China Homeward Bound – XianJu to Shanghai, Shanghai to Beijing, Beijing to Roissy, Roissy to Nantes, Nantes to St Hilaire.


It’s a “long” title, and it was also a “long” journey. We left our hotel at 7 am on the 3rd of January, and I arrived home with feet under the table at 5 pm on the 4th of January. My mind is still on strike and the memories a little vague, but I’ll try and keep going for as long as possible.

Group 1, i.e. the other group, would be leaving at Terminal 1 in Shanghai, and Group 2, i.e. my group, would be leaving from Terminal 2 in Shanghai. There was a small and very select group that were going to do the “extension,” including my friend Eléonore. We managed to get our suitcases into the “system” at the airport check-in. And then through security, which, due to my sports jacket hack, went very smoothly. All we had to do then was to find somewhere for lunch. I had been in a group for the whole tour and headed off on my own to try and find something to eat.

I did find something to eat—tofu and crab, with a bowl of greens because it’s healthy! And a cup of tea was served with my meal. I spotted a hamburger place just next door to where I was eating and alerted the group via WhatsApp. I took my time eating because I could. I don’t like being rushed. Apart from getting onto the plane on time, my only task was to find a gift for my wife that would please her and, at the same time, be very Chinese. I bought tea. Because why not? And the shop looked very luxurious, and I was sure I couldn’t mess it up.

We flew from Shanghai to Beijing, and part I of our trip home was over.

The wait in Beijing seemed to go on forever, and our flight was at 2:40 am local time, which would mean a night flight back to Roissy. Beijing airport is a rather large place where most everything seems to shut at 5 pm. This was going to be a long wait. I resisted the temptation to go and have a “couple” of pints at a bar that was still open but still felt the need to have a drink of something. That something would be a bottle of water. We had our gate and waited for our flight to leave.

As you know, I can generally fall asleep anywhere and at any time. But even for me, this was going to be a tad tricky. I managed to charge my phone thanks to my colleagues and lay down on a bench to try and get some shut-eye. The sports jacket and jumper make a rather good pillow, and I felt slightly more invigorated when boarding the plane.

Maybe that wasn’t a good thing. Anyway, I made my way to my seat, which was at the very back of the aircraft, and tried talking to my neighbour, who asked me if I spoke French. I did, and I could tell she had a plan, that girl. She wanted to be able to have two seats so she could lie down. I asked the hostess if those two empty seats were going to be available, and she took pity on me, saying that they were technically for crew and that if one of the crew asked, I would have to move back and sit with Miss Two Seats.

That sounded very fair, and Miss Two Seats seemed to be happy. I used the pillow for my back, and the blanket was just large enough to snuggle into. Did I sleep like a baby? No, he said, going for the understatement of the year award. No, he did not, but I think he at least managed to snooze, which was good enough. We had breakfast on the plane, which would be my last “Chinese” meal. Part II of our voyage was over.

We landed in Roissy and played everyone’s favourite game—go to the loo, and then on to baggage reclaim. The trombones had been put in with the suitcases and, of course, were the very last things to be put onto the conveyor belt. I have to admit to a rather tense moment when I was wondering if my suitcase would ever turn up. Eventually, it did, and we were reunited. The trombonists were soon reunited with their trombones, but it was all very stressful and a grand moment of solitude for them. We eventually found what we thought was the exit, turned around because it wasn’t the exit, and headed off to another exit to meet our colleagues in Group 1, who had arrived a wee while before us. We were herded along, with Mathilde and Titaua helping us cross the road. You’ve guessed it—we got on the bus, except this bus would be taking us back to Nantes. Part III of our voyage had begun.

My memory was still hazy, and I think we stopped off in the Perche—the place, not the fish, but maybe they had them in the local rivers. I’m not here to judge. We all traipsed into the service station and were greeted by the overpriced sandwiches. Not a chicken foot in sight. It all felt such an anticlimax after the food in China.

