PhotocatsEyes

Donkeys and storm surge...

Scarborough, a name connected with fun and summer. Even when it does not really feel like summer in England, it is still nice to have a day-trip to the coast. Which is what we did yesterday. PT was adorned with a surf board, and off we went. Beanstalk was on his route to perform some serious surfing.

We picked the right day, as the sea was spectacular when we arrived. Big waves, like I have never seen before, in all of my visits to the sea resort town.
We had a serious swell, did me think of that trip to Staffa. We had the same waves... Except this time I was not on the water, but on the sand. Which was more then close enough...

And when you say Scarborough, you say donkeys... Extremely docile animals, taking kids on their backs and walk back and forth...
I am extremely happy that they now apply a weight limit to kids who can ride them. I have never liked big people loaded on the tiny animals, I don’t care that people say they are pack animals, we can still treat them with respect. I feel a lot better since they only have small kids on their backs and I am sure they are too. They are so tame that they don’t even need to be leashed up.

It is a bit of a chilly day, so people are dressed accordingly. It’s definitely jacket weather.
Before Beanstalk hits the waves, we decide on having lunch, and what better place then Winking Willy’s. We go for the breaded scampi, and get fries and salad on the side. They do good fish at Winking Willy, the place is packed.

Scarborough is in the first place a family resort, we see lots of families with kiddies. On the beach, on the promenade, even in the cold looking water.
Kids will always be kids, they like to stick their toes in the sea...

In front of Winking Willy lies the harbor, with many many boats anchored in. There was a heavy storm over the weekend, coming from the North Atlantic, and the waves we see are the late bloomers of that now gone storm. No boat is out on the waves today, not even the more then sea worthy Grand Turc, moored along the fishing vessels.

It must be crazy out there now, outside of the harbor, with no shelter against the waves. It’s always a good idea to not underestimate Mother Nature and the North sea...

Some tiny boats also at the kay, well anchored, lots of boys, nobody is taking a risk to go out on open sea.

That is not the case when it comes to bathing and surfing. The lifeguards are on duty, they keep a firm eye on the water, not too much going on, it is still early on the day, more families will come as the day advances.

Big groups of walkers, it is dry, and one can dress against the cold and the wind, here and there we have a loner fighting the crashing foam heads, but most people stay on the beach, making long walks and enjoying the seaside.

The sand is not really dry, makes for wonderful castles being build in all size and formats. I notice some future architects, sand play can be totally creative and seems to be good for therapeutic side effects. If grown ups would do more sand play, there would be less depressions I am sure. Look at the kids, they all have a smile on their face fiddling around with sand and buckets.

The maker of this one has used shells and pebbles to make it more real. Fantastic... You don’t need more for kids then sand and a bit of water.

It is such a lovely view to see the kids walk along with parents, or whoever takes care of them. Everybody is happy. A relaxed day on the beach, taking in healthy sea air, and no time to be bored. If it is not waves, there are always seagulls that are waiting to be caught.

A red girl comes out of the surf screaming, her dress is wet, but it can’‘t drag the fun down. A seagull is looking at her with wondering eyes.
Big gulls too, the white and grey ones ordinary herring gulls. The brown one their chicks, now out of the nest, and flying along with mum and dad.
Making the typical gull scream already.

Another girl coming towards me, deep in thought, her mom is following and we start talking. Her mom tells me that she likes to walk by herself, thinking about life probably. She has been collecting shells and has a whole collection now at home. Neat... That is what kids should do, forget about the X-box or computer games, sand and water, and looking for shells. I like that idea...

Not only kids are having the time of their life, Blue ran as if his life depended on it. I saw him scoot from one side of the beach to the other. With high speed. I saw him back later when I had a hot chocolate on the promenade, that is how I know his name, and he has the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen in a dog. I was impressed by his running speed.

Looking south all we could see was the raging sea and spray, it made for a thick haze in front of the cliffs, it was a very relaxing day.

Beanstalk finally came out dressed in proper surf dude style. I was ready to snap some shots. All was zen like and harmony...

I did not know that the board is attached to their ankle, with a rubber band, if they go under, they can’t loose the board, there is a lot that I don’t know about surfing, if we are talking sea surfing.
He soon disappears into the waves, and I wonder if I will see him back...

We are on a part of the beach where the waves are extremely high. Not seen many like that before. Surfers like him are challenging the water already, I start thinking that surfing on a day like that might not have been the best of ideas. Never mind that other surfers are playing too, I switch back in mum mode and am not too sure about it. It looks dangerous. And it is friggin cold aswell. I have a windbreaker and a woollen hat, and am still shivering.

I must think positive and give them credit. They probably know what they are doing, and the fainted of heart should not be watching.

My son is over six foot, yet the waves tower over him and make him look like a toy soldier in a wild bath tub fight...
They are walking on the water. Maybe Christ was surfing when they saw him walking over the lake... After all, Beanstalk is also walking over the water, and I know for sure he is surfing.

