The Canny Vanners

More adventures in France Episode 17

2011-06-20T06:59:00.000-07:00

It was only in the very last week of our holiday that the weather decided to play fair and show us that the sun really can shine in England too, sometimes. Sadly the sunshine didn’t start until Tuesday so the Children’s Festival on Monday was held in cool and showery weather. It was such a shame because everyone had made an enormous effort to build floats of a very high standard, and outfits that were never really intended to get wet. Even so, it was a joyful event with five brass bands from the surrounding towns and villages all blasting away with great vigour; the smallest children, well wrapped-up waving from the floats; and bigger children marching along in groups that represented various activities in the towns – swimming club; karate club; Morris dancing; gymnastics; majorettes and so on. The townsfolk turned out in force to cheer them on as they paraded through the streets and there was a great atmosphere of bonhomie. As the route circled the centre of town, it was possible to cheer while they went past on one side then quickly cut through a narrow lane and be ready to cheer them again when they appeared on the other side of town. After two circuits of town they all withdrew to the playing field near the centre for the judging of the floats, then in the evening they did it all again with the addition of a fair number of adults in fancy dress. A wonderful spirit was shown by all who took part, and by all who looked on. In spite of the crowds, I never saw a policeman or in fact anyone who appeared to be in charge of crowd control. How marvellous!
When the following day promised to be a good one, we again had an early lunch then jumped aboard the ‘Melody Scott 11’ and went for another dreamy drift on the canal, this time in the other direction. Not as pretty as the route towards Lancaster but very interesting and again we saw masses of birdlife. The humpy-back bridges fascinated me and when we got home and I downloaded my afternoon’s photographs, I realised that I had taken about twenty shots, just of bridges! But they are so attractive and each one seems prettier than the last. We stopped off and had an early supper at a place called Guy’s Thatched Hamlet, which sounds like a little village but is, in fact, a pub that grew. It is on the canal bank, so is very convenient to boaters, but is also close to a fairly major road so is accessible by car too. The pub is surrounded by a mass of little buildings that look like old shops and houses, and while the shops really are shops with ancient-looking fronts, the houses are really accommodation for tourists and holiday-makers, and are very nice inside.
The following day some friends came up from Warrington for lunch, which was a good choice of day as it was quite cold, blowing and wet. Indoors, of course, we were very snug with the central heating on.
Thursday again looked as if it was going to be miserable all day, but our hosts were determined to make the most of what little time we had left so we went for a drive around all the back lanes all the way up to the Lakes. Every now and again we got a glimpse of what a stunning area they live in and how much history there is to be seen and enjoyed. We had lunch in Hawes, a delightful village next to a large cheese factory, and visited the factory afterwards. The varieties of cheese made are mind-blowing. I think this particular place made about thirty different cheeses, and they were all delicious.
On Friday morning, I begged the morning off to pack, but in the afternoon the wind dropped completely, the sun came out and it was a simply beautiful day, so we packed a coolbag and jumped into the boat again. This time we took the Lancaster route again, but turned around halfway there, found some picnic tables and chairs on the canal bank and sat and ate our supper in the lovely slanting evening light. It was a fitting end to our time in England because we left the next day and by Sunday were sleeping in our own beds again.. We were sad to have to say goodbye, but happy to be coming home to see our family again. And, of course, there is always next time………!

More adventures in France Episode 16

2011-05-29T10:41:00.000-07:00

After our problems with the computer, finally having to resort to using another machine to send an episode through, we ended up with quite a short week to report on. In the end, we did not make the return trip to Garstang until the Wednesday which turned out to be a good choice. Monday had been quite horrendous with gale force winds and pouring rain, while Tuesday was calmer but still wet. Wednesday seemed to be the beginning of a dry spell so we took advantage of that to make the two and a half hour trip. We chose a route that meandered down through the Cumbrian lakes and which provided us with magnificent views of the countryside. It really is the most stunningly beautiful area. When we got home, there was just time to unload our bags from the car, and get the old car into the garage before the rain started falling again! Thursday was drier but very windy so it was Friday before we could go out on Steve’s little 23 foot cabin cruiser on the canal.
The Lancaster Canal runs almost past the house – one block away, in fact – and the boat is moored in a marina further down the canal. We set off in overcast and slightly windy weather, which later cleared up quite nicely and it turned into a lovely day. As Ratty said in ‘The Wind in the Willows’, ‘There is nothing so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats’, and I can heartily agree. We glided along to Lancaster and back, a trip that took six hours on the water, and there was never a dull moment. The same trip by car would probably take only an hour or perhaps a bit less, but what a lot one would miss. Apart from the other boats on the canal, both cruisers and narrow boats, there were ducks, with chicks all paddling furiously to keep up with Mama; there were haughty and regal swans, also with chicks, just as keen to see if there were any scraps of bread to be had. There were cows and calves, and sheep and lambs in the fields on either side and we even saw a tiny foal which must have been very, very new as it really didn’t know what to do with it’s legs. In places the trees had grown into an arch over the canal, which gave the impression of being in a long, green tunnel. Then, every so often there would be a humpy-back bridge to allow the traffic to cross. All the bridges are numbered and on the waterways map of the canal, it is how you know where you are. We were entertained by the names some people had given their boats especially the narrow boats, some of which are occupied permanently. Names like Auntie Rincal, and Stressless stand out for me amongst the many Louisa’s, Mary-Anne’s and Betty Boop’s. All I all it was a good day out.
On Saturday we went into town, a five minute walk away and were accosted by a lady who appeared to be in fancy dress. She was in a bright red outfit, with a cape or cloak over her shoulders, shiny black shoes with a buckle over the toe and a red and black hat. I’m almost sure the costume was something special but have no idea what it could be. Anyway, she told us that we really should go and see the flower display in the local church, so on the way home again, we took her advice and were treated to a wonderful show of colour. I am constantly struck by the number of bright blue flowers that one sees here and in Europe – I’m sure we don’t get as many in South Africa.
And so we come to the end of another week and the beginning of our last week away. We shall treasure the time spent with family, and have made many memories to look back on with great pleasure.

More Adventures in France Episode 15

2011-05-24T05:00:00.000-07:00

Having arrived back in Garstang, we continued to battle with our internet connection, finally managing to get online on about Tuesday, when ,with great relief I could send off the next episode of the blog. From then on we were caught up in a whirl of activity! Although the house that sister Carol and brother-in-law Steve are moving into is not a new house, they have done extensive alterations and have turned it into a really beautiful residence, but the builders, who seem to have been on site forever, are still around but mainly working outdoors on all the finicky finishing off bits. Neels and Steve joined the crew of carpenters, plumbers, electricians and brickies and have been terribly busy fitting shelves into cupboards; moving piles of unused bricks and clearing space in the three-car garage to accommodate Steve’s pride and joy – his 1938 Rover car. Meanwhile Carol and I have had the easier tasks of deciding on colours and designs for window blinds and floor covering for the utility room! It is quite amazing how long such things take, leaving remarkably little time for browsing the shelves of the local supermarkets.
At the end of the week, we returned to the old house in St Bees in Cumbria to fetch some more things to be taken down to the new house, to cut the grass and to collect a trailer load of rocks for the new rockery. And, of course, the Rover. I can’t actually believe that so much has already been taken out of St Bees – enough to furnish the Garstang house – because there is still so much left. Having moved house several times in our lives, I am fully aware of how hard it is to find space for all one’s treasured possessions in a new house, but when down-sizing it is almost impossible, and this is the position Carol is in at the present time. I foresee many trips back and forth over the next few months as more and more gets transferred from one house to the other.
We were supposed to return to Garstang on Monday, in convoy – Carol driving one car towing the trailer full of rocks, while Steve follows at the wheel of the Rover, but if anyone was watching the news that day, you may have heard about the terrible gales in Scotland which flattened trees and left 40,000 people with electricity. So we decided that it wasn’t prudent to try to attempt the trip then so stayed over for another day. A heavy trailer would not make for fun driving in high wind conditions and the little old Rover prefers to travel in fair weather anyway.
I am unable to attach any photographs this week as I am using a remote computer to send this in an attempt at getting back into the old routine. Pictures will have to wait until next time.

More adventures in France Episode 14

2011-05-18T04:41:00.000-07:00

Profuse apologies for the long hiatus in our saga! After arriving in the UK we were completely frustrated in all our attempts to set up a cell phone connection and get on to the internet. To make matters worse, the cell phone service provider did not operate their Customer Care over weekends, so we were rather stumped until Monday morning which was the day we set off for East Anglia. I had the next episode of the blog all written and ready to send, but it was not to be. So now, four days into the following week, we have finally concocted a connection.
The week before we left France was a very busy one. We were suddenly inundated with invitations to tea, lunch or supper; the house had to be spring-cleaned; arrangements had to be made for housing the car over the coming summer and then winter, and there were lots of goodbyes to say. We were sad to have to say goodbye to the cats especially Flo who is such a soft, cuddly little animal, but I had still not been able to work out how to squeeze her into our luggage. However, after a good flight to the UK and an enthusiastic welcome from the family there, they were soon forgotten. We were excited to see the new house, and were not disappointed. It is spacious and airy, and being recently re-decorated, it is, of course pristine.
Having examined the house from top to toe, the next thing to explore was the town and it’s surroundings. Steve was quite willing to oblige and over the weekend we went on a long rambling drive which took in the town, the countryside and the canals, where Steve’s little cabin cruiser is moored. While nosing around there, we met some friends of Carol and Steve’s who were cruising the canals on their narrow boat. We were invited to inspect the inside of their boat and, having never seen the interior of a narrow boat before, we accepted immediately. The boats are fifty feet long but only six foot six inches wide, so fitting every in is quite a feat. The owners say that they can quite comfortably live on board even through winter as it even has a tiny wood burning stove in the living area which heats the whole boat.
The countryside around Garstang is beautiful at present, with a thousand shades of green all around and darling baby lambs bouncing around in the fields. There are wonderful long, green, leafy lanes where the trees meet overhead and we felt as if we were driving down long green tunnels.
On Monday we left for Saxilby in Lincolnshire to spend two nights with oour landlords of the French house we had been staying in. They live in a marvellously compact terrace house which has the steepest staircase I’ve seen in ages! The road from Garstang to Saxilby took us past some villages with simply delightful names which made us chuckle. How about Blubberhouses? Or Spital in the Street? I was dying to stop and take pictures of the name boards but it would have been quite insulting to the residents so we didn’t.
Our first night at Saxilby was spent chatting and catching up, but the following day we went into Lincoln to a piano recital in the restored Drill Hall. The restoration has been done very sympathetically and we believe it is frequently used. After the concert, we walked around Lincoln a bit but I’m afraid we declined to pay the (rather large) amount required for visiting the cathedral. It is a shame as we hear that Lincoln has a really beautiful cathedral, but as the French would say ‘Tant pis!’ (Too bad)
From Saxilby we went still further south to Framlingham in Suffolk to visit an ex-South African friend and her English husband. What a lot of talking we did! We also went for a long walk around town and through some fields where we saw rabbits hopping about in the grass. Although our friend does not drive, they travel a lot by bus and she was able to direct us perfectly all over the surrounding roads to do some sightseeing. She took us first to Blythburgh Cathedral, also known as the Cathedral in the Marshes, which took us completely by surprise. We pushed open the doors and expected to be met by dingy, dark and dank interior, but what a surprise! Due to the style of architecture, it was wonderfully light and airy, lit by the usual long side windows as well as others which are high up in the walls. The exterior was also unusual as it has a flintstone finish which gives the appearance of a massive mosaic with plastered quoins. Quite charming!
From there we headed to the coast and a little place called Southwold. This seaside resort has somehow been missed in the great commercialisation of all tourist spots, and we loved it. It has a pier with a few shops on it and a quirky amusement arcade containing homemade penny-in-the-slot machines which had us rolling with laughter. My favourite was a machine which simulates an eldery person trying to cross a busy road while clinging on to a zimmer frame. We didn’t actually try it but watched others and it was hilarious.
About then the weather changed, so after having a light lunch we drove slowly back to Framlingham via a whole collection of little villages, just viewing them from the car. By the time we were back ‘home’ again, the rain had stopped and the sky was clear again. The next day, after saying our goodbyes to our friends, Neels and I returned to one of the small towns to visit a steam museum, but were a bit disappointed and did not stay long. Our ultimate destination had been Lowestoft where our eldest son is currently studying at the Maritime College. When we arrived, we found that he was in the process of moving out of his holiday flat and into a more permanent rented apartment. As the holiday flat was fully equipped and the rental had only very basic furniture, we spent the rest of the day helping him to buy things like crockery and cutlery, linen and saucepans and a few things in between. The next day though, he refused to do any more shopping and instead took us out for a full days sightseeing. We drove cross-country to Sheringham which is on the north Norfolk coast and then returned very slowly all along the coast line visiting almost every village on the way. We were fascinated to discover that every village had an almost identical square-towered church and the villages couldn’t have been more than two to three kilometres apart. It was just like a line of defence in a war zone! Once again the weather changed as we were returning and we arrived home again just in time to dash across the road before the shower started again.
On Sunday we will start back towards Garstang to spend more time with Carol and Steve.

More adventures in France Episode 13

2011-05-01T10:59:00.001-07:00

A quiet start to the week but a busy end! Halfway through the week we at last met our last-year’s landlords face to face for the first time when they entertained us to dinner. It was quite strange to be there as their guests when we felt so at home in the house, but lovely to meet them at last and to be able to chat properly and get to know them a bit. Needless to say they have been busy in their garden, in spite of having been away since January until mid-April, and the veggie garden is already looking good, with onions, garlic, carrots, peas and leeks. Not being a gardener, I find it quite hard to think that anyone could enjoy working in the garden during the bitter November and December months, but this is what they must have done to achieve the present result. They have invited us o return to their next year while they are away, spending the coldest months in Spain (where it is warmer) but we are still thinking about that one!
At the end of the week, we met another couple whom we had previously only known through email messages or phone calls. They are South Africans who are embarking on a similar campervan tour to that which we did in 2008, and had been referred to us for advice. I’m not sure if we helped much in the advice department, but they are a great couple and we had a lot of fun in the two days that they spent with us. On Saturday we all piled into the little gold car and made a round trip which visited numerous little villages in the area, and also managed to fit in a lunch stop at our favourite restaurant at Bassoues. By the end of their two days, they were so entranced with the area that they have booked in to a camp site nearby and are spending a few more days here. We were delighted to have made two converts so easily!
Our three months here has flown past and by this time next week we will be in England. We will be really sad to leave as everything is just reaching it’s scenic best, but I can’t wait to get to England to see my sister again and to visit their new home which is a bit further south in England than they were previously. We will also be visiting some other friends while we are there, some of whom we haven’t seen for ages so we are looking forward to that too.
As I look out of the window of the study where I type, I am struck by the fact that I can no longer see the house across the road – it is totally hidden by trees and bushes which were bare when we arrived and are now thick with leaves. There are doves (pigeons?) nesting in a large pine tree at the edge of the garden and there is constant commotion as they fly in and out. One of the cats has got the gardening bug too and has taken to sleeping curled up in one of the flower pots outside the door. Obviously she has as much enthusiasm for doing the actual work as I have. She also enjoys far more, watching the plnts grow!

More adventures in France Episode 12

2011-04-24T09:23:00.001-07:00

Feeling confident that we would not be likely to run into another snowstorm this week, we again ventured into the mountains for a day out. This time we were aiming for Pic du Midi de Bigorre, one of the higher peaks in the Pyrenees. We also checked on the weather in that part of the country before leaving, hence the reason for our confidence. There is again a cableway up to the highest point, but it is really quite expensive at 25 euros per person and before we left home we decided that we would only ride on it if the weather was very, very clear. Which turned out to be quite a good decision in the end, as the cableway section only opens to the public on the 30th April! We had also thought that if we didn’t go on the cableway, we would continue on the road into the mountains which would then take us up and over the Col de Tourmalet (those of you who follow the Tour de France will recognise the name), and bring us back down again further along the range. However, that idea didn’t quite work out either as the road to the Col was closed to traffic because of the heavy snow in the area! But even if our ideas didn’t quite work out as planned, we had a wonderful day out. The little town at the end of the road to the Pic du Midi is called La Mongie and is principally a ski-resort. It is not an attractive town by any stretch of the imagination, as it appears to have been purpose-built. There are no pretty little mountain chalets, but instead large solid blocks of holiday flats and equally large and solid hotels line the road and climb up the hillside. Ski-lifts and cableways stretch out in all directions like massive spider legs, and in season I can imagine it being alive with hundreds of people wearing skis and colourful ski outfits. The day we were there though, it was very quiet. There were some people around, and a few families with small children were having fun tobogganing on a small patch of snow not far away. The shops were all closed, probably taking a welcome break after the winter season and before the summer season starts, but we found one café open that served coffee and sandwiches. Needless to say, he was doing a roaring trade! Somehow we do not seem to have great success with our trips to the mountains.
Coming back from shopping a few days back, we happened to pass the old barn which I took a picture of at the beginning of our holiday. The enormous oak tree next to it was quite bare and brown at the time, so I took another picture of it to compare the winter and the spring view. With the tree in full leaf, the old barn looks almost attractive and not quite so derelict!
Interestingly enough, although I had always considered Europe to be predominantly Catholic, Easter is not celebrated with a holiday weekend in France. Friday was business as usual at all shops and businesses, but Monday may well be a half-day holiday. All of the supermarkets have huge stocks of Easter eggs and chocolate bunnies, but there are no hot cross buns and no ‘Easter specials’. In fact, it is a complete non-event. We are quite amazed. As I so often say, ‘One learns something new every day’.

More adventures in France Episode 11

2011-04-17T11:00:00.000-07:00

Another relatively quiet week for us. Things got done, like polishing the car and thoroughly cleaning the house before some dinner guests arrived, but there were no outstanding scenic trips this time. Although, even as I write that, I know that every time we take the car out, if only to buy groceries, we admire the scenery all around us. The wooded areas between the fields, which were all bare, brown and dry when we arrived are already wonderfully green and inviting, while the vines which were pruned back to what looked like dark-grey arms sticking out of the ground topped by a clenched fist, now have a healthy growth of greenery. There seem to be very few really private roads, apart from those which go directly to a farmhouse, and when we are not in any hurry, which is often, we frequently venture off the track and are rewarded with scenes like the ones I have included of the forest near here.
The birdlife too, seems to have increased as the food has become more plentiful. We become aware of the incessant chattering as soon as it begins to get light in the morning, and which continues all day. We have discovered a completely new bird (for us) which is also quite exciting. We kept hearing this strange sound – rather like someone shaking one of those rattle-type instruments sometimes used to accompany South American music. At first we thought it was field-mice rootling around at the base of some bamboo plants, but it was too loud for that. Then I thought that it was the neighbour’s chickens, that sometimes make their way into our garden, scratching amongst the dead leaves in the hedge, but the sound kept moving and seemed to really be coming from quite high up in the trees. Finally we identified it as a Mistle Thrush, so called because apart from insects and other berries, it loves to feed on mistletoe. It has a pleasant fluting song, but when alarmed makes this extraordinary rattling sound, which of course, is why we always heard the noise when we went outside. I’m sure they must all be enormously fat as there is so much mistletoe growing everywhere. It is a parasitic plant and it is that which I saw earlier on, forming large balls around the branches of some of the trees.
Behind the house stands an enormous Horse Chestnut tree which is now in full flower. I have heard that one can make a tea from the flowers and that it can be used as alternative medicine for certain conditions, but quite honestly, I will just enjoy looking at it! The birds and the bees also seem to enjoy it and going too close could definitely be harmful to one’s health! French bees look more like South African wasps and I’ve been told that they have a really nasty sting. As for the birds, well…………they do what birds do and nothing would persuade me to stand under the tree in the daytime! It is, however, a beautiful tree.
We are hoping to be able to venture into the mountains again next week. As the weather seems to have become more stable now, we are unlikely to run into another snowstorm, but then………..you never know!

More adventures in France Episode 10

2011-04-10T08:40:00.000-07:00

Our main outing this last week took us to Mielan, about sixty kilometres south of where we are, to visit the very pleasant young lady who cuts my hair. Quite a long way to go for a haircut, I can hear you all saying, but I got to know her early last year and as she cuts my hair well; speaks English and, because she works from home, charges about a third less than any of the local hairdressers, we make the effort to get there. It is a lovely drive and we have enjoyed seeing the restoration of their home progressing each time we have visited. Interestingly, what they bought initially was a house with a large barn attached to the one side. What they have done is to convert the barn into a charming and very attractive house for themselves, and turned the original house in to beautifully appointed and equipped self-catering cottage, known here as a ‘gite’. There is now also a pool, horses and splendid views. It would make a wonderful base for anyone wanting to discover more of rural Gascony. Needless to say, the fact that it was a simply glorious sunny day, probably did make everything look even more attractive.
On the way back home, we had chosen to stop off in Tillac which is a sweet little mediaeval village, and the one we had been to a week ago to visit the market and the floral fair, when the weather had been so unfair and gloomy. We wanted to have another look at it without the market stalls up and down the main road, and had noticed a rather nice-looking little restaurant where we thought we may be able to get a reasonable lunch. It was not to be though! In spite of a notice in the restaurant window announcing that they are open every midday, it was as though the whole village had died! Not a soul was to be seen on the streets; all the shutters were closed and there was no sound of radio or television from behind those closed shutters. Admittedly it was during those two hours of the day when the whole of France closes down for lunch and a siesta, and it was also very hot – about 28 degrees but the closed restaurant was a disappointment. Still, it was not the end of the world, and we still had to go past Marciac which we know well and where we consoled ourselves with delicious grilled duck breast and ‘frites’. Goody! No need for me to cook that night!
All along the route we had chosen, we saw vast fields of brilliant yellow rape-seed which I am almost sure is the same thing as the canola which grows in the Overberg. The fields are so bright and make a wonderful splash of colour in amongst the rest of the lush greenness.
The rest of the week was taken up with all sorts of chores around the house. Apart from the usual house-hold chores of cleaning, washing and ironing, the grass got cut, some overgrown bushes were trimmed and a broken shutter was repaired – a job which entailed using quick-setting cement. We now know what those nasty Mafia guys made the ‘concrete boots’ out of for their victims! This cement is positively scary as it sets rock hard in just five minutes, or less if the day is very hot. As that particular day had been very hot indeed, we waited until well after 7 pm to do the work and even then it set almost immediately. We learn something new every day!

More advenures in France Episode 9

2011-04-03T06:21:00.000-07:00

Although Monday started off as rather a miserable day, we had to get to Auch as early as possible in order to deliver some documents, which had to go to South Africa by courier, before the cut-off time for same day collection. We made it in good time and then found ourselves with time on our hands and no real plans to do anything. Auch is only about a half hour drive away, so it is an easy run. On the several occasions that we have driven this route, we had noticed a tiny village perched on top of a hill overlooking the national road, with w the somewhat strange ame of Ordan-Larroque, so on the way home again, we turned in there to have a look. It is such a pretty and neat village that we promised ourselves that we would return on a sunny day. And the sunny day presented itself later in the week. We had arranged to go with Nicky to another town further north of us called Lectoure, which has plenty to see and is also the only place in the world where woad is still made in the traditional way. Naturally, it is no longer used by the Brits to paint their bodies and frighten their enemies, but it is now used extensively as a dye for fabrics, pastel crayons and even paint. The mediaeval technique was revived by a couple – Denise and Henri Lambert – who were fascinated by the unusual shade of blue paint on the shutters of the old tannery that they bought. After much research and a few lucky finds, they discovered the process of making blue woad from the woad plant leaves, and today there is a sizeable factory and research centre where colourants are produced for everything even plastics and ceramics. Sadly Henri passed away last year at the age of 54 and is obviously greatly missed.
The rest of the town was looking quite beautiful! The town gardeners have obviously been hard at work and every traffic island is a mass of glorious spring flowers. Although there was a market on in the main street of the town and people were milling around all over the place, there was not a speck of litter that we could see, and almost all of the buildings were looking as if they had been given a quick splash of paint along with the annual spring-clean. We had taken a picnic lunch which we enjoyed sitting on a bench at one end of the town, in a garden, making sure that we disposed of our lunch wrappers in the bins provided! We had picked up a leaflet at the Tourist Office that showed a walking tour around the town, so we did part of that before heading off again, and by the time we returned to the car we had all stripped off our jerseys and were strolling along in shirtsleeves. What a change!
As the day was still clear and sunny and the hour was not too late, we turned into Ordan-Larroque again and were rewarded with a sunny view of a really pretty village. It is almost too good to be true – every house is in excellent condition, all the shutters are painted and clean. Almost like a film set in the attention to detail, with every building appearing to have been built in the same period, although we are sure that some of them are really quite new. Again, everything looked fresh and clean, and even if the entire village only consists of about twenty houses, there is a church and community hall; a public library and a bakery. It is a dear little model village.
The week ended with us going down to Tillac which was combining a market and a floral fair, and where we had arranged to meet someone who may be going to help us with a project of a literary nature. The weather had changed drastically again which was a real shame as all the lovely flowers and seedlings of the floral fair were all under cover and I could not photograph them. On the way there, while barrelling along a long straight road, two deer leapt out into the road in front of us which gave us both a huge fright but luckily there was no other traffic and Neels was able to swerve to avoid the back one. On the way back from Tillac we came across someone who wasn’t so lucky. There were violent skid marks in the road and a car lying on its side in the ditch, and we are quite sure he was trying to avoid a deer. Later on, and nearer to home we saw another one standing all alone in the middle of a ploughed field, not far from the road. We have sighted deer in the past but never so many in one morning. Perhaps the cooler weather has brought them all out. We are due to dine out tonight with friends so will have to take great care getting there and back. We have no desire to also end up sideways in the ditch!

More adventures in France Episode 8

2011-03-27T10:03:00.000-07:00

The good weather of the past week encouraged us to go much further afield and when Tuesday dawned clear and sunny, we thought it was a perfect day to go to the mountains. The house we stayed in last year has a wonderful panoramic view of the Pyrenees, but the one we are in this year doesn’t so we just had to go and check that they were still there and, possibly, see some snow on the peaks. We didn’t start off all that early (surprise, surprise) and dawdled our way along the back roads to get where we were going, which was a point in the mountains called Pont d’Espagne – presumably a bridge on the border between France and Spain. Consequently we arrived, shortly before lunch-time, at a parking area close to a cable way station. Having been caught out before, we had taken all our winter and wet-weather gear with us, in spite of the hot sun when we left home. It was just as well because the temperature at the cableway station was 2 degrees and there was a fine mizzly-drizzle falling and there was mist all around. After some debate we decided to take the five-minute ride to the upper station, even if we just stayed in the cable-car and came down again. However, when we arrived at the top it seemed clearer and the drizzle had stopped so instead of staying in the car, we opted for a 300 meter walk to the café. There was lots of snow all around and it was really pretty. Plenty of people, too, with skis or proper walking boots. The café was crowded but we found a table and had a sandwich and a cup of coffee, while we enjoyed the warmth and jolly atmosphere inside, thinking that we would go and look for the bridge after we had eaten. But when we pushed open the door to leave, we were greeted by a silent white wonderland, and it was still snowing fairly hard. Luckily we managed to tag along with a fellow who seemed to be with a group of children who had been skiing, who knew the way back to the cable station. By now it was snowing heavily and we were getting quite concerned about the trip down the hill from the lower station, which is a steep zig-zag all the way down. After brushing a 2 inch layer of snow off the car, we were again lucky to have someone pull out of a space close to us, who obviously knew the way to the exit. We followed his tracks and made it safely out of the parking area and also down the hill.
By the time we got back to Espas it was again a beautiful day! Well! Well! Well! what an adventure.

On another day we thought it was more prudent to stay away from the mountains for a while and instead drove a circular route which took us out of our usual towns and villages to some we had never visited before. To those of you with maps who like to know these things, our route took us through Nogaro, Aire-sur-l’Adour, Grenade-sur-l’Adour, and St Sever to Mugron. As we so generally do, we stayed away from the main roads and detoured through all the quaint little villages off the beaten track. Our return trip came via Hagetmau, Pimbo, and Garlin, after which we cut across country and came home on an assortment of farm roads. The weather was again simply wonderful and with Spring well sprung the country side is looking it’s very best.

We keep telling each other that we will not be going into any more churches, but somehow we just can’t resist having a quick peep to see if there are any ancient stained glass windows and we are frequently rewarded. In any case the churches are often situated on the highest point in the area and have amazing panoramic views, so it is always worthwhile.

We sincerely hope that next week will be equally productive.

More adventures in France Episode 7

2011-03-21T04:18:00.000-07:00

To those of you who were expecting an action week to read about, I apologise. It was not the cause of the blog being posted a day late.
In fact, the first part of the week was really very dull – quite literally. So, as the weather was not great and we expected house guests for the weekend, we thought a little preparation for that event would be a good idea. So the first part of the week was taken up by very mundane tasks like sweeping, dusting, cooking, Hoovering, cutting grass and generally tidying up the outside of the house and shopping for supplies for the weekend. One could describe it as having nothing to write home about! The weekend was spent entertaining our guests, and driving them around this beautiful area, to introduce them to another part of France. It was a weekend of very late nights, not very early mornings and probably too much wine, but enjoyable all the same. They have now departed though, and all I have to show for the week are two pictures of Spring flowers.
The weather seems to be set for a few days of sun and warmth, so we are planning to make the most of it. With a bit of co-operation from the weatherman, I should have some real adventures to relate next week.