We arrived eventually where we had set off from in Nantes. Part III of our voyage was nearly over. Kate and Virginie were there to pick me up, and that hug was particularly tight and lasted quite a while—or so it seemed. Had I missed my family? I will say yes, of course. It will save us many arguments at home!

Part IV of the trip had begun. My wife drove us home through the rain. I entered the house that I had left two weeks earlier. I had been on tour, I had seen things that I had never seen before, I had eaten things that I had never eaten before, and I even managed to save my special Christmas chocolates from the inquisitive looks from the two women in my life. Killian wasn’t there, so Kate had first dibs on which mug she would like. The chopsticks were put away. Tea was made, and the day ended up at home. I was a little tired…

Exploring Nantes: A Photographer’s Perspective


In the hushed confines of my study, where the scent of bookst mingles with the comforting aroma of steeping tea, I find myself transported to distant realms of discovery. With my faithful canine companion at my feet and a mischievous feline observer perched high atop a pile of unironed laundry (I must get that sorted out), I embark on a journey not only through the winding lanes of Nantes but through the corridors of time itself.

Nantes, with its labyrinthine streets steeped in centuries of history, beckons with the allure of bygone eras and whispers tales of yore to those who listen with open hearts and discerning eyes. As a photographer of a somewhat vintage disposition, I am drawn not only to the grandeur of its architectural marvels but to the quiet corners and hidden alcoves where the soul of the city reveals itself in subtle nuances and fleeting moments.

My approach to photography, much like my approach to life, is one steeped in reverence for the past and a keen appreciation for the present. Armed with my camera and a discerning eye for detail, I set out to capture the essence of Nantes not merely as a series of picturesque scenes but as a living, breathing tapestry of human experience.

In my wanderings through the cobbled streets of the old town, I am enraptured by the timeless beauty of the Château des Ducs de Bretagne, its imposing walls bearing witness to centuries of tumultuous history. Yet it is in the quiet courtyards and shadowed alcoves of this ancient fortress that the true spirit of Nantes reveals itself, echoing with the whispers of generations long past.

  • Chateau de Ducs de Bretagne, or Nantes Castle

As I meander through the bustling markets and labyrinthine alleyways, I am captivated by the vibrant tapestry of colors and textures that adorn the cityscape, each tableau a testament to the creativity and resilience of its inhabitants. From the fragrant stalls of the Marché de Talensac to the bohemian charm of the Île de Nantes, every corner of the city offers a glimpse into the rich tapestry of Nantais life.

But it is perhaps in the quiet moments of reflection, amidst the tranquil banks of the Loire River or beneath the leafy boughs of the Jardin des Plantes, that the true magic of Nantes reveals itself. Here, far from the hustle and bustle of the city streets, I find solace in the simple beauty of nature and the timeless rhythm of the river, a reminder that amidst the chaos of modern life, there are still moments of peace and serenity to be found.

In my pursuit of the perfect photograph, I am guided not only by technical skill and artistic vision but by a profound sense of reverence for the world around me. Each click of the shutter is not merely an attempt to capture a fleeting moment in time but a homage to the beauty and wonder of the world we inhabit.

As the sun sets over the horizon and the last rays of light dance upon the waters of the Loire, I find myself filled with a sense of gratitude for the privilege of bearing witness to the timeless beauty of Nantes. In its winding streets and hidden corners, I have discovered not only the essence of a city but the essence of life itself—a tapestry of moments, both fleeting and eternal, woven together in the fabric of time.

As the golden hues of sunset paint the Loire River, my camera lens captures one last fleeting moment of this captivating city. Nantes has unveiled its charm, whispering stories through its cobblestones and revealing its soul in hidden corners. While my journey ends here, yours can begin. Pick up your camera, wander the winding streets, and discover the magic of Nantes waiting to be captured, frame by frame. You might just find yourself transported, too.