The next week

Having finally sorted out the computer’s problems and having at last managed to send off the next chapter of the Cannyvanners Saga, it is now time to write the next one. The last week has been fairly uneventful though, in spite of us having traveled all the way from near St Malo to a little village called Plouescat which is not far from Roscoff in Brittany.
Tuesday was the highlight of the week as we spent the day in Jersey, one of the Channel Islands. And for a change, the weather was magnificent. The crossing was made on a high-speed ferry and took about an hour and a half, over flat, calm seas. When we arrived in St Helier, the main port, we made our way to the Tourist Centre and discovered that there was an all-day bus tour which we could join, which would get us back to the ferry port just in time to catch the boat back to St Malo. What a good plan that was! The bus took us all over the island, with frequent photo stops (and one for lunch) and our driver/guide was a delightful fellow who was full of facts and who had a wicked sense of humour. I’m quite sure that some of his jokes are not ones that I would attempt to tell to a bunch of complete strangers, but he son had the whole bus laughing, so perhaps he did know best.
Jersey is an amazing little island, in fact. Its three main sources of income are Finance (managing other people’s money in off-shore accounts), Tourism (like us) and Agriculture. At this last, we were amazed as the island is only 25 square miles in size which is not very big. But they do a lot in tunnels, of which there are a huge amount and they also plant potatoes in the most amazing fields. Amazing, because they are nearly vertical. The driver’s explanation was that these areas are far too steep for anything else, so the farmers work the lands by hand and plant potatoes there. Mmm! Well, I’ll take that one with a pinch of salt! But certainly a lot of potato fields were on steep hillsides, or in areas that are so close to the sea that we were surprised that anything could grow there.
We were enchanted by the numbers of wild pheasants that we saw in the fields. To me, these brightly coloured birds look as if they should only be found in the exotic bird section at a zoo, not scratching around out in the wild. Being Spring they are all sporting their best plumage and are very attractive.
After Jersey, the week quietened down as we made our way around the various peninsulas between St Malo and where we are now. We spent a wonderful night on another France Passion farm near a tiny place called Plelo. A working farm, it also has a restaurant which serves traditional Breton meals, and is obviously a place the locals bring their children to play. There is a small herd of Shetland ponies in one field and a few enormous carthorses in another, with ducks and hens completing the picture. The old farmhouse which is four stories tall, used to be a grain mill, probably a few centuries ago, and was operated by a water wheel. They have done away with the wheel, but are using the water to generate electricity and are so successful, that at times they are able to sell power to the National Grid. The farmer was very proud of his achievements and when he heard that Neels had been an Electrical Engineer, took us on a personally guided tour.

However, I am quite sure that you want to know how we are getting on in this foreign land, and not just read an account of where we’ve been. Well, some of it takes a bit of getting used to. Like ‘all-in-together’ ablution blocks. The men are always catered for first, so the first thing one is confronted with is a row of urinals, so strait-laced South Africans have to avert their eyes and walk on. Quite difficult when there is someone standing at one of them who flings a cheery ’Bonjour’ at you as you walk past. Then, having done that there is always the possibility that there will be a fellow, stripped down to his Y-fronts having a good old wash at one of the basins. Looking at your feet, you slide into a shower cubicle, shower and try to dress completely again in a space that is on average three feet square and, by now, completely saturated with shower splash. Oh to be less prudish! Then I could get half dressed and saunter over to one of the basins and finish there, where the floor is dry. Not yet though.
Then there is the driving. Neels is managing remarkably well with this driving-on-the-wrong-side-of the –road, but the road manners of the other drivers make life a whole lot easier. They are so ‘aware’. When you want to filter in to a major road, all that is necessary is to put on the left indicator. Immediately, all the occupied lanes in the mainroad will move over and allow you in. Can you believe that we haven’t heard a car hooter since we’ve been here? No-one shakes their fist in rage when someone is forced into ‘their’ lane because of road works – they all realize that the driver has to do this, and allow him in. It is quite foreign to us as South Africans, and very pleasant too.
Food. We haven’t eaten out much because we always seem to end up too far away from the restaurants in the evenings and tend to feed ourselves. But this I know – the French can’t make bread! I know they would be horrified to hear this as they invented that most desirable of all French foods, the baguette. But a baguette is only edible on the day it is baked and making sandwiches out of baguettes only ends in crumbs down your front (and everywhere else). Standard bread can be bought, but it has a bouncy feel to it when fresh off the shelf, and stays like that for ever. We currently have half a loaf which we have had for about two weeks. It is showing no signs of growing green spots, nor is it any harder than when new. It never was very tasty, but makes excellent toast!
Talking about bouncy……..we have come to the conclusion that preserved, prepared foods are definitely a cut above their South African counterparts. We have had delicious cassoulet and coq au vin out of tins; made with real meat and real vegetables and flavoured with real wine. Tinned veg are really tasty, if lacking in salt, and even packet foods such as soups are good. But to go back to the bouncy bit ………one of the things we bought was the Belgian version of Smash, in case we ran out of potatoes and the other night we decided to try it. Knowing that the South African Smash usually ends up far too ‘wet’, I only made three-quarters of the required liquid. Oh dear! Big mistake! Next time I will know that when it says 500 ml that is what I will need. It was interesting though – we could roll our mash into a sausage and cut it in slices, and I’ve never done that before. Life is full of new experiences, and travel really does broaden the mind!
Finally, the language. We are both learning more and more each day. Neels is far better than I will ever be and can have long conversations with people. I tend to learn to say things and then hope no-one replies. For instance, when several people showed a real concern at my bandaged foot, I learnt to say’ Je me suis tordu ma cheville dans le preimere semaine de la vacance’, which means ‘I twisted my ankle in the first week on the holiday’ Which was fine until they rattled off something that obviously required and answer, which was about the same time that they realized that I was a sham and really couldn’t speak French at all. Fortunately, I no longer need to say my piece about ankles, and am now teaching myself something less likely to provoke a response like ‘Isn’t it a lovely day?’ All I need is a lovely day to say it on!
Until next time, A’voir et bon chance.