A Visit from Mark and Other Recent Things

     My friend Mark managed to get a few days off work and came for a visit. His bus arrived on Monday at 1:35 p.m., and departure was on Wednesday evening at 7:40.

     I met him at South Station in Boston, and we had lunch at a bar I'm the station — my first cuban sandwich ever. It was good, but I probably won't be having one every month.He had a vegetarian sandwich which he liked. When we got to my place, I checked the internet for a while. Eventually we got undressed and watched the Red Sox game on TV. Then Mark felt a little cold and "dressed for dinner." Dinner included pork cutlets, marsala style. Mark was tired, having had to get up early for the bus from Syracuse, and went to bed. I stayed up for several hours at my computer.

     The previous week, my Race Committee duties had taken me past Hammond Castle, which I had never visited despite having known of it for over 60 years. It occurred to me that Mark might like to go there too. Also on Cape Ann is a smaller building, Beauport, the Sleeper-McCann House. It's near the retreat house on Eastern Point, Gloucester, where I've gone a couple of times; and I noticed it when I was walking around in the neighborhood. I'd wanted to see it sometime. Mark hadn't seen either place when he was working in Massachusetts and was interested in seeing them. We toured the castle on our own and found it quite impressive. At Beauport we arrived just in time to join a guided tour which was beginning. Although each room was in an early American style, each had a distinctive theme, and the explanations of the tour guide made it more interesting. Afterwards, we agreed that Beauport had been a little more interesting than Hammond Castle, although both are worth seeing.

     For lunch, we headed over to Essex for fried clams at Woodman's, the best known fried clam place in Massachusetts (and perhaps worldwide). They were founded in 1914, and they say their founder invented fried clams in 1916. The clams were quite good, but we were both surprised at the prices — although I must admit I haven't bought fried clams in ages, so I don't know how other places' prices compare. Neither of us had been to Woodman's before. So the whole excursion was a time of firsts for us both.

     Back at home, we got out of our clothes. I showed Mark some music videos I like. Later we settled in front of the TV for the Red Sox game. After the game, Mark felt a bit cold, so he got dressed. He expressed an interest in having some pasta with alfredo sauce, so I cooked some tricolor rotini and boiled some peas and combined them with some alfredo sauce. I also had some leftover london broil steak which I reheated for us.

     On Wednesday, there was another first for both of us: the New England Aquarium. There was a lot to be seen, but with limited time, we did not linger and read all the captions at each of the dozen or more varied habitat displays. The big tank was not as large as I had expected. Our overall conclusion was that it was good but somewhat of a disappointment. Nevertheless, I wouldn't mind going back and spending more time at the small exhibits.

     Then we strolled around for a while and went to the nearby Legal Sea Foods for dinner. Mine was a shrimp, garlic, tomato, and mushroom combination which was large enough to be my dinner on Friday as well. We had left Mark's luggage (backpack and small bag) in my car at the subway station garage. So we had to go back and get them. I went back into Boston with Mark to be sure he would find the way to South Station. Once he was sure of the way, I headed home.

     Mark brought some zucchini bread which he had made, and we both enjoyed it from time to time. I had the last of it after he was gone. It was good by itself, and also with butter and cream cheese.

     It was a very nice visit. In addition to what I've mentioned, we had good conversations about current events and issues as well as about our own doings. If the weather had been warmer and more humid, Mark might have been naked a bit more, but it's not very important. I certainly don't want to pressure him or anybody to be naked, but I think it's nice that we're comfortable enough being naked and being around each other that we're able to indulge our mutual enjoyment of nudity when we feel like it.


     On Friday, I had Race Committee duty. Instead of being on the large "signal boat," I was assigned to duty on one of the mark boats, a 17 foot inflatable "rib craft." It bounced a lot on the waves and required more holding on to something to avoid falling down or being thrown overboard. Today my shoulders and knees are a little sore. I hope it hasn't hastened the approach of arthritis in my knees, which seems to run in my mother's family.

     Last evening I finished Writing on the Wall, by Tom Standage. It was a Christmas gift from my brother in Japan. Standage sees the internet as similar to earlier forms of communication and interaction such as the circular letters of ancient times, pamphlets, and coffeehouses. He contrasts those forms of two-way communication with the one-way forms such as newspapers, radio, and TV, and thinks the two-way forms are better.

