FRANCE 2015 Chapter 6

We are always told, in life, that we should be careful of what we wish for and I do believe that is true. However, I would like to add something to that, and that is that we should be really specific when we wish for something just so that there can be no misunderstanding. For example, last week I wished that the sun would shine and on Monday morning it did. The sky was a clear bright blue without a cloud to be seen; the sun was shining brightly; birds all chirping away merrily and brilliant daffodils to be seen everywhere. So why am I complaining, you may ask? Well, it was all a case of not specifying. When I wished for sunshine, I didn’t add that I didn’t want too much wind to go with it, so to go with our stunning sun-shiny day we got a howling, icy gale which hadn’t been part of the plan. I did a load of washing and hung it out to dry, which it did in double quick time, but most of the time it was hanging horizontally on the line. Oh well, every cloud has a silver lining, I suppose, and at least our washing got dry really fast.

Bored with staying home on what seemed to be such a wonderful day, we took off for a drive without any destination. We took ‘Jane’ with us just in case we got completely and hopelessly lost, but kept her in the glove compartment. Our route was mainly on the back roads which we were reading off a map and to be quite honest, although the scenery was spectacular, the little villages we came across were rather dull, and of course, being Monday all the shops, potteries, and museums were closed. Suddenly though, just when we thought there would be ‘nothing to report’ on our drive except scenery which my little camera is no good at, we rounded a corner and were confronted by a massive ruined castle on the crest of a small hill. The village is called Roumegous so presumably it is the Chateau de Roumegous but apart from the local authorities forbidding anyone from venturing into it because it is too dangerous, I can find out nothing about it. It is enormous and looms over the four or five remaining houses in the village. Quite a scary kind of place to live, I would have thought. And way off the beaten track.

After a haircut for both of us on Tuesday, we both felt a few kilos lighter, although I must admit mine was rather short – a lot shorter than usual, but it will grow and since no-one around here knows what I look like usually, it isn’t a problem for me.

Had I had any qualms about showing my face (and short hair) in public, I needn’t have worried as the next day was the coldest we have had this year and we didn’t move out of the apartment all day. Midday temperature was a miserable 6 degrees with an expected minimum of a scary -2! What a surprise then to find that Thursday was bright sunshine, windless and not really freezing cold. We jumped into the car without delay and took off in a westerly direction without any real destination planned.

As we ambled along enjoying the views, we came across a strange little building at the side of the road. We had noticed as we travelled that the building style had changed from the area we staying in to a slightly more westerly area. In other words, from the Aveyron department to that of the Lot department. The Aveyron features houses built of rather jumbled stones, apparently without mortar, similar to the dry-stone walling seen in the north of England. The Lot, on the other hand, which includes  a vast limestone plateau, had flat stones a-plenty. When limestone is taken out of the ground, it can be removed in layers of different thickness – thick pieces for door and window lintels; for roof beams and for flooring , or thin pieces for constructing the walls and roof. Anyway, this little place that we came across was the whole farm – a 'garriotte' - comprising of a central rectangular building where the family would have lived, with a round building with a conical roof on each end. One may have been used as a store while the other was for livestock. It couldn’t have been very cosy but I imagine the folk were a lot tougher then.

Our route then took us to St Cirq Lapopie, perched high on a cliff top overlooking the Lot River. It is a charming village built up and down a steep slope, so there was a fair amount of struggling up some of the streets until we gave up and had far too much lunch. After that, there was no more walking – we couldn’t! Back in the car, the road took us back down to river level and along the river bank with enormous cliffs looming over us. People will do anything to build their house in the ‘perfect spot’ and for some it was a tiny piece of land between the road and the cliffs. A lot of them are so pressed for space that the cliffs form the back wall of a house which is only one room wide! Amazing!