More adventures in France Episode 6

2011-03-13T13:52:00.000-07:00

One way and another, this has been a good week. On Tuesday we went over to Peyrusse Vieille where we first visited the Mayor’s secretary to ask for her help with a couple of telephone calls. In this way we managed to establish that our renewed visas were ready for collection; that the cost was less than we had been previously quoted; and that the Treasury Office in Plaisance would be able to provide us with the necessary amount in revenue stamps. Delighted with this news, we went to have coffee with Ady to celebrate. Then the next day we went to Plaisance to get the stamps. This is the town in which we used to do most of our shopping last year, but we have hardly been back there this time, so it was pleasant to visit it again in a different season. As it was a reasonably clear day, we managed to make the return journey as circuitous as possible, admiring all the blossom and flowers along the way.
The next day we set off in good time to go to Auch. The sun was trying very hard to come out properly, without much success, and there was still a chilly nip in the air. The young lady we dealt with at the Prefecture was not the same one who had taken our applications but she was equally friendly and went to great lengths to explain what would be required of us, should we wish to extend our visas for another year. Unfortunately, if we should want to do that, it will mean returning in Winter again as each visa is valid for only a year, and renewal has to be applied for before the expiry date, just as we had to do this year. Pity about that, as it is not the best tourist season. However, we are delighted with our renewed visas, and we now have an actual card saying that we are legally in France and can come and go as we wish for another year.
Friday was forecast to be sunny all day, so we duly made plans for an outing and were up bright and early. I am not quite sure why, as we were not going far at all, only about 30 kms along the road, in fact. But it really was a beautiful day for a change and it was lovely to be out and about. Our destination was a deer and wild boar farm near a place called Le Houga. When arrived, we were told that there was a walk around the farm’s perimeter which would include visiting the enclosures where the deer and wild boar were. We were also told that the walk was about six kilometres long, but having walked it, I very much doubt that – it may have been three, or at a stretch, four kilometres. We were given a little tin bucket half filled with dried maize kernels, to feed to the boar, and off we went. We arrived at the boar enclosures first and by rattling the bucket, we encouraged the animals to come closer to the fence so that they could enjoy the kernels we threw to them. They really are very ugly creatures, much more like a farmyard pig than a warthog, but with a longer nose. The males have quite fearsome tusks and I get the feeling that all of them are probably quite dangerous as, as well as the substantial mesh fence, there was also an electric fence about 30 centimetres inside that. There were several different areas to see, with groups of wild boar in each, in what could have been family groups. The babies were too sweet, as all baby animals are, and quite interestingly had three darker brown stripes down their backs, although the adults are an all-over grey-brown colour.
Having left the boar enclosures behind, we walked through some vineyards before arriving at some open fields with lots of deer in them. One of the bigger stags was not at all shy and came right up to the fence where he stood and posed so that we could take pictures of him. His antlers were magnificent and he was obviously very proud of them too. I think he was hoping fr a few maize kernels too, but by then we had given them all out. It was a lovely day for a walk, and a lovely walk around the farm and at the end of it all, we enjoyed a meal in the farm restaurant. And that was a bit different too. We started with a cocktail of orange juice and Armagnac, as an aperitif. This was accompanied by what looked like a small individual pastry tartlet, filled with wild boar patẻ and cut into four pieces for the two of us. Next to be brought to us was a salad with some deer patẻ and something like brawn made with wild boar meat. Our main course was a venison stew, served with boiled potatoes and chunks of garlic bread and we rounded the whole meal off with a glass of delicious red wine. Mildly sun-burnt and decidedly replete, we returned home agreeing that we had had a perfect day out.

More advetures in France Episode 5

2011-03-06T07:35:00.000-08:00

At last! At last! Some glorious sunshine! And how different everything looks under clear blue skies. The blossoming trees are even more noticeable now – the white more startling against a backdrop of bare brown branches, and the pinks brighter and clearer. We drove past a house with a long driveway, which was lined on each side with alternating dark green fir trees and what had been spindly dry branches, but which were now a cloud of soft purplish pink. It looked so pretty. The French are obviously quite garden-conscious because we have noticed that the farmhouse gardens are always planted ‘for effect’. Splashes of brilliant colour around the houses, in each season, are the order of the day. When they get the time to do it all, I really don’t know. They all work so hard already.
We went to visit our friend Ady, in Peyrusse Vieille, and she had been helping her daughter to slaughter thirty ducks and to get them oven ready, for sale. Being the generous soul that she is, she presented us with a duck breast for our supper. I must just say here, that one breast probably weighs about 200 – 300 gms and is easily enough for two people. We were simply delighted to accept the gift although I had never tried to cook one before. Thank heavens for the internet, though, where I found detailed instructions on a video by the world famous chef, Gordon Ramsay. I followed them precisely and we had a meal fit for a king!
Something that I have never mentioned before is that this area of France still practises bull-fighting, although they do not kill the bulls here. Quite a few of the bigger towns have bull-rings and most of the fights take place around Easter time. Special little black bulls are bred especially for the purpose and it is a great excuse for a party. On the top of a hill near to Aignan is a huge cut-out of a bull advertising the Easter bull-fight while at the nearby town of Vic Fezensac, there is an enormous bullring with a large statue of a man facing a bull, outside. I doubt very much if we will be going to view one of these events!
The other thing that we take for granted but perhaps not everyone knows, is the style of building around here. The previous house that we stayed in was originally a double storey stone house with two foot thick walls. (It now has an extension which is modern and brick-built) And stone is a popular building medium for a lot of the older houses. Even older than that though, is what we would refer to as ‘ wattle and daub’, and which is here called ‘colombage’ or ‘half-timbered’. Amazingly, a large number of these houses are still standing, and even more amazing, are occupied. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if some of them are a few hundred years old. As one drives around past some of the older farms, it is not unusual to see just the remains of an old barn – the skeleton, probably made of oak, still standing long after the weather has taken its toll on the mud or brick filling. It just goes to show that all those things like building regulations which require one to have foundations of a certain depth, damp courses and the like, are really unnecessary for the house to last. As to the comfort of the houses without those attributes, well, I really wouldn’t like to comment. I just think that people in the old days were a lot tougher than we are now, and somehow managed to survive in houses that were cold, damp and unhygienic!

More adventures in France Episode 4

2011-02-27T03:11:00.000-08:00

Of course, I should have known, when I started with that chest infection, that it was never going to get better without help, but, stubborn as ever, I let it roll on for almost two weeks before giving in and seeing a doctor. Once I had the correct medication, it was a matter of days before I was feeling much better and within another week was back to full health again, although with a niggley cough which will no doubt be around for some time. Thank you to all who sent jokes and other entertaining messages to keep my spirits up and to those who called. All your efforts were very much appreciated.
This past week has been cold, wet and grey, so we have spent most of the time indoors doing odd like chores, reading and watching television. On the one day that we had to go and do a bit of grocery shopping, the sun came out for a about twenty minutes so we took advantage of it to drive around aimlessly until we were lost and then asked ‘Jane’ to take us home via the shortest route. This is always fun as the road ‘she’ chooses usually takes us straight through farmyards, between barn and house and on roads through the vineyards. Incredibly, they are all public roads, can be found on the detailed map and are all tarred.
Along the way we spotted the first signs of Spring – a fruit tree covered in white blossom – which was a very welcome sight. The following day we noticed that a flower box in our garden had also suddenly burst into bloom and we had a brilliant splash of colour from the daffodils which had just opened. The garden hedge which appeared to be a barrier of straight, dry sticks has now also started to produce fat pinkish buds, and we are longing to see what they turn into.
We have also had both the time and the inclination to visit our favourite restaurant in the area, at Bassoues, and enjoy a delicious meal there. The food is traditional and extremely tasty and for €11, one can enjoy a set menu of soup, salad, main course (duck, pork or steak) with vegetables and dessert. Wine is included but coffee is an extra €1. At today’s exchange rate that works out to about R115 which is very good value we think.
Now that we are able to get around again, we intend to do far more of it and hopefully by next week there will be more to tell you about.

More adventures in France Episode 3

2011-02-20T11:42:00.001-08:00

Sorry, everyone. No episode this week. I have been really ill with bronchitis , which actually started a couple of days after we arrived here, and got progressively worse. So I have spent most of the past week either in bed or at least indoors. Not very adventurous, to say the least. However, the good news is that I have at last taken the sensible route and seen a doctor, and I am already on the mend.

Just a thought to leave you with though. While travelling back from doing some shopping last week, a clump of trees caught my eye. Although they were winter-bare, here and there among the higher branches were ball-shaped growths of mistletoe, and it crossed my mind that perhaps this was what gave the French the idea of trimming their dogs’ hair into those ludicrous shapes. Well…………what do you think?

More adventures in France Episode 2

2011-02-13T09:26:00.000-08:00

A very quiet week. The tickle in my throat that I detected in the plane on the way over, quickly progressed to a full-blown chest infection, during which I lost my voice but managed to fill all the hours of the day and night with coughing!
Our only real outing was our required visit to Auch, about three quarters of an hour’s drive away, to apply for our visa renewals, on Monday. All went well in this stage of the proceedings except that we were short of a couple of documents. These, however, were on my computer so we came home and printed them off. When we made the return trip we took Nicky along with us and the three of us treated ourselves to an afternoon at the movies. We saw ‘The King’s Speech’, with Colin Firth as King George VI, and thoroughly enjoyed it. No wonder he has been nominated for so many awards – it was brilliantly acted.
Apart from that, we have kept very close to home and the warmth of the fire. When we have been forced to go out to shop, we have done only that, although on one day we made a slight detour on the way home. This detour took us through a little town called Manciet, where we were delighted to see the winter version of the ‘knitted trees’ which shade so many town squares in summer. All the wonderfully leafy trees have been severely pruned back to great arthritic knobs on the ends of the branches – so severely, in fact, that it is a wonder that they ever sprout again. In places, longer branches have been intertwined and allowed to grow together so that when the leaves appear, they will make a thick leafy canopy.
When I was describing the house last week, I omitted to mention that we also have two cats, called Geoffrey and Flo. I’m not sure if they are a special breed or not, but they are both very solid and stocky with rather short legs and short thick fur. Considering that they spend most of their lives running wild, they are very lovable and adore being given attention. Geoffrey, in particular, loves to have his photograph taken and will pose beautifully. Flo, on the other hand is far too inquisitive and always has to come and see what one is doing.
Being ill this last week has been a real waste of time as the weather has been quite remarkable. The days have been sunny with clear skies and no wind so it has been a shame that we have not been able to take advantage of them. The forecast for next week looks a bit grim with maximum temperatures hovering in the middle single figures, and minimum’s going down below zero, but hopefully, after that the weather and my health will improve and we can get on with the business of holidaying!

Further adventres in France Episode 1

2011-02-06T08:25:00.000-08:00

So, here we are, back again in France. Not at the same house as last year, but another one in the same area. A more compact house with three bedrooms and three bathrooms! It also has a lovely heat-giving stove in the living room which warms the whole house and, as if all that was not enough, we found an electric blanket on the bed, which is wonderful bonus. (The blanket, not the bed!)
Our flight over was uneventful apart from leaving Cape Town in 35° and arriving ten long hours later in Frankfurt to a chilly 0°. It was a novel experience for us to feel the plane skittering down the runway with fresh piles of swept snow at the edge of the tarmac; to watch the workman, standing at the foot of the steps to our onward flight aircraft, kicking at the ice on the ground with his boot and knocking the pieces away; and having to wait to take off while our plane was de-iced. It is definitely not something we see in South Africa.
We were collected and safely deposited at our new abode and although we had had very little sleep the night before, we decided to get ourselves unpacked and settled first and sleep later. Some friends had kindly put some basic supplies in the house and lit the fire, so after a light early supper we fell into a deliciously warm bed and slept for twelve hours.
We woke refreshed and ready to go off to the shops, and there was something very satisfying about being able to find our way to the supermarket without any problem and then, later, to have some lunch at our favourite café. We celebrated our first meal back in France by ordering duck breast with chips and salad, accompanied by a glass of local red wine. Then we felt we were indeed, ‘back in France’. We were delighted to discover that food is still cheaper here than in South Africa and were able to do a fairly ‘big’ shop without getting nervous about the finances.
Everything which is familiar looks very strange to us without the lush green foliage that we had become used to seeing. Suddenly, we can see further; see houses that were previously hidden behind trees. A whole new world is appearing to us in an area we thought we knew so well. The fields, previously green or golden, are now brown or grey and when viewed with the bare trees, show a scene of bleakness which in itself looks cold. Even when the sky is bright blue and there is no wind, as the last two days have been, the chill is still there. The weather experts are saying that by next weekend temperatures should be up to about 18°, and that should be positively warm! Until then, I will continue to wear three layers of clothes inside the house and a few more where I go outdoors.

Adventures in France Episode 26. Final

2010-10-25T06:22:00.000-07:00

The sunny days are icy cold; the leaves are turning glorious shades of yellow through to red; and the birds are lining up on the telephone wires, discussing the best routes south. The time has come for us, too, to head southwards and back to the warmth. We have one week left and at least six moths of ‘things’ to do in it. We have a lot of goodbyes to say, to all the good friends that we have made. Also numerous items that have been so generously lent to us to make life more comfortable, have to be returned. And I now know that none of these activities can take place in a minimum of time. Things happen slowly around here, even goodbyes!
On Wednesday we took our friends Sandra and Kevin to the airport in Biarritz. They had intended flying out for a week arriving the previous Tuesday, in Pau, and returning a week later. However the day before they were due to arrive they received a text message telling them that their flight had been cancelled due to some or other strike. The first alternative booking was for Thursday, which they accepted and we had fetched them from Pau, arranging to return them there the following Tuesday. However, the strikers struck again and their return flight was also cancelled. This time however, the first available flight was on Saturday which was too late for them so they arranged to return from a different airport, namely Biarritz, for which they were charged a penalty – for changing their flight plans!
The trip there was uneventful, but on the way back we got caught up in a huge traffic jam at one of the toll booths. We are still not quite sure what the problem was, but after sitting in a queue for half an hour, we drove past a three kilometer long line of trucks to reach the toll booth and then drove past a five kilometer line of cars and trucks that were going in the opposite direction. Or rather, not going! Perhaps the toll operators had also gone on strike
Thursday was a brilliantly sunny day but with a very cold breeze. A farmer friend brought his Rotavator – a portable engine-driven plough – up to the house and he and Neels turned the weed patch that used to be a vegetable garden into a perfectly tilled area, all ready for re-planting. The same day, Neels cut the lawn, so everything is neat and tidy outside. It was quite sad to have to cut the lawn as it was almost covered with huge patches of cyclamen, and their delicate pale pink and white flowers were so pretty, but they had to go. Tant pis, as they say here “too bad!”
Now it just a case of clearing up, tidying away, washing and cleaning and then next Sunday the 31st, we are off. Thanks to all the people who read my ramblings and more thenks to those who wrote and actually said they enjoyed them. We have had a wonderful experience and I can only hope that you enjoyed hearing about it.

Adventures in France Episode 25

2010-10-17T10:33:00.000-07:00

It really is quite hard to believe that in two weeks today we will be climbing aboard a plane for the long trek home again. The six months that we have had here have just flown and we have enjoyed every minute, even the times when we nearly froze with cold and the other times when we were so hot that we thought we would explode. Living, as we have been, in the heart of rural France has been en experience that we have long dreamt of and I’m glad to be able to say that it has fulfilled all our expectations. Apart from being here ourselves, we have also been able to have visitors to stay and to introduce them to some of the gems of the area. The latest of these visitors was my sister and her husband from England, whose visit was real bonus. They are busy with renovations to their house and the trip was very much an ‘on-again-off-again’ item. When finally they found a gap in their occupations and said they were coming, I was over the moon. We fetched them on Sunday night in the pouring rain which continued in a drizzly manner most of the next day. Not a good start for us to show them how beautiful this part of France is. Rain and mist they have plenty of at home! It did give us time to talk though, and to each show the latest batch of holiday photographs. The weather did clear later in the week and I think they enjoyed all that we managed to show them. All too soon it was Friday and time for them to leave again. A real flying visit, but so much enjoyed and appreciated.
By Saturday the weather had become very, very cold and the breeze had a damp, icy nip to it.A load of washing hung out in the morning hadn’t dried by early afternoon and we had to bring it indoors and drape it over drying racks. We had been invited to go and pick grapes again at a neighbouring farm, but we both chickened out. We do not need to get ill at the moment and I am sure we would have both developed colds if we had gone out in that weather, especially in our inadequate clothing. South African winter clothing is not really sufficient to cope with the European winter.
Sunday’s weather forecast had been for a sunny day so we were rather disappointed to awake to grey mist. Happily though, it soon cleared and the promised sun began to shine. It was the day of the Goose Fair at Riguepeu and we had booked to have a meal there. Not that we were in the market for a goose, of course. We were more intrigued to find out what went on there. The town is so small that we couldn’t imagine a fair of any great size taking place there. How wrong could we be?! By the time we arrived, all the parking places in and around the centre of the village had long since been snapped up and we ended up parking a little way off in a field. We walked back into the village and found it to be fairly buzzing with people. I imagine the fair started out as a trading fair but nowadays it is an opportunity for stall-holders of all kinds to display and sell their wares. To be fair, there were some geese for sale, quite a lot in fact, but there was plenty more to see and buy too.
At 12.30 everyone started queuing up for the pre-booked meal and in a relatively short time six hundred meals had been served out and everyone was seated at long tables in a huge shed, enjoying their food and wine. Suddenly a group of men and women sitting at one of the tables broke into song. It transpired that we had a choir among the assembled masses and they entertained us for some time with songs, some of which required us all to stand up, sit down, clap hands or wave a handkerchief in the air. It was all very jolly and I’m sure went on long after we had left. Another experience of village life to add to all our other wonderful experiences.

Adventures in France Episode 24

2010-10-10T09:09:00.001-07:00

Adventures in France Episode 24

Two highlights this week, beside which all other activities pale! We were informed, with great glee, some months ago, that we would be expected to take part in the ‘vendange’, the grape picking. Being still the ‘outsiders’ in the community, we smiled and nodded and didn’t expect anything more to come of it. Then on Monday, Ady came over to tell us that she would accompany us on Wednesday morning at 9.30 am, to show us where we would be picking. With some trepidation, we readied ourselves for what lay ahead, not knowing if it was something we were even capable of. When we arrived at the vineyard there were about ten or so other people there, ranging in age from late 30’s to almost 90. If one includes the two children who were running around doing their bit too, the age can be lowered to 6 or 7 years! We were each given a pair of secateurs and pointed sort of in the right direction and off we went. Picking is done from both sides of the vine and the more experienced ones really pick fast, so you have to be fairly careful if you accidentally poke you hand right through the vine to the other side. It is very sociable and everyone chats away merrily. It was soon discovered that these two newcomers amongst them were South Africans who normally spoke English, and then we were gently teased in one way or another. Someone would make a joke, which we obviously didn’t understand, and some one else would shout out ‘Een Eengleesh, pleeze’, which would make them laugh all the more. When we had been picking for a few minutes, surrounded by the clicking of the secateurs, one man said ‘Listen! You should know this. It’s the Click Song’! In spite of all the jollity though, it was quite hard work. The grapes all hang from the bottom of the vine, and although they are trained up on wires, one has to work either on one’s haunches or in a semi-bent position. Towards the end, when we had been at it for nearly three and a half hours, the rows seemed to be getting very long and then, suddenly, we were told to stop. Apparently we had reached the quota set by the ‘cave’, the local co-operative winery. We were very pleased, as there was no way that we would have given up while there were still people far older than ourselves clipping away furiously. All in all, nine four hundred meter long rows had been cut That’s quite a long morning’s walk for yours truly! Everyone then wandered back to the start, collected jerseys and returned clippers and while everyone was still gathered there, the owner of the farm announced that we would now be going to eat – all of us! So we made our way to the farmhouse where we found a long table set out under an awning in front of the house. Sixteen of us sat down to dinner, which turned out to be a five course meal. Before the meal started we were offered water, beer or Floc which is a locally produced sherry type drink. It is delicious but has a fairly high alcohol level. Then the soup arrived in big tureens, and lots of crusty fresh bread. This was followed by a starter of ham slices and chunks of sausage, made, I was told, with pig’s blood.. I didn’t want to appear to be a wimp so I took some and tasted it, and found it surprisingly tasty, but my brain wasn’t completely happy with the idea of what I was putting into my mouth, so I refused any more when the plate came around. After that we had roast duck with vegetables, then a salad and to finish off the most divine dessert I have had for ages. It looked like a little upside down cupcake on the plate, but as soon as it was broken open hot chocolate sauce spilled out. I have asked our hostess for the recipe as I have got to try this. While all this eating was going on, the wine was flowing. There must have been a vat of it somewhere because what appeared on the tale was in two-litre water bottles that still had their Evian labels on! In fact, make that several vats because there was red, white and rosé, and no-one was using wine-glasses, we all had small tumblers. When we had got through all of this, the coffee was served and finally the Armagnac made an appearance. This is a drink which is peculiar to this region and is a distilled wine, similar to schnapps in Germany or to witblits in South Africa. It is about 40% proof and I don’t like it at all, but there are others who can manage to drink large quantities of it. All in all, the day was a wonderful experience, and next year when we buy St Mont wine that says ‘2010, hand-picked’ we will know that some of our effort went into making it.
A couple of days later, ady came to the house again, this time to tell us that the rest of the grapes were being picked by machine if we wanted to see it. We jumped into the car and drove over to the field and watched with amazement as a leviathan of a machine rumbled and roared it’s way up and down the rows. It covered the same area as had taken twelve of us such a long time to hand-pick, in little over ten minutes. The machine shakes and drags at the vines, pulling the grapes off the bunches so that they fall into the big hoppers as individual grapes. However, they get horribly mangled in the process and the resultant mush that gets tipped into the tractor trailer oozes juice all the way to the winery.
Our other highlight of the week was a phone call that we got from my sister in England to say that they were coming to pay us a flying visit for four days. As they are only arriving tonight, I will have to relate our experiences together next week.

Adventures in France Episode 24

2010-10-10T09:09:00.000-07:00

Two highlights this week, beside which all other activities pale! We were informed, with great glee, some months ago, that we would be expected to take part in the ‘vendange’, the grape picking. Being still the ‘outsiders’ in the community, we smiled and nodded and didn’t expect anything more to come of it. Then on Monday, Ady came over to tell us that she would accompany us on Wednesday morning at 9.30 am, to show us where we would be picking. With some trepidation, we readied ourselves for what lay ahead, not knowing if it was something we were even capable of. When we arrived at the vineyard there were about ten or so other people there, ranging in age from late 30’s to almost 90. If one includes the two children who were running around doing their bit too, the age can be lowered to 6 or 7 years! We were each given a pair of secateurs and pointed sort of in the right direction and off we went. Picking is done from both sides of the vine and the more experienced ones really pick fast, so you have to be fairly careful if you accidentally poke you hand right through the vine to the other side. It is very sociable and everyone chats away merrily. It was soon discovered that these two newcomers amongst them were South Africans who normally spoke English, and then we were gently teased in one way or another. Someone would make a joke, which we obviously didn’t understand, and some one else would shout out ‘Een Eengleesh, pleeze’, which would make them laugh all the more. When we had been picking for a few minutes, surrounded by the clicking of the secateurs, one man said ‘Listen! You should know this. It’s the Click Song’! In spite of all the jollity though, it was quite hard work. The grapes all hang from the bottom of the vine, and although they are trained up on wires, one has to work either on one’s haunches or in a semi-bent position. Towards the end, when we had been at it for nearly three and a half hours, the rows seemed to be getting very long and then, suddenly, we were told to stop. Apparently we had reached the quota set by the ‘cave’, the local co-operative winery. We were very pleased, as there was no way that we would have given up while there were still people far older than ourselves clipping away furiously. All in all, nine four hundred meter long rows had been cut That’s quite a long morning’s walk for yours truly! Everyone then wandered back to the start, collected jerseys and returned clippers and while everyone was still gathered there, the owner of the farm announced that we would now be going to eat – all of us! So we made our way to the farmhouse where we found a long table set out under an awning in front of the house. Sixteen of us sat down to dinner, which turned out to be a five course meal. Before the meal started we were offered water, beer or Floc which is a locally produced sherry type drink. It is delicious but has a fairly high alcohol level. Then the soup arrived in big tureens, and lots of crusty fresh bread. This was followed by a starter of ham slices and chunks of sausage, made, I was told, with pig’s blood.. I didn’t want to appear to be a wimp so I took some and tasted it, and found it surprisingly tasty, but my brian wasn’t completely happy with the idea of what I was putting into my mouth, so I refused any more when the plate came around. After that we had roast duck with vegetables, then a salad and to finish off the most divine dessert I have had for ages. It looked like a little upside down cupcake on the plate, but as soon as it was broken open hot chocolate sauce spilled out. I have asked our hostess for the recipe as I have got to try this. While all this eating was going on, the wine was flowing. There must have been a vat of it somewhere because what appeared on the tale was in two-litre water bottles that still had their Evian labels on! In fact, make that several vats because there was red, white and rosé, and no-one was using wine-glasses, we all had small tumblers. When we had got through all of this, the coffee was served and finally the Armagnac made an appearance. This is a drink which is peculiar to this region and is a distilled wine, similar to schnapps in Germany or to witblits in South Africa. It is about 40% proof and I don’t like it at all, but there are others who can manage to drink large quantities of it. All in all, the day was a wonderful experience, and next year when we buy St Mont wine that says ‘2010, hand-picked’ we will know that some of our effort went into making it.
A couple of days later, ady came to the house again, this time to tell us that the rest of the grapes were being picked by machine if we wanted to see it. We jumped into the car and drove over to the field and watched with amazement as a leviathan of a machine rumbled and roared it’s way up and down the rows. It covered the same area as had taken twelve of us such a long time to hand-pick, in little over ten minutes. The machine shakes and drags at the vines, pulling the grapes off the bunches so that they fall into the big hoppers as individual grapes. However, they get horribly mangled in the process and the resultant mush that gets tipped into the tractor trailer oozes juice all the way to the winery.
Our other highlight of the week was a phone call that we got from my sister in England to say that they were coming to pay us a flying visit for four days. As they are only arriving tonight, I will have to relate our experiences together next week.

Adventures in France Episode 23

2010-10-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

On Monday we could see the still snow-capped Pyrenees when we got up, but at this time of the year it is not supposed to mean rain in three days so we weren’t concerned. Pieter and Jessica had a lot of correspondence to get through but we managed to find a gap during which we drove around and showed them a bit of the countryside. Also on Monday, another cousin of ours had arrived to spend some time with Nicky and as Tuesday was her birthday, all six of us went out to lunch in Marciac, which turned out to be a very jolly affair. When we got back from lunch, Jessica found that she had been sent an email saying that their flight from Barcelona the following day, had been postponed to Thursday, due to a countrywide strike. This caused a huge amount of consternation and subsequent frustration in the Ferreira household as their hire-cars had been on a special price for a certain number of days, which was now exceeded, and the car waiting for them in Mallorca could not be held over for another day without attracting penalties. What a palaver! And really, whatever the strike was about had nothing to do with the airlines anyway, but there you go! That is strikers for you.
However, their misfortune was our good luck and as it turned out, really good luck as the weather changed again and Wednesday was another simply stunning day. I think both of them enjoyed the chance to rest and get over their colds, but in the afternoon we took them off to a local winery to sample some Armagnac. When we arrived we found three other people who had just started a tour, so we joined them and were joined by another three people. Together we made up quite a cosmopolitan lot – two Hawaiians, with their French friend and guide who could speak English; three South Africans and an American; a New Zealander and an English couple one of whom was fluent in French. Whenever our tour guide was stuck for a word, there was always someone who could help her out. It was an interesting tour and we came away with some red wine and some Floc, which is similar to a sweet sherry, but no Armagnac which is quite harsh and to me tastes almost medicinal.
The next day the weather had done a complete turn-around and we had to say goodbye to Pieter and Jessica as they drove off in pouring rain. They soon drove out of the rain though and we later heard that they had arrived back in Mallorca without mishap.
On Friday we had various chores to do in different towns and some time in the afternoon finally turned back towards home but decided to take only backroads. At one point we missed our turning and ended up in a farmers backyard. While turning around to retrace our steps, we glanced into one of his barns and saw an ancient car parked inside. Sadly, the farmer had just driven off, so we didn’t feel that we could really stop and investigate, but it certainly looked like something that dated from the early 1900’s. I really feel that we should ‘get lost’ again soon and ask if we could have a look at it.
On Saturday the weather was obviously going to be good again so we drove off in the opposite direction (West, this time) and soon found ourselves in the area known as the Landes which is relatively flat with enormous maize fields which would make any Free State farmer proud. At one stage we whizzed over a bridge, but then stopped and went back to look again, and saw the most charming old footpath bridge across the river with a weir below it and a water mill beyond. So pretty and we could easily have missed it had we stayed on the main roads.
All good things have to come to an end though and today was a stay-at-home day to get the house straight and all the washing and ironing done. Unfortunately these chores still have to be done even if we are in France and on holiday. And sut here looks pretty much the same as it does at home, although the spiders have far more energy here and can rebuild a spider web overnight, and often do, more’s the pity!

Adventures in France Episode 22

2010-09-27T01:49:00.000-07:00

Monday the 20th September started out quite cool but later turned into the most stunning day – clear and sunny. We had arranged to fetch Nicky from the airport in Toulouse that afternoon so left fairly early so that we could have a walk around the city, which we have never done before. We ran into the tail-end of the morning rush-hour but it wasn’t too bad and we managed to find parking in an underground parking garage without too much hassle. There are plenty of wonderful old buildings in the city, but there is no ‘Old Town’ as such and to our horror, ultramodern blocks have been squeezed in between gracious 18th century buildings, which completely destroys the impact of both architectural styles. It is obviously a ‘go-ahead’ city and the side-streets are full of earthworks and machinery, with the sound of pneumatic drills reverberating up and down the narrow, cobbled streets. I tried quite hard to find something to take a picture of, to remind me of our visit, but every vista was partly obscured by stationary trucks or huge compressors. Still, we enjoyed what we saw and had a good lunch. We also searched for, and found, a hobby shop where Neels bought himself a small model to build, before we ventured out to the airport. The plane was due to arrive at 4.30 pm so when we pulled into the parking area at 4.10 pm we patted ourselves on the back for timing it so perfectly………..until we went into the Arrivals hall and discovered that the plane was delayed by about an hour! Apparently the Air Traffic Controllers had gone on strike at the Paris end and a lot of planes were held up, while some were even cancelled. Thank goodness Nicky’s plane arrived, because she had to drive back there the following day to fetch a friend who was coming to stay with her.
The next day was another fairly early start as I had made a hair appointment with an English-speaking hair-dresser who works from home and lives about 35 kms from here. We had only been to her house once before, and on that occasion she had met us in the nearest town and led us to the house. However, she sent us very clear instructions and we were only a little bit late! This couple, with their ten-year-old daughter, arrived in France at about the same time as we did but the house they have bought was not quite complete, and both times that I have been there, the place has been a hive of activity with workmen dashing in and out all the time. Last time, I had my hair-cut in a funny little room off the front hall, that was piled high with boxes still waiting to be unpacked. This time the hair-cut took place in the front hall itself! One can’t complain though, as they are both so friendly and she is very competent. While I was being attended to in the front hall, the two husbands sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and setting the world to rights! What a very comfortable arrangement!
Leaving there with my shorn and shiny locks, we headed due north for about 50 kms to a tiny hill-top town called Brouilh-Monbert, where we were due to have lunch with a new-found friend. What a spectacular site! The house sits right on the top of a fairly high hill with wonderful views in all directions. The person we had gone to visit is a great horse-lover and has ten Haflinger horses. These are Austrian working horses and have immensely strong and solid legs, and are quite big horses too. Hers are all a beautiful shade of gleaming chestnut brown with blonde manes and tails, and are very friendly and placid.
When we went shopping later in the week, I was delighted to find oranges from Nelspruit on the shelf and bought a whole bagful. I felt like running out to the car to get our little South African flag off the windscreen and running around the shop waving it and cheering. We have been following the news from home, in a rather desultory fashion, via the online news services and have been getting quite depressed at all the bad news coming out of SA, so finding these oranges lifted our spirits enormously.
Late on Saturday evening, Pieter and Jessica arrived, both coughing and spluttering, but as pleased to be here as we were to see them. The next day we took them to lunch at our favourite eating place, Bassoues, but unbeknown to us, there was a Vide Grenier on that day and the restaurant was packed. Although we had booked in advance, we had been allocated a table outside which was quite chilly and rather spoiled the effect of the outing.
The weather has suddenly turned very cold again, which isn’t too bad if the sun shines and there is no wind, but every now and again a really sneaky breeze gets up and is not pleasant at all. We are hoping that we will still have a short burst of warmer weather before we leave at the end of next month.