Halifax — October 26, 2012

My return flight to Boston was scheduled for 4:30 p.m., so the fact that the alarm clock didn't wake me and I slept until 8:30 a.m. was not a problem. I had chosen a late departure time to avoid being rushed n the morning and to give myself part of another day to see Halifax. As it happened, I decided that there really wasn't anything else really important to see, so I might as well just head out to the airport. But then I had one good idea.

Thinking back to my visit to the museum on Thursday, it occurred to me that it would be interesting to see the Hydrostone District, which was the area rebuilt after the explosion. So instead of taking the taxi directly to the airport bus stop, I asked the driver to swing through the Hydrostone. The houses are modest 2 or three story structures built in a style fairly common in the early 20th Century. There are also attractive storefronts. Many of the buildings have had siding added which covers the actual hydrostone. Here's a video of the district.

I think the video shows more of the district than I saw from the taxi.

We got to the bus stop just in time to miss the 11:20 bus, so I had to wait for the 12:20. "Darn!" you say. But wait. Albemarle street is just down the hill from the Citadel, so I was very well positioned to hear the noon gun. It's loud enough to startle people who weren't expecting it, like a couple of guys approaching the bus stop, who jumped slightly before they realized what it was.

There were no adventures on the trip to the airport. In the airport there was a military veteran selling (artificial) poppies for Remembrance Day (Veterans Day in the U.S.). The selling and wearing of poppies on Nov. 11 is not so common around here as it used to be, so I decided to take advantage of the opportunity. The poppy is of some kind of plastic, textured to feel like velvet on the front, with a long pin for its stem. It was the only poppy I saw on Nov. 11. After buying the poppy, I went to the waiting area for my flight and noticed a Tim Hortons coffee stand, and bought a small cup of coffee and a bag of ground coffee. Tim Hortons is a Canadian chain of coffee and snack shops, very similar to Dunkin' Donuts in the United States. The chain bears the name of its founder, who was a Canadian Hockey player. The flight home was uneventful.

There was one thing in Halifax that especially puzzled me. The street numbers on the streets running east-west, away from the harbor, begin slightly above 5000. My first hypothesis was that when a regional municipality was formed, including Dartmouth and other areas on the other side of the harbor, the system was changed to integrate the numbers, with numbers under 5000 to the east of the harbor and above 5000 to the west. But on the bus ride to the airport, I was able to see enough street numbers to disprove that hypothesis. Numbers began at 1 on each street and rose as one headed away from the harbor. This evening, as I was writing this post, I think I've figured it out. I noticed that Robie Street, which runs from south to north from near one end of the peninsula to near the other end, has numbers from 820 to 3899. Finally the light bulb appeared over my head: it seems that the numbers under 5000 are used on streets going from south to north, and those over 5000 on those from east to west.

Halifax — October 25, 2012

On Thursday morning something happened to wake me up early without benefit of alarm clock. By 7:15 I was showered, shaved, dressed, and downstairs for breakfast. It was still before sunrise. After some time for prayer, I left for downtown. A leisurely stroll down Cogswell Street and along the waterfront brought me to the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic at 10:15. The wiki link tells you about all the things they have, and I saw most of them. My primary objectives were the materials about the Halifax Explosion and the Titanic.

I had heard of the explosion. I knew that Massachusetts had been so generous in sending relief that Nova Scotia's enduring gratitude is expressed by the sending of a large Christmas tree to Boston every year. But I had not know of the extent of the death and destruction in the largest man-made explosion before Hiroshima. It was truly tragic. The exhibit, which includes a film and a number of displays, is very moving.

Halifax's principal connection to the Titanic was the sending of two ships to look for survivors and recover victims. Their regular work was laying and repairing transatlantic telephone and telegraph cables, so they were accustomed to working in those waters. As it happened they found no survivors but recovered hundreds of bodies. They had undertakers aboard and embalmed all they could until they ran out of embalming fluid. Those they could not embalm they gave a respectful burial at sea. Families came to take some of the bodies, but others were unclaimed, so several hundred victims were buried in Halifax cemeteries, according to their religion when that could be determined.

Beyond those exhibits, there are numerous small boats, mostly sailboats, displays relating to boatbuilding, sailmaking, shipping, wartime naval operations, etc. After a couple of hours in the museum, I went to the adjacent dock, to their ship the CSS Acadia, which had served for more than 50 years in the work of charting the ocean off Atlantic Canada. It was fun going around and up to the upper decks and finding out something of how they operated. The surveyors (hydrographers) were civilians, but the crew of the ship were navy. I was also delighted to find that they had a resident cat, Erik the Red, and to make his acquaintance.

