general purpose, high-performance, high speed color negative film delivering truly fine-grain. Superb for snapshots or action, in low light with flash, outdoors or indoors. Ideal for general use with compact zoom lens cameras.

  • Excellent skin tones
    For beautiful, clear people-shots.
  • Fine grain
    Great results even when enlarged.
  • High-speed
    Superb results, whatever the shooting conditions.
  • Sensitivity and Film Sizes
    ISO : 400
    Film Sizes : 135 : 36 exp.

 When using digital, it’s so difficult to get that particular film look, and using film and an older camera just changes your whole outlook.  The fact of not having your image straight away leaves you with that anticipation that we all used to feel when we sent off our films to the lab.

Give film a try.  There are still cheap film cameras out there, and your photography experience will be totally different.  I certainly appreciate it.

The Opening of the Film Archives – Saint Cado, Belz, Morbihan

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Camera reviews, Film Photography, Landscape Photography, The Film Archives, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 10 Comments

Welcome back to the film archives, and welcome back to Brittany, that gorgeous corner of France where my in-laws live. I think I might have let it be known that my French family love camping. Yes, they’re so in tents… I’ll just let that joke sink in for a couple of seconds. In 2016 I had begun “collecting” cameras. The photos from this Breton outing in Saint Cado were taken with the Kodak Retinette 1B, a little gem of a camera from the 1960s, and HP5 Plus film.

We’ll start with Saint Cado. It’s one of those picture-perfect postcard places. It’s not easy to take a bad photo of the place. It’s photogenic. It’s quaint. It has all the clichés of a small Brittany island in the Ria d’Etel, which is an inland sea connected to the Atlantic at the Barre d’Etel… I’m thinking lobster pots, oyster beds, black and white houses with slate roofs, a local Saint, a chapel to this local saint, who was actually from Wales of all places, and a miraculous fountain that fills up with every incoming tide. Yes, it’s one of those places… Did I mention that the bridge that links the island to the mainland is a Devil’s bridge? It is said that the devil demanded the soul of the first creature to cross it. The story relates that Saint-Cado, who was a shrewd fellow, put a cat on it! It is just gorgeous!

Let’s talk about the Kodak Retinette 1B. As I said in the introduction, it is a camera from the 1960s that uses zone focusing, and the 1B as opposed to the 1A has a selenium light meter that works a treat. Zone focusing is where you focus by zones. Mind-blowing, right? If I look at my lens, I will see a distance measurement that I will use as a guesstimate. I will move my aperture dial and let’s say I’m at F8, well everything from one F8 to the other F8 will be in focus. A lot of cameras from this period used this system, and it works. If you want to open right up to F2.8, then there are little rangefinders that you can put on the hot shoe mount and there you will be able to get an exact reading for the distance from your subject. Up to you…

Why use a camera that is over 60 years old?  First of all, why not?  It works.  It’s simple to use.  It doesn’t need a battery.  You load your film and Bob’s your Uncle!  Off you go to shoot your 36 exposures.  It also looks pretty damned sexy hanging around your neck too…  It actually looks so sexy that my son nicked mine, and I had to go and get another one.  At the time of purchase I must have paid no more than £15, and even now it will cost you less than £50.  

So there you have it – a charming little island, a vintage camera, and a roll of trusty HP5 Plus. This trip to Saint Cado was a reminder that sometimes, the best photos come from the simplest tools and the most unexpected places. And who knows, maybe those old film cameras aren’t just gathering dust in the attic – they might just be waiting to capture your next adventure. (But if you happen to see my son with a Kodak Retinette slung around his neck, please tell him to bring it back!)