After that, as the day was dying and we had wandered a bit off track we had to do a bit of cross country travelling on the really tiny roads to get home before dark. When we arrived back, it was to be met with a long faced host who told us that the central heating boiler had mysteriously stopped working. Neels was all for trying to fix it straight away but he said that he had phoned the ‘boiler man’ who would be along the next day. It didn't affect us as the gite has it's own heating.

After such a long drive, Friday was, as usual designated a ‘rest day’ for the driver. Not that I noticed much resting going on. When we arrived to stay in this gite, we noticed that there was a half constructed Plexiglas shelter over the front door of the house – obviously a work in progress. So on Friday Neels and our host got stuck in, in spite of a really chilly wind and made quite a lot of progress. As there was plenty of chat and laughter, I think both had a good time. The boiler man arrived after lunch but shook his head and was full of doom and gloom but said if he could get a new part he may be able to repair the boiler before our hosts left for a week’s holiday on Sunday. On the assumption that nothing ventured is nothing gained, Neels took the defective part to pieces, cleaned the dirt out of it and put it back together again. And hey presto! the house had heating again. I’m not sure if we are the boiler man’s best friends any more, but our hosts were certainly delighted.

Saturday and Sunday passed in misty, drizzly gloom but the weather forecast says that it will be bright sunshine all day on Thursday and Friday, so we shouldn’t complain. I hope they are right!

FRANCE 2015 Chapter 5

After our busy few days at the end of last week, it was almost a relief to discover that Monday morning was grey and drizzly. Our son had to rush off for an early business meeting, so we could take our time getting ready to greet the day. Not too much time though as a friend of his was on the doorstep at 10.30 am to take us into the covered market in Palma. In Santa Catalina, in fact, which is close to the oldest part of Palma. A very good place to visit on a grey day as the colours, sounds and smells were all lively and intriguing. The fruit and vegetable stalls had the brightest colours and some of the strangest items for sale that we had ever seen. Turnips that were like white giant radishes; parsnips a whole 30 cm long; red and green peppers at least double the size of any we had seen at home and the largest variety of citrus one could imagine, gathered in one place. Lemons, limes, oranges, clementines, satsumas and more, with a lovely citrusy scent in the air. There were stalls baking and selling cakes and pastries, biscuits and cookies, meat pies and quiches, both large and small. And this part of the market had its own wonderful aromas. The smells around the fish and meat counters I could have done without but it all added to the general overall atmosphere.

After that, and a quick cup of coffee at a little place across the road, our ‘driver’ had to leave, so we started strolling up and down the streets of the Old Town enjoying the unexpected little squares that we came across, and the cobbled streets. All the time it kept drizzling on and off which was a bit of a shame, but it didn’t deter us.

The next day dawned fine and clear – an amazing change from the previous day. Our son had to go off to a business meeting again, which rather overran, so it was after twelve when we finally got away from the apartment. Our destination was to be Deia, a small village to the north west of Palma. It is probably the most famous village on Mallorca and was the home of the poet Robert Graves. Little stone houses clamber up the hill from the main road, and pour down into the valleys beyond. Any available land is terraced and the terraces are planted with citrus and olive trees. The road to Deia was steep and winding with innumerable hairpin bends, as was the road back again. It makes us realise how mountainous this little island really is.

Wednesday was going to be our last day on the island but the sun refused to come out, although it didn’t rain at all. Business meetings again took up half the day so this time it was even later when we started off  –  this time to St Elm on the west coast. This is a tiny and picturesque fishing village set around a small bay guarded by two islands. The little town is spotlessly clean and tidy and although really small by South African standards, has a Blue Flag beach of which they are justifiably proud. Even the little fishing boats drawn up on the slipway look as if they have been scrubbed!