CSS Acadia

The cat Erik (on a staff member's jacket on a chart table)

George's Island in Halifax Harbor, with McNab Island in background

Canadian Naval Vessel returning to port. Acadia dipped her ensign in salute as the ship passed.

After several hours touring the museum, I went a few blocks up the hill to The Maxwell's Plum, which bills itself as an English-style pub. There I was able to sample some (32 oz. — it was on special on Thursdays) of the Garrison ale which the panhandling musician from Saskatchewan had praised two days earlier. It was quite good, although not the best brew I've ever had — that may have something to to with the breadth of the young man's experience compared to mine. Coincidentally, heading up Sackville Street to the pub, I realized that the spot where I encountered the teenaged panhandler Tuesday evening was just a block from a gay nightclub called Reflections. I wonder if that was merely a coincidence.

Interior of The Maxwell's Pub

A not untypical early 19th Century building on Water Street 

After lunch I went back to the museum on my all-day admission and spent another couple of hours until closing time. I arrived a few minutes late for the 5:15 Mass at the cathedral. Then I strolled up Spring Garden Road to South Park Street, where I looked at several monuments in Victoria Park: Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott, and others. Victoria Park is the southern end of a succession of greenspaces extending about 1 1/2 km south from Halifax Common and including the grounds of the Citadel. That brought me to University Avenue. Symphony Nova Scotia was to give a concert that evening in the Dalhousie University Arts Center. By a wonderful serendipity the program was "Music of the Titanic Era." So I spent an enjoyable evening listening to mostly British orchestral music of the very early 20th Century.

SNS on the stage of Rebecca Cohn Auditorium moments before the concert

After that I was ready for dinner and headed to the Rockbottom Brewpub, after finding a place that advertised in the SNS program book already closed. Actually, when I got there, I had a decision to make. I figured it was my last chance to run into my cousin. Upstairs in the building is Your Father's Moustache Pub and Eatery, and in the basement is the Rockbottom. Ultimately I decided that if he was at either, he was more likely to be at the Rockbottom because it was open mic night, and he has appeared with his guitar at talent shows on campus. He wasn't there, but it was still an okay place  to have dinner at 10:30. I suppose I should have peeked in at YFM as well, but I didn't think it through as clearly as I'm doing right now. Oh, well.

Anyway, it was a very good day for me in Halifax.

Halifax — October 24, 2012

My first full day in Halifax dawned … I don't know exactly how, because I slept through my alarm. I've decided that it's just not loud enough when I'm in a deep sleep.

But I was still out of the hotel at about 10:15. Between me and the downtown lay the Halifax Citadel, to be taken. (Here are images, including several showing how the city and harbor extend below it.) I was there in good time for the 11:00 tour, which included a barracks room, a rifle shooting demonstration, the gunpowder magazine, the guard room and prison cell, and the firing of the noon cannon. Afterwards I strolled the ramparts, looked in at the orderly room and the tailor room and bought some post cards. All in all it was an interesting glimpse into 19th Century military life.

Barracks: 5 folding cots on each side; soldier's kit laid out on the opened cot

Rifle demonstration: reenactor of Highlander regiment, with winter trousers instead of kilt

Noon gun: cannon being prepared to fire, rolled into firing position, and secured after firing; reenactors represent an English cavalry unit

Orderly room: where the commanding officer conducted business

Tailor shop and tailor: each uniform was custom made for a proper fit

Outside the gate on the city and harbor side

At about 1:30 I started down, past the Town Clock, to the Grand Parade with St. Paul's Episcopal Church at one end, City Hall at the other, and monuments to the war dead and fallen peace officers on the grounds. Next I went to the waterfront, where I had lunch at Stayner's Wharf, followed by coffee at Tim Horton's. My next destination was Province House (which is the building where the provincial Legislative Assembly meets). On the grounds is a statue of Joseph Howe, whose trial in the 19th Century is credited with establishing freedom of the press in Canada.

War memorial: St, Paul's Church behind on right

Grand Parade: including memorials, and City Hall at north end

Province House

Joseph Howe Statue on the grounds of Province House

My next destination was Government House, the official residence of the Lieutenant Governor, who is the representative of the Queen in the Province. On Prince Edward Island and in New Brunswick I had taken tours of Government House, and I hoped one would be available there as well. I entered the grounds via a side gate, and went around into the spacious yard and took a couple of pictures and was approached (challenged, perhaps) by a Commissionaire. I stated my business and he huffily informed me that it was the residence of the Lieutenant (pronounced lefftenant) Governor, and not open to the public except on specified occasions. He escorted me back to the gate.