Adventures in France Episode 21

2010-09-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

A very un-busy week! We seem to have spent a lot of time driving around from one place to another in order to get things done, but none of it of any great interest or importance. Early on in the week, Neels serviced our little car, which meant draining the oil and changing oil filters, and that turned into a bit of a circus. First of all, the car is so close to the ground that he couldn’t get underneath it to get to the nut that needed to be loosened; then, he found that he didn’t have a spanner the right size to loosen it anyway. Fortunately some friends who live about five minutes away could help so he went there quickly in Nicky’s car, which was spending the week with us while she was away and then was a very happy chappie until right at the end of the job when he ran the car off the chocks he had built up to raise it, the underside of the car caught the edge of the container into which he had drained all the old oil and upended it onto the gravel driveway. Disaster! But the French have cleaners for everything, and we found a bottle of liquid in the garage called a ‘de-greaser’ which we poured on, waited a while and rinsed off and hey presto! The gravel was clean. Quite amazing stuff, but I hate to think what it is made of. This sort of job would be accomplished in a short while at home with all the necessary equipment, but here it took almost all day.
The following day was just as bad. We needed to fax a document back to South Africa after it had been printed off our email, and signed. Unfortunately we haven’t got a printer attached to the computer, much less a fax machine, so we had to go to Nicky’s flat to use her printer, but someone else had the keys (to be able to water the plants while Nicky was away) so we first had to get the keys and then work out how to use her computer and printer and then it was almost twelve o’clock and Neels had to run to the shop to fax it off, and then we had to take the keys back, and then it was twelve o’clock and everything shut for lunch for two hours. Grr! We had wanted to go to the ‘cave’, the wine cellars, to get some wine, but as we parked the car the assistant drove off. There was nothing for it but to go home again, have some lunch and come back again in the afternoon. Once again, a whole day spent doing two fairly minor chores.
Wednesday turned out sunny but not too hot, so we both donned our shorts and went to do some gardening. Actually it was really a lot of weed-pulling and Neels also got the grass cut again so everything is looking all neat and tidy at the moment.
We were really looking forward to Saturday as we had been handed a flyer advertising ‘An exhibition of technology’ at the Aignan Lake One of the exhibitors happened to be a model shop from Tarbes and they were going to display radio-controlled models of all sorts – cars, planes, helicopters and boats – so naturally enough Neels was very interested. We thought we would give the official opening speeches a miss and planned to arrive in time to get a decent parking spot not too far from the lake. So we rolled in there at 1.30 pm, for an event scheduled to start at 3 pm and found ourselves to be the only car there. Puzzled, we went to the small restaurant and asked where all the people were and where the exhibits were, but the owner was as mystified as ourselves. She had been asked to put a long table outside, from which an aperitif was going to be served, which she had done, and then no-one turned up! What a complete disappointment. We waited a while in case, miraculously, hordes of spectators suddenly materialized out of the trees and then took ourselves off for a lovely scenic drive instead. So the day was not completely wasted.
On Sunday we heard about a massive ‘once-a-year’ Vide Grenier not far from here so thought we would go and have a look, for half an hour or so. It was a beautiful day and quite obviously a lot of other people thought the same as the little village was heaving. Our half an hour turned into about three hours and we came away with a very nice one litre china jug, two DVD’s and some odd balls of wool which are going to be just right for the little elephants I have been asked to knit for a friend, who wants them in different colours. Very definitely a case of ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’. These sales are quite addictive though – even if one buys nothing. It is always fascinating to see what other people are offering for sale and what yet more people are buying!

Adventures in France Episode 20

2010-09-13T03:05:00.000-07:00

After the beautiful weather for the motor races last Sunday, things started to get greyer with each passing day. Autumn has surely arrived! Monday began well but turned grey in the afternoon and as a Grand Finale degenerated into a crashing thunderstorm that night. About 25mm of sorely needed rain fell and the on/off drizzle continued all next day On Tuesday night, we had a massive windstorm which threw the trees around and rattled the shutters. The scaffolding erected to (one day) repair the loose slates on the church steeple hummed and sang all night, but nothing came loose which was a blessing. In the morning we discovered that the only damage around here had been done to our own garden as a huge branch had come off the linden tree and had fallen on to the one pergola, while other smaller branches had strewn themselves right across the garden. Once Neels had used axe and saw to clear the big branch, we could see the full extent of the damage – the pergola supports were broken off at ground level. So far we have not done anything more than prop them upright again as it is going to be quite a big job to do.
Toulouse Airport was our destination for Thursday, to drop off Nicky who was going for a giddy week in Paris. Not really! She has long-time friends who live near Paris and others in Normandy who have been begging her to come and stay, so she decided to take two weeks away and see them both. We will collect her from the airport again on her return.
The garden now has delicious figs and grapes to offer into the village barter system, so we took a mixed bowl over to Ady and after enjoying a cup of coffee with her and a fairly understandable and lengthy chat, we came away loaded with tomatoes, courgettes aubergines and green peppers. With those ingredients added to the onions and garlic from our own garden, I managed to make a pretty good ratatouille!
Saturday turned into a major shopping day! In the beginning, it was just a shortish trip to exchange a faulty dust buster for Nicky at a large supermarket in Vic Fezensac . We had allowed ourselves plenty of time as we had heard that ‘after sales service’ and ‘exchange of faulty goods still under guarantee’ is not a strong point in France. How surprised were we then, to be greeted cheerfully (although we quite obviously had something to return) and to be given a replacement immediately with any further fuss. No filling out forms, no quibbling; no details of why and how the appliance didn’t work. Just a very pleasant man who took the one machine and dashed off to find a replacement and that was that. So much for all the rumours!
Of course, we were now inside a fairly big supermarket so it seemed a pity to let it go to waste so we wandered around finding a couple of things that we possibly didn’t really heed, before discovering the clothing section. This is something we both need. Winter stock is just coming in and is exactly what we will need when we return next year. However, we were unlucky at this shop and walked out without any new shirts or jerseys.
Reluctant to come straight home seeing that the weather had cleared up into the most stunning day, we went, first to Eauze where Neels needed some hardware bits and pieces. It was around lunch time by now so we had lunch in a café on the square and watched the world go by. Eauze is a major stopover point on the Route de Compostela, and the Café de France, where we ate is a favourite with the pilgrims, so we often have lunch or a coffee there and listen to all the different languages being spoken. After lunch we explored parts of the town which we had never seen, before taking off on yet another huge detour to get home. Quite fortuitously, this happened to go right past the biggest supermarket we have ever seen so we just to go in and have a look. What a treasure house! Everything one’s heart could ever desire is for sale there, and I suppose one could only compare it with Game in SA but with groceries and perishables. The clothing section is immense and there too, new stock was being packed onto shelves and rails. What fun we had! And came away with jerseys and shirts suitable for a European winter. Or we hope so anyway.
On Sunday the weatherman had changed his mind again and it was cloudy and cool but this didn’t worry us as we were off to watch the Italian Grand Prix on the television in the house we will be occupying next year. It was a good race, and the house was cosy which bodes well for our return.
We have got into the habit of buying a newspaper which comes out monthly called the “French Paper’ It is written in English with news about France and plenty of articles which are of interest to non-French people staying here. On the back page though, are the puzzles and two are our favourites. One is a multiple choice, 30 question quiz about France and French affairs. This is always fun to do and shows just how little we really know! The other is a crossword puzzle with a difference. It is cryptic; some of the answers revolve around a particular department of France (which changes with every puzzle); and to make it even more interesting, if the clue mentions French or France, the answer could be a French word! So the two of us sit at the dining room table surrounded by dictionaries, map books, guide books and anything else that may be of use until we have battled our way to the end. Actually it isn’t really so hard because the answers are on the next page, but we try not to look at them until we are completely foxed! It certainly keeps the unemployed employed!

Adventures in France Episode 19

2010-09-07T04:45:00.000-07:00

Last Monday we went off to Nogaro, a medium-sized town about 30 kilometers away, because we had heard and read about an historic Grand Prix that was due to take place there at the end of the week. Apparently Nogaro used to host real Grand Prix races, although it hasn’t done so for quite some years. The track has been well maintained though, and has even been modernized over the years, so in recognition of the fifty years of it’s existence, this historic race was planned. As we are both keen motor racing fans, we thought it could turn out to be quite a fun day, but wanted to check first on where to go, where to buy tickets and where to sit. We found our way to the track quite easily as the signboards were already up, indicating parking for drivers and public. The ‘stands’ are just concrete terraces, so we made a note to bring cushions and an umbrella against the sun. While we were walking around, Neels saw a woman walking purposefully towards the control tower so he intercepted her to ask a few questions about the best places to sit etc. We were delighted to find that she spoke very good English and even more delighted when she invited us to accompany her into the control room. What a surprise! I’m not sure what we had expected, but it wasn’t the very modern set-up we found. This person that we had met quite by chance, turned out to be the race controller and was in charge of a bank of ten TV monitors and all the video cameras around the track. She showed us how, by using a joystick, she could access any of the cameras, move them around, and zoom in and out. Using this method, she showed us where the good places were to sit, and also what our view would be. We must have spent a good half-hour chatting to her and watching her at work. Then we went off to the Circuit Boutique and bought tickets for the following Sunday.
The following day we had invited Nicky to lunch, but a knock on the front door turned out to be Ady with an apron full of tomatoes and peaches for us. We persuaded her to come in for a coffee and while we waited for the kettle to boil, we showed her the photographs we had taken so far. She was quite complimentary about the scenic ones but obviously enjoyed seeing herself on the screen. For a change, she did not rush off but eventually left just in time to go and ring the church bells at twelve o’clock, which was just about the time our lunch guest arrived.
On Wednesday we just pottered about but received an email from our landlords asking Neels to do a few tasks around the house, for which he needed other tools, so the next day we went to borrow suitable bits and pieces from some friends in Aignan. One of the tasks was to install a power socket in the wall at the end of the passage, for which he would need a plug box so we made a big detour to get to the nearest hardware shop. In the old days, these were always made of metal with little push-out circles to allow for wires and conduit, but nowadays they are, unsurprisingly, made of plastic. When we arrived at the till, Neels searched his wallet for some small change, but, finding none, tendered a E20 not to pay for the box which cost E1.10. The cashier sighed and asked if he hadn’t got coins, which we hadn’t, and at that moment the previous customer, who was still packing his purchases into a bag, dug into his pocket and pulled out two 50c pieces and a 10c, said ‘C’est bon?’ and walked off. I think ‘gobsmacked’ would be the right word for what we felt!
The next few days were spent doing our various chores, although I spent most of the time doing my new piece of embroidery, which I am having misgivings about. It is an awful lot of satin stitch, which I am not fond of doing, but I will complete it and probably give the cushion to the Hospice shop!
On Sunday we were up bright and early and were already in our seats by 8.30 am. Racing started soon after and we were treated to a large variety of types and classes of cars. Highlight of the day for me, wasn’t even a scheduled race, but was supposed to be a parade during the lunch break, which was, of course, two hours long. A long line of immaculately presented ‘deux chevaux’ ( Citroen two horse power mini cars ) streamed out of the pit area onto the track and started driving around quite sedately until the one in the front decided to make it into a race. The next minute they were hurtling along looking positively dangerous as they leaned precariously into the corners sometimes lifting a back wheel completely off the ground. By modern standards, they are quite high off the ground; not very wide; and have these ridiculous ‘Marie biscuit’ wheels, all of which tend to make them look even more terrifying. Watching them, we were constantly amazed that they didn’t fall over!
We had a wonderful day, full of excitement and only left after 5.30 in the afternoon feeling we had really had our money’s worth

Adventures in France Episode 18

2010-08-30T12:12:00.000-07:00

When the temperature soared to 33 degrees the week before last, we thought that that was very hot, but more was still to come and on Thursday of this last week we experienced our hottest day ever. Outside the pharmacy in Aignan is an illuminated sign has a large green cross on it and then underneath that, the time and temperature of the moment are displayed. We were told that at the height of the day, the temperature was reading 44 degrees, and believe me, that is really hot. A day or so later when we were out and about again, the ploughed fields were baked to a pale yellow colour whereas before the hot day they had been a lovely rich brown.
The unpleasantly hot weather has certainly put a stop to our aimless wandering along the back roads and lanes of the area, and all car journeys have been of the ‘strictly necessary’ type. We did, however, get to the market on Wednesday, and also did some shopping at the supermarket, and roused ourselves sufficiently to go and watch the Belgian Grand Prix on a friend’s television. We thought back to two years ago when Neels and Pieter made the trip from Oss to Spa to watch this same round of the World Championship, and also got rained on, just as it did this year.
During our wanderings, we have become more and more aware of the number of small shrines and crosses at the side of the road. This is a Catholic country, so one expects to see a lot of statues of the Virgin, but around here, almost every turning and cross-roads has a symbol of some sort. Sometimes they are plaster figures; sometimes carved wooden ones. Sometimes it will be a crucifix in plain wood or plaster; sometimes a painted one. But the crosses that have really caught my eye are the curly, twirly wrought iron ones that I had always thought were Templar crosses marking the routes to Santiago de Compostela, but when I looked it up, I found I was mistaken and they must just be religious symbols too, to protect the travelers on that stretch of the road. I started to look for a really ornate one to photograph, and more we looked, the more we found. A lot of them are almost hidden by trees or weeds, and many are in a sad state, but we eventually found a lovely example, and with a clear sky behind it, it made an excellent picture.
A very short blog this week, but with all the hot days we have really done nothing at all, and if we’ve done nothing, there is nothing to write about. Hopefully there will be more interesting news next week.

Adventures in France Episode 17

2010-08-22T06:58:00.000-07:00

I can’t believe that just last week I was complaining about how cold it had become and was wondering where summer was. That’s because we have found the summer and it is here and now! On Sunday of last week it was really quite chilly, and rainy as well, but by Friday of this week the mercury had risen to 32 degrees with an extra one for luck on Saturday and not a breath of wind. Under these conditions all we can do is close all the shutters and some of the windows too, put the lights on and stay indoors. I think we may well be getting our money’s worth after all! During the week, we cut open the starnge tomoato that Ady had given us and it was, indeed, seedless. Also very delicious.
After watching me working away at my cross-stitch project for so long, Neels decided that he also needed something practical to do, so when I was surfing the ‘Net for embroidery projects we also looked for model building kits as well. He wasn’t too keen on just buying straight off the ‘net, which in this case was also very expensive, so we looked for an outlet not too far away. We found one in Tarbes, about 50 kms from here. Having never been to Tarbes, we thought it would make a pleasant outing anyway and decided to go there on Tuesday. It was a beautiful day, clear and sunny, but we had left rather later than we had wanted too, so asked ‘Jane’ to take us via the fastest route, which meant that we drove part of the way on a very nice, new, boring highway. When we got there we discovered that Tarbes is one enormous one-way system of roads, and although we actually drove right past our required shop, there was no parking and it took us about quarter of an hour to find somewhere to leave the car and another quarter of an hour to walk back to the shop itself which was, by then, of course, closed for lunch. So we bought a sandwich from a handy bakery and found a shady bench on which to sit and eat it. Then we still had an hour and a half to wait, so we went and had a cup of coffee at one of the cafes in the square, but after half an hour there we felt that we could more than easily fill the last hour with a walk around town.
The reason for the extensive one-way system was immediately obvious – Tarbes has very narrow streets and widening them to accommodate two vehicles would have completely destroyed the character of the town. Instead, the pavements have been made quite wide and beautiful hanging baskets decorate the lamp posts. In comparison with our local rural villages, Tarbes is very sophisticated and many of the clothing shops bear the names of well-known manufacturers such as Dolce and Gabbana, Tommy Hilfigger, Lafayette Gallery and so on. I was secretly pleased to notice a Marks and Spencer’s clothing shop squeezed in between two other larger shops. We also noticed several examples of 'trompe-l'oeil' paintings. A flat wall or surface is painted with a scene in perfect perspective so that it decieves the eye and one thinks the surface is not flat.Eventually we made our way round a big circular route back to the model shop only to find that this particular place only opened at 2.30 pm! But it had taken us more than an hour to walk around so we didn’t have too long to wait. Eventually the proprietor arrived with the key and let himself in. From their website we had expected a vast emporium, but when we finally got inside, the shop was about the size of a small garage and was jammed with goods. There was a young couple with a toddler in a push-chair ahead of us, which pretty well filled up the whole shop, but we squeezed around them and had a good look around but could see no sign of the model which Neels had set his heart on. Eventually it was our turn to be served. The man was so apologetic; there were no more of that particular model in stock. Oh dear! There would be new stock coming in September when the factories reopened, but that was not much consolation. We promised to return when he had his new stock, only this time we will phone first. On the way home we set ‘Jane’ to take us the shortest route, which is always fun as she gets us to twist and turn through almost impossible back roads and lanes in order to save perhaps one or two kilometers.
The rest of the week passed quickly. Wednesday was Market Day at Marciac again and we went to wander around there, and then came home via Plaisance which is our chosen shopping village. On Thursday, Neels painted the shutters in our bedroom – a chore he has been threatening to do since we arrived. Some time in the past, the shutters had sagged and had been taken off and re-braced but not re-painted, which had left an unsightly bare strip across each shutter. Now the repair is no longer obvious and the shutters look much better. On Friday we had promised to do some ‘man-about-the-house’ chores for Nicky, in return for a yummy cold lunch and a bottle of wine, and Saturday and today have been too hot for words, never mind deeds! The weather forecast says we might have a thunder storm tonight and if it is anything like the last one, it could be spectacular.

Adventures in France Episode 16

2010-08-16T05:41:00.000-07:00

A very quiet, almost boring week, perhaps a reaction to the fairly active time we had had in the preceding two weeks. Also the weather is changing noticeably and there is a distinct chill in the morning and evening air. We feel quite cheated – what happened to Summer? Where are the endless days of scorching heat that everyone has spoken about in years past? Not that we really enjoy scorching heat, but if we are supposed to be having them, we want them! We want our full money’s worth! It doesn’t help to winge though, so we just put another blanket on the bed and spend longer in it! As a result our days are shortened even more and it is a real effort to get all our shopping done before the whole of France shuts down at twelve o’clock for it’s two-hour lunch break.
On Wednesday we realized that it was actually warmer in the car than in the house when we ventured out to do a bit of sight-seeing. We went in a south westerly direction to Maubourguet where we had heard about the ‘knitted’ trees over the main road through town. To achieve the effect, the plane trees on either side of the main road have the tops cut off each year, forcing long slender shoots to grow out just below the cut. These shoots are then allowed to grow longer and side shoots are trimmed off. The main shoots are carefully intertwined (knitted), and once the leaves come out, provide a dense canopy and wonderful shade. It is a popular tradition in a lot of European towns and is often done in places where people tend to congregate such as market areas or town squares. The idea is to provide welcome relief from that scorching sun that I mentioned earlier.
By the time we reached the town, it was almost lunch-time but we walked a big loop around the one half of the town before deciding to have lunch at a very pleasant café in the main road. Then we did the other half of the figure eight and walked a big loop around the other end of town. Some of the flowers were pretty but the town has little to attract tourists.
The guide book had said that another town close by was worth seeing, just as an oddity. The whole town is spread out in one long line of houses and shops along the single main road which runs through it. We found the town easily enough and it is true – the houses range from old to newer to newest the further one goes down the road. Very odd indeed. No reason was given for this but we wondered if perhaps the land on both sides was very damp or prone to flooding or something of that sort. Unlike most old towns and villages, there was no central square or market place and to tell the truth, was just a bit dismal.
We then turned back towards Riscle, where we had not visited before, and had a quick walk around town before deciding that it, too, had little to recommend it.
Earlier in the week I had finished the cross-stitch project I had been busy with for about a year, and with a sigh of relief folded it carefully and put it in my suitcase to take home. Then I spent a pleasant few hours trawling the Internet for online suppliers of embroidery kits. I finally found something that suited both my interests and my pocket, and am now anxiously awaiting it’s arrival. It will be good to have something different to occupy my time.
Also during the week, we finalized our plans for returning to France next year in order to renew our long-stay visas. Some friends who have a house here are returning to Britain indefinitely and have kindly offered us the use of their house. This is wonderful news and we look forward to returning to this area early next year.
There is currently a wonderful ‘exchange of goods’ going on in the village and beyond! Obviously everyone’s veggie patch is doing well and producing more than the gardeners can cope with. The other day we found three tomatoes balancing on the kitchen window sill, which could only have come from Ady. I quickly put some onions from our garden into a packet to give to her in return but she had gone out. That evening we went to dine with friends and came away with a giant bag of beans that resemble and taste like green beans but which are white. I added some beans to the packet for Ady and a bunch of dahlias and we took them to her this morning. But we didn’t return home empty-handed as she immediately produced two more tomatoes and an aubergine, and something I am really intrigued by. She says it is a tomato without seeds in it, if I understood correctly. It is about ten centimeters long and pointed at one end and almost looks like a red chilli, and is apparently all flesh. I can’t wait to cut it up! I will take some pictures and perhaps include them next week.

Adventures in France Episode 15

2010-08-08T10:06:00.000-07:00

The lovely weather we had been having came to a sudden end last Sunday afternoon and by Monday morning it was still wet and grey. By lunch-tine though, we had had enough of the enforced inactivity and decided to go for a drive. We drove north along roads that we had driven before, so there wasn’t much that our guest hadn’t already seen. Not, that is, until we got to Larressingle which has the reputation of being the smallest walled town in France. The circumference is less than five hundred metres, but does have a chateau and a church surrounded by tiny houses which all back on to the ramparts. Some of the houses have been converted to small shops, although a few are still occupied. Access to the village is over a bridge that spans the moat and then though the only gate in the walls. A sudden downpour first trapped about a dozen or so visitors to the village in the gateway, all of us standing quite comfortably in the thickness of the outer walls, and then forced us to take refuge in the small café where we enjoyed some delicious crepes and coffee while we waited for the rain to stop. In fact the shower passed quite soon and we were able to wander around and even take some good pictures.
The following day, the weather-man relented and although the day started out fairly cloudy, it soon cleared up and we were glad we ad taken a chance and had set off early for Nerac, and old town some distance from here and also north of us. Nerac lies on the banks of the River Baise and was a favourite place for King Henry IV of France to visit. I think the other reason he liked it was that he was reputed to have about fifty mistresses here! It is an attractive town with more modern buildings mingling with the very old ones without detracting from their charm. The river runs through the centre, and after taking ourselves on a walking tour around the town, we went for a cruise in a large 75-seater launch. We had a delightful guide to point out everything of interest as we slowly made our way along the river and there was plenty to see. By this time the sun had come out properly and it was really beautiful, just gliding along through the sunlight and shadow.
On the way home we stopped off at a little village called Moncrabeau which calls itself the ‘Capital of Liars’.! Every year at this time they have a competition to see who can tell the tallest story, or biggest lie, if you like, and apparently people come from far and wide to listen to, and tell, the stories. We would love to go to one of the story-telling events, but our French is certainly not up to that standard by any means. As we were driving through the town, having stopped to admire the view from the centre, we passed a man with the most extraordinary hairstyle I’ve ever seen. Imagine a white man with a grey Afro and that’s what it was. Very unusual, to say the least. A few minutes later we passed a beautifully restored grain barn, in the grounds of a house, which I wanted to take a picture of, so we drove to the end of the road to turn and by the time we got back to the house, who should be walking into the grounds but Mr Afro Hairstyle! I asked him if it was his house as I wanted to take a picture, but he replied that that the owner was around the corner and his was the house beyond. While I went and asked the owner’s permission and took my picture, a strange little procession came up the road. It was a couple walking along with a dog, and pushing Junior in a pushchair. Nothing strange about that? No not really except that the man was playing the bagpipes, and not the ordinary Scottish bagpipes with the many pipes coming out of the bag. This must have been the economy version as it only appeared to have two pipes, and one of those was the one he was playing on. We left feeling that we had all experienced something just a little surreal!
Wednesday was Marciac market day again, and as Glynn hadn’t had a chance to visit one of the markets we thought Marciac was a good one to go to. At this time of year, Marciac hosts an internationally acclaimed Jazz Festival and the market gets moved out to the lake which is actually a lovely setting for it. Being holiday time in France and the Festival, everyone seemed to have made an extra effort and there were masses of stalls selling every imaginable thing. There was also a man with a pony cart giving rides up and down. Whenever they set off the man’s little fox terrier jumped on to the horse’s rump and stood balancing there while they drove. And whenever they ventured out into the road an orange flashing light was turned on that projected from the horse’s harness and stuck out above his head! What a sight.
Thursday saw us returning to Toulouse once more as it was time to say goodbye to cousin Glynn and allow him to continue on his travels. It has been a wonderful few days and we have enjoyed taking someone around to see the sights and also to have new experiences with us.
The rest of the week passed in doing normal household chores which had been shelved for some time. We have also lifted a whole lot of onions and spread them out to dry off. They look magnificent, if one can actually say that about onions. The garlic which we lifted some time ago and had hung up to dry has all been peeled and trimmed and now resembles the garlic that I am used to seeing in the supermarket. Our tomatoes are coming on beautifully and one plant has masses of fruit that should be ripening in about a week or so. Picking something that we have planted ourselves will be a first for us and we can’t wait to see what they taste like. Like tomatoes, I would say!

Adventures in France Episode 14

2010-08-02T03:36:00.000-07:00

My goodness! Quite a busy week which has definitely shaken us out of the rut we had fallen into! We started by going to visit the town of Montreal-du-Gers, which is supposed to have the only ‘square’ town square, but which I think is a debatable claim. While there, we went into the tourist office, which incorporates the Museum and found a lot of artifacts which had been dug up while excavating at Seviac nearby. According to the museum, the mosaic tiled floors were very well preserved, and the buiding that had been discovered dated from the 4th to the 7th century AD. One of the display items which amazed me was a beautiful glass urn about 45 cms high which had been made of thin glass. (Now pieced together of course) After spending some time there, we went out to view the actual site and wandered around there for quite some time. The archaeologists had certainly uncovered some huge areas of wonderfully colourful mosaics, and it was easy to see that they had taken the place of carpets or other floor coverings , and that it must have been a very grand house indeed. Also to see were the remains of the under-floor heating system and the water-borne sewage system. They had areas for cold, warm and hot baths, and at a later stage, even a chapel was added. Another interesting fact is that in Winter, the mosaics are kept covered with a layer of fine beach sand which is apparently why the colours are still so good.
The following day we set very early as we had a two hour drive to our destination south of Laruns in The Pyrenees. A little further into the mountains we came to Lac de Fabreges and the base station for the Little Train of Artouste. From here one is whisked 800 metres up the mountain in ten-minute cable car ride, and then waiting at the upper staion is a dear little diesel engine that looks like a child’s toy, which pulls open-sided coaches. Making sure that I was on the ‘mountain’ side of the seat, rather than the side that would have a vertical drop next to it, we fastened our seat belt and next minute the train was off. It starts by going through a tunnel, the Tunnel of the Bears, which is just over 300 metres long and into which the train just fits. Not a good start for the claustrophobics! When it emerged on the other side of the mountain, we found ourselves on contour track far above the valley floor. The journey to the far end of the track takes about an hour, during which time one has spectacular views of the mountains. We also came across short sections of double track where we occasionally had to wait to allow the trains coming in the other direction to pass. Finally we reached our destination, but there was still a 15-minute walk up to the Lac d’Artouste. This dam is the catchment dam for a hydro-electric scheme, and the whole purpose of the train was to provide transport for the men and materials to build the dam originally, but now it has been turned into a delightful tourist attraction.
On Wednesday the cousins went off together to another spot in the Pyrenees known as Pont d’Espagne which looks very beautiful with masses of waterfalls and cascades, and rivers which just appear to flow across open park-like slopes. The weather was still excellent and the water, which was probably freezing, sparkled in the sunlight.
The next day I spent most of the time preparing for a dinner party, which I always find very stressful, but which, in fact went of very well and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. After that though, the cook needed a break, and the very best place to enjoy someone else’s cooking is at a traditional restaurant in a small village called Bassoues. It was again a lovely day and we were able to sit out on the verandah and enjoy watching the passing parade.
On Saturday we had planned to join up with some friends who have a car large enough to seat all five of us, and ‘do’ a few places together, and as the weather was still fine we met at their house about mid-morning and set off. First on the list was th Abbeye de Flaran, where Neels and I had been before, but the others not, and since the art exhibition inside was well worth seeing a second time, we didn’t mind going again. It is not often one gets a chance to see original Monets, Picassos and Gainsboroughs and they were just as good second time around. After a picnic lunch in the grounds, we went a bit further to the Chateau de Lavardens, a medieval castle that was never completed, but which stands imposingly on a rock and dominates the small town behind it. Luckily there are sufficient complete chambers in it to accommodate exhibitions of various sorts and it is currently hosting an art glass exhibition which we all wanted to see. Although I personally didn’t care for all the exhibits, there were enough to cater for all tastes and there were certainly plenty that were so beautiful that they took your breath away. After all this culture, we really needed something a little more lighthearted, so made our way the short distance to La Romieu. This small village with it’s triangular village square has an interesting legend attached to it. The story goes that the villagers were starving because of a series of bad harvests, stock losses and sickness etc and started eating the local cats. A young girl known as Angeline hid a couple of her pet animals in the loft of the barn and managed to keep them hidden for a number of years, during which time they produced a fair number of kittens. When the town subsequently became overrun with rats and mice, she released her cats on condition that no-one killed and ate them. The cats cleaned up the vermin problem and Angeline was declared a heroine. In honour of this act, and of her, an artist at a later date decided to decorate the village with cats, so today there are life sized sculptures of cats peeping out of windows, lying on gateposts, playing next to doorways, in fact the more one looks for them the more one sees. Delightful!
We then went on in to the Cathedral and Abbey in the town where we found a heavenly(!) aromatic herb garden with all the herbs labelled with the name and uses. Very interesting indeed.
On Sunday morning Aignan was again having a Vide Grenier, so we took Glynn to show him just how much junk people have lying around in their houses! I think he was amazed to see the whole square filled with tables, covered with every imaginable item for sale. Sadly for all the stall holders, it started drizzling in the middle of the morning and then deteriorated into fairly soaking rain. By then we had seen enough so came home and christened my new Travel Scrabble set which Glynn brought over from England as a gift for me.