By about 5.30 pm we were home again, just in time to do a quick load of washing and drying before packing up ready for an incredibly early start next day. And incredibly early it was! The alarm clock went off at 5 am and by quarter to six we were ready to leave for the airport. Our plane left at 7.30 and arrived in Barcelona about 45 minutes later. Another couple of hours went by until we could board the next plane to Toulouse which took just less than an hour. Then all the clever planning went out of the window as we had four hours to wait for the train to Villefranche. The time was not wasted though as the airport is heated and comfortable with numerous cafes, so we stayed there until it was time to catch the navette to the station, then the train to Villefranche where our host collected us from the station for the last 15 kilometers. We finally got home at about 7.30 pm and an hour later we were in bed and almost asleep . We are definitely getting far too old for this kind of long day!

Unfortunately, it would seem that we had hitched the bad weather to our suitcases as the next day was cold and miserable, and we had to force ourselves to go out and shop for supplies. But we were both still quite weary so didn’t waste any time in getting home again where the heaters were on and the rooms were warm.

People keep telling us that now that we have had the first day of March, Spring  must have started, but you could easily fool us. The flowers are all out, with clumps of glorious daffodils springing up in the most unexpected places and the fruit trees covered in pink or white blossom but the grey days persist and the wind is positively icy. Surely it is time for some slightly warmer weather!

FRANCE 2015 Chapter 4

I am not sure what causes us to sleep so well here – perhaps the silence; the semi dark room or the cosiness of the bed, but we seem to have enormous trouble getting up and going in the mornings. Something will have to change, radically, as later this week will be an occasion when we have to be up and about at seven in the morning, but more of that later.

We started our week at our normal time and managed to leave home at about ten o’clock. We had two places to visit, both of which, we had been told were well worth the trouble. The first was the medium sized town of Rieupeyroux, about twenty five kilometres north east of us. As is so often the case, the central, old section of the town has been left pretty much as it would have looked in the Middle Ages, although people still live in the houses and trade from the small shops, and they have obviously modernised the interiors.  Beyond what would have been the town walls are modern new houses, shops and supermarkets just like any other medium sized town. We found our way to the Tourist Office and picked up a handful of information as well as some useful tips – such as, most shops and restaurants were closed because it was Monday – which we had forgotten about. Being a kindly Tourist Officer, she phoned around and found a cheap and cheerful place where we could have lunch, and she couldn’t have done better! It was just the sort of place we love – where all the locals go to eat.

After lunch we first walked around the old part of town following a walking tour map, and then drove out of town a short distance to a small hill which afforded us incredible views of the countryside. It was a little hazy but on a clear day one can allegedly see the Pyrenees a few hundred kilometres away .

Then it was on to Belcastel. The road took us down, down, down into the Aveyron Valley where we suddenly came upon what I like to think is probably one of the most beautiful villages we have ever visited. Situated on the banks of the river between looming hills, the little village is dominated by a semi ruined castle, the lower half of which has been converted into a chateau. Once again, because it was Monday and out of season , everything was closed but it didn’t really matter, because, without dozens of cars and masses of tourists, we could wander around and enjoy the quaintness. All the roads and paths through the village are cobbled and very steep in places, while all the houses and other buildings are constructed of the same greyish stone. The original village dates in parts, to 1040 while subsequent restorations and renovations have taken place over many years up to 1975. It is a quite delightful, interesting and charming village.

We really tried to get up early the next day, but because there was no real reason to do so, we once again didn’t manage! But after lunch, as the sun was still shining and fairly warm (17.5˚) we decided to return to Sauveterre de Rouergue, where it had rained so much on our previous visit. What a difference a bit of sun makes! Sauveterre’s main attraction is its large arcaded square and the grid-like layout of its streets and lanes. It has become well known for its craftsmen and there are small workshops for knife-makers, leather-workers, wood-turners, milliners and artists to name but a few. Sadly, as is so often the case, these handmade items are not cheap and a small  pottery pig which I thought rather sweet, cost 90 Euros which in South African money is just too much for a souvenir. But we enjoyed ourselves, wandering up and down the streets, again following a walking tour map. These maps are a great idea as they point out details one could easily miss, while giving a bit of background history to what one is looking at. We ended up spending about three hours there and only returned to the car as it was getting a bit chilly.