Government House: Commissionaire approaching in second photo

It was still about an hour before Mass time at St. Mary's Basilica Cathedral, so I snapped a couple of pictures of the statue of  Churchill on the library grounds one block uphill from the cathedral, then returned to the cathedral to wait for the 5:15 Mass. After that it was back uphill to the hotel, arriving at about 6:30.

St. Mary's Basilica Cathedral

Churchill Statue

As always, clicking on the pics enlarges them to show more detail.

Having been on my feet for most of the previous 8 hours, I didn't feel like going out again, so I had dinner in the hotel restaurant. It was definitely nouvelle cuisine. The curried tomato soup was good, as was the seared scallop main course, which included a braised beef short rib which was larger than all the scallops put together. Tasty though. And so to bed.

Germany/France — July 31, 2012 — Going Home

My flight From Charles de Gaulle Airport to Philadelphia was scheduled for 11:30. I had bought a subway ticket on Monday for the long ride, and I had pretty much figured out where I could pick up the right line near my hotel. Still, I wanted to allow plenty of time and checked out shortly after 8:00. Things went reasonably smoothly all the way, with just a few things worth mentioning.

After the subway train came to the surface, I could see the Basilica of the Sacred Heart (Sacré Coeur) on Montmartre for a while. (Pics here.) One more spot among the attractions of the city which I saw without its having been on my list.

There was standard passenger screening by the American TSA for all passengers boarding the flight. I wonder what would have happened if all countries had said to the U.S., "You can handle security in your airports. We'll handle it in ours." Well, at least it gives TSA personnel a chance to spend time abroad on Uncle's dime. I happened to get randomly selected for enhanced screening at the gate, which meant that as I started along the walkway between the gate and the plane I was required to let a TSA person inspect my carry on bag and pat me down.

When we were seated on the plane, I decided to read something, and found that my reading glasses were not in my jacket pocket. They weren't in any other pocket or in my bag either. I was wearing them as I left the hotel, and I realized that I didn't need to wear them on the way to the airport, so I took them off. My best guess is that I lost them at one of two points: either I missed my pocket when I went to put them in it right after I took them off, or they fell out of the pocket when I heard the unusual thudding sound in the subway (I checked the floor but not my seat to see if I had dropped anything). My other pair had disappeared during the week before I left. So when I got home I bought two pairs at the drugstore — on a two for the price of one deal. A day or two later my old pair turned up. So no I have one pair for upstairs, one for downstairs and away from home, and one for the cellar, where my computer and checkbook live.

At Philadelphia, as usual, we had to pass through Immigration, collect our checked luggage, and go through Customs. Then those with connecting flights gave back our checked items and went through another regular TSA screening, even though we had never been outside the secured area or had any way of being in physical contact with anyone from "outside." So it seems to have been a complete waste of time and effort. Things like this make me think there is some accuracy to the term some people apply to TSA operations at airports; "security theater."

I was in plenty of time for my connecting flight to Boston and for my van ride home.

I've now added pics to my post covering July 25.

Germany/France — July 30, 2012

Along with flights and the hotels, I had booked a guided bus tour to Mont Saint Michel

 through the travel agent. The tour was scheduled to leave at 7:15 Monday morning and get back 14 hours later — and give or take a few minutes, that's what happened.

I allowed plenty of time to get to the departure point

 (Place du Pyramide — or is it des Pyramides) by subway. It's a good thing I did. I emerged at street level

 on the Avenue de l'Opéra and decided to walk in the direction away from the Opera. That was a mistake. It was about four blocks directly to my destination if I had taken the intersecting street. Before long I realized I had no idea of where I was headed and stopped a passerby for directions, which enabled me to report to the bus in good time.

Early on in the ride, I saw a street sign: we were driving on the Champs Élysées, and ahead I could see the Eiffel Tower. So I can check off two sights I hadn't even really planned to see. We stopped for refreshments about halfway through the ride. The highway brought us within sight of Caen and a few other cities whose names are familiar from history books. When we arrived, we were provided lunch in

 a restaurant at the mainland end of the causeway to the Mont: a local recipe omelette, salmon, and dessert, with local hard cider and coffee.