If it would not be for his white cap, and for my 300 mm lens on my camera, I would not have been able to follow him. The waves keep crashing, walls of water, if I look outside of my viewfinder, I don’t even see him.

Beanstalk is a beginning surfer, only discovered it a couple of months ago, the one in the water with the blue suit has been doing it longer and is able to ride some waves. But it does not take long before they are overthrown and take a dive...

The water is cold, but they stay in for a couple of hours at a time. I bet they all have raisin skin by the time they come out.
Man is small when compared to the force of nature. The gulls are having a blast, they don’t care about big waves or bad winds. They keep flying around with elegant moves, laughing hard at us down there, not able to follow them.
Laughing even harder when they see how those silly humans try to get to the other side of the waves.

Beanstalk tells me afterwards that it was pretty hard to get through the waves. No kidding? Really? I would have drowned for sure and I am a good swimmer... This is a bit too much water for me.
I have been standing there for half an hour, and I am getting very cold. The waves have caught me in a surprising swift mood, and my pants are wet.
I did have the brains in the morning to just skoot into my crocs. They can be wet, no biggie.

As I am slowly going backwards to get out of the water, I see a mom with a tiny baby. I learn that she is five months old, the tiny pink one, and she is getting a sea bath too.

I must be a whiny one, as I personally wonder if it is not a bit too cold for a baby, but then what do I know... Raising babies has changed so much in time, I would not know how to do it anymore. I am relieved when the mom takes the baby back to the pram, where she is tucked in warm again. Much better!
I could do with a pram too by now... and some tucking in.

One of the better surfers is giving up too, coming out exhausted, he tells me he comes from Leeds. All the way down to Scarborough, to surf...
OK, guess it is a passion. And I do understand passions.

I am trying to grab a shot of a couple in the water, but a gull ruins my shot. Zooming by at the moment I press the shutter. Can’t they fly somewhere else? So much space here, and they fly straight into my shot. Darn it...

My second try works better, no gull... Love in the surf. How romantic... Could not see Mr Wonderful and myself do it... I would not look good in a frog suit. You have to be 17 and thin for it to work...

Two hours after he went in, he comes back out, fingers stiff from the cold. We go for a second hot chocolate to get warm again...
And he tells me he needs gloves, as it is way too cold without. Time to go home with the heat on in the car.
This was a nice Scarborough day... Some piccies of the Masham Steam Engine Fair coming up tomorrow...

A Flemish chicken on my tail, the sequel...

In Kortrijk, we call the wardens who watch parking stuff the “parking chickens”, they are part of the police force. Sort of lay brothers. You have monks and lay brothers, and you have police and parking chickens.
I had one of those - actually a museum chicken - on my tail when Mr Wonderful and me visited the Groeninge Abbey, now the new museum of Kortrijk.
Focussing on the Battle of the Gulden Spurs on the 11th of July in 1302. It is up to this day a Flemish celebration day, a victory of the Flemish against the French. And it seems as if in current times, Flemish and French are again locked in a mental battle. We do NOT learn from history.

Not a real gulden spur, but a replica, the same as the replica’s hanging from the ceiling in the chapel of Saint Mary’s church.
The real ones are in the attic of the City Museum, this is the Groeninge Museum, we can’t confuse both of them.

A giant model of a handwritten medieval book, Kortrijk has a nice archive with old manuscripts. I worked in the City Library for 15 years, and on occasion could go down in the air-conditioned special vault where they keep them. Frail books, who would crumble if they would come out of the vault in our modern air with acid and other bad things.

We start our tour, Mr Wonderful has an audio guide, I can’t do it, can’t listen and snap at the same time. The choice is easy... Now all I have to do is get the chicken of my tail, as she is following me as if she has a GPS linked to my back... I have to run at certain points, pretend I don’t know I am followed and watched, and if I am really quick, I can snap a few before she caught up with me.

It means that I have to snap fast and furious, can’t take the time to nicely frame and compose, or check the lighting 15 times, nope... point and shoot. And pray that they come out. The first things that I grab on camera are one chain mail, belonging to one of the Flemish foot soldiers and a helmet belonging to the French horse guy. I have no idea if they are originals, as a lot of the things on exhibition are replica’s.

On a display outside, we see the town as it should have been in the time of the Battle, the big castle towering along the river. Saint Mary’s Church close by, and the walls surrounding the city, with in the upper part the Menin Gate, to which the big cross roads now there on that point is still called the Menin Gate, even if the gate itself has vanished long ago.
I don’t recall leftovers from the walls around the city, if there are any left, I sure don’t know where they are. A nice display, but missing a legend, with the names of buildings and rivers, so you could make an easier image in your head. Now it is all guessing work.

In the gallery where some pieces of the battle are hung up on display, you can still see the wall making the outside wall of the Dormitory, now part of the inside and the new addition. I don’t like the new addition, can’t help it, I like old buildings more then new.
And too bad, my dad never saw this display, he would have loved it so much...