The following day was a bit chaotic as we ran around getting everything organised for our ‘Big Adventure’ the next day, and the reason for our early rising. We were off to Mallorca to celebrate our eldest son’s 50^th birthday!

We set the alarm clock for 6.30 am and by 8 am we had finished packing, got ourselves ready to go and tidied up the flat. Our host had kindly offered to drive us into Villefranche where we would catch the train to Toulouse. From the station we take the navette  (bus) to the airport; then a plane to Barcelona where, after a short wait we would catch another plane to Palma, Mallorca. Twelve hours after the alarm had awakened us, we were in our son’s wonderfully comfortable and well-appointed apartment. But our day was not yet over as he invited two neighbours to come up and share a celebratory bottle of champagne with us before taking us to a little waterside restaurant for a light meal.

The train trip was very interesting. As we travelled south, the countryside changed from the hilly pasturelands of the Aveyron to the flatter crop fields of the Haute Garonne , with just a few vines appearing now and again. Also, and rather different to South Africa, the crop fields have no fences around them, nor do the vineyards!

Our trip on the navette showed us a part of Toulouse we had never seen before – the part where a lot of the red-brick buildings are, for which the city is famous. What a pleasure to be driven through a busy city area, and for both of us to be able to sight-see!

And then it was on to the plane and the most spectacular views of the snow-covered Pyrenees. Neither of us had ever realised that the range of mountains covered such a large area, but with the snowy peaks disappearing into the far distance, it was very obvious. Barcelona was dry and dusty (outside the terminal buildings) and quite boring. Typically expensive shops line the vast walkways and one seems to have to walk for miles to get from arrivals to departures - or perhaps it’s just me that thinks that!  And then a short while later we were in Palma and our son was there to greet us. It was two very weary people who fell into bed that night.

Friday was the day of the BIG PARTY and the reason for us coming to Mallorca. Held at a small restaurant in Palma, on the waterfront, it was a gathering of special friends  (and us) and while it started out relatively quietly, it didn’t take long before everyone had relaxed, the noise levels rose and we all had a good time. As one might expect from a seafront restaurant, the evening’s menu included such items as giant prawns, huge oysters and a range of fishy nibbles, cooked and salad vegetables. There was a Tom Cruise-style barman making cocktails while juggling bottles and cocktail shaker and two different live bands – not at once! As the drink/driving laws are very strict in Mallorca, a bus was ordered for those that wanted to take advantage of it, and it was certainly very pleasant to be driven to and from the venue without having to find our own way.

As a result of yet another long day and very late night, Saturday didn’t even get off the ground until midday , and even then everyone was somewhat lethargic. But there was a special motoring event taking place on the island so we went along to have a look but by the time we arrived, all the racing and parades had already happened although there were still plenty of exciting cars to look at which we did before coming home to an early night.

Sunday again and I can hardly believe we have only been in Mallorca for just over three days. We seem to have already squeezed so much into the time that it feels as if we have been here for about a week. Today we took a trip back in time to the port of Soller, going by train and then tram from Palma down to the port. The train is an old-fashioned one with wooden coaches and seats with back-rests that flip over for the return trip. It rattles along with a wonderful clackety-clack and a load of passengers who have lots to say to each other, so there is plenty of jolly noise all the time. Everyone was definitely in holiday mood! The train line has to somehow cross a range of fairly high mountains, so there were a number of impressive tunnels to pass through before we eventually came out on the sea side of them, and high above the town. As we wound down towards Soller, we became aware of a faint scent of citrus in the air and then we realised that there were vast lemon and orange orchards on both sides of the track. From Soller we caught an even older tram to do the last few kilometres down to the sea. This tram trundles slowly along using the same road as the cars, or should that be that the cars use the same lane as the tram?! Pedestrians wander back and forth in front of the tram without giving it so much as a glance, while some cars appeared to be almost suicidal as they squeezed past the tram to get through the narrow sections of the road first. At the end of the day, we did the whole trip in reverse and were ready for a reasonably early night after all that fresh air.