Adventures in France Episode 13

2010-07-25T07:56:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of the week we returned Dappley to her owners and were just a little sad to see how enthusiastically she greeted her owners. Obviously she had just been putting on a brave face for us, while all the time she was longing for them to return! It was fun to have a little dog around the place, but to be perfectly honest, we couldn’t really think of having anyone’s pet here for longer than a few days, and then only infrequently.
On the way home again we called in at a large supermarket and bought ourselves an indoor aerial for the TV set we have been lent. Our idea was that if we could see the pictures while hearing the French, particularly on the news channel, we would be able to improve our French by leaps and bounds. However, our dreams of becoming fluent French-speakers overnight were still-born as, no matter what Neels tried, we could not get the aerial to pick up a strong enough signal to give us a picture that stood still for more than a nano-second. Oh well, it’s back to the hard way then…..!
The following day we were returning some of the hospitality that we have been shown, so were unable to return the aerial until the day after that, which we were a bit nervous about as we had lost the till slip. However, there was absolutely no problem at all. We merely said that the aerial was incompatible with our TV and that was that. Money back at once. The same day, I suddenly got fed up with my hair which was too long and badly needed cutting, so I phoned the number I had been given for an English-speaking hairdresser and made and appointment. She lives near a town called Mielan which was all new territory to us, and we had a really lovely drive down to keep the appointment. I know we are trying to do as much as possible in French, but I definitely do not feel competent to discuss a haircut in French and imagine if I mispronounced something vital and ended up with a shaven head! Anyway she is a lovely warm person and I am glad to have got to know her. That night, we had been invited out to dinner and when we left our friends’ house, it was just beginning to drizzle quite heavily. By the time we got home, it was pouring down, and continued to do so all night and most of the next day, with the temperature dropping way down again. Afterwards we discovered that our village had had 60 mms of rain, and the garden had been transformed once more into a bog! But there is always a bright side and in this case it means that the garden will not need watering for quite a few days.
On Saturday we set out for Toulouse airport where we were due to collect another cousin who has come to stay for a short while. The weather was not very bright and was quite cool too, but we are hoping for an improvement as grey days don’t make for good sight-seeing. We also have a full programme planned for the time he is here, and would really like to show him the area while it is looking its best.
Although we have almost exhausted the supply of vegetables in the garden, with only some rather magnificent onions still to be lifted. Our tomato plants that we rescued from the Agri are doing very well and have sprouted magnificently. We are longing for them to start producing to that we can find out just what kinds of tomatoes we have actually acquired. However, the fruit trees are now coming into their own and we are already getting delicious little Mirabelle plums. Soon we will start picking a bumper crop of figs, and I may well be glad that I have kept all the various bottles that we have emptied over the past few months! I see a major jam-making session ahead.
Of course the garden doesn’t stop there as there are still all sorts of flowers coming on too. We currently have a wonderful bed of gladioli – red, orange, yellow, pink and a striking two-toned pink and white one. We also have some really spectacular dahlias in a whole range of colours, and then my favourite is a blue hibiscus which I have never seen before but which is very eye-catching. Having not planted any of these things, it is a bit like opening a treasure chest and seeing what is inside, when these plants start flowering and we are loving the experience.

Adventures in France Episode 12

2010-07-18T08:21:00.000-07:00

This week was an important one in the French calendar as it contained the 14th July, otherwise known as Bastille Day, the French National Day. It commemorates the storming of the Bastille fortress-prison in Paris, in 1789. The purpose was two-fold – to release political prisoners and to obtain ammunition and gunpowder, as the people (the peasants) feared reprisal attacks by the royal military and the feudal lords. Realizing the futility of trying to hold out against the attack, the Governor of the prison opened the gates, but due to a misunderstanding fighting continued and 65 of the attackers lost their lives while only one defender died. At the time, there were only seven prisoners incarcerated and none of them were political prisoners. However, the point had been made and shortly after, feudalism was abolished and the Declaration of Man and the Citizen was proclaimed. So now, every year at this time great celebrations are held in which fireworks play a big part.
In Aignan, the celebrations took the form of a communal dinner, held outdoors in the square in front of the community hall, followed by music and dancing, and finished off with the inevitable fireworks. Dinner consisted of a 3-melon starter with Parma ham (Spanspek, wintermelon and another white fleshed Spanish melon); duck breast, freshly grilled by the man at the braai, served with green beans and a couple of chunks of baguette; finished off with a commercial cornet ice-cream. There was also coffee, and of course, wine with the meal. Once again we were impressed by the behaviour of the children. There was no screaming or rushing about madly in and out of the adults. They all went off to one side and the bigger ones looked after the smaller ones, and everything was pleasant and orderly. When the time came, the children were fed first, and when the music was turned up for the dancing, they all joined in too. And since all the children had displayed such adult manners all evening, it gave the adults every excuse to ooh and aah at the fireworks, like children!
The following morning was a very late one in the Ferreira household! However we couldn’t dally too much as we were expecting a small guest later in the day and had arranged to collect her in the early afternoon from a house we had never been to before. It was not hard to find though and with the help of Jane and the directions given to us by the householder, we drove straight there. Our guest was a small rough-haired Jack Russell terrier, called Dappley, and she had come to stay for the weekend while her owners went on a white-water rafting excursion. Dappley was not at all sure about the arrangement, and sat bolt upright and perfectly still on my lap for the entire return trip, rather like a stuffed toy. However, after a day, she settled down and has made herself very much at home with us. She hops up on to the couch when Neels settles down to read, but is just as ready to go do some wild digging in the garden if we are outside. I think she has frightened all the field mice for miles around by digging open the entrance to a few burrows and huffing down them with great enthusiasm. She is a dear little thing and we will miss her when she goes back home at the end of the weekend.
It is now sunflower time in the Gers! The wheat has been harvested, the straw and grass cut and baled, and the bales have been carted to various farms. Now the sunflower plants which were only thirty centimetres high when we went to Vazerac on the 22nd June, are now over a metre tall and are flowering. What a wonderful sight! We are wondering what comes next in the farming year.
The weather this week has been really pleasant as it has been quite cold at night; cool in the morning and evening and then fairly warm in the middle of the day, and sunny most days. The weather forecast tells us that we should enjoy this while we can as it is just building up steam for another few sweltering days similar to the days we had a couple of weeks back. Oh dear!

Adventures in France Episode 11

2010-07-11T09:16:00.000-07:00

This whole week has been very hot again, although Monday started out being a little cooler, so we got out into the garden and cleared away a lot of dead plants. Then we were stricken with conscience, having just removed the last vestiges of the delicious vegetables that our landlords had planted, and which we had eaten. Neels was all for planting some radishes, which we probably will do, because they always grow, no matter what, but we wanted something a little more adventurous than that and decided on tomatoes.. I phoned a friend for advice, who assured me that one could plant tomatoes at almost any time of the year.Then she asked where we were thinking of getting the plants and I rubbed my hands in glee thinking we were going to be given a few. ‘Oh’ I said airily, probably up at the Gamm Vert (a chain of nurseries) near…..’and I named a village close by. ‘Oh! Don’t do that’ she said, ‘Go down to the market tomorrow and get some there’ Well, having seen the price of tomato seedlings at previous markets we decided to go with our first plan and zoomed off up to the Gamm Vert. As luck would have it, the local branch turned out to be more like an agricultural supplier than a nursery, but we hung around until the young fellow behind the till had finished helping his customer and then asked him for tomato seedlings. He pointed across the shop and when we didn’t move he took us to the seed display. However seeds were not an option, far too slow for our liking, and we insisted on seedlings. Eventually he went and winkled the boss out of the office and the two of them took us into a vast, mostly empty, warehouse where there was a large trolley standing with a few trays of very badly abused tomato plants on it. They appeared to have been left out in the sun over the weekend without water, and were very sad and droopy. We agreed that that was the sort of thing we had been thinking of but perhaps plants that weren’t at death’s door! ‘A gift! A gift’ he said, picking out a couple that weren’t completely dried and crunchy. Grudgingly, we accepted 8 small plants and came home with our prize. First of all we gave them a good drink of water and then once it cooled down we put them into real earth with a handful of rose fertilizer (does it make any difference?), more water and whispered good night to them and crossed our fingers. Next morning we crept outside to check on our refugees, and Hurrah! They were all standing proud and strong. Yay! We will learn how to garden yet!
At the end of the week, we had planned to visit some English friends who live some distance away, in Montguyon, for what the French call ‘Le Weekend’. How original can one get! Our visit was planned to coincide with two annual summer events – a night market and a ‘fête’. Montguyon has some wonderful old ruins, which stand on a knoll, in the centre of town. The night market,held on the top of the knoll and which began at about 7.30 pm was actually less about buying items of merchandise from the stalls than about buying food to eat, meeting people and having a jolly good time. Long tables and benches are provided and everyone takes their own plates, cutlery and glasses. The idea is that one wanders around the stalls, decides what would be tasty and buys if before settling down at a table with one’s friends. Remarkably, the food was good and plentiful; the wine, also sold at one of the stalls, wasn’t too bad and we had a very enjoyable evening. The next night, however, was an unforgettable experience. This was the ‘fête’. The only way I can describe it is to call it an outdoor meal and a show. The weather was perfect after an unbearably hot day and at about 8 pm we went off down to town and parked the car as close as possible to the venue. The same tables and benches had been set out only this time they were below the castle ruins. Tickets for the meal had been purchased in advance, and in exchange for each ticket we were given a boxed meal consisting of a rice and tuna salad; a slice each of tender beef and pork, with green beans; a triangular wedge of Camembert cheese and a bread roll; and to finish off, a slice of fruit tart topped with a mixture of strawberries, pineapple, kiwi-fruit and apricots. Two men continually went around the tables with containers of wine with which they kept topping up the glasses.. By about 9.15 pm most people had finished eating and were moving towards the area below the ruined castle. We had brought our own chairs, as was required, and managed to find a space very close to the front, where a stage had been set up and behind it an elaborate support system for the trapeze artists who were to perform later in the show. While we waited for the show to start at 9.45 pm laser lights were played over the ruins, and floodlights were tested, bathing the old walls in different colours. I won’t describe everything we saw, as that would take far too long, but there were singers, dancers, a tight-rope walker and aerial acrobats. There had been about a hundred and fifty people who sat down to dinner before the show, but for the show itself, which was free, there must have been several thousand. And as a grand finale, we were all treated to a firework display that just went on and on. A very tired little group of ‘oldies’ finally got to bed at about one o’clock in the morning, knowing with a sinking heart that we had to be up again at 7.30 the next morning to make our way back home. We had enjoyed our outing immensely and are going to be on the lookout for similar events.

Adventures in France Episode 10

2010-07-04T13:37:00.000-07:00

An early morning start was on the menu for Monday of this week. We had to be in Toulouse by 10.30 for our all-important appointment with the Office of Immigration and Integration to legalize our one year visa. We had refused any help in the form of navigators or translators, preferring to try to be independent, so, feeling rather nervous about taking on the bureaucrats, we programmed ‘Jane’ and set off. Needless to say, she made no mistakes, although we had to turn around twice when we turned at the wrong place. We had also allowed ourselves way too much time to get there and arrived a whole hour early, but sat in the car for half an hour to while away the time. After that, feeling that we very nearly well-done, we scrambled out of the vehicle and made for the main door of the building hoping that there was air-conditioning inside, and comfortable chairs. Air-conditioning there certainly was, but the comfortable chairs were not needed as we were shown through to the Medical Exam Department straight away. So much for having an appointment! After a fairly cursory history was taken, we were shown through to the X-Ray Room. I went first, and was instructed to remove all my upper clothing, in a small ante-room. I did so and then looked around for a gown to put on but, aha! this is France where no-one worries about things like that. Trying to be totally nonchalant, I went through to the x-ray room, held my breath at the right moment, and then stepped away from the machine. The radiographer rattled off something which I didn’t catch and, not wanting to do the wrong thing, I asked her to repeat it more slowly. Instead she switched to English and said ‘Take off all your top clothes and go and wait outside” Well this may be France and all that, but I already had all my top clothes off, so I took it to mean just the opposite, which was right. The next thing on the agenda was the medical examination. Really not my favourite thing, ever. But it was over in a flash. The doctor greeted me as I walked in and sat down; asked if I was well (Yes, thank you); if I smoked (No, not at all); and if I had high-blood pressure ( he was reading it off the history sheet) I replied that I had, but that it was controlled by medication; he ticked lots of boxes, then took the x-ray out of the envelope and held it up to the window, finally signing the form and giving it back to me. We wished each other a pleasant day and that was it. The first medical I have ever had where the doctor never even got off his chair, and certainly never came closer than the width of his desk away. Finally it was time to see the only person who could really make a difference – the lady with the computer and the set of rubber stamps! But all our worrying had been for nothing. She was friendly and efficient, and in no time at all we were entered into the computer and each had a ‘vignette’ stuck into our passports which entitles us to stay for a full year in France. This permit is renewable annually (Yay!) but can only be done in the two months prior to the expiry date (Boo!). This means that we will have to return to France to renew it each year (Yay!), but we will have to return in January to renew it before the end of March (Boo!) We are obviously going to have to do something about that expiry date. Just what, we don’t know yet. In any case, we left the offices in high spirits and decidedly pleased with ourselves for managing the entire episode in French.
On Wednesday evening, we had been invited to dinner with some friends of Nicky’s whom we had met about a week before. When they heard that we had no TV, they immediately offered to lend us a TV monitor , a DVD player and all their DVD’s. We were quite blown away by their spontaneous generosity, but when we arrived at their house for dinner, there was all the equipment standing outside the door ready to be loaded into our car. They were on the point of returning to England where they both work and will not be back here until September, but even so, it was an incredibly generous thing to do. Since then the evenings have taken on a new routine, with dinner at 7.30 instead of the (sometimes) 9 pm that it had been; washing up done and the kitchen tidied in rapid time; and then a quick dash to the lounge to settle in front of the TV set to watch a DVD. Gosh! It’s almost like being back in South Africa!
The rest of the week was very boring by comparison with the days taken up doing routine household chores. Thursday and Friday were unbearable hot with the temperature climbing into the thirties but after a spectacular thunderstorm on Friday night, everything cooled down again and has been very pleasant.
Isn’t it strange how First World countries can be so good at some things and so hopelessly behind the time with others. Take banking, for instance. One can easily draw cash at an ATM, just as in South Africa, but there is simply no option to get your balance from one. For that you need to go into the bank! Or cell phones, for another instance. In South Africa if you recharge your pay-as-you-go phone with, say, R10.00, you will get ten Rand’s worth of calls and a reasonable time in which to use it up, and of course, every time you top up your phone, the time allowed for incoming calls will be extended . I think when last I checked, I will be able to receive calls until some time in 2012, which also means that my number will not expire. Here, however, 5Euro buys you a week in which to make calls to that value. After a week you lose what is left over, but will still receive calls for some time. In an effort to have longer in which to make calls without having to buy another recharge voucher, we bought a 10Euro voucher, but we still can’t win as we now have an enormous number of calls to make if we want to use it up, even though we now have a month in which to do it. From the customer’s side it is really a no-win situation, but on the other hand, the landline set-up here at the house allows us free calls within France, so who really needs cell phones here anyway. Well, I for one. I like to ring people when I am running late in order to tell them not to worry. I also like to phone ahead to confirm times of events and such. I used it endlessly when we were here in 2008 to find caravan parks in which to spend a day or two, but if one is not using the phone endlessly, if you only want it for security, the system is definitely not on your side.
Sorry! No pictures this week. I just didn’t take anything worth passing on.

Adventures in France Episode 9

2010-06-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

The change in the weather which began just in time for last Sunday’s Vide Grenier, continued throughout the week, getting steadily hotter with each day. . I can definitely see us complaining about the heat before long, which will make a small change from us complaining about the cold or the rain.
However, it was just what we had been hoping for, for Tuesday, when Goldie took us on our longest excursion to date – all one hundred and forty kilometers of it! (Or nearly, anyway) Distance really takes on a completely different meaning here, out in the country. It is only twelve kilometers to our nearest shop, but we think twice before going there. Our excursion to Vazerac on Tuesday was only about twenty kilometers more than going to visit our family in Cape Town, which we do at the drop of a hat, and here we were, planning it as if it was a major undertaking! The reason for the outing was to visit some friends we had made in 2008 while touring with our campervan. We happened to choose this particular campsite near Vazerac, out of the campsite guide, and had a wonderful stay there. Owned by a Dutch couple, who work unbelievably hard to keep everything spick and span, and helped every season by the husband’s parents who travel down from Holland for the summer, it was actually the parents that we got to know. I used to take my laptop up to the office building to take advantage of their computer connection, and it was then that we got talking to the parents. Over a day or two, we discovered that they were busy researching a family tree but had come up against an obstacle as some of the family had moved through South Africa on the way to Batavia, now Indonesia, but there is so little of this type of information on the internet, that he was quite stuck. We offered to try to find some information for him when we got home again and so the contact between us was maintained. Shortly after we arrived here, and quite out of the blue, we received an email from them asking if we were by any chance in France again, as they were back at the campsite and would love to see us again. We really couldn’t refuse an invitation like that!
Assisted by the ever-helpful Jane, we had a trouble-free run to the little town which is just north of the Garonne River. We moved out of the predominantly grape-growing area into the sunflower fields and I was quite sure that the sunflower plants had grown between our outward and return trips! Returning to a place one has enjoyed is always a bit of a gamble because things change and people change, but when we arrived, we were greeted like long lost relatives and there was much kissing of cheeks and patting of backs as we all got re-acquainted. The campsite is currently even more beautiful than before as they have sown wild flower seed in the grass on the steeper slopes which are not suitable as campsites, and also have a massive pot-garden in front of the house and office which was ablaze with colour on that particular day. We lunched on the terrace overlooking the campsite with conversation in English, French Dutch and Afrikaans rattling back and forth. It was wonderful to see them all again and to cement our friendship.
The rest of the week was very hot and we spent most of the time indoors where it was coolest, only venturing out into the garden after five o’clock in the afternoon. It seems ridiculous to have to say this, but if it doesn’t rain in the next day or so, we will definitely have to break out the garden hose and do some watering.
I have also had occasion to practice my French again, and my faith in the politeness of the French has not been shaken. I needed to buy a bottle of mouthwash- bain de bouche - from the chemist, so marched in with my little speech prepared, but am almost sure that at the last moment I changed it to ‘bain de mouche’, which translates as fly-bath. The shop assistant didn’t even twitch, or ask me why I didn’t go to the vet if I wanted to bath my pet fly, but just reached up and got a bottle of mouthwash off the shelf. I have to admit that if one mumbles a bit all sorts of odd words slip through!
The end of the week also saw an increase in our social activities, in that we were invited out to dinner on Friday evening and then to lunch and a chance to watch the Grand Prix on Sunday. Friday’s dinner was very jolly affair which resulted in us driving home some time soon after midnight. I always find this exciting as there are always animals to see when one travels at that time of night, and we were not disappointed. Standing at the side of the road in a fairly bushy area was something our driver called a ‘fween’ (We were not in our own car this time) When I got home and had worked out that it was probably spelt F.O.U.I.N.E., I looked it up in the dictionary and found it is a stone marten in English and is related to the weasel, but is grey with a white bib. There! Now we’ve all learnt something.
Today, Sunday has seen another slight change in the weather. It feels very thundery and muggy, and I see that storms could be expected. I just hope we don’t have to drive to Toulouse tomorrow in the rain. We have all our required documents and the vast amount of Revenue stamps, so let’s hope that something positive comes of the trip.

Adventures in France Episode 8

2010-06-21T04:15:00.000-07:00

A strange week - full of ups and downs. Added to this, my diary tells me that the weather all week was ‘Grey’ except for Saturday when it rained all day. Not the sort of weather to excite us at all. The weather forecast kept telling us that it would improve on Sunday, which was good news for the Vide Grenier, but we didn’t really believe it. Imagine our amazement when we peered out of the window on Sunday morning to see patches of blue sky and a bit of sun that was definitely getting stronger. It was also marginally warmer than the freezing days we had been having, which was good too.
However, I am getting ahead of my self, so let me go back a bit to the beginning of the week. Some people we have got to know, who are restoring and altering an old house, asked if Neels would give them a hand with fitting a couple of wall sockets in the newer part of the building, so we made a date for Tuesday and after the usual scenic tour, meaning we got lost, we found our way to the house. The first part of the job was fairly simple as it really was just to fit a couple of sockets to the end of the wires which were already there, but they also wanted an extractor fan fitted and this entailed drilling a twelve centimeter hole trough the wall for the outlet pipe. As it was an outside wall, this meant going through plaster board, insulation (a bit like drilling through cotton wool), then bricks and cement. It turned into a really big job and we ended up spending all day there, and having lunch too. However, if they are satisfied with what he managed to do, perhaps they will tell a few friends so that Neels can have a few more odd jobs to do.
On Wednesday, we heard much talking and dogs barking outside when we finally surfaced at about 8.30 in the morning. When we looked out, there were cars paked everywhere, men milling about and dogs rushing everywhere. We were mystified until we heard a few short blasts on a horn which sounded just like one of those old-fashioned rubber-bulb car hooters. Aha! Now we knew! Hunting season has begun. Dogs and men moved off and for the next few hours there was plenty of barking and shouting from the valley below us, but thankfully no shots, so we guess they found nothing that day. It will be interesting to see how often they try the same area.
The same day we received an item in the post that gave us quite a shock but there is very little we can do about it now. When we arrived, as we had been instructed by the French Embassy in Cape Town, we sent off a special form and various copies of passports etc to the Immigration Office in Toulouse, in order to validate our one-year visa. They, we were told, would send us stickers which were to be affixed to our passports next to the visa to prove that we are legally here. However, either the rules have been changed or we were misinformed, as the letters we received instructed us to present ourselves at the office in Toulouse and be prepared to undergo a medical examination and have x-rays taken, and to bring with us Revenue stamps equivalent to a large amount of money. Failure to comply, the letter went on to say, would mean that we would be staying in France illegally. At first we were completely horrified, but then decide that this was what we had been aiming for ultimately, so we should just go ahead and not complain. So on Monday 28th June we will be off to Toulouse to try our luck with French Bureaucracy.
Later in the week though, we had an ‘up’ episode. We had been told of a second-hand car parts shop in Eauze, so on the off-chance we went there and asked if they had the piece of beading that is missing off the door of our car. They did, and so we came home and practiced a bit of amateur panel-beating until the strip could sit flat against the door. The effect is startling! No longer does it appear as if the car has recently been in a bad accident, and at first glance, it is hard to see the damage at all. Neels is as pleased as Punch, and now feels less embarrassed driving around.
After the miserable weather all week, we decided that, as we intending going to the Vide Grenier anyway, we would look for and buy ourselves a jigsaw puzzle as an occupation during the next spell of bad weather. We ending up buying two 1000 piece puzzles for a Euro each – not a bad bargain, but when we got home, we couldn’t resist the temptation and started doing one immediately.. We will have to eat on our laps until it is complete as it takes up most of the only table in the house, that is, if we get any food at all, as the cook finds it hard to drag herself away from the puzzle. It also explains why this weeks blog is a day late, for which I apologise.

Adventures in France Episode 7

2010-06-13T11:58:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of the week, we picked the last of the artichokes off the plants and presented them to our neighbours who received them with obvious enthusiasm. We were just as pleased to get rid of them, as letting them rot on the plants was really not an option. A while later, just as we were about to sit down to lunch, there was a ring of the doorbell and there was Mr Neighbour, come to invite us over for a ‘starter’. His wife had cooked the artichokes in a very smart electric steamer which was plugged in on the verandah where we subsequently sat and ate. She speaks no English, his is minimal but he also knows a bit of German as he comes from the Alsace region of France, and of course there are many words in German which bear a close resemblance to Afrikaans, so between all the bits of languages we could summon up amongst us, we ended up having a very jolly couple of hours. And the steamed artichokes were actually delicious, although still a vast waste of effort, in my mind! I find it difficult to picture the scene at the first attempt to eat this vegetable – it has prickles on the tips of the leaves, which have to be cut off before cooking; then it has to be boiled or steamed for nearly an hour before it is ready to eat. Then the leaves have to be peeled off one by one, dipped in vinaigrette and only the very bottom half centimeter is eaten, the rest being too fibrous. After about fifty or sixty leaves have been peeled off and eaten in this way, the heart is finally exposed, and this is the real delicacy. First, though there is a nasty hairy layer which has to be carefully teased away from the ‘meat’ of the heart, until voila! It is exposed. A circle of flesh about half a centimeter thick and perhaps two centimeters in diameter, with the same consistency and taste as a sweet potato is what the diner is rewarded with after all this effort. Not for me thanks! Give me a real sweet potato any time. But at least we are now are pretty good terms with the neighbours..
He weather forecast for the rest of te week had not been very promising, but we took a chance and ventured out on Friday. First to the weekly market at Vic Fezensac about fifteen kilometers away to buy, believe it or not, Cumberland sausages! An enterprising English couple, realizing that a lot of English settlers were pining for tastes of Britain started a business selling foreign foodstuffs at the local markets. They sell things like English tea , tins of baked beans and packets of biscuits which one can’t get here, and for the South Africans they have Mrs Balls Chutney and Rooibos tea, with a few pots of Vegemite thrown in for the Australians. She has also managed to find a local pig farmer who is prepared to make sausages according to her recipe, so she has Cumberland sausage, Lancashire Sausage and just plain pork sausage and they are truly delicious.
After the market, we traveled on a bit further to a little town called Valence-sur-Baise where we stopped at the side of the River Baise to have our picnic lunch. At this point, the river is quite large and there are boats which are able to cruise up and down, with Valence being a sort of ‘port’ on the river. Our lunch hour passed very enjoyably as we sat in the sun on the bank and watched various people messing about in their boats.
At two o’clock when the world starts to wake up again, we drove on to the Abbaye de Flaran, which is a Cistercian Monastery. Being Cistercian, it is very austere, but also light and airy which makes a change from the usual terribly dark church interiors. As it happened, there was an art exhibition on in the monastery section, and we spent a long time marveling at the Picasso, Gainsborough, Monet, Braque and many other works. We were amazed, yet again, at the complete lack of security for these priceless paintings. We are obviously far too South African to be able to throw off our security-consciousness in a couple of weeks. I’m quite sure we are the only people around here who lock all the doors at night and when we go out, but we do now leave the car unlocked in the driveway all the time. Great progress!

Adventures in France Episode 6

2010-06-06T11:49:00.000-07:00

Two special adventures this week; one local and the other a bit further afield.
Our idea for our first adventure was started a while ago when we happened to see a rather dilapidated small car parked on a heap of grass behind a barn not far from here. Although the body-work appeared to still be in fair order, the car had quite obviously been sitting there for a good long time. We took note of the name of the farm and when we returned home, we asked our fount of all knowledge, our bell-ringing friend, who the owner of the farm was. It turned out to be her son, and yes, she would certainly introduce us. We tried to explain that what we wanted to ask was whether we could buy the trim off his ‘dead’ car and put it over the ‘rhino-gore-mark’ on ours in an effort to disguise the dent, and we think she got the gist of what we were saying. Anyway she duly set up the meeting and on Tuesday, we collected her just after lunch and set off for the farm. She was a little horrified at the thought of going by car, saying that it was a mere kilometer and a half to the farm, but we explained that it would be a lot easier to explain to her son just what it was that we wanted, if we could actually show him the damage, which she admitted made some sense. When we arrived the family of three had just finished eating their midday meal with their dessert plates still on the table, but they quickly made space for us at the table and very soon we were being poured tumblers full of a deliciously chilled white wine. Conversation was a little slow but they were very kind and patient with us. The wine was soon followed by tiny cups of strong black coffee, and before that was completely finished, a bottle of 20-year-old Armagnac was produced. Neels accepted a splash in his coffee cup, but I declined, knowing full well the effects the spirit has on one’s ability to breathe. So instead, a sugar cube was dunked in the Armagnac and carefully placed in my teaspoon with the instruction to ‘Taste’. Half the cube took away my breath completely so I handed the rest to Neels, which they all found highly amusing. After all this and then some more light chat, the business of the car was finally got around to and the men disappeared outside to examine the cars. Sadly though, the one that he had was not the same model as ours and the trim would not fit so we are still driving around in a car with a huge visible dent. However, the day can hardly be called wasted as we met some lovely people.

On the subject of our bell-ringing pensioner – we have discovered that every Spring she turns her attention to cultivating a small piece of land on the outskirts of the village. The first we knew of it was when she stomped past our kitchen window one day with a large hoe slung over her shoulder. The next day she was wheeling a barrow loaded with seedlings, and bewailing the fact that she only had two tomato plants to plant out. The rest must have been killed off by the unseasonable cold. However the next day she was all smiles again as she had managed to find some more tomato plants from somewhere or other and was off to get them into the ground as soon as possible. We believe that last year, when it was very dry, she was wheeling her barrow loaded with two huge cans of water to her garden every day, until one of her sons took pity on her and laid a hosepipe to the plot. She is amazingly tough, but like everyone we have met, is also kind, generous and patient with us. She is real darling.