Then a shuttle bus took us over the causeway. We walked (climbed?) to the top with our guide and started our tour. She had a wireless system for us to listen to her so we could hear her above the other groups without her needing to shout. We started in

 the church, which is the highest building, (top to bottom: facade built when the west end of the nave collapsed; east end, gothic choir and apse; west end, romanesque nave walls and barrel vaults) and then went through the rest of the buildings,

(top to bottom: cloister; monks' refectory, notice that the thickness of the walls allows the windows to illuminate the room while all but the nearest are not seen; statue in funerary chapel; scriptorium; scriptorium again, this time with a view of the chimney of one of the two fireplaces so the copyists coud keep their hands warm to write — the only heated room)
going twice around the Mont (I think) as we descended through the various levels. Finally we arrived at the base of the monastic buildings (and the souvenir shop) after which we were on our own for somewhat under an hour before we'd have to take a shuttle bus back to the mainland. (More detail than I'm giving can, no doubt, be found via google or other search engines.)

A couple of photos showing the rock on which the monastery is built

There were two ways to get to the base of the mont: one was to walk down the crowded main street of the village; the other was the walk along the top of the ramparts, less crowded. I chose the latter, but when I got to the base in good time, I decided to walk up

 the main street a short distance and pop into a restaurant (at the Hotel Croix Blanche) for a refreshing cold cup of cider. I got back to the mainland in time to enjoy the coolness of the strong breeze off the water and get a good look at the dam that has been built across the River Cuesnon which empties into the bay on the west side of the Mont. It has sluice gates which will enable it to regulate the flow to provide maximum rates so as to help wash out the silt which has been accumulating since the building of the causeway and threatens to turn the island into a peninsula.

Back in Paris, I took the subway to the Île de la Cité for another look at Notre Dame, and walked back to the hotel. Then I headed out for another stroll and eventually,  sometime after 10:00 settled on a restaurant where I took a table on the sidewalk (apparently, from the reviews, it would have been much more crowded earlier in the evening) and treated myself to what the tourist companies would call a "gala farewell dinner" to the tune of 92.60€ (= $114.06), which is more than I have ever spent on a meal for myself alone, except maybe on one or two occasions in very fancy restaurants. Well if it was 20 or 25 dollars more than I might have expected to pay before I chose the place, it was nice to have a really fancy meal for my last evening of the trip.

All in all, it was a very satisfying day to end a very satisfying time in Europe.

Click on photos to enlarge — I highly recommend it.

Germany/France — July 29, 2012

As mentioned in my previous post, Sunday became my day to go to Chartres. But first I went to Mass at Notre Dame Cathedral. It turned out to be a Mass with  Latin Gregorian Chant. Much of the congregational part was familiar to me from when I was a boy, so I was able to join in readily.

At Gare Montparnasse, I just missed the 12:09 train, so I had to wait for the 1:06, which was scheduled to arrive at 2:07. Malcolm Miller doesn't give tours on Sundays, so I bought a copy of a guidebook he had written and followed it around. The cathedral

 is fascinating, and the book explained it well. When a 4:00 organ concert was about to begin, I decided to head out for lunch

 at a restaurant (center left, with white placard in front) across the plaza from the south side of the cathedral.

After lunch, I took

 a picture of the St. Thomas Becket window in the martyrs' chapel in the southeast corner of the apse. The tower closes at 6:00, with no admission after 5:30, and at about 5:25 I started up.

 Altogether I went up about 400 steps, getting to the level of the bells. There was a good breeze with some drizzle and, given my fear of heights, I decided not to go any higher. When I got back down, I decided I'd better get back to the station to catch the 6:30 train back to Paris (which was actually scheduled for 6:52, to arrive at 7:53), rather than stay and take the 7:34 and get back at 8:50. Through general inadvertence, the distraction of the organ concert, and concern to get a timely train back to Paris, I missed getting to the crypt, which would have been interesting, and I didn't go to see the robe of the Virgin Mary in the northwest apse.

Strolling around in the area east of Rue St. Jacques, I got disoriented. Thinking I was headed southwest, back toward my hotel, I actually walked about 15 or 20 minutes easterly parallel to the Seine. When I got to the Place d'Austerlitz, I consulted my map, realized my mistake, and retraced my steps. For dinner I went to another restaurant in the Latin Quarter and had one of the "menus." The restaurant had lots of exposed wood and stuffed animal heads. Three young men came and sat at a table in view of mine. I noticed that they seemed to be economizing, including drinking only water. Belatedly, it occurred to me that I could have bought them a drink — beer or wine — but by the time I thought of it it was too late: they were finishing their meal. I enjoyed everything, although reviews are decidedly mixed. The whole meal cost me 37.10€ which came out as $45.70 — again, less than I'd probably pay in a restaurant hereabouts.