I have run ahead of the chicken, and enter the small room where I find a chess like display with figures representing people in 1300.
I wonder if the Queen is Johanna Van Constatinopel, I see a bishop in the back, a foot soldier with a “goedendag”, a dangerous device with a weight on top, you could either bang your opponent’s head in or stick him with the sharp metal pike. The result was the same: one enemy less.

They look made out of wood, and they have a real feel to them. I love this part of the museum, not the room, but the statues. I feel something in my stomach looking at the carved beauties. How silly that people can’t photograph them. Flash is no problem, I never flash, it kills the ambient light, and is bad for things on display, they should at least allow non-flash photography.

The second face has a mail chain to cover his head, he has a fierce look in his eyes. Ready for battle I would say...

A bishop, or church figure, I have no idea if Kortrijk had a bishop in those days. He looks royal, and as all catholics in the dark ages, when people were starving from hunger, depending on food from the castle, he has a proper double chin, well fed and well bread...

Time to run again, I see the chicken peek around the corner, pretending she does not see me, I pretend I do not see her. We are a match... Why do they have to make my life misery? All I want is some goddamn pictures for my blog and scrapbook. Crazy watch dogs...

Standing on the gallery on the first floor, you get another view on the statues. It was a good and creative idea to put them on a chess like pattern, as they were indeed chess pieces in a heavy play. Masters against masters. I should reframe that one, normal small people against a rule of a foreign king, the flemish country less people of Flanders against the French King Philip. The little bugger, he wanted it all. All the rich guilds that made beautiful arts and crafts. The Flemish lace makers and wool spinners were famous far over the borders. They did not become rich with it, but the king did. That was the main reason that Philip wanted Flanders as his special cash machine.

Out of breath I land back down, chick is still upstairs, man, this is like a marathon... Quick, quick, quick, a snappy snap of a couple admiring the statues.
If I had taken the time to listen to the audio guide, I might have known who was represented... but one has to make decisions...
Phew... I make it out of the Museum, with some treasures hopefully on my flash card, I beat the chicken and beat it good, I am proud of myself. I also did not kick a scene, a bit hard to do if Mr Wonderful is with me, I need to behave when he is around. To spare him embarrassment. I don’t care personally how they think about me, but he does. I know, I married the right man...

We go back on our steps, alongside the octagonal Artillery Tower, a medieval ammunition storage building. Right behind the Saint Mary’s Church.
I have no idea who’s idea it was to paint it red. In times of war, I don’t think that red would be a good color. You don’t want your enemy to see the tower, painted in red, clearly visible, and give them a chance of a good shot which makes explode the whole caboodle...

Saint Mary’s Church looks very different then Saint Martins. Rougher, with less finesse, but beautiful in its own right. In fact, I love it more then the frail looking Saint Martins. This one had body. And soul.
Too bad I lost my inside pics of it, buggers, I need to go for a reshoot in December. If I am lucky, they will have heating, so it is doable to lay down on the floor again and shoot up. It is a classical church, one big nave, two side walks, and a separate chapel. With original paintings of kings and noblemen, kings and counts. Flanders had its own Counts, with a heart for the people, the French king did his best to make sure they disappeared.
And of course, they did have a job, they went on crusades, months and years in a row.

Honey, I will not be home tonight for dinner, don’t wait up, some bad business came up. Don’t forget to pick up my sunday suit at the dry cleaners.

And off they went, on their horse, for a far trip to a country on the other side of the world, to bring the good word and gather some gold and silver on the way.

The four half gothic windows are the chapel. The two silly figurines in front of it is a new work of art, and it is supposed to match the church.
I don’t get art really... To me it is plain ugly, and the church did not need an outside art piece. Paint it red so it can be shot on the first occasion.

To the right of the Chapel you see the back walls of some of the houses in the Begijnhof. It is all very close to each other. Parts of an old stone wall is still visible, pebbles in red and grey, no bricks...

It is a grey rainy day, and the church is doom and gloom. Not a happy church at all. It survived a couple of wars, got spared in the two twenty century world wars, parts of Kortrijk were bombed in WWII, but not the churches. I think it is the grey stone they used for the bricks that gives it its doomy look.

It was build to last, if only the walls could talk. How many times would I have said that already? I really wished they would do so. We would hear so much stories... It would be wonderful to hear voices out of our past. We are now in an age that we can record for those who come after us, too bad they did not do it five hundred years ago. At least not in ways we do now. We do have the manuscripts and the buildings talking their language, a couple of digital pics of the Battle of the Gulden Spurs would have been nice... To show on sunday afternoon on the History Channel.

No history channel, just the raw data... A church towering over surrounding houses, silent and powerful. A statement.

Another nice day of visiting my old life, good to be able to go back home. In Ripon. England. Not before I share some pics of the first communion of my god child, which was the reason we were in Kortrijk...

More later, and keep shooting the stories all around, for later generations... They need to know...