Our other adventure of the week was a trip to the top of one of the peaks in the Pyrenees by rack railway. The day’s outing included a two-hour drive to St Jean de Luz on the Atlantic coast, where we stopped for a while and had lunch, then another half hour or so to a little village called Ascain, which is a bit inland, where we caught the train. The coaches have benches which run across the width of the coach, facing each other in each open-sided compartment. There are about ten people to each compartment. The gradient varies, but at it’s steepest is about 25% and those sitting in the downward facing seats have to brace themselves so as not to fall into the laps of those sitting opposite. The mountain, known as La Rhune only rises to just over 900 meters above sea level so as peaks in the Pyrenees go, it is only a small mountain, but is home to some interesting animals. The two that caught our fancy were the wild ponies, known as ‘pottocks’ which were totally unperturbed by the train rumbling and groaning past; and the wild sheep known as ‘manechs’. These strange looking animals have long, silky hair that falls almost to the ground, rather like an Angora goat, and then hairless heads which are a reddish-brown colour. They look very odd indeed. We were also lucky to catch sight of one of the huge vultures that have been reintroduced to the area, but it was really high up on a rocky crag and not easy to see at all.
The ride up and down took 35 minutes each way to cover the 4 kilometres of track, and was well worth traveling the distance to experience. The weather stayed clear for us all day and when we returned home at a bit after eight that night, the sun was still high in the sky, something we are still trying to adjust to.

As a last note this week, we would like to say that our thoughts go out to all those who lost loved ones in the Lake District shootings. Although our family was spared being any danger at all, others were not so lucky and we send them our love and condolences.

Adventures in France Episode 5

2010-05-31T03:58:00.000-07:00

This past week has been a fairly quiet one for us. Being based in one place and experiencing actually living in France as opposed to exploring France is quite different. Our days are very similar to days spent at home in South Africa; the usual routine of cooking , cleaning, washing and ironing having re-established itself very easily in a different location. Our biggest problem, if one can all it that, is the weather which is not nearly as predictable as it is at home, and with a very limited wardrobe, we have to try and keep something in reserve in case the weather changes dramatically as it can, it does and it has! Last week started off cool and rainy but improved as the week went on until we had some really brilliant days. This week started with a bang! Monday was an absolute scorcher with temperatures at least in the high 20’s. From them it has all been downhill and by Sunday evening it was once again cool and drizzly but not really too cold.
On Monday, in the blazing heat, Neels decided that he couldn’t let the grass get any longer so out came the lawn-mower and he started to cut. After a few moments, though, he was back indoors looking for some sort of protection for his head. Yes, it really was that hot! Eventually he settled for a dishcloth with knots tied in two corners and finished the lawn looking for all the world like and Arab.
The increasing warmth of the days has also encouraged the plants in the garden and the poppies are a real sight at the moment – there are hundreds of them! There are also masses of sweet peas of all colours and a lot of really pretty flowers that I don’t know the names of but which make a very spectacular show. We won’t mention the weeds which we dispose of by the barrow load but which always manage to re-appear.
We also improved South African/French relations this week by offering the entire crop of artichokes to our one neighbour whom we had not yet met. We have only ever tasted them once and I seem to remember that at the time I considered them a bit of a waste of tme, but she was simply delighted with the gift and eventually left clutching a large bag to herself as if it was filled with gold. Our French will have to improve quite a bit to maintain regular contact as she appears to have a strong accent and speaks rather fast for our limited vocabularies, but at least we now know each others names and can greet each other in a more friendly fashion.
We also decided to improve our image with the village residents by beautifying our front entrance a little and to this end, planted some petunias in the flower box outside the door. The following day, some members of the commune gathered at the 'municipal store' which is situated across the road from our house, where they hauled out a number of large flower pots and hanging baskets. Someone else arrived with a tralier full of geranium plants and they all spent the afternoon filling the pots and planting out the seedlings, after which the pots were taken to various points along the street and the baskets were hung on existing wrought iron brackets while the window boxes were placed on walls and window ledges. Theye are going to look wonderul in a few weeks time
By Saturday, the weather was becoming grey again, but with quite high clouds so we set off to visit Nicky in the house near Montreal where she was ‘pet-sitting’. We asked ‘Jane’ to take via the ‘shortest route’ which we have come to realize is her version of a straight line between two points and will inevitably lead us through vineyards, farmyards and backyards on some impossible-looking lanes, but they will always be passable and the route is always the prettiest, and the roads, however narrow, are always tarred. Coming home we generally ask her for the ‘fastest route’ and then she sends us via the main roads where one can do more than the 30 kilometres an hour of the narrow lanes.
Then it was Sunday again and we were back to the weather of two weeks ago, cold, grey and drizzly. But that is fine! I am not looking forward to the middle of summer when we have been told that the mercury can rise to 40 degrees!
I know that everyone is always interested in what things cost when we are away, so I had a look at some of our till slips and this is what I found:-

Toothpaste (Colgate) is R20.70
Long-life milk (1 litre) R8.40
Tinned chopped tomates R5.80
Crisps (150 gm) R8.30 Is this not bigger than the SA chip packets?
Shortbread biscuits (400 gm) R5.50
Sugar (1 kg) R7.70
Tomatoes 1 kg R16.00
Sliced ham 6 large slices R16.00 that's pre-packed not fresh sliced

I have used a conversion of ten Rand to the Euro which is not quite right but is close enough.

To keep myself busy when not doing household chores, shopping or socializing, I am busy making a herd of small elephants and a flock of geese which I intend to sell on a stall at a car boot sale in the middle of June. They look very cute standing on the dining room table, so I am hoping they will look as appealing to the prospective buyers out there. The only reason I mention this is that it is the cause of the blog being posted a day late – I was very busy stuffing a goose or two!

Adventures in France Episode 4

2010-05-23T12:38:00.000-07:00

The past week has been mostly fine and clear to spectacularly beautiful weather. For the first time since we arrived, we have been able to spend the entire day without jerseys, and now, at the end of the week have even ditched the extra blanket over the duvet on our bed. From time to time we have had sights of the mountains still snow-covered right down to the foothills, but so far the rain has not followed . We have taken advantage of the good weather and have gone on long meandering drives through the countryside. It is quite hilly around here so every now and again we end up on the crest of a ridge with endless views in all directions.
On the first real day of sunshine, we asked our jolly bell-ringer if she had the time to show us inside the church. She quickly fetched the key and let us in. What a surprise! Not dark, dank and stark as so many rural churches are, but instead, lit by two magnificent chandeliers donated by a local chateau-owner before the chateau was demolished, we found the most wonderful and intricate wood carvings done by a member of the parish in 1869. I did not have my camera to hand, as I had not thought it likely to be necessary, but will definitely ask her to open up again for us so that I can take some pictures.
We also managed to make it to Marciac market this week, as the sun was shining. It is a big bustling affair and a great meeting place for people who don’t see each other very often. The coffee shops and cafes were doing a roaring trade, as apart from meeting up for coffee, it was a good place to rest one’s feet. Neels bought himself a cheap pair of jeans, which he tried on in the back of the salesman’s truck, so that he could work in the garden or on the car without fear of getting oil on his good trousers. And he had reason to use them the very next afternoon.
We had noticed some activity across the road from the turn-in to the village when we returned from the market, so had strolled across and found a very expert digger operator busy constructing a driveway into the property and a level place for what we thought was for a house. When he noticed us watching operations, a youngish man who turned out to be the owner came over and greeted us. We got talking and discovered that he was from Marseilles, and was, indeed, preparing to build a house but not on the level bit – that was for offloading building materials – but rather further down the slope, where two semi-ruined walls were all that remained of an original structure. When Neels went to inspect the site the following day after we had returned from an outing, he found everyone standing with their hands in their hair because they were in the midst of pouring foundations and the concrete mixer had died. In a short while, and wearing his special ‘work’ jeans, Neels had the engine going again and then stayed on to help until they had finished for the day, which was at about 8 pm. I must just say here that the foundations were dug in the morning by the digger, and the concrete pouring started in the afternoon. The only ‘labourers’ on the site were the owner, his wife and a rather old man. Luckily the house site was downhill from the mixer so full wheelbarrows went down and empty ones up, but it was a hot day and the work had to be finished in one go. No team of workers standing on the shovels here!
Meanwhile, Goldie had developed a spell of hiccups that was a bit worrying, so some time was spent inspecting her innards. New spark plugs seemed to be indicated so off we went to find the right kind. Unfortunately when we got to the shop, I discovered that I had left the dictionary at home, so we spent a few moments giving the poor salesman a minor heart attack trying to describe a spark plug in the limited words at our disposal. Well………..doesn’t a spark plug cause a sort of fire in the engine?? After a quick peep out of the window to see that our car was not on fire, he went off to fetch a parts catalogue and suddenly we were in business! With the new plugs fitted, Goldie was all smiles again and goes twice as well as before.
Our daily building site inspection showed us that even in this beautiful peaceful countryside, danger lurks. As Neels stepped down off the roadside to the leveled area, I saw a quick movement in the grass and a metre long, thick snake slithered behind his foot and away into the longer grass. We have been assured that the only poisonous snake is a viper which is a skinny little thing, but this looked horrid. We shall have to care if we are walking along the roads with their grassy verges if this warm weather continues.

Adventures in France Episode 3

2010-05-16T08:53:00.000-07:00

A rather longer week this time due to being without a computer last weekend, and such a lot to tell about, but I will try to keep it concise.
Saturday, the day we were due to take the laptop to the repair man, turned out to be a simply brilliant day. A good day, in fact for a drive to parts not previously explored, so we asked Jane to take us to Sombrun, near Tarbes, and off we set. The scenery was breath-taking as ever, although one could see that the farmers further south had had even more rain than we had as the fields were water-logged. Passing that way again a few days later, however, it had all drained away so perhaps it was not a disaster for them.
The IT man promised to drop off the PC on Monday as he had work to do somewhere near us, so we reset Jane, drove off and prepared to enjoy the view. On the way, Jane suffered an attack of laryngitis and from then on could only whisper, which I suppose should have warned us that all was not well with our navigation system, but it didn’t, so we were very surprised when we suddenly landed up at Nogaro, where we had been two days before. Not at all where we wanted to be now, and to get home meant back-tracking about 30 kms. What a good thing we didn’t have any dead-lines that day! The trouble is that all the little green hilly lanes look so much alike; the tiniest roads are tarred and if one really isn’t taking much notice of the signboards, it is dreadfully easy to get lost. Once we got home and could read the handbook, we discovered what Jane’s problem was, corrected it and now she is fine again. Thank goodness.
The next day was Barcelona Grand Prix day, which we had thought we would have to miss out on but Nicky had been invited out to lunch, so offered us the use of her flat and TV. Thank you, Nicky it was much appreciated. Although our weather was as grey as usual, we were pleased to notice that Barcelona was sunny and bright as Jenny and Ryan had arrived there the previous day for a short stay before coming on to visit France. That evening, though, we had an ultra-clear view of the Pyrenees which was spectacular but probably bad news as far as local weather was concerned. However we awoke to clear skies and an almost warm breeze the next day, which had us both out of doors in the garden. A wonderful change.
By Tuesday, our life of idleness was beginning to bore me to tears so I decided that it was time to find a wool shop and buy some suitable wool and needles to make some little elephants to sell later in the year. Finding the shop was not a problem – we had walked past it on Saturday afternoon (when it was closed) while exploring the little town of Marciac on the way back from the IT man. Buying wool and needles was going to be more of a challenge. Clutching my dictionary firmly, (thank goodness for Mr Larousse), I marched into the shop confidently. Happily there was no-one else there so I didn’t mind being an idiot quite so much! In my best French I asked the lady behind the counter for knitting needles. “Mais oui” she said “Quelle nombre?” to which I could easily reply “Trois, s’il vous plait”. And right about there my vocabulary ran out! And I still hadn’t got any wool, yarn, whatever. So I looked around and saw what I thought looked like balls of double-knitting and grabbed one. “Non, non” she said, indicating that for size 11 needles I should be using 4-ply. I took the double-knitting back again and said “Mais je prefer…..” and held it up. Then she wanted to know what I was going to do with it. Oh help! I knew it would come to this. My brain scrambled around and I eventually managed to say that I knit small animals. Meanwhile her son-in-law who had been in the back of the shop, had come out to help, and he asked if I meant little jerseys for small animals, like for a hamster perhaps? But I managed to get across that it was the little animals that I knit not clothes for them, so once again Madame the shop keeper took the ball out of my hand and replaced it with another showing me that what I had had was wool and that she was giving me acrylic. Yay!! Now I needed two more balls – one in ‘noir’, “Black” she said, and one in ‘blanc’, which she repeated as “White”. We all congratulated each other on our cleverness and we left on very good terms. I had asked her for stuffing as well, but could only find the word for the sort of stuffing one puts into a chicken, so we had a good laugh, but she didn’t keep it anyway – either sort!
Meanwhile Jenny and Ryan had arrived to stay with Nicky in Aignan, so we arranged to meet up for lunch the following day at a place not far from either of us where they serve a set menu of traditional, local food which is always delicious. Being still on the cool side, we sat indoors which was a first for Neels and I as whenever we have been to this particular restaurant in the past, we have sat out side in the sunlight. I can’t imagine how old the building is, but to get to the first floor, there is a semi-spiral stair with a really spindly little railing, and thousands of feet must have stomped up and down them over the years.
After lunch we drove on to re-visit the little town that I had photographed and then embroidered a while ago. It has grown quite a bit but happily has not become too commercialized and the scene that I photographed is still very recognizable. We decided not to follow Nicky when we left, but to find our own way home, without Jane, a map or anything. Well, the end of the story was that three-quarters of an hour later we were back exactly where we started! So out came Jane and in about ten minutes we were home!
We invited Jenny and Ryan to lunch on Saturday, so that they could see where we live and to have a chance to chat to them and then afterwards we took them to a delightful village called Plaisance, not far away. It is a little different because it has not one, but two, town squares which have the main road running along one side and the other three sides have buildings which jut out over the wide pavement, the upper floors being supported on columns. The columns are joined by big arches so the whole effect is a bit like an abbey cloister.
When we arrived there we found a ‘féte’ in progress. The first square was completely taken up with various stalls of second-hand goods – a car boot sale with a vengeance. The second square was mostly stalls to do with eco-living – solar panels, house insulation, eco-friendly methods of building etc, which Neels and Ryan found quite interesting. Jenny and I had wandered off to a large hall where there was a handcraft exhibition. Each stall-holder was busy performing whatever craft they were displaying for sale, so a basket weaver was making weird and wonderful baskets; a leather-worker was making handbags, purses, belts and shoes; a lady was hand-embroidering large single initials onto pieces of muslin about the size of a small hanky (the finished piece was edged with fine buttonhole stitch and then framed); there was a wood-turner; a couple of jewellery makers and also a few artists. One couple appeared to be English speaking so we spoke to them and discovered that they had been in the area for six years, but had recently had a trip to South Africa, and about three weeks ago had spent some time on Grotto Beach in Hermanus. What an amazingly small world we live in!
When we came out of the craft display, the sun had obligingly come out in force, although the wind was still chilly, so we wandered around the car boot sale, amazed at what people will try to sell to other people, and then found a dark blue Melamine tray which was just what we needed for the house. I had considered negotiating with the stall holder but she gave me a look that said she was not negotiable, so we paid the asking price which was really, low enough.
On the way home we chatted about what we had seen and all agreed that the standard of workmanship in the craft section had been extremely high for such a relatively small rural town.
The pictures that I have included this week are of our car, 'Goldie' the Golden Oldie and of the little Roman soldiers who hold back the shutters on the house windows.

Adventures in France Episode 2

2010-05-07T11:21:00.000-07:00

An early blog this week because my computer is off to the local IT man tomorrow to see if he can get it to show DVD's and I won't get it back until Monday. This house doesn't have any TV, but various people have said they will lend us DVD's which would be a good substitute when we are tired of reading.

The week started off in stark contrast to the week we arrived - it was freezing. Happily, the owners of the house told us to go ahead and light a fire in the big stove thingy in the lounge, and what a difference that made.

We are more settled in too. We went to Eauze to do a big shop and came back with lots of lovely goodies to eat. Now, I think we will be able to have more balanced meals instead of the rather scrappy affairs Neels has had to put up with up to now.

The cold weather and freezing rain persisited right through until Thursday which meant that we couldn't go to the weekly market at Marciac on Wednesday as planned, so we invited Nicky for lunch and we all sat in front of a roaring fire and chatted, and even fitted in a game of Scrabble in the afternoon.

By Thursday Neels and I were beginning to suffer from cabin fever, so when it showed signs of clearing slightly we decided to first go for a walk which was not a good idea as it was still bitterly cold outside. Then we caught sight of our one neighbour trotting off down the road. We had been told that she rings the church bells every day at noon, so we ran after her and introduced ourselves. We walked with her to the church where she bing-bonged away merrily for a while then gave three tugs with the right hand, three with the left then another three with each hand again for twelve o'clock and then lots more bing-bongs. She invited us for aperitif which we accepted, and she led the way into the kitchen of her house where a fire was smouldering in an enormous fireplace. What a character she is! Although we could barely understand each other we all chattered away for about half an hour, and from the bits that we could understand we discovered that she is 88 years old; has lived in the same house almost forever; has two sons living in the vicinity; lived through the war which was terrible and is not in favour of cold weather in May! She demonstrated to us how she sits on an upright chair with her feet in the fireplace to eat her meals, and then sits astride it to warm her back and to watch TV! She also promised to tell the bakery lady who whizzes through the village each day, that we would also like to get bread from her. We parted as good friends.

In the afternoon, with the weather still looking fairly good we drove to Nogaro about 25 kms away to finally get a SIM card for my phone. When we got there we discovered that the shop only opened at 3 pm, but quite conveniently, we had parked right outside a bakery which had a very obvious board outside stating that parking was for customers only. So we just had to go in and buy a couple of delicious vailla custard slices which we sat in the car and ate. After a few minutes the bakery lady came out and asked if we were going to be staying long, becasue there was long-stay parking behind the church across the road. feeling a bit embarrassed we told her that we were waiting for the Orange (cell phone service provider) shop to open but would move at once. then she was embarrassed and said that it was perfectly allright to park there as long as we didn't stay for longer than an hour - it was really nothing to do with the board uotside her shop! She didn't want us to get a parking fine.

In the end we did stay a bit longer than we intended because buying a SIM card is such a mission. I had to give my date of birth, for goodness sake! Then when we had the card and it was in the phone and I had a number, we had to go across the road to the 'tabac' to buy some time to put in the phone, and then go back to the first shop for someone to help us key in the voucher number. What a performance!.

On the way home we were thrilled to see a deer cross the road ahead of us not far from this village. It's nice to know they are still in the woods around here, although when I mentioned it to Nicky she said warningly 'Remember, there are always two'. I believe there have been some nasty accidents with people hitting or nearly hitting them. Still, we enjoyed seeing it.

On Friday morning we awoke to brilliant sunshine and a clear sky. A good day for photographs, so we dashed outside and started snapping everything, in case the sun disappeared again. So now you can at long last see what the house looks like that we are staying in, and how it is situated in the village. In the picture of Neels and the house, that is all one house although it looks like two.

Adventures in France Episode 1

2010-05-02T02:40:00.000-07:00

The day we arrived was simply stunning! Warm without being hot, still and very clear. Being the beginning of Spring means that all the wild flowers are out and we were dazzled by the array of colours. There are a lot more blue wild flowers here than we have at home, which is interesting, and then of course there are masses of red poppies, yellow daisies and all sorts of white flowers. To top it all off, when we arrived at the house we could hear a cuckoo calling in the woods below the house, sounding like a Swiss clock endlessly chiming.

The view from our bedroom is wonderful and looks more or less south to the Pyrenees, which we caught a glimpse of yesterday. Apparently, one doesn't really want to be able to see them as that usually indicates rain in the near future.

Having had a 5 am start on Monday and practically no sleep that night, we were fairly bushed when we arrived. so it was a really early night for us (8pm) and a straight 10 ours sleep before we were properly compus mentis again. Yesterday was spent sorting out our vehicle which is too cute for words. It is, I think, probably called gold, but is closer to 'dirty nappy' colour; two door; and with a couple of dings here and there which makes us feel very at home as it appears to be a requirement in this part of the world! But we are now all legal and insured and can drive around quite safely - or as safely as we can with the steering wheel on the wrong side of the car! Neels really has to keep his wits about him.

Nicky didn't really give us much time to get over the effects of the long flight, and we were exhausted again last night, but it was probably better to get all those arrangements done at once and Thursday was a day at home for us. We went to examine the veggie garden and found a superb crop of blackjacks, which Neels started attacking with vigour and found that the ground is like concrete. In amongst them though, we found some little red potatoes; some broad beans, onions and some very strangely shaped carrots, so we had food for that night. Yay!!

On Friday, Nicky phoned to tell us that a friend of hers had offered us a microwave, and that she would be bringing it over later that afternoon. This was wonderful news as I have got so used to living with one that I can’t imagine life without it. To celebrate the event, I decided to bake some biscuits!! I thought would make some custard powder biscuits which are so easy and my favourites, but soon discovered that there was no custard powder in the house. (I wonder if the French even know about custard powder – they probably only make it the proper way with eggs etc) Never mind, I thought, there is Maizena, so I will make melting moments instead. No butter, but we had margarine and no baking powder so I left it out. Flour and icing sugar I found in the pantry. The mixture wasn’t quite as I expected it to be and certainly didn’t resemble the usual dough, so I put blobs of it on to what I hoped was a baking sheet. Then into the oven on 190 degrees. Ha ha! Ten minutes later they were still the same colour and getting sort of dry on the top, so we turned the oven to the next setting, which is supposed to be 220 degrees, and baked them for another 10 minutes. This time they came beautifully golden. Hoping they would be edible, I stuck the little biscuits together with a bit if butter icing and arranged them on a pretty plate. When our guest arrived, the success of the venture was obvious as she quickly disposed of at least three cookies and licked the crumbs off the plate!! I don’t think I could make them again, if I tried, as there are few measuring spoons or cups, the oven settings are diabolical and I can’t quite make out why they came out well. Just a lucky chance.

Later that night, at 8.30 in fact, we received a phone call from a gentleman from the motor registration department to tell us that we had omitted a document in the bundle of papers that we had sent off to his office on Thursday. We were amazed! Firstly that the letter had already reached its destination; secondly that it was already being attended to; then thirdly that he was still at work at 8.30 at night.

On Saturday we awoke to the sound of rain gurgling in the gutters and down-pipes, grey skies and a decided nip in the air. The forecast ‘weather’ had arrived. Good for the farmers; bad for the visitors. It was also a Public Holiday, for which the whole country closed down, so there was little point in going anywhere except over to Nicky to print out the form which we needed (from the Internet) and get her help in completing it in readiness for faxing it off on Monday morning. How we would have coped without Nicky’s help, I just don’t know. She has been a real star.

Today, Sunday, brought a new confrontation. This time with the washing machine. Once again, if one just knew what all the little symbols stood for, it would be really simple to operate – as the home-owners said it is – but without no manuals, we are doing everything by guesswork which is always the longest way to solve any problems. It doesn’t really matter as it is again grey and drizzly, and not a good drying day for laundry, so it can take as long as it likes – this time!.

We haven’t yet met any of our neighbours. In fact we have hardly seen anyone since we arrived. It is almost like living in a ghost town. But once this holiday weekend is over we intend to march over to the two houses we know are occupied and introduce ourselves. In our very best French!

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 11

2009-11-03T06:16:00.000-08:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 11

On our last full day of sightseeing, we drove out in a northerly direction, aiming for the Sunday market at Sa Pobla. Once again, the weather was good although a bit windy at the coast, but as we were leaving that behind us, it didn’t matter. We started off by having a bit of a disagreement with ‘Jane’ about which way to go, as she didn’t seem to know the difference between avoiding the motorways, and going the most round-about route imaginable. So we switched her off and tried to do it our way, which ended up being an extremely ‘scenic’ route, quite a lot of it through narrow back streets as we tried to find our way! Finally, however, we reached our destination, found some parking down a side street and walked the rest of the way to the market. It was a bit of a disappointment after the glowing write-up it had received in the guide book. We had expected vast amounts of fresh produce and some local handcrafts to be on sale but it was largely clothing, and although we didn’t check, it looked very much as if everything would have a ‘Made in China’ label. It didn’t take long to do a circuit of the stalls, and then Neels and I wandered off up one of the roads towards a church. As we got nearer we could hear the sound of singing so slipped in at the back to listen, only to find that the singing had ended just as we entered, and that the next item on the agenda was the priest’s sermon. We stayed for a few moments longer, just to admire the interior decoration of the building, and then left again just as he was building up to a great hellfire and damnation crescendo. As it was naturally all in Spanish we felt we were hardly gaining anything by staying!

As Sa Pobla didn’t seem to have much else to offer, we drove on, this time a bit more towards the east, first to Arta and then to Capdepera which boasts a spectacular fortress on the hill above the present-day town. We were lucky to find parking fairly close to the castle and then it was quite a hard slog for the rest of the way. I understand that defensive buildings have to be built on the best vantage point, and that they are often the things one wants to visit, but goodness me, some of it is very hard going! There is quite a lot of the old fortress left and one can walk all the way around the walls on the footpath used by the soldiers of old. One needs strong nerves and no vertigo, so I didn’t try it. A lot more could be done with the old ruins though, and perhaps in time it will be made more visitor friendly.

Our circuit for the day continued by returning to Arta, then driving south to Manacor and then home along the motorway. By now we had let ‘Jane’ come out of the cubby-hole and allowed her to direct us home again.

On Monday we had firmly decided to do various chores like washing and packing and cleaning the flat, but although we did some washing and got it dried, we took the afternoon off and went to a glass factory. How glad I am that we did it! Situated in what appears to be an old Moorish palace, one walks straight in to a dark hallway which overlooks a scene that could easily be a movie set. Below, about four or five steps down, in what must once have been a banqueting hall is the glass making workshop. Everything is blackened from years of soot from the furnaces which belch wicked flames. There were only four men working while we were there and it was simply mesmerising to watch them work the glass. One of the furnaces which is kept at a constant 1100 degrees C contains a great pool of molten glass into which one of the workers would casually dip a long metal tube, coming up with a glob of glass on the end. This he would roll on a piece of iron to make the glob more uniform in shape. Going back to his workstation he would seat himself on a stool which appeared to have arms on each side. These he would use as supports on which to roll the tube back and forth while the actual glass-blower blew into the tube and transformed the blob into a round shape. After this, it is shaped in all manner of ways using various tools to do this, all the time turning the rod so the shape is symmetrical, and occasionally putting it back into a smaller furnace to soften the material sufficiently to be able to continue working. The whole effect of the blackened workshop and the roaring fires made one think of a mediaeval scene, and it was hard to realize that outside, it was still the 21st century! After watching them at work for some time, we went into the factory shop in another room of the building. What a contrast! It was like walking into Aladdin’s cave, with all the glass sparkling like jewels. Everything from tiny stud earrings to massive chandeliers was there on sale, and it was difficult to equate all these beautiful things with the dark workshop next door.
Tuesday 3rd November is our last day here, and really has to be one for cleaning and packing, so this will be the last episode of this version of the blog.
I hope you have enjoyed following our travels and will look forward to entertaining you again in the near future.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 10

2009-10-31T06:08:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 10

The last chapter of my story may well have given the impression that Barcelona consisted of little more than the Rambla, which would be quite incorrect. It is, in fact, a large sprawling city with an old area and a new part. The old city is what was originally within the city walls and parts of it are still standing although very little is left of the walls themselves. The dark narrow streets are fascinating to wander down, and were full of surprises in the form of tiny shops or restaurants crammed into impossible spaces. There are also residences there, and if one is lucky enough to pass by while the front door is open, a quick glimpse into the interior will often reveal a beautifully furnished room leading to a courtyard beyond, lush with plants and shady trees. The contrast between that and the somewhat dingy exterior can be really startling.
Then, of course, there is the newer part of Barcelona. Having hosted the Olympic Games a few years ago, it was forced to erect many new buildings to accommodate athletes and to provide venues, and although I am not usually a fan of modern abstract building design (which often leaves me feeling somewhat uncomfortable), I have to admit that they have managed to combine modernism and elegance in an excellent balance. Colour has also played a big part and one of the largest new buildings is navy blue with shiny panels, in random uneven stripes, of ceramic tiles. Mosaics, too, are a big feature and can be seen on pavements and walls, all of which adds to the general idea of vibrancy.
All in all, we were very impressed with the city both the old and the new, and would love to go back there again one day to see all the bits we didn’t manage to fit in this time.
Our next venture was a day out in Palma. Strange to think that we have been here for nearly five weeks without exploring the main city yet, so the excursion was well overdue. We took the bus from Santa Ponca and quite by chance chose the slow bus which ambles it’s way through all the suburbs. Actually it was the first one that came along! It was a good way to see some of the other small towns between ourselves and Palma without Neels having to drive, and had the added advantage of dropping us exactly where we wanted to be without having to search for parking.
First stop was the Cathedral, which is a massive block of a building. Perhaps this is why it s still standing, having been started in the 1300’s and having taken 300 years to build. Like a lot of these old churches, it is quite dark inside with wonderful stained glass windows, which immediately cause one to look upwards. It is also the second highest cathedral in Europe with 21.5 meter pillars inside supporting the roof. Quite awe-inspiring!
After that it was a case of wandering randomly through the old part of town – obviously our favourite occupation. We zig-zagged back and forth and finally fetched up in the main square – the Placa Major – which is again a great place for eating and for entertainers. When we arrived, a flamenco dancer was just beginning her routine to the accompaniment of a drummer playing a small bongo-type drum held between his knees. Then, inside the square, there was a group of three acrobats; another invisible man; and a young lady who played the flute, who followed after a man who played a piano accordion. So we sat ourselves down at one of the many tables arranged around the square and had a meal there, while being royally entertained. This particular square is one of the few we encountered that is completely surrounded by three storey buildings. On the inside of the square is a covered walkway separated from the square by arches rather like the cloisters in an abbey. The buildings are apartments which all look down on the square and have little flat balconies and shuttered French doors which are so typical of that period of buiding.
Our day ended with another bus ride back to Santa Ponca, only this time we caught the express which whizzed us back along the motorway in half the time it had taken in the morning.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 9