Click on pics to enlarge.

Germany/France — July 28, 2012

There were three places in France which I wanted to see: Sainte Chapelle, in Paris, Chartres Cathedral, and Mont Saint Michel. My plan had been to go to Chartres on Saturday, July 28, and get into the 2:45 p.m. English language tour guided by Malcolm Miller, which several people had recommended. But when I got to the hotel, I was informed that check in was only available after 1:00 p.m. From my internet research, I knew that to get to Chartres in time for that tour, I'd have to catch the 1:06 train from Gare Montparnasse. It didn't occur to me that I could go out to Chartres and then check in at the hotel when I got back. Instead, I decided to make Saturday my day for exploring Paris and seeing Sainte Chapelle, and to postpone Chartres until Sunday afternoon.

I left my luggage at the hotel (The hotel is on the "Rive Gauche" in the heart of the Latin Quarter, across the street from a corner of the Sorbonne.) (see map), and set out on foot down Rue St. Jacques toward the Seine.  Two blocks away I saw an interesting looking church, St. Séverin, and I went in to check it out. The present building was begun at the same time Notre Dame was being built. I have

 a few pictures, but I really recommend going through the English  tour on the church's own website. Check out all the links in the tour. For pictures of the modern windows, go to this site. And a few more pics are here. I took my time looking around the church, which had a number of multilingual explanatory displays on reading stands. There was a 12:15 Mass, which I attended, in the Eucharistic Chapel. Then I went back to the hotel and checked in and went out to lunch (outdoors) at a restaurant across the street from the church.

Then it was time for the main business of the day. I continued along Rue St. Jacques toward the Seine. As you can see from the map, it leads to a bridge, and when you cross the bridge

 Notre Dame Cathedral is to your right at the other end of a plaza. This picture was actually taken from the bridge. Sainte Chapelle (or more generally here) is a couple of blocks away, at a spot on the map indicated by the words "La Conciergerie."

 It's in the courtyard of the Palais de Justice, which seems an anomaly, but is understandable. Originally the royal palace stood on  the site, and the Sainte Chapelle served both as the site for the relics which St. Louis IX obtained, and as the chapel of the kings. One royal function was to administer justice for the realm, and that function is now performed by the courts, headquartered in the Palais de Justice. The sheathing covers some windows which are being cleaned and restored. But most are still visible.

I had wanted to see it since reading an article in  the Christian Science Monitor, in which the writer told of being in a tour group. One member of the group was a constant complainer, and as they climbed the narrow circular stone staircase, she kept up a stream of grumbling complaints until the instant she reached the doorway and caught a glimpse of the chapel, which caused her to fall instantly silent in awestruck admiration. It is amazing, overwhelming, and it's easy to understand its effect on that tourist. Even knowing the story, I was similarly awestruck at

 my first glimpse of it — a case in which expectations were not disappointed. I have to admire the artistry and technical skill which enabled people to create

 such beauty and the faith which motivated them to do it.

I stayed there almost till closing time. On my way back to the hotel, I checked out Mass times at Notre Dame and bought some cheese and a bottle of tea at a grocery store. Dinner was at a restaurant a block from the hotel, on the Boulevard St. Germain. The restaurants often have what they call "menus," which are not what we mean by the word in English, but pre-set choices: for a set price, you choose among certain appetizers, certain main courses, and certain desserts; for another price, you can choose among other appetizers, main courses, and desserts. One of the menus at this restaurant offered a Basque item called axoa (or more generally), which sounded good. But as I pondered my choices, I forgot about it and chose the steak instead. Dang! The steak was fine, but this had been my first, and maybe last chance to sample axoa. The waiter said that they sometimes repeat a special, but they'd be closed on Sunday, and I knew that on Monday I'd get back too late from Mont Saint Michel. The menu cost 15.50 euros; beverages (bourbon, wine, coffee) added another 15.60; my credit card company exchanged it to $38.50, which is less than I'd expect to pay for a comparable meal at most restaurants I go to around here.

I recommend clicking on the pictures for enlargements, which show the detail more clearly.

BTW, I've just added pics to my first post about the trip.