2009-10-29T10:32:00.000-07:00

A stay-at-home day to ready ourselves for going to Barcelona the next day. Lots of washing and folding, packing and thinking and unpacking again, until we were sure we had the bare minimum on which we could manage without offending those around us! Finally we had pared it down to a small suitcase and three backpacks between the four of us., so we went off to bed with our alarm clocks set for 6.30 the next morning. Probably rather earlier than necessary but since we all have this thing about not getting to airports late, we decided to err on the side of early. Anyway there were all sorts of unknowns to factor in like, how long it would take to get to the airport at about 8 in the morning; what sort of traffic jams we would encounter; how long it would take to sort out the paperwork when we got to the ‘Park and Fly’ long stay car park, and how long it would take for them to get us back to the terminal. In the end we discovered that there was almost no traffic at that time of the morning; there were no traffic jams; the paperwork took only a few minutes although we did discover later that Neels had become Mr Schengen (taken off his visa) and that they didn’t have an arrangement with a Mr Ferreira! So we ended up at the check in desk at 8.30 for our flight which left at 11. Rather early, you may think. Imagine our shock when we discovered that the clocks had been changed at midnight the night before and the real time was 7.30!!! Oh well………….at least we were not late for the plane.
Thirty minutes after taking off we had arrived and were soon on an Aerobus which whisked us into the centre of the city. From there it was a short stroll down the most famous of all Barcelona’s streets – the La Rambla – to our hotel. Cheap and cheerful at E55 for two people including breakfast, it is wonderfully situated on the corner of La Rambla and one of the side streets, and the breakfast room had a huge picture window overlooking the ‘action’. For those of you who are not familiar with La Rambla, let me try to describe it to you. The whole area is about a kilometer long ; a wide road with traffic on either side and a wide pedestrian area up the middle. On either side of the pedestrian area are stalls, but not in a continuous line, and various ‘characters’. I don’t know how else to describe them. There was one dressed as a most beautiful bronze angel who stayed perfectly still unless money was thrown into her collection box. Another two were dressed up as dragons – a black one and a silver one – who delighted in grabbing at people as they went past, mainly the young girls who would give a satisfying scream, but who would then enfold their ’prey’ in their wings, very gently, to allow photographs to be taken. There was a Charlie Chaplin look-alike; a Roman legionnaire; a matador; an Arab sheik and quite a few scary ones like Dracula or people who popped out of coffins as you walked past. Strangely there were no musicians of any sort. Then there were guys strolling up and down with little whistles in their mouths that made a noise like bird calls. Of the stalls, most were souvenir sellers with the usual postcards and fridge magnets, T-shirts and dishcloths, necklaces of various sorts and bracelets and a great variety of other things. Over the next three days we spent many hours rambling up the Rambla (or down) looking at everything there was to see. That wasn’t all, though. On our first full day there, we caught an open-top hop-on-hop-off bus to be taken around the city. The bus does two different routes and our ticket allowed us to get on and off at the various stops and to use it on two different days too. It was brilliant.
On the first day we went past the Sagrada Familia which, to all the uninitiated, is the famous unfinished cathedral designed by Gaudi, so decided to hop off and go and visit it. The queue to get in was about 100 meters long but was moving quite fast so we only had to wait for about 20 minutes. I have to admit to being very skeptical about the place, and after seeing it, I still don’t think it is my idea of a church, but I have to admire his visions and designs, and the application of both. At the moment, both the outside and the interior of the church is festooned with cranes and scaffolding, and there is much shouting and banging going on, but it is still possible to get an idea of what the finished building will look like and I think it will be impressive, to say the least.
Apart from this stop, we didn’t really get off at any other places, being content to ride along on the top of the double-decker bus, listening to the commentary provided. When we completed our circular tour, we made a brief stop at a huge departmental store called El Corte Ingles, but didn’t stay long. The brand names advertised around the walls of the interior were enough to make us cringe – names like Gucci, Yves St. Laurent, Dolce & Gabbana, Louis Vuitton, Diesel, Zara, Benetton and the like. The perfumed air in the shop just made you so aware of how much everything would cost, that we scurried out again like the proverbial country mice.
Our evening meal that night was enjoyed at one of the open-air restaurants in the Rambla, watching all the people passing by and the general buzz and hum of activity.
The next day, we went out after breakfast and explored some of the narrow twisting streets of the old city, discovering tiny shops wedged into spaces the size of our kitchen; amazing murals on the walls of seemingly ancient buildings; wonderful carvings high up on walls, and others on doors. And then, when we had walked ourselves weary, we went back to the hotel, checked out and put our luggage into their safe storage for collection later and went off to do the second circuit of the town. The day was less warm than the day before and we got a bit blown around on top of the bus, but we enjoyed it immensely and saw the main sights.
At about 5 o’clock, we collected our luggage and walked up the Rambla for the last time to catch our Aerobus back to the airport and so back to Palma.
Barcelona was an experience which I will always remember for it’s sights and sounds; it’s vibrancy and life, and it was a wonderful place to celebrate my birthday.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 8

2009-10-25T10:28:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 8

Friday 23rd October.

The inclement weather of earlier in the week persisted, after a brief break when we had our last outing, until the wind had reached gale force strength and the Mediterranean Sea no longer resembled a lake of silvery sparkling water but was more like something whipped up by a very angry giant wielding a vast egg-beater! From the apartment we can look out over the sea, and a little way off shore is a small island called Isla de Toro, which has a lighthouse perched on one side of it. It is really little more than a large rock jutting out of the sea, probably about 30 meters at it’s highest point. Well, at the height of the storm and winds, the waves were crashing right over the top which made for some spectacular sights. Not very good for sight-seeing though and on one day we were so cold that we stayed in bed until the working folk on the island were about to knock off for their lunch and siesta.
On Thursday Dave and Cynthia returned from their brief stay in England buoyed up by having seen their friends and in Dave’s case, by having made some progress in his research into the family history. The weather cleared just long enough to get them back here again before the fiercest part of the storm began. It really didn’t matter though as the four of us had lots to catch up on and to compare notes about what we had been doing.
This morning we had a bit of shopping to do locally and then we took Dave and Cynthia to Port d’Andratx just for a look around. I am glad we saw it the other day as it had suffered quite badly in the storm. Obviously the waves had crashed right over the front and into some of the quayside restaurants bringing all sorts of floating debris with it. When we got there, Operation Clean-up was under way, but in all of the restaurants it was still ‘Business as usual’!

Saturday 24th October

After assessing the predicted weather, we had decided that Saturday could possibly be a good day to do the train trip from Palma to Soller, and we were right! It turned out to be a beautiful day with clear sunny skies and no breeze to speak of. The planned trip was relatively complicated (for us) and entailed going by car to Santa Ponca, where we could park in the all day free parking; then catching a bus to Palma which would deposit us at the station; then by vintage train to Soller near the north-western coast of the island and then finally by old-fashioned electric tram down to the port. Wow!
Although the various forms of transport run fairly frequently, there are quite large gaps in the time-table and as we didn’t want to waste a moment of time, we were all up and ready to go by eight o’clock – for us, REALLY early! We gathered our belongings, trooped down to the garage and climbed into the car. But when Neels turned the switch, there was just a dull clunk and we were obviously not going anywhere in a hurry. Finally after trying a few tricks to get the car to start, the rest of us climbed out and pushed and Neels managed to start it on the slope down to the road. Fortunately this little episode had not made us late, and we parked the car in the free parking as planned, knowing for a fact, that it would not start when we returned.
The bus stop was just around the corner and within minutes our number 102 bus arrived. The passengers boarded and we were off! We hadn’t realized, but the 102 is the express bus which goes straight into Palma without stopping, and at that time of the morning, with little other traffic on the road, we whizzed along at a tremendous speed. My only regret was that, being so high up, we were able to see over walls that we had previously driven alongside, and I would have loved to have gone a little slower to enjoy all this extra view.
At the bus terminus, all the busses park underground and once we had re-emerged into the outside world, we had no idea which way was up or which way to go to the train station. Standing right there though, was a young fellow who looked like a student and since most young people can speak some English, we asked him where to go. He really must have thought we were the dimmest of dim old people that he had met, because in the end he took us to the gate, and it was right next door! We had been expecting to walk down to the end of the road or something similar. The train to Soller has been running since 1912 and although there are other commuter trains on the island, the authorities have seen fit to preserve the old trains and the station in their original condition, right next to the modern trains. Even the station café has old-fashioned looking furniture in it, so because we were now at least an three-quarters of an hour early, we sat and had a cup of coffee under the rustling palm trees. After a while the ticket office opened and we bought our tickets and wandered off to the train. We had heard that it carries 350 passengers and wondered how full it would be. It turned out to be very full. Perhaps being a Saturday and beautiful weather had something to do with it.
The train takes about an hour and a quarter to cover the 28 kms of track and proceeds at a rattling, clattering, creaking, groaning and swaying pace. The old wood-panelled coaches have upholstered seats which are barely big enough for two adults, and watching the coach ahead is an almost scary thing as it bounces around on the track and sways violently from side to side. There was only one real stop to take on passengers but we did have a few stops to wait for oncoming trains to pass and one stop in particular to be able to get out and admire the view. There are also 14 tunnels on the way, the longest being about three kilometers long with a slight rise in the middle of the tunnel. It is a strange sensation to feel oneself chugging uphill for a while, in the dark, and then start running down hill again. On the outward journey, one could feel the tension rising in the coach as the train roared along going faster and faster through the dark tunnel; the noise almost deafening; until we suddenly burst out into the sunshine again and everyone started clapping spontaneously.
When we got to Soller, it was market day, so we just had to go for a wander through the stalls. Soller also is the home of the island’s best-known ice-cream factory, which makes forty flavours of ice-cream, so we had to try one of those too. We wandered into the big old church and around the narrow cobbled streets for a while and then, as it was nearly lunch time, we thought it time to do the last leg of the journey and catch the tram for the last two kilometers down to the sea. The trams are ex-San Fransisco trams and are also rattling, clanging, banging affairs, with open sides and wooden slatted seats. They travel very slowly but are such fun to go in. They start near the station and then travel through the centre of town, through the town square and down the narrow streets and none of the locals take very much notice at all.
Port de Soller is pretty much like every other seaside place around here, except that for the first time, we came across a non-sandy beach. Well, perhaps that isn’t quite fair – there is sand but not of the usual beach variety – it looks more like garden sand and is a strange reddish brown colour. But the yachts were there in their dozens, neatly moored in the marina, all gleaming and shiny with the halyards slapping gently against the masts, while along the jetty, people sat at shady tables, eating drinking or just relaxing. Along the road behind the jetty were the normal array of souvenir shops which are always worth looking at and we spent a pleasant couple of hours there.
The day was still not over, however, as there was the tram trip back to Soller; the train trip back to Palma; then the bus back to Santa Ponca where our dead car was waiting for us! Sadly, the fairies had not miraculously fixed it in our absence, but we found a helpful young man to add his muscles to ours and we push started it again and drove home, getting back at about 8.30 pm.
Once home, Neels phoned the car-hire company (again) and was told to phone the emergency number. He did that and explained that all the car needed was a new battery, but shortly a breakdown truck arrived, loaded the car on to the back and off it went. An hour later, however, it was back again, off loaded and put away in the garage again, still in the same condition! We couldn’t establish why this happened, but were told to phone the car-hire company again this morning, which we did and a short while later, the same break-down truck arrived, this time with another car on the back which they off-loaded and left with us, taking the ‘dead’ one away with them. So now we are on car number five! Here’s holding thumbs that it lasts us until we leave!

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 7

2009-10-19T08:52:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 7

Two lazy days due to inclement weather prompted us to get out and about on Monday morning – the 19th October. There was a cool breeze and it was partly cloudy but as we took the road eastwards, the day improved steadily and by midday was quite stunning – a brilliant blue sky with tiny clouds and no breeze to speak of.
We had planned a round trip which took us eastwards to Manacor past literally hundreds of the island’s peculiar windmills, in various states of repair. Some were originally used to pump water up from underground wells while others were for grinding grain, but most fell into disuse in the early 1970’s and are only now being restored. They are a great feature of the island and it would be sad to see them go.
Manacor is the island’s second largest city and is known for fine furniture production and pearls, but as we were not particularly interested in either, we moved on to the next place in our tour which was Felanitx, almost due south of Manacor. It is supposed to be the centre of white wine production for the island, and is also apparently well known for ceramics, so we thought it worth a stop. However, we should have been fore-warned by the total absence of any sign of vineyards on the approach to the town! What we found was a rather grubby and neglected little place, with practically all of the shops already closed although it was not quite midday and the shop hours were very plainly stated on the doors as being open until 1 pm. Ah well, perhaps, in addition to the three hour siesta every day, they also have early closing on Mondays. Who knows! Anyway we sat in the sun in the town square and enjoyed a cup of coffee, and in that we did not feel let down. We have still not come across a cup of coffee that we have not enjoyed. They really know how to make a good cup in Spain! But coffee was not lunch and however good it was, we did not feel like staying there any longer so we drove further east to the coast and there we found Portocolom, nestled on the side of the only truly natural harbour on the island. By now the day was at it’s best, and how could we resist the thought of relaxing at a waterfront café, watching people messing about in their boats on the sparkling water. So the next hour or so passed very agreeably as we enjoyed the view, the chat going on all around us in a multitude of languages (but mainly German) and the delicious food.
Our return home was via Santanyi and Llucmajor and then back to Palma and home, thus completing a lovely round trip. As we passed through Llucmajor we saw a restored windmill at the side of the road and as there was even a place to stop, I at last got my picture of a windmill.And look at the huge question mark above in the clouds!
I must just say that Neels has fallen back into driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road with no problem at all, which is just as well as the islanders are quite aggressive drivers. They practice a lot of South African tricks, like swerving across three lanes of traffic to make an exit from the motorway, usually all done at the very last moment; or of hooting wildly if the car in front doesn’t move ahead smartly enough. We witnessed a glorious scene at the airport the other day, when we were there on one of our car-swapping expeditions. We were standing waiting at the car rental office, which is located in the entrance to the hire-car garage, when we became aware of a car coming to a halt in the narrowest part of the entrance with the engine roaring. Immediately the car behind hooted. We could see the driver of the front car battling with the gear lever and guessed that his clutch had just given in. With the car behind still hooting impatiently, the front driver sprang out of his vehicle, strode to the one behind and wrenched open the driver’s door. He pulled the man from his car and pretty well bundled him along and pushed him into the driver’s seat of the stuck one. All he forgot to do, in his rage, was to go back to the car behind and start hooting! Because, needless to say, the clutch was gone and nothing was going to make the car move apart from brute strength which is what they eventually had to do.
There are also very few stop streets, as such, here. But there are hundreds of traffic roundabouts, and these, at rush hour, which is pretty much all day, can be a terrifying experience. Everyone else knows where they are going and they do it all at top speed, and all traffic circles are two lanes coming in and two lanes in the circle and two lanes going out again, and if you are not sure about which exit to use, or hesitate a moment too long, you can count on it …….someone will hoot! But on the whole and being used to some of the driving in SA, we are managing well.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 6

2009-10-16T10:03:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 6

Goodness me!! Nearly a week since I last wrote anything, but perhaps you will gather that we have been busy ‘doing’, or talking too much. After our day at Valdemossa, we had a fairly quiet day, giving Dave and Cynthia a chance to do their packing prior to going to the UK for a few days. That evening we all went into Palma to meet Karen and Bruce off the ferry and get their impressions of the famous party island of Ibiza. Apparently, it was a bit of a let-down as they found the town fairly quiet in spite of it being a long weekend, due to it being Spain’s National Day on the Monday. They also thought it was quite grubby compared to Mallorca, but raved about the beaches which are many and varied.
The next day we had to get to the airport before midday to return the ‘big’ car and retrieve the smaller one, or be charged for another day. It suited everyone well as K&B wanted to go into Palma, and Dave and Cynthia had to be at the airport by 1 pm anyway to check in. We made the swop, getting a Citroen C4 hatchback, which seemed infinitely smaller and more comfortable for Neels to drive; said our temporary goodbyes to our friends and drove back to Palma to meet up with Karen and Bruce. By some miracle we found an underground parking garage that didn’t charge the earth for parking, and then when we emerged from underground like a couple of moles, we went into the nearest shop and asked someone to mark the spot with a cross, on our map. Then we phoned Karen to find out where they were and set off towards them. It is very confusing though as some of the streets in the old town are little more than passages and after walking for about half an hour we decided to ask the way, so in good old British style, we asked a policeman, or in this case, a policewoman. Before she could answer, however, a fellow passing by spun round saying, “You aska da way. I tella you. I spikka da good Eenglis” and proceeded to point back down the road we had just come along. Dismayed, we tried to establish where the sea was, and after some handwaving, pointing to the blue on the map and saying ‘ Le mar’, we discovered that he was quite right. Somehow we had walked in a circle and would now have to retrace our steps. But it is an ill wind that blows no-one any good (as they say) and in trying to find Karen and Bruce we came across the Placa Major which is the central square of the old town. Karen and Bruce actually found us before we found them and we thought it a very good idea to have lunch at one of the street cafes in the square. What a fascinating place to stop for a while. As we entered the square my attention was caught by a man in pirate costume having a mock sword fight with a little boy. A bit further in was a statue of a chimney sweep, only it wasn’t statue at all, but a real person standing on a plinth, and standing very, very still. Further on was another little tableau, this time of a man and woman who appeared to have been made out of sandstone, or perhaps mud. She had a rose (made of the same material) while he had a cigar and a bottle (also of mud). If money was dropped into their collection plate, they would go through an elaborate series of slow moves in which the rose, the bottle and the cigar changed hands several times until everything was back where it started and then they would revert to absolute stillness again. Their muscles must ache at the end of a day out there.
Another attraction was the invisible man who was inviting passing ladies to dance with him. All one could see was a hat and a pair of dark glasses perched above a suit. No head was showing and he was wearing gloves to cover his hands. It doesn’t sound nearly as spectacular as it looked. There were also portrait artists sitting at various places around the square drawing instant portraits. Most of them were very good, and I’m sure make a good living out of doing this.
Soon though, it was time to go, so we made our way back to the cross on the map, and would you believe it, we came out at the right place!
The next day dawned grey and chilly, but in spite of that we decided to have one last splendid meal before Karen and Bruce had to leave us, so we went off to Port d’Andratx about 20 kms away. What a shame it was so cool, because we found an idyllic place to lunch on the water’s edge with a view of the constant traffic of pleasure boats and working fishing boats going in and out of the harbour. The fishing boats could be identified from quite far out to sea as each one had it’s own little cloud of seagulls accompanying it, drifting along in the air at exactly the same speed as the boat almost as if they were tied to the mast with strings of different lengths.
We had now come to the end of Wednesday 14th and it was heavy hearts that we returned home that afternoon as we all knew that the next thing on the agenda was for Karen and Bruce to pack as they would be leaving the next day. Bruce even commented at some time in the evening that he had that ‘Sunday-afternoon-going-back-to-boarding-school’ feeling.
We had a late-ish start on Thursday and then went off to drop them at about midday. While there, we handed the car in, again, this time because it had started making a terrible noise when we went around corners. I was quite certain the front wheels were going to fall off, but Neels said he didn’t think that would happen. Although the car hire company must be quite sick of seeing us now, they were very pleasant and changed the car for another C4, this time a saloon which is really quite a large vehicle. If this one lasts until we leave, we will have no problems with getting ourselves and the luggage into it as it has a massive boot!
The apartment seemed very empty when we returned to it with only ourselves to rattle around in it, but we got busy with a bit of housework and soon made the time go.
I seem to remember saying at some time during our French holiday that travel certainly increases one’s language skills whether you are aware of it or not. Last year I learnt some unusual words to add to my French vocabulary and this year we are adding words to our Spanish wordlist. Thankfully not words like kidney stone, but while shopping for some extra linen for the apartment, I had to learn the words for pillow, pillowcase, duvet and duvet cover as the place we went to was so huge that if we hadn’t asked where to find things, we would probably still be wandering around peering at the pictures on the likely packages.

Mallorca Chapter 5

2009-10-11T10:54:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 5

Sunday 11th

Valdemossa, near the western coast, was our destination for today. The weather has cooled slightly and the prospect of climbing up and down hills and steps was far less daunting than it has been. The town is about 40 kms away from where we are in a north-westerly direction. What a beautiful little place! The cathedral complex forms the centre of the town, standing, as so many of these old churches do, on a slight knoll with the town laid out around it. Once again, local stone has been used for all the buildings which lends a warm welcoming atmosphere. It has been commercialized to quite a large degree, and shop keepers are permitted to display their wares on the pavements, but at this stage it has not become overwhelming. Tiny cobbled streets lead off the main thoroughfare and higgledy-piggledy houses cling to the hillside. Wandering through them is a delight as around each corner one gets a “Kodak moment’ view. Flower-boxes decorate the doorways and walls and tall trees give welcome shade. We did the almost-obligatory tour of the cathedral and surrounding complex, and were intrigued by the fact that Frederic Chopin and his lover, George Sand, the authoress, had spent time here back in the late 1830’s. the views from their apartments is quite stunning, but apparently they hated it here. Perhaps in winter, and being unmarried in a Roman Catholic environment had more than a little to do with it!
After a leisurely lunch, we decided to see what was at the Port of Valdemossa (which I have re-named as Valli-Moosa-by-the-sea). In fact there wasn’t much to see at all, but the road down to it was probably the most nail-biting one we have done so far. Remember we are driving a sort of a bus thingy called a Citroen Jumpy, which is probably about the size of a Combi but a little wider. The main road, which we turned out of to get to the port, is about 350 metres above sea level, the port, obviously, 350 metres and six kilometers pretty much straight down below. The road has 85 bends, of which 16 were severe hairpins and the road has no line down the middle, which generally means it isn’t really wide enough for two vehicles. There was a very pronounced silence from the back seat for most of the way down, with the occasional gasp as another car appeared coming in the other direction, but our driver managed admirably and we did not bump anything. or anyone. A tricky moment was when we met two cars coming up right on a hairpin, and a delicate ballet ensued with much backing and forwarding.until we could pass each other. That was nothing though, compared to the return trip when we met a huge camper van on it’s way down!! We are all still wondering if he actually knew what he was letting himself in for when he started out, because if not, he was going to age twenty years in about as many minutes!
Just for an added frisson of excitement, at one of the narrowest sections, on the way down, we suddenly saw a loop of rope hanging from the rocks at the side of the road. Negotiating carefully past it we discovered the other end was attached to a climber who was some way up the rockface! What very good luck we didn’t snag the loop on the outside rearview mirror!! We could easily have had a climber on our roof. When we returned, they were still at it and to complicate matters still further a young girl, obviously not interested in climbing, was sitting on the rock wall on the other side of the road, reading a book with her knees jutting well into the road, totally unconcerned..
We try to come back home again every day about 4 pm, by which time we are quite weary with sun and fresh air; walking and climbing steps, and this also gives us time to do some washing and still get it dry, and to catch up on minor chores. A very relaxing routine, in fact.

Mallorca Chapter 4

2009-10-11T10:49:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 4

Saturday 10th.

As Karen and Bruce had decided to go to Ibiza for the weekend, and there is only one ferry each day, some of us were up very early indeed, to get them to the ferry port by 7 am. Although the forecast was not promising, and the day appeared to be a bit cooler and cloudy, it cleared up later for us and we hoped the same was happening in Ibiza. It seemed a pity to waste such wonderful sight-seeing weather, so we thought it would be fun to try and find a place called Cala Figuera, which the guide book described in glowing terms.
We piled into the car; keyed in ‘Jane’ to take us there and set off.. Well, I know that our current vehicle is more of a bus than a car, and more of a utility van than a saloon, but some of the roads ‘she’ suggested we take were little more than cart tracks so we declined, taking no further notice of her pleas to ‘Turn around when possible’. Instaed we drove on to the nearest filling station where I marched armed with half a dozen maps and said ‘Por favor. Cala Figuera?’ which was enough to get us on to the right road., although the road to the actual lighthouse at Cala Figuera is closed so we ended up at a pretty little bay called Portals Vells.. Although tiny, it is quite obviously an up-market sort of place as the boats moored there were deliciously sleek and well-cared for (and the restaurant was over-the-top expensive). We abandoned our thoughts of stopping for lunch and were about to go back to the car when Dave became interested in some strange looking caves on our side of the bay. He found a path along the water’s edge and made his way along and then called us to come and see too. The entrances to the three caves had been cut away to an almost square shape, but most amazingly, inside the first one was a wonderfully complicated carving on the stone wall, which at first appeared to be some sort of pagan depiction until we noticed the IHS entwined at the top. Then we saw a cross had also been carved above what appeared to have been a small chapel. Mystified, we searched in vain for some sort of information board but there was nothing. The only other thing we found was an intricate design of entwined fish in a circle, with a small hollowed out niche in the middle. We thought it looked like a collection box at the door of a church. After returning home, we searched the internet and discovered that the story behind all this was that a ship was in danger of being wrecked in a great storm off the coast, so the captian and crew made a vow to God that if they were saved, they would build a chapel at the place they were washed ashore and put the statuette of the Virgin Mary, off the ship, into it. Fortunately the storm abated and they were able to put into Portal Vells (must have been a pretty small ship), but they still built the chapel, or rather carved out a chapel, and placed the ship’s statuette in a niche inside. It stayed there for many years before being moved to the town of Calvio and then later to the church in Portal Vells where it still is today.
Feeling a bit peckish, we thought we would go a little further up the coast towards Palma to the coastal resort of Magaluf to see if we could find suitable eateries there. What a shock! Eateries there certainly were, but of the worst British kind. It was one long row of KFC, strip clubs; bra-less bars; beery pubs and footie on the big screen. Instead of the low-key stone houses that we have now became accustomed to once we are away from the cities, neon signs screamed at us from every side. And the street seemed never-ending. At last we found a traffic circle, made a u-turn and left. Been there; done that; REALLY don’t want to go back there again! So instead, we came trundling back to our apartment, stopping off at Port Adriano for a late-ish lunch.

Mallorca Chapter 3 pics

2009-10-09T10:04:00.000-07:00

Mallorca Chapter 3

2009-10-09T07:42:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 3

On Wednesday 7th, Karen and Bruce arrived to swell our little family to six, which was simply wonderful. However, it caused a slight complication in the transport department as up until then we had been careering around in a lovely little Citroen C3 – definitely NOT a six-seater. So, knowing this problem was ahead of us, we had popped in to the airport depot after visiting the Hypermarket to see what they could suggest. But they could not help us at all. Their biggest vehicle, which could have seated six, was out of commission and nothing else came close. Oh dear! So we came home and started phoning around and found the ideal vehicle at another rental company. So we set up elaborate plans to meet the representative at the airport a little before we were due to meet Karen and Bruce, and after we had handed the smaller car back. It all seemed so simple! The crunch came when we tried to hand the C3 back. They insisted that since we had spoken to them two days previously, their big vehicle had been miraculously replaced and that our payment (for the entire period) would not be refunded if we went to another company. Oh dear again! In the end, the fellow from the opposition was very understanding, realizing that the plans we had made, had been made in good faith and went away again leaving us his card ‘for next time’. So now we have something called a Citroen Jumpy’ which really does seat six but then has a vast loading space as well, so we end up with a vehicle twice as big as we need or want. Today will be the try-out and we intend driving right across the island, about 80 kms, and back, to visit the old town of Alcudia.
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Pieter had told us that we just had to visit this fantastic ‘lamb restaurant’ and had given me rather rough directions ending with…’just ask anyone in the village where the lamb restaurant is and they will show you the way’. Well, it didn’t quite work out like that but the lass in the tourist office thought she knew what we were talking about and sent us off to Restaurant la Victoria. I even scoffed a bit at Pieter and his friends because they all just called the place ‘the lamb restaurant’ as they could never remember the proper name. He also warned us that there were about thirty-two hairpin bends to negotiate, which we thought was wild over-exaggeration as the bends were hardly hairpin and way less than thirty-two. But, as promised, the view from the restaurant was amazing as it looks out over the enormous Bay of Pollenca, dotted with yachts both huge and minute, and whose entrance to the sea is guarded by massive cliffs. I even sent him an SMS complimenting him on his choice of venue. And the round trip of 176 kms was not excessive, even if we had driven the entire length of the island. Later that night while we were sitting relaxing on the patio, again with glass in hand, he called us. “What on earth were you doing in Alcudia?” he asked. When I replied that that was where I had understood we needed to go, he laughed, and through his giggles said,” Was there an ancient village there?” “Yes” I replied. “And a monastry on the top of the hill?” “Yes” There was moments silence, then he said “Well, I suppose there are lots of these places, but the one I wanted you to go to is near Alaro, about half the distance we had gone”. Never mind, we had a wonderful time and we can sill go to Alaro, although perhaps only once we get the small car back, if he is serious about the hairpin bends!

The weather since we have been here has been obscenely hot, often well into the 30’s which is just too hot for me. It is quite humid too, so one goes around in a constant damp layer under one’s clothes! Not very pleasant, although, so far, it has always cooled off quite a bit at night which is a relief. I can’t help feeling that a good, Jo’burg type thunderstorm would ease things quite a bit, but there is simply no sign of anything like that in the offing.

I think I mentioned previously that we have settled into a routine in which we have a main meal in the middle of the day. It suits us, as the evening meal starts being served at about 8 or 8.30, which we feel is a bit late for us. Also we can take advantage of the ‘Menu del dia’ or Menu of the day, which is a set price with quite a few choices. Often only two courses (More than enough!) with wine and water thrown in; bread and olives taken for granted. The only drawback to that is that for me, the wine seems to settle in my knees, which makes the climb back up the stairs to the apartment, a slow drawn-out affair with numerous rests!

Friday 9th.

The idea was to get going relatively early so that Karen and Bruuce could get in some quality beach time, but when we awoke the weather was not very favourable, so we took our time and then went into town to visit travel agents to find out about ferries to Ibiza (K&B) and planes to Barcelona (the rest of us). By the time shops closed for the siesta and we decided it was time for lunch, all signs of cooler weather had departed, so we returned home after a satisfying meal, leaving the two younger members baking on the beach with a promise to fetch them later.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 2

2009-10-07T02:50:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 2

Monday 5th October found us whizzing along the motorway in the direction of Palma, looking for a branch of Carrefour, a huge supermarket. The speed was not really from choice but the traffic all seemed to be in quite a hurry to get where it was going and we were carried along with it. Our aim was to purchase one or two things that we thought the apartment lacked, that we couldn’t find in Santa Ponsa, and were quite sure that we could be in and out in a matter of moments. How wrong can one be? Imagine the biggest SA hypermarket, then double it, then add in a branch of Game for good measure and you would probably be close! We managed our shopping quite easily, but then spent a couple of hours oohing and aahing over the variety of goods on offer. We really felt like country bumpkins! In the end we stayed and had lunch in one of the little coffee shops in the complex and then slowly made our way home again while most of the island was enjoying its siesta.

We have got into the habit of trying to find a substantial meal at lunch time, which is often a lot cheaper, and then making our own evening meal of bread, cheese and salads with fruit. Now we know where all SA’s best fruit goes to! The fattest grapes; the sweetest peaches; the most luscious apples! Oh, and of course, we have sampled quite a few wines since arriving and haven’t found a bad one yet.

The next day, being yet another stunning day, we decided to explore a little further afield so we chose a route that traveled in a slightly more northerly direction to that first exploration we had done. This meant that we came out on to the coast slightly higher up than on the first occasion and could travel along quite high up the range of mountains, looking down on the spectacular coastline where the mountain roll right down into the sea, and where, from up above one can look down into the clear blue water and see the sand and rocks way underwater.

Some way on, the road curled inland and we followed it to come to an historic estate called ‘La Granja’. I suppose one could call it a stately home, but it is still a working farm as well as a tourist site and dates back to before 1239. It was almost like a working museum. Unfortunately the demonstrations of the various crafts were not on, but we could still get a good idea of what was used in the old carpenters shop, spinning and dying sheds (for wool), tanning workshop, bakery, dairy etc.
We probably spent the best part of five hours there wandering around, in and out of the grand old house and through the gardens and could have spent even more time. One thing that strck us quite forcefully was the amount of water flowing everywhere, and fountains, until we discovered that the estate sits over a natural spring with underground pressure so great that it can squirt a stream of water 30 metres into the air. The rest of the island is so arid that this made an instant impact.

Back home again and up the 54 steps to the apartment, which I swear I am already managing more easily(!!). Then it was time to relax on the verandah with a glass in hand, watching the boats gliding past on a mirror-like sea until the sun set.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 1

2009-10-07T02:48:00.000-07:00

MALLORCA

Chapter 1

Another year. Another country. Another almost impossible language to learn! But what a beautiful place! However, I am getting ahead of myself so let me start at the beginning.
This holiday is a bit different because we invited two very good friends to join us in our explorations, and happily they agreed to do so. As they live relatively close to us, we arranged to all fly together, so on the appropriate date we nipped off to fetch a hire car to take us all to the airport and they were dropped off at our house by their family. I had been concerned for some time that the car we had hired would not accommodate four adults, their main luggage for five weeks and their hand luggage, but I was wrong. Our little Citi Golf managed admirably albeit a little breathless up the hills. Once at the airport the car was returned and in no time at all our luggage had been checked through to Frankfurt via Dubai and we were free to wander. Personally, I couldn’t wait to get to Dubai, where the duty-fee shopping is supposed to be so good, as I had set my heart on buying an electronic reader for my self. (For the uninitiated, this is basically a handheld computer which stores electronic books) But it was not to be. Of the two likely outlets, one just looked mystified while the other said that they had had, but were sold out. Oh well, perhaps on the way back!
We came to the conclusion that Frankfurt is quite a boring place to have to spend any time, apart from a little excitement when a small posse of police arrive brandishing machine guns and shooed everyone to one side who was trying to get up to the restaurant floor. We took ourselves off to the other side of the airport for a while and when we returned, all was calm again. We wondered if there was any connection between this episode and the alleged threat from Al Quaeda to attack Frankfurt during the Oktoberfest.
At last our flight was called and we embarked for the final leg of our marathon trip. From my window seat I could watch the luggage being loaded into the plane, by hand and piece by piece, and I was not really surprised to discover that the one wheel on one of our suitcases had been almost wrenched off . Oh well, c’est la vie, and at least it didn’t get lost or left behind.
At long last we reached our destination; weary and grubby, but excited none the less. Picking up our hire car took an interminable time, mainly because we were beaten t the desk by two other couples, but finally we were through and went off to look for our vehicle – a white Citroen C3 – perfect! We quickly unpacked the Tomtom, woke ‘Jane’ from her long sleep and tried to put her to work. To begin with, she was very grumpy and insisted that there was no such place as Mallorca, but we finally won her over and she began to operate in her old cheerful way. She wasn’t too sure about te streets that we were asking for, but eventually seemed to find something and off we set. We had phoned Dale, who lives in the complex and keeps an eye on the apartment, and she had assured us that it should take us about half an hour, and that she would be there to meet us with the keys, so what could go wrong? Well, we missed a couple of turns, for a start, and only much, much later did we discover that there was another place with a similar name on the mainland, and that this was where Jane was valiantly trying to direct us to when she took us all the way to the ferry port in Palma and said “………..and now take the ferry!” By now we were all beyond exhausted and in no mood for games, it was pitch dark and we had simply no idea which direction we were going as we couldn’t even see the sea and keep it on our left. But we reset Jane and this time we got there – two hours after having rung to say we were on the way!
Dale, her daughter and a friend Pat were on hand to hel us carry all our luggage up the 54 steps to the apartment, and when we arrived it was to soft music playing and candlelight, a lovely light breeze coming off the sea, groceries in the kitchen and REAL beds. Once we had been shown where everything was, they all disappeared back to their own apartments and we fell in to bed, still not really knowing quite where we were.
The next morning dawned fair and sunny and we readied ourselves to go and explore. High on the list was the purchase of SIM cards for our various cell phones and modems, but this we couldn’t do as we needed our passports for this, something which I imagine is what South Africa is heading for with this new registration of phones.
So instead, we made some supermarket purchases and then did some sight-seeing.
The main Santa Ponsa beach was quite full, with the sun loungers all laid out in pairs under cute palm-leaf topped sunshades. It is so strange to us to see the lapping gently lapping the shore instead of crashing in as it does on our beaches, but we were pleased to note that the beaches are sandy and not pebbly
On our second day out, having remembered to take the passports this time, we mananged to re-establish contact with the outside world, and thanks to Andre, you are all able to read this.
We discovered a delightful place to have lunch which overlooked the beach and spent a lazy time eating and watching all the activity, deciding that we would definitely return there at a later date.
By the third day, we had all sufficiently recovered from our jet lag to want to be more adventurous and to explore a little further from home. Once again Jane insisted that we wre trying to go to a non-existant place so we set off without her guidance, but generally heading west. We were soon out of Santa Ponsa and into open countryside which is lovely. Quite rough and mountainous in the area that we were heading, with unbelievably stony ground dotted with olive and almond trees. We saw a few sheep and goats but not a great deal of either, and no sin of any other livestock, but perhaps they are all on the eastern side which is apparently flatter and more arable. We stopped for lunch at a little restaurant along the way at a village called Es Capdella, and ate a traditional Mallorcan meal. It was very tasty and we enjoyed it but came to the conclusion that it had been devised to use up stale bread, The basis was two slices off one of those oval cottage loaves, sprinkled with olive oil and covered in tomatoes. With that came a mass of black and green olives , a few tiny gherkins and something that looked remarkably like seaweed, and tasted only salty, and that was your basic open sandwich. Then there were various toppings and we chose the pork, which turned out to be more like thin slices of brawn but which was delicious. Cynthia opted for chocolate cake which turned out to be quite wonderful with gobs of semi-liquid chocolate inside and a vast blob of real cream on the side..
We then drove on to Sant Elm, which appears on our map as San Telmo, so obviously spelling is not very important here. This is a lovely seaside place on the west coast, with islands dotted on the bay and craggy cliffs leading down to the sea in some places. It is supposed to be where King Jaume 1 landed when he came to overpower the locals but as we had already seen another landing place at Santa Ponsa, we think this is an historical fact that gets used by quite a lot of the villages around the coast.
Today is Sunday 4th and we have declared a rest day. Time to do washing, write postcards and do other chores. After today I will try to write more frequently and in shorter missives, but I just had to catch up with all we had done.

The end of it all

2008-09-17T02:30:00.000-07:00

The last week of our five and a half month holiday was spent preparing ourselves to return to amore normal way of life.
Neels and I borrowed Pieter’s car and drove down to Maastricht to leave all the odds and ends that Carol had lent us, with Steve’s family. After having spent so long trundling along at a maximum speed of 90 kilometres per hour, it was almost frightening to be able to do 120, to say nothing of actually overtaking other vehicles! And where we would have considered Oss to Maastricht a pretty good day’s drive in the van, we went there and back in a little over a morning.
We also returned the van to the company who sold it to us, and sold it back to them for the prearranged sum. This is quite definitely the most economical way to do any long-term touring. According to the research that we did prior to the holiday, rental for the same period, in the size of van that we had, would have been almost double the cost.
The weather that had played such a big part in our daily lives, for so long, had deteriorated and there were strong signs that Autumn was approaching. We did have a couple of really brilliant days though, which we thoroughly enjoyed.
All too soon it was time to be taken to Dusseldorf to catch our return flight, this time a night-time flight via Munich. Our fears of being flung into jail for outstaying our visa in Europe were not realised although we did spend an anxious three-quarters of an hour in the Gendarmerie while they decided what to do about that. In the end we got a tap on the wrist and were sent on our way.
Before boarding the plane, we bought an English newspaper. I took out the puzzle pages and handed the rest over to Neels to read. My section also had the star signs in it and according to my particular forecast, this week was one in which a decision had to be made – a creative project with which I was involved, should either be shelved or should have far more effort applied to it. I took this to mean that this was the right moment to end this blog. The holiday was a fun adventure, not without its scary moments, but mostly fun, and writing the blog has helped me to remember where we have been and what we have done, but now we are home again the time has come to get back to normal, which is mainly very boring, so the story will end here.
To all of you who have been reading our saga, thank you for your interest. Now it is someone else’s turn to entertain us. Goodbye, and God bless you all.

Closing the circle

2008-09-08T06:58:00.000-07:00

From our last stopover at Phalsbourg, we set ‘Jane’ to take us to Metz, some way north. As she kept trying to put us on to the motorway, which we didn’t want, we had to keep resetting ‘her’ from village to village until we reached a very quiet and scenic road along the side of the Moselle River. The weather was unbelievably hot, and we wondered how much longer it could last as we had already had reports that the weather in Holland was grey and cold. When we finally reached our campsite it seemed as if the whole of Holland and Belgium was there too! In fact over the past two weeks we have had so many Dutch camping companions that I am really beginning to wonder if there was anyone left to keep the businesses going! However, they all started pulling out very early the next morning and by evening both countries would have been re-populated again.

Our route to Oss in Holland was always going to be pretty much due north, and by now we were quite keen to get on and arrive there. However, we made a few detours along the way. The first was to Rodemack, which advertises itself as the ‘Carcassonne of Lorraine’, but it turned out to be a poor imitation. Quite quaint though, as most walled mediaeval towns are, and we had to give the citizens at least a nine out of ten for effort. This little place is way off the tourist route, but they still had lovely flowerboxes, and little plaques to tell visitors about the town. For me, probably the most fascinating part was the old ‘medicinal garden’ just outside the town walls which has been re-established; the herbs identified and their uses listed. The plaques there made very interesting reading.

After a night spent near Luxembourg, we had to set off, putting all our faith in ‘Jane’ as we discovered that we had no maps of either Belgium or Holland. Her first choice of route took us straight on to the motorway so at the first opportunity, we turned off and she willingly re-calculated our route. We were actually aiming for a campsite near Spa in Belgium, and stopped along the way to visit Stavelot. Having found parking near the centre of town we made a bee-line for the Tourist Information Centre to find out what we should see and where everything was. By now the weather had changed from a few days earlier and it was darkly overcast with the occasional spot of rain. Having collected a fistful of leaflets, we were about to leave when I asked one of the ladies why there were so many cars parked along the side of the road leading to the town. She looked at me a bit pityingly and said ‘Oh, don’t you know? It is the Belgian Grand Prix this weekend and people are already starting to arrive’. She also assured us that there was simply no chance of us being able to just arrive at a local campsite and expect to get space in it, and offered to phone around for us. However, we decided not to even try. We gave Stavelot a miss (it was raining by now, anyway) and drove on for another 50 kms and found ourselves a pleasant overnight spot near Maastricht.

The next day’s drive was going to be the last real day ’on the road’, so we decided that it would definitely be a ‘no motorway’ day. However, we were still without maps, and ‘Janes’ first choice of route looked alarmingly direct and was certainly a motorway, so we asked for an alternative route. That looked more interesting, so off we went. Oh dear! Within minutes she had directed us on to a road not much wider than the van, which had a really low bridge over it. The van is three metres high and this bridge was 2.8 metres, so there was no chance. As luck would have it, as soon as we stopped, three cars arrived behind us, but waited patiently while Neels executed a 99-point turn! To make things even more interesting, there was an electric cattle fence right on the edge of the road which he didn’t dare touch, but eventually he got us turned around. Back we went to the road we had turned out of and at the very next intersection ‘Jane’ instructed us to turn right again and once again found ourselves in an impossible road – very narrow and with cars parked on the side. As soon as we could, we turned back to the road we had been on previously and thought that if we just kept going north, she would eventually find a way to get us to Oss. So that is what we did, but in the end she won. She put us on a road that did a massive detour through part of Germany and then on to a motorway, but we didn’t dare to object any more. As our route started to turn westwards into the Dutch lowlands, we could see the countryside flattening out and canals started appearing and by mid-afternoon we were pulling up outside Pieter’s house in Oss.

The next two days were spent clearing out the van and getting it as spick and span as possible. It is difficult to believe that most of what came out of the van arrived in two suitcases five months ago and I really doubt if I will manage to get it all back into two suitcases to return home.

On Sunday Pieter had a surprise for Neels in the form of tickets for the Belgian Grand Prix, but he had only managed to get two of them so I did not go. Instead, I had a lovely day chatting to my cousin from Thailand, who had made time, during his precious annual leave, to come and see us on the way to visiting someone else in Holland. I think I got a good deal. My day was relaxing and quiet, spent indoors out of the cold grey weather while Pieter and Neels’ day was anything but that!

During this next week, we will take the van back to the company we bought it from and sell it back to them and then probably spend the last few days trying to work out how to squash everything back into the suitcases. We arrive back in South Africa in the early hours of Monday 15th September, and can’t wait to see all our friends again. To those of you who have read each week’s episode of our travels, I hope you have enjoyed ‘traveling’ with us as much as I have enjoyed telling you about it all.
Love to you all and looking forward to being able to speak to you all again soon.

Approaching the last lap

2008-09-02T08:10:00.000-07:00

Leaving Masevaux, we traveled along a stupendous mountain road called the Route de Cretes (the Road of the Crests). This route was built as a strategic road during World War 1 to prevent the Germans from observing French troop movements. The entire route is 83 kms long and hugs the western side of the Vosges range, much of it through dense woodland. Every now and again, though, there are spectacular views out over Lorraine, especially from the tops of the mountain crests. Although it was a little hazy, we were lucky as this road is often shrouded in mist from end to end. The highest points of the mountains, in this area, are known as ‘ballons’, perhaps because their rounded tops resemble balloons, and the highest of them, The Grand Ballon, was on our route. When we stopped to admire the view and take a picture of the sign giving the height (1424 m), we were delighted to find a herd of chocolatey brown cattle sporting cow bells of different sizes. What a lovely sound as they moved around, grazing or shaking their heads.

Eventually we had to come down from the mountain tops and spent a night in a place with the extraordinary name of Xonrupt-Longemer beside a lake which was so still that it looked as if one could walk across it. It also had that ice-green tinge to it, so we didn’t try!

The town with the strange name is very close to Gerardmer, which suffered very badly in 1944. It was almost totally destroyed by the Germans and their ‘scorched earth’ policy, so we went along to see what had been saved and how they had recovered. All we found was a completely modern town and not even an attractive one at that, so we moved quickly on and picked up the Alsace Wine Route just south of Riquewihr. Now this is more like it!! I know we had said ‘No more mediaeval villages’, but if you could see them, you would know why we can’t resist them. This village is mostly 1500’s and is beautifully preserved. People actually live there and must surely curse the tourists who clog up the roads with their cars, and the pavements with their slow ambling, but perhaps they just accept it.

We couldn’t be on a wine route and not taste some wine, which in Alsace would have to be white, although they do produce some red too. And having tasted, we just had to buy some, of course. We also went into a Christmas Shop, which was quite magical. Every item on display had something to do with Christmas and the shop was a mass of winking, twinkling lights, silvery decorations twisting slowly in the air currents and sparkling tinsel. There were tree decorations by the hundred, made out of paper, plastic, wood, glass and crystal; Santa Claus’ in a dozen different shapes, sizes and materials; tinsel in every imaginable colour (and a few you wouldn’t dream of), and every thickness from pencil thin to as thick as a feather boa. And I haven’t even started on the table decorations – mats, serviettes, table cloths, crockery and cutlery and glasses! I have never seen anything like it and could have spent hours in there. In fact I couldn’t even come away with a photograph as it wasn’t allowed.
Dragging ourselves away at last, we drove on a little way and stopped for the night at the next village, Ribeauville. To our delight, the caravan park has a resident European Stork, which (dare I say this) stalks around the camp each evening inspecting some of the campers’ supper tables, hoping for a hand-out.

Ribeauville is yet another pretty village with masses of flowers. If that is beginning to sound blasé, it isn’t meant to, it just means that we are running out of superlatives. We have come to the conclusion that the wonderful displays of flowers are a massive team effort, with every house owner religiously picking off dead heads and leaves as soon as they appear, in their own flower-boxes and those around town. How else could they possibly keep everything looking so perfect. While in Ribeauville we had lunch at a small restaurant and what better item to choose off the menu that Quiche Lorraine and a French Salad!

Continuing along the wine route, we passed Otschwiller, Schenwiller, Blienschwiller, Goxwiller, Bernardswiller and Rosenwiller, but the only one we would have liked to stop in was Itterswiller. France has a system of grading participating villages according to their floral displays, Known as the Ville Fleuri grading, inspectors award stars which are then displayed at the entrance to the village with great pride. Most of the villages we have visited so far have been three-star, but Itterswiller is the only five-star village we have come across and we were totally unprepared for the sight that greeted us as we entered the town. It’s hard to make this little place sound so much better than what we have already seen, but it definitely was. The abundance of flower-boxes; the brilliance of the colours, the variety of blooms all contributed to the overall effect, and the finishing touch was creepers which had been trained along wires strung high above the road. If we were impressed, so were several hundred other people and there was no space to squeeze a large van into until we were well out of town again, and even then we couldn’t stop as the road had no ‘shoulders’. We considered looking for a place in which to turn and go back through the town again, but decided against it, and added it to the list for next time. And I didn’t even get a picture of it all from the van, I was just too amazed to think of picking up my camera!

We arrived at our selected campsite in Saverne, and for only the third time on this trip, took one look at it and drove away again. It was very crowded, but more than that, it just didn’t ‘feel’ right or nice. Instead we made for another site close by at Phalsbourg, where we found a beautiful site with only one other van there. We should have come to realize by now that if a campsite is ‘within easy walking distance’ of the nearest town, it is often very crowded and often has permanent campers i.e. itinerant workers which is unpleasant.

Our holiday is now rapidly coming to an end. We want to be back in Oss by the 3rd September, and ‘Jane’ tells us that we are about 470 kms away by the fastest route. ‘She’ has been a real boon and I doubt whether our travels would have been as pleasant without her. There would certainly have been far more tension about navigating through some of the bigger places we have been to. The down side is that she makes us terribly lazy about knowing where we are. Neels drives, watches the road and looks at the scenery while I gaze around at everything until we suddenly realize that we have no idea where we are on the map! But what a way to travel! Hassle-free and tension-free.

We spot the German influence

2008-08-26T06:32:00.000-07:00

After leaving Vezelay and its hilltop basilica, we went still further east and a bit north to the small town of Montbard, which is not far from Dijon. We chose it as our stop-over point because it is very close to Fontenay Abbey which we were keen to visit. It is the oldest surviving Cistercian Abbey in France and we were eager to discover what the Cistercians thought were the important facts of life. In theory, they believed in poverty and solitude, although poverty is always a very relative thing and as far as we could make out, they lived extremely well. The Abbey was completely self-sufficient, with a well-run farm to supply all their food requirements, including grain for bread; an innovative water-wheel driven forge where they smelted ore mined on the property and made all their own tools and hardware; a bakery which first ground the wheat into flour using the same water power as the forge, and then baked sufficient bread to feed 200 monks every day; and a large trout pond in order to vary their diet. They did not believe in unnecessary decoration, which they saw as distraction, so the buildings are quite plain, almost austere, but the clean lines add to the beauty of the whole layout. The Abbey was built in 1118 and survived until the French Revolution, when it was sold and turned into a paper mill. Fortunately for us, it was bought by a private buyer in 1906 who restored it to its original appearance and the same family still manages it today.

The next couple of days were spent as much on our own as possible, as the few spots that Neels had noticed on his tummy and chest turned into what looked suspiciously like German measles. When we thought back a few days, it was pretty obvious that he had had all the usual symptoms, culminating in the appearance of the spots. So we stayed out of everyone’s way until he felt a bit better a couple of days later. Really! It’s just not fair! We haven’t even been to Germany!

However, once he felt well enough again, we backtracked a little to go to Beaune. Everyone had told us about the fantastic enameled roof tiles that are traditional in Burgundy, and as Beaune is supposed to have the finest examples, we had to go and see. The tiles in question are on the roof of L’Hotel Dieu, which was in fact a hospital started in the 1400’s as a hospital for the poor. Wealthy people were nursed at home, of course, but until then no provision had been made for the homeless or poverty-stricken. In the main hall or ward, the walls are lined with four-poster beds, 26 down each side, each one sporting scarlet blankets and deep red drapes. The overall impression is one of very grand elegance and not at all like a hospital for the poor!. Although the whole building is a masterpiece of art and architecture, it is the roof tiles which draw people here and they can only be seen from the inner courtyard. They are, quite literally amazing. Each tile is about half the size of a normal roof tile, and the section which is exposed once they have been laid, is enameled. Numerous colours are used and the different coloured tiles are arranged in patterns forming a style which is quite unique. Seeing the Hotel Dieu was definitely worth going out of our way for, and although we saw other examples of enameled tiles, mainly on church steeples, none were as fine as those of the buildings in Beaune.

Two quick stop-overs later found us at Masevaux which is right on the border of Alsace. We had decided to give up mediaeval villages and old churches for a while and head into the mountains again. Masevaux was perfect – it certainly gets my vote for France’s prettiest village. I know that I have gone on and on about the flowers that we have seen everywhere, but they really are stunning and it is not only private gardens, where one can imagine the odd enthusiast making a special effort, nor is only the municipal gardens where some employee has been ordered to make a good display, but just everywhere. Every bridge has flowerboxes strung along the railings simply overflowing with colourful blooms; every house has window boxes of geraniums and sometimes a garden too; lamp-posts have hanging baskets which surround the pole half way up; and balconies which jut over the pavement often have baskets suspended from the corners too. The overall effect is one of endless and brilliant colour. Geraniums and petunias seem to be the favourites, with a lot of ageratums thrown in for a bit of blue. I wonder just how long any thing like this would last in South Africa!

Just driving through Masevaux made us want to see more of it, so once we had checked in to our campsite, we walked back into town where we wandered around for an hour or more, before deciding that we would look for a meal somewhere and walk back afterwards. The following morning, though, we were back in town again to take some photographs, after which we went for a drive along one of those roads we call ‘toothpaste roads’. (On the map they look rather like the after effect of treading on a tube of toothpaste – a mass of squiggles). It wasn’t as bad as the map made it out to be and was a wonderful drive up into the mountains through pine plantations and dense forest. On the other side of the mountain was the town of Thann and although we had sworn off churches for a while this was so elaborately decorated that we couldn’t resist.

The town itself has very strong Germanic influences in the building style and even the signboards and notices are in French and German. The church roof, not content with one design in enameled tiles had a different design for each section of the roof, each section also having a different main colour. The steeple was a fretwork of stone carving that gave it a delicate and lacy effect; while every corner or projection seemed to sprout two or sometimes even four stone carved statues. The arch over the main entrance doors was remarkable for the intricacy and detail of the carvings. It was quite over-whelming! And it didn’t stop there. The interior was just as highly-decorated, but with wood rather than stone carvings. Sadly the interior was very dark and even with my flash, I could not get good photos of the myriad little creatures decorating the choir stalls. I think it was worth changing our minds to go and see it!

We came back via the same road which gave us a good chance to see the views we had missed on the way up, then had about an hour for a quick change of clothes before going off to an organ recital in the Masevaux church. For some reason, when the church was built in the 1700’s it was equipped with two organs which were the pride of the town. Unfortunately a fire destroyed the entire church in 1966, but it was rebuilt in the same style and later two organs were installed as they had been in the original. Since 1977 the town has hosted an International Organ Festival every year, and we were lucky enough to catch the final recital. It was excellent, even if Bach is not my favourite composer, but the pieces were chosen to demonstrate the virtuosity of the instrument, and that they certainly did. It was a fitting end to our stay there.

Time out to remember

2008-08-21T08:12:00.000-07:00

After leaving the marshes of the Marais Poitevin, we went north and came to a place with the unlikely name of Airvault! It was very grey and a bit rainy, and seeing that we had to both fill the drinking water tank and empty the other one, we decided to stop at a caravan park. It happened to be run by an English family and it was nice to be able to chat to them without having to think twice about what you were going to say, and how, but it was extremely expensive and apart from being full of whingeing children, it was really rather dirty. I’m sorry, folks, but we have now had quite a few months experience of campers and their children and have decided that the French are the best behaved. The Dutch are the noisiest and don’t put their children to bed until the adults want to go to sleep; the Germans shout a lot but are silent from early evening on, and the English children whine and fight, all the time! However, in spite of all the bad things we thought and have said about the place, we did manage to get a huge load of washing done and dried which was a relief.
The next morning after checking out, we had a quick walk around Airvault which is quite quaint, and has a wonderful old Romanesque church with lots of special features. We had planned to go further East, but after picking up a pamphlet in the Tourist Office, we drove South instead, to a small campsite near a tiny village called Cognac la Foret. The weather which had been threatening all day, broke that night and the next day we awoke to pouring rain. We cancelled all plans for the day and spent it reading in our cosy home. That night, because we had thought that we would have been out all day, we had booked a meal in the camp restaurant, so at the appointed time we presented ourselves and were seated at a long table with 18 other people, most of whom were Dutch. When they discovered that we were South African, we were bombarded with all sorts of questions, and offered all sorts of advice on traveling in Europe. It ended up being a very jolly evening with lots of laughs as we tried to understand their Dutch, while they tried to understand our Afrikaans.
The next morning was still a bit grey, but we left anyway and went a few kilometers to Oradour sur Glane. This little village was the scene of an absolutely ghastly and senseless massacre on the 10th June 1944, and the entire population was wiped out. Since then, the whole village has been left as a memorial. No-one is quite sure what prompted the massacre, but at about the same time, two German officers were caught by Resistance fighters. They were taken prisoner, but one later escaped and it was possibly this officer who informed the SS that the village of Oradour sur Glane was involved. On the morning of the 10th June, German troops surrounded the village while other soldiers rounded up the villagers. They separated men from women and herded them into various locations. The men went into a large barn and a garage workshop, while the women and children were taken to the church. At a command, the soldiers began firing into the crowd until no-one was left standing, then they set fire to each and every building in the village, so that those who were wounded but not dead were burnt alive. The next day, they returned and collected up as much as they could of the charred remains and tipped everything into a mass grave. 642 people perished, all of them civilians. Today the village stands as it was after the fires went out. There are notices asking one to walk the streets in silence and effect is very eerie and very sobering. I’m glad we took the trouble to make the detour, but was quite a sad visit.
On again, and this time going eastwards, we passed through Limoges and stopped at a small village on the outskirts of the town where a warehouse advertised itself as selling Limoges porcelain direct to the public at factory prices. We spent about an hour just ooh-ing and aah-ing at the beautiful things, but even factory prices are way beyond our budget so we came away empty-handed. Anyway we were headed for Nevers, which also has a porcelain heritage, so we thought we might look there instead.
At Nevers, we had a wonderful campsite with a view across the river (Loire) to the town. In the morning, it was raining again, but the weather forecast had promised the day would clear so we walked into town anyway and even took pictures in the rain. The whole town is just filled with beautiful old buildings, some from the 13th century, beautifully decorated and, as ever, with spectacular displays of flowers. Eventually, tired of puddling around in the rainy, cobbled streets, we turned for home and were about halfway across the massive bridge over the Loire, when the clouds suddenly cleared and the sun came out! Oh, and I forgot to say that it was only late the previous evening that we discovered that the following day was a Public Holiday, so during our walk around town, all the shops were closed. But we did see some Nevers porcelain in a shop window and didn’t mind that the shop was closed. If anything, it was even more expensive than the Limoges china and not nearly as fine.
Still going eastwards and a little north, we headed for Vezelay, a hilltop town dominated by the 12th century Basilica St. Madeleine. As the countryside roundabout is relatively flat and very forested, the first sight of the town comes as quite a surprise. I’m sure that the folk of mediaeval times must have felt rather over-awed by the size of the church, but I imagine that was part of the reason for building it so enormous. It wasn’t an optical illusion either – the building is quite massive, but enhanced by the fact that the buildings around are not big at all and it is on the top of quite a steep hill. The buildings which border the narrow twisting street up to the church are almost all occupied by artists, with a few shops and restaurants in between. However, the whole commercial angle has been kept very low-key, with no obtrusive signs or advertisements and one gets the feeling of walking through a pleasant mediaeval town – with modern conveniences!
When we had climbed the cobbled street right to the top, we found that a service in the church was nearing its conclusion, so we quietly let ourselves in at the back. The priest was so far away up at the altar that we could hardly see him, but the acoustics were perfectl (Yes! Yes! I know he had a microphone) and we sat and enjoyed the music played on a real pipe-organ while the collection was taken, before the people filed out and we could wander around at will. While the organ was playing, the double main doors were opened by a young monk and we were amazed at the size of them – at least 5 metres high, but then, the nave is a soaring 18 metres high with a wonderful airiness filled with golden light. As we have so often found, these buildings may well be centuries old but the designers and builders of the time knew a great deal about making the best use of available light.

On the road again

2008-08-10T05:19:00.000-07:00

To all of you who have been reading our blog, my apologies for the silence. After finding a very kind caravan park owner near Montguyon who allowed us to send the last episode out, we have not been able to access the Internet at all. How strange it is that, having been literally dragged into the 21st century with all it’s technological wonders, we now feel quite deprived when we are expected to do without them. However, we survived admirably and in fact, enjoyed a peaceful and mostly event-free week. Have we ever had a totally event-free week, I wonder! Some months back, while negotiating a really tight, steep turn, we gave the waste water drain a slight tap, after which it was never really the same again and developed a constant drip. This is grey water, so-called, and from washing hands, dishes etc. We didn’t worry too much about it as the drip was very slow, and as long as were parked on a suitably grassy patch, no-one was any the wiser and the grass as all the better for it! Then when we left Aignan Caravan park, while trying to manoevre the van close enough to the tap to fill our drinking water tank, we gave it another whack on the somewhat uneven ground and the drip became a little more insistant. Not wanting to lose the thing altogether, Neels then made a suitably South African plan and tied it on to the chassis with a piece of wire, and we tried not to use water too much until we got to Montguyon. Then, when he had recovered some of his strength, he took the whole contraption to pieces and then rebuilt it, sealing all the joints with the sealing paste we had bought so long ago in L’Argentieres. Perfect, we thought. Good as new! Certainly good enough to last out the next month or so. Well, it wasn’t, because four days later we discovered that we had knocked the whole thing off completely! Neels thought it was when we turned in the entrance to a field, after having taken a wrong road; I was of the opinion that we had knocked it off while bumping over the pavement into the town parking. It didn’t make much difference, the whole drain and tap was now gone and we had to start from scratch concocting another, and if we thought our French was inadequate for medical matters, try buying a ball valve, elbow and nipple! Needless to say, it took us hours of hunting through the hardware shop on our own, to save ourselves the embarrassment of having to ask. Finally it was done, and a far more efficient drain is now in place.
Also during the week, we managed to set off the smoke alarm twice which was a bit disconcerting. The first time was when we had decided to treat ourselves to a pizza, so bought a ready-to-bake one. Not being used to the oven in the house, I set it to the required temperature and popped the pizza in when that temperature was reached. Within minutes, there was this unearthly shrieking, whistling sound. I flung open windows and switched on the extractor fan while Neels grabbed a chair, stood on it and blew into the sensor. By the time we had stopped the noise, the pizza was well charred around the edges. The following evening we drove out to a pizza parlour and had a real one!
When Neels left hospital, he had been given a letter to say that he should have a final test done within the following two weeks, so we took advantage of the fact that we had semi-permanent accommodation and had his test done, the results of which gave him an ‘All clear’. I think we are both very relieved.
Once that was over, we could think about leaving Montguyon and continuing with our trip so as soon as possible, we got ourselves organized and took off for Saintes. What a charming city! It is very old, having started as the Roman city of Mediolanum Santonum. Then, during the Middle Ages, it became a stopover point for pilgrims on the Compostela route and several large monasteries and convents were built. Later still, it was a frontier town during the 100 years war before enjoying a more prosperous period during the 17th and 18th centuries. It is a lovely city to walk around in as the buildings have been wonderfully restored and the gardens are simply superb. An almost white stone is the main building material and this together with the brilliant gardens leave one with the impression of light and colour.
From Saintes we took a bit of a detour to Brouage, a fortified town in the Poitevin Marshes, but we were very disappointed in it. It has been over-restored to the point that everything appears to be brand new, and every available useful space has been put to commercial use. I’m almost surprised that we didn’t find an ice-cream vendor in each of the little guard house/ lookout points along the ramparts!
The Marais Poitevin, or Poitevin Marshes, cover an enormous area with the part north and south of the Sevre River estuary having been drained, for agricultural use, for the past thousand years. Further upstream, in the area known as the Venice Vert, or Green Venice, a maze of canals criss-crosses the land, and although there are small villages here and there, built on higher ground, most of this area is a national park. One can hire flat-bottomed boats and paddle along for miles, or be taken on a guided tour in one by a batelier who will do the paddling for you. As it is similar to Les Hortillonages in Amiens, but on a vast scale, we walked around some of the villages instead.
After Brouage, we visited Rochefort specifically to visit the dockyard where a replica of the 18th century frigate, the ‘Hermione’ is being built. At 65 metres long and 12 metres high she is not really very big at all, especially when one considers that she accommodated 300 men. She is being built in the style of the period as far as possible, but using modern tools and equipment, and they hope to launch her in the not too distant future. As well as seeing the progress made in building the hull, one can also vist the workshops of all the alied crafts such as the carpenters shop, the blacksmiths shop and so on. It it quite fascinating to see chain links being made by hand in a forge. The nearly three hours we spent there flew past, and there was still so much to see.
After a quick lunch we moved on to the Corderie Royale, the Royal Rope Works where all the ropes were made for Louis XV’s Navy. To achieve the lengths of rope that were needed, using the methods of the time, a building was needed that could accommodate a 300 metre length. This amazing building, battered, bruised and finally burnt by the Germans in the Second World War, is still standing albeit largely restored. And what makes it even more amazing is that the whole enormous construction is standing on a wooden raft sunk into the marshland. Not bad for something built in 1670! Another fascinating few hours flew past as we learnt about ropes and rope-making, and all to soon it was time to move on.
This time we had booked into a park in the Venice Vert and on our one full day in the area we had a drive around to see what we could see. What we saw was that fences are to stop people falling in to the canals, while cattle are surrounded by water with gates at the bridges off each little island. Not much is inhabited but the overall effect is of one vast parkland with huge shady trees and lush grass beneath. Here and there, Blond Aquitaine cattle pose sleepily having eaten their fill of the juicy grasses. In Coulon, a main visitor centre, the water is alive with boats some being rather more professionally paddled than others. We didn’t go to see it but I believe the ugliest fish in the world can be seen in Coulon Aquarium. Something called a sheat-fish. I intend to look it up when I have a chance.

Escape to the Charante

2008-07-30T07:22:00.000-07:00

The events and dramas of the past three weeks had left everyone feeling mildly traumatized and quite exhausted. We had turned Nicky’s relatively quiet rural life completely on its head with our endless need for phone calls or a ‘taxi service’, but she really came up trumps! Thanks to her insistence, Neels is now well again and keen to continue with the holiday after a short recuperative break.

So, having said our very inadequate ‘thank you’s, we finally left Aignan on Thursday of last week and made our way to Montguyon, where some friends from England have a house which they have kindly lent to us for a week or so. Before we left the area around Aignan, known as the Gers, I made sure to get a photograph of the wonderful sunflowers which are just now coming into flower. What a spectacular sight!

Montguyon is a smallish town due south of Angouleme and a little bit east and north of Bordeaux in the area known as the Charante. We spent a night here on the way south with Jenny, and it was then that this very kind offer was made, which at the time, we could not know we would appreciate so much. The house, which was fairly recently built, stands back a bit on its plot beside a quiet road, on a slight rise. From the front verandah, which is covered, one gets a lovely view over fields and trees and it is where we have had all our meals so far. Apart from the occasional car, the only sounds are birds calling and the barking of dogs some way off. It is very definitely just what the doctor would have ordered had he known about it!

On Friday, Pieter came down to spend the weekend with us. How thrilled we were to have one of the children with us. I know that Neels has felt the separation from the family keenly, and has really needed some sort of contact after his trials and tribulations, so he was probably even more thrilled to see Pieter than I was. The weekend’s activities were hardly of the order to make the jet-set drool, but we did manage a trip to Blaye and a visit to the ancient citadel there. Blaye is a little north of Bordeaux, but whereas Bordeaux is on the Garonne Estuary, Blaye is on the Dordogne Estuary and the two estuaries merge before joining the Atlantic Ocean. The site of the citadel was a mediaeval fort, but during the reign of Louis XIV, there were fears that Bordeaux would be attacked by the British and the architect Vauban was commissioned to design fortifications to protect the city. So he built a citadel on the old fort at Blaye; another fort on an island in the river, which he called Fort Paté; then another on the far bank of the River Dordogne which he called Fort Medoc. I haven’t yet been able to establish whether the English were even interested in attacking, but it certainly kept the stone-masons busy for quite some time!

On Saturday night, Pieter wanted to take us out to dinner, and although we would have happily settled for the local pizza parlour, he wanted something with a little more class, so after getting recommendations from our absentee hosts, we set off for the village of Chalais and for Chateau Chalais in particular. What a simply majestic place! The restaurant is inside the chateau, which one enters over an ancient but still-working draw-bridge. From the courtyard, where a drink can be enjoyed before the meal, one goes through into a relatively small room with arched windows and a low vaulted ceiling. There were eight tables the night that we were there (although two of them had been set to accommodate eight people) and the restaurant was full. As we were to discover, this is silver service at its very best. I have no idea how many people were slaving away in the kitchens out of sight, but in the dining area were only the owner and one waitress. They were obviously being rushed off their feet, but still remained pleasant and smiling, unobtrusively checking on their guests and making sure that plates were removed at the right time; glasses refilled and dropped table napkins whisked away after being replaced with clean ones. Small toasty nibbles were served before our starters arrived; palate-cleansing sorbet between the courses and cheese with fruit mince before the dessert. The food was delicious and beautifully served. In fact the overall effect was make each and every diner feel like a king or queen, and we haven’t had that in a long while.

All too soon the weekend was over and we had to put Pieter back on the train. Fortunately the TGV (the very fast French train) to Paris stops at a station not far away, but it was real wrench to have to say goodbye again so soon. However, we will see him again in a little over a month, so we won’t grieve too much.

A quiet week

2008-07-14T05:38:00.000-07:00

The week started on a fairly upbeat note. The medication prescribed for Neels seemed to be having the desired effect and we were full of hope that the twice-daily injections would be the end of the story. However, when the District Nurse came to give the last injection she also took some blood which was sent off for analysis. The results were back the same afternoon and we got a phone call from the doctor saying that Neels should go to hospital immediately and that she was sending an ambulance/taxi to take him to Briancon, 30 kms away. When I asked how he would get back again, she assured me that the taxi would also return him safely.
The following day, after he had been x-rayed, ultra-sound scanned, poked, prodded and injected with a cocktail of medications, they said he could come home again, but unfortunately there was not an ambulance/taxi to bring him back, so could he please ask a friend to fetch him. This was a bit of a shock after the local doctor’s assurances, but all I could do was to go and ask someone to organize a regular taxi for us. Mr Barberoux Jnr wouldn’t hear of it and volunteered to take me through to Briancon himself, to fetch Neels. This family was amazingly kind, and their kindness had seemingly no limits.
There were more prescriptions to be filled, but this time, Neels felt fit enough to drive the short distance into town, although he waited in the car while I did some shopping. A strange aspect of prescribed medicines here, is that no dosage instructions are put onto the individual boxes. Instead, a copy of the prescription is returned to the patient. This seems just a little hit-or-miss to us, being used to a clear label which tells one to ‘Take two tablets with water after meals three times a day’. How many people, I wonder, take the wrong dosages because they don’t understand the doctor’s shorthand, or can’t read his writing. Ooh! Scary!
By now, although neither of us had seen anything much of what appeared to be a delightful little town, or the surroundings, we were both keen to get away. Neels was feeling stronger now and thought we should go straight across country back to Aignan and the security of having my cousin and her fluent French close at hand. So, on Saturday the 12th July, we set off. We had been told that Monday was a holiday, making this a long weekend, but somehow, stupidly, we failed to realize the significance of this. Of course, Monday was Bastille Day, France’s National Day and the biggest and most important holiday on the calendar. To celebrate this, it seemed that every French family had decided to be somewhere else and the roads were really busy. However, we chugged along at our 80 kms per hour quite steadily and the distance lessened at a reasonable rate. Although some people say that French drivers are terrible, we found them to be well-disciplined and courteous, with no evidence of the road rage which is so prevalent in South Africa.
Our aim was to break the back of the 700 odd kilometers that we intended to drive and with this in mind, we aimed for a tiny place called Homps, not far from Lezignan-Corbieres, on the banks of the Canal du Midi. When we pulled in there in the late afternoon, we both heaved a sigh of relief that the long drive had gone so smoothly. It had not been a leisurely sight-seeing drive, but along the way we had had some quite unusual views. The beautiful lake Serre-Poncon with it’s strange blue-green water; extraordinary rock formations near a place called Les Mees which looked just like a row of nuns walking along; the wild flowers which are still blooming well and in such abundance and then, further west, the fields of sunflowers more brilliantly yellow than the fields of rape which we had seen earlier in the holiday.
Finally we reached Aignan and a lovely campsite on the side of the hill at the edge of town, which is run by warm, friendly Dutch people. It is very peaceful and is a perfect place for Neels to recuperate.

Ancient rocks and modern stones

2008-07-06T03:39:00.000-07:00

Having decided to confine ourselves to the pleasures of France, and not to visit Italy after all, we turned southwards from Bourg d’Oisans to a little place called Les Vigneaux just south of Briancon. This was quite a hard decision to make as we both wanted to see Italy, or at least part of it, but the problem was where to go and where not to go. Once on the road, it is very difficult to say ’So far and no further’, because the view from the top of the next hill is always beckoning. But the distances are great, and we are now starting to look at just how far it is to get back to our starting point. So far we have covered about 7000 kilometres which is a fair amount of countryside!

So there we were, on the way to Les Vigneaux. First, though we had to negotiate the mountain pass of Col du Lautaret. This rises up to 2058 metres above sea level and one is certainly aware of the thinness of the air when walking around there. Just to make us realise how weak and unfit we are, a group of cyclists appeared just as I was taking o photograph of the notice board giving the height of the pass!

Further along the way, we stopped at Briancon as we had read that the ‘Old Town’, dating from the time of Louis XIV, was pretty much still intact. And so it is, with it’s lovely tall, old-fashioned houses cosily leaning towards each other like children sharing secrets. A stream still runs down the centre of the very steep main street, but is a lot cleaner than it probably was in time gone by. The street is so steep, that there are notices posted at the entrance to the town advising against running. No doubt a tumble could end up as a crumpled heap at the bottom of the hill! But for all its age, the little town was not particularly picturesque, and we felt that possibly more could have been made of it. But perhaps we are being too critical. Possibly villages in the Middle Ages were drab, dark and dank and it is only the modern tourist who demands flower boxes bright with geraniums to liven the scene.

On leaving our campsite the following morning, we stopped in a tiny town called L’Argentieres, where silver was mined many centuries ago, to buy a tube of silicon sealer. We had discovered that our ‘grey water’ tank (the one that holds washing-up and hand-basin water) was leaking and needed to fix it. However ‘silicon sealer’ is not the sort of phrase one finds in a tourist phrase book, but, armed only with self-confidence we went into this tiny hardware shop. Well, tiny it may have been, but the amount of stock would have made any giant hardware chain-store proud. It was packed so tight one could hardly get to the shelves. There was already one person in the shop and with the two of us and the owner behind the counter, it was really full! The other person turned out to be a supplier’s representative and readily joined in the conversation, supplying odd words here and there when our French failed us and the owner’s English couldn’t keep up. It took about half an hour but when we left, having been first mistaken for English and then being welcomed with open arms because we are South African (you know – rugby, Mandela and ‘Le Cap’), not only did we have something which we think may work but we also had made some new friends.

Our next adventure was not of the pleasant variety and is certainly one which I wouldn’t want to repeat in a hurry. Neels suddenly developed agonising pain in his lower back and nothing that we had available was helping. By now we had realised that the campsite that we were now in had only French-speakers in it, including the management, except for one young fellow who was sometimes on duty in reception. Aware that we would have to summon a doctor, and fairly quickly too, I went to reception and was thankful to discover that the one English speaker was on duty. That’s not to say he is fluent, but between his English and my French, I managed to get the message across. However, when he asked what I thought the problem was, I was completely stumped but eventually came out with ‘un Pierre du rien’ (a rock of the kidney). He quickly translated that into more acceptable French and passed the message on. A doctor was soon on the scene, but seemed unable or unwilling to make up mind as to what the problem was, gave Neels an injection and left again, with the traditional doctor’s maxim of ‘If it isn’t better in three days call me again’. Well, it certainly wasn’t better and after a very disturbed night, I returned to reception to ask them to call the doctor again. Perhaps it was a good thing that his offices were closed and the campsite owner, who had now also got into the act, called her own doctor, bundled us into her car and rushed us into town. There a very pleasant and efficient lady doctor did a number of rapid tests and confirmed that it was, indeed, a ‘rock in the kidney’ and gave Neels another injection. This one, though had an almost instantaneous effect and within hours he was more comfortable. Meanwhile, the owner continued to go out of her way to help us. She later drove me back into town to fetch the medicines which had been prescribed; she phoned the District Nurse and arranged for her to come and give the rest of the course of injections over the next two days; and took me to the supermarket to get some much needed groceries, insisting that it was something she also needed to do, although I noticed that all she bought was some bread and a box of tissues! They have all been kindness itself and we are immensely grateful to them. Having a serious health problem is never fun but having it when you are almost unable to communicate is extremely stressful. They say though that every cloud has a silver lining and how right they are. I have a whole lot more words to add to my French vocabulary including the word for ‘kidney stone’!

The Ups and Downs of the French Alps

2008-06-30T04:51:00.000-07:00

After leaving the goat farm last week, we decided to head east and so found ourselves in an ancient volcanic area. The Romans obviously knew about it as can be deduced by the names Cyssac, Coysac Polignac etc. Polignac, in fact is a very strange looking place as half of it is built up on the top of volcanic plugs, while the rest sits at the bottom of the bowl. Le Puy en Veley, on the other hand, spreads all over the base of a huge bowl and was terribly hot while we were there. Luckily, they have one of the many little tourist trains which trundle around the area and show you the main attractions, so we hopped on to that and were pleased that we did as the sights are quite far apart. Le Puy is also renowned as a lace-making centre and we saw numerous women sitting outside souvenir shops with their cushions and bobbins. Another feature of Le Puy is that a few of the landmarks are built on the top of extinct volcanic vents, the three major ones being a church to St Michael, built, apparently in 962 AD, which stands at the top of an 80 metre pinnacle, and is only reached by 268 large steps; the statue of St Joseph, which is itself 22 metres high, but stands on a lump of rock which looks as if it is also 22 metres high; and the Statue of Notre Dame de France, also 22 metres high, but standing on a plinth, the whole lot mounted on a hillock of 110 metres. It really is quite impressive when driving down into Le Puy to see these three landmarks sticking out way above anything else.
After our ride on the little train, we decided to move on as the heat was unbearable, especially down in the valley of the town. So we found a camp-site on a hill-top near a little town called Anneyron, which is a bit south of Chambery. We hadn’t gained much though as it was still very humid and everyone in the park was lazing around trying to fnd the slightest movement of air.
Finally, after three days, and when we realized that the weather forecast wasn’t going to change much from the 29’ and 30’ we had been having, we dragged ourselves away. We had wanted to drive into Vienne on the way as it seems to be a really interesting place, but it was a frightening experience. We are not sure why the town was so busy, as it was a Thursday and what we would consider mid-week, or why the road signage was so appalling as up to now it has been first class. Whatever the reason, we found ourselves in the centre of a town full of one-way streets that were never intended to accommodate vehicles of over 2 metres wide; absolutely no parking, and every one of the town’s 60 000 inhabitants out on the street. Suddenly a right-hand turn spewed us out onto a main road, so we decided to leave Vienne for another time and to continue on. It must have taken several minutes for two hearts to slow down to normal rhythm again!
However, all was not lost or in vain. Some time later we came across a farm stall so we stopped to buy some fruit – mainly more cherries – and by the time we left, the very persuasive sales lady had managed to convince us to buy a melon as well, to say nothing of the six bottles of wine to go into the van’s cellar. Actually, we came away with eight bottles, as she gaily announced that as we had bought two bottles of each of three types, that constituted a box and every box sold was entitled to two free bottles of rose! And No! We are not becoming alcoholics!
Our next objective was the French Alps so we asked ‘Jane’ to take us to a place called Bourg d’Oisans which in the foothills. We had read a glowing write-up of a park within walking distance of the town, which sounded fantastic, but when we got there we were met by an extraordinarily grumpy lady and exorbitant rates, so we went off to look for somewhere else and found a truly delightful place about a kilometer down the road.
In fact it is also on the road to Alpe d’Huez, an Alpine village known to cyclists the world over. One could almost say that for the cyclist, doing the climb to Alpe d’Huez is as climbing Everest is to mountaineers. So, naturally, we had to go and see what it was all about.
The road starts in the valley at Bourg d’Oisans at about 700 metres above sea level. The height at the top of the ride is 1850 metres. And the road with its 21 hairpin bends, is 13 kms long. The average gradient is about 10% and it is a steady, relentless climb. I am very pleased to be able to report that the old lady managed to get all the way to the top without missing a beat – the van, that is. But we are filled with admiration for the people who do the ride, and there are hundreds of them – all the time, not just during the Tour de France or other big races. There are notices all the way up and down the road exhorting motorists to beware of cyclists, and cyclists to keep to the side of the road. In fact on the way down, we were overtaken several times by fellows on two wheels going at least 30 or 40 kms faster than we were!
Up at the top of the hill, in the village of Alpe d’Huez, there is an almost festive air. Everyone who crosses the line is a winner and there is even a permanent winners podium for those who want their pictures taken by family or friends, against a suitable background.
For us, though, the drive with it’s spectacular scenery was prize enough. The road to the top is an engineering masterpiece as anyone who has watched the helicopter shots of the Tour de France will agree. Driving it is great fun and as it is not one of the skinny roads we have had to contend with in the past, it is also a pleasure.
For our next trick, we thought we would try another mountain pass road and so, having first found out if there could be problems in attempting it with our large lady, we set off for La Berarde, 30 kms into the mountains. Once again we were accompanied by dozens of cyclists. We had armed ourselves with pamphlets and leaflets of all sorts, so that we would know exactly where to go and what to look for along the way. Even so, when we stopped to admire the view at one spot, we asked again and were told there would be no problem. So on we went, higher and higher, bend after bend, the views becoming ever more breath-taking.
We stopped at a tiny village to inspect their market, but bought nothing. It was all very colourful though. Amplifiers were blaring out ‘Alpen music’ and there were flags everywhere. Everyone seemed to know each other and they all seemed to be doing a lot of talking to each other and very little else, but they were obviously having fun.
At about lunch-time we reached Saint Christophe en Oisan, and as one of our guidebooks had recommended that one should stop at La Cordee for a meal or at least a coffee, we decided to do just that. We walked into the front part of the shop, which is minute and crammed with goods like an old-fashioned general dealers store and as I was in front, asked in my halting French if we could have a meal there. With a beaming smile we were shown through to the back of the building which opened out to accommodate about six tables. We ordered something cold to drink, and a few minutes after they had arrived, plates were put down on the table. Over the next twenty minutes or so, the table was slowly laid around us, in between serving people at the other tables,or in the shop. Eventually we were asked if we wanted a salad or cold meats as a starter. We chose the salad, and some time later a large bowlful arrived. It was quite delicious and had some unusual ingredients like artichoke hearts and something that could have been anchovies. The bread was home made and crusty and just perfect for mopping up the sauce from our second course which was a choice of veal, beef or……..but she couldn’t remember the English word and neither of us could recognize the French one. Thank goodness, as the third choice was lamb shank, which looked divine, but would have been far too much for either of us. In several ways it was a memorable meal, not least because we were eating a traditional meal, in a restaurant that had no airs or graces. It was truly delicious, and we were having this meal in a village clinging to the side of a mountain.
Shortly after we left our lunch stop, still on our way to La Berarde, we came to one of Neels’ favourite signs. It is always in a red triangle; is painted black on white and means ‘Road Narrows’. It is generally at this point that we meet a tourist bus or a tractor with vicious-looking agricultural attachments! However, there was also a sign forbidding anything over 10 metres long, which ruled out the tourist bus, and had a height restriction of 4.5 metres. At this point, I’m afraid we chickened out. Our greatest fear is of getting to a point beyond which we cannot go and finding there is nowhere to turn around. So we laboriously turned in a handy parking area and had just got ourselves facing back down the hill again when a GI-NORMOUS campervan came sailing around the corner from the direction we were too scared to attempt. Oh Phooey! Never mind, that will have to go on the list for next time too!

Those Gorgeous Gorges

2008-06-23T12:02:00.000-07:00

When Carol and Steve left last week we were sure they had taken the good weather with them as they had hardly gone when it started raining. Not hard, but just off and on and annoyingly, especially as we had numerous chores to get through that would have been simpler with a sunny dry day. However, we managed.
When we finally left the house on Tuesday morning, I think we were both quite nervous of that final act of throwing the door keys back in through the letterbox and hearing them clunk on to the floor, but I think we managed to get away without leaving anything behind. We took a scenic route north east via Lunas and Lodeve to Millau, the town of the now famous viaduct. At Millau, the Tarn River is joined by the Dourbie and a little further away by the Jonte. Our campsite was at the junction of the Tarn and the Dourbie and was beautifully lush and green.
The following day we woke to a most beautiful morning. We had been told by the caravan site owner that it would be market day in old Millau which was only 15 minutes walk away. So off we went! I really should have known better. What he meant was ’15 minutes if you really step on it” which equates to a near run. Needless to say, it took us closer to half and hour, and then we took a wrong turn with added on a bit. But the market was, as usual, fun and cheap and we came back with a cooked chicken, some farm fresh vine tomatoes and a load of photographs. Cooked roast chickens are a real treat for us as, with only a two-burner hob, my cooking seldom gets very imaginative. Almost every fresh produce stall in the market was selling cherries but we looked at them and thought,’ Well, we can get those at home, and we have even been to the pick-your-own place, so perhaps we won’t bother’. They look very spectacular though – all glossy and scarlet.
Some of the Millau streets are really tiny. I have a picure of Neels sanding in oone that is about one metre wide at ground level but which gets less as the building rises. Again there were passages which went underneath the first floor level of other buildings and low arches between miniscule squares. It would be quite easy to get lost in there I should think especially at night.
That afternoon, not wanting to waste the lovely weather, we drove along the Dourbie River Gorge. Most of the road is at river level and the towering rock faces on each side can become quite overpowering. We saw some ancient troglodytic dwellings at the base of the cliffs in one place and tiny villages built right up against the rock in others. All around were weird rock formations, so we let our imaginations run wild and ‘saw’ a fairytale castle, a ruined fortress, a row of nosy meerkats and several faces. At the end of the road, for us anyway we drove up to a tiny village which was clinging to the tip and sides of an impossible rock. We found a safe place to leave the van and walked the rest, and were then amazed to discover just how many houses there were perched up there. Not what I would call a child-friendly town, I don’t think. Quite a lot of the properties hang out over space and the end of the garden really is the end of the property! There was even a restaurant, so we sat and had a Coke but the proprietor was too busy with his other customers to come and talk to us. I would have loved to have found out where their water comes from and where their drainage goes to. There was a posting box in the village centre, so presumably the postman visits sometimes. And all this several hundred feet up an impossible mountain.
Not having had enough of gorges, the following day we did a long circular dive which took in the Gorge du Tarn and the Gorge de la Jonte, but this was quite a different story. In these two gorges, the road is about midway between the top of the mountains and the river below. The French don’t really seem to think Armco Barrier is a necessity and only on very sharp downhill bends do they erect a wooden railing. Otherwise a row of stones does the trick. We have a family saying about being ‘on the side with the rhino gore mark’ which means being on the side of the car perceived as being more dangerous. Well, it was my luck to have the rhino gore mark on my side for an awful lot of the day, but I wouldn’t have missed a moment of it. Not even when we came to tunnels through the rock which could only accommodate us if we drove in the very middle of the road; not even when our van with it’s more-than-two-metre width occupied the whole road; and not even when we met a bus coming in the other direction on one of those stretches which don’t have a line down the middle (because the road is too narrow to do so) With the bus driver desperately trying to avoid the rock face on his side and Neels trying desperately to avoid the bus, and me trying desperately not to look at the sheer drop below us, we finally past each other with only millimeters to spare, but in the effort we ran over one of the rocks marking the edge of the road. Neels was fed up as we dented the van (not badly) but I was just so pleased, as a wheel on the wrong side of the stone could have been us over the edge! But hey! With hindsight it was all part of the adventure. What I do know though, is that this is not supposed to be busy yet. If we are ever lucky enough to come here again, I’m going to hire a scooter!
The further into Spring/Summer we go, the more spectacular are the displays of flowers both wild and cultivated. The poppies are still making wonderful shows with great fields of them all over. There are also some mauve flowers which bloom in profusion so that one will get the impression of a mauve haze over a field. Closer to the road are numerous daisy types in yellow, pink, blue, white and purple. It is a very beautiful sight.
On the way home from the two Gorges drive, we succumbed and stopped at a roadside stall to buy some cherries. The biggest, fattest, juiciest, sweetest cherries we’ve ever had. I’m sorry guys, but they knock the South African cherries into a cocked hat! We bought a kilo, then wondered if we had been a bit over-ambitious, but apparently not as two days later they were all finished. The last few we ate with some fromage frais bought from the goat farm we stayed on, along with some really delicious cheese, which is also not going to last long.
Someone has asked me what sort of food we eat, and do we eat out a lot. Well, the short answer to the second part is ‘No’. Eating out is expensive, as it is everywhere, and an average main course will cost about 14 euros. Of course there are any number of restaurants that offer a set menu for that price too (plat du jour), but one will more than likely end up with a tissue thin steak, chips (frites) and salad as the main course. We have eaten out though. We have tried regional delicacies along the way:- mussels and frites in Honfleur, sitting next to a statue dedicated to the mussel-pickers of yesteryear; Galettes in St Malo, a type of thick pancake made with brown flour with either savoury or sweet fillings; crepes, on a farm in Brittany; cassoulet, in a number of places, either made with duck or sausage, or both; cheeses from all over and wine ditto. Our standard lunch is a fresh loaf of local bread with some local cheese, fresh tomatoes, radishes and lettuce.
We do buy some fresh meat at the supermarkets, but our fridge is not too reliable, so we generally only buy fresh to cook that same night. Otherwise we have found tinned meals to be of a high standard and very tasty. Now that it is getting hotter ( and today is a scorcher) we tend to eat a lot of salads and cheese, which I’m sure must be doing us good! It probably balances out the amount of wine we drink!!