FRANCE 2015 Chapter 3

We had to wait until Tuesday to even see the sun and then it was partly clouded and didn’t last all day. Neels and our host had a jolly ‘Boy’s Morning’ playing with motor cars while our hostess and I ploughed our way through a small mountain of washing, hoping to get it up on the line and dried in no time at all. Sadly Mother Nature decided otherwise and just when we had everything washed but none of it dried, the rain came down again and it all had to come indoors.

Back to reading and doing crossword puzzles!

Having more or less resigned ourselves to more bad weather, we were overjoyed to see the sky clearing on Wednesday morning, so had an early lunch, leapt into the car and set off for Sauveterre de Rouergue. There were great swathes of blue sky all around us but right ahead was an ominous black cloud. As the road twisted and turned we kept feeling we were driving away from it until suddenly, there it was, right on top of us! The wind was howling, rocking our little car from side to side, as the rain turned to hail and the hail to snow. Quite exciting but not much good for sightseeing or taking photographs. We finally reached our destination, but it was pouring down, so we just turned around and headed home, only to find when we got there that it was snowing there too.

However, Thursday dawned bright and shiny as the forecasters had said it would, so we ,  ever hopeful, jumped into the car again and set off to explore. This time we went North to Villeneuve, about 20 kilometers away. What a delightful little place it is! The whole village has managed to keep it’s medieval look while being fully functional as a modern town. All the buildings are stone-built  and the roads are cobbled – a bit of a pain to walk on but they look amazing. I think the trick to keeping these paces looking old, is to have no notices which stand out from the walls unless they are in keeping with the style, so the bakery sign will be flat against the wall above the door instead of hanging at right angles to the wall, and so on.

After spending quite some time in Villeneuve, we came wandering back on a very circuitous route which took us so high up into the mountains that we could see the Pyrenees to the south, all covered in snow and gleaming in the sun. I wonder if the myth about being able to see the mountains will result in rain within five days, applies here too!

A day of driving deserves  a day without being behind the wheel, so instead, Neels and our host set off on a walk that took them all around the village and lasted for about two hours. To get back to the house, from anywhere, involves climbing up a steep hill so I was really glad I had turned down the invitation to go with them.

Saturday was again a clear blur morning, so once the chores were out of the way, we took off on an aimless wander. Not completely aimless, as we had glimpsed a church steeple from the road into Villfranche, and were quite sure it was hollow – just a framework – and determined to find it. We thought it was at St Salvadou, but when we got there, the steeple was normal and we decided it was an optical illusion – a trick of the light. When we returned home and told our host, he laughed and told us that we hadn’t gone far enough along the road and it really is a hollow steeple. Oh well, another time perhaps. After St Salvadou we wandered on, meandering along narrow country roads, into the Aveyron Gorge and out the other side, stopping every now and again to get out and walk around the villages. While we were in Parisot and just about to get back into the car and head for home, a delightful gentleman came puffing up the hill towards us. We greeted him, as one does, and having established that neither he nor we were residents of the village, he commented that there are so many beautiful small villages but they are all on the tops of the hills, which we could completely agree with. He then asked if we had seen the Chateau at St Projet and said we should really go there as it was a very beautiful building. He showed us where it was on the map and as it was not too far away, we made a bit of a detour to see it. He was right; it is a very beautiful building all in pale beige stone. The story goes that in 1585 it was apparently a place of refuge for Queen Marguerite and her lover who was wanted by the King of France’s armies. They spent some time here and made it their home. When they left, the rooms they had used were walled up and were only rediscovered, almost by accident, in 1990. As it is now privately owned, it is only open to the public for a few months each year and sadly, March is not one of those months.

Sunday was again a rest day for the driver. We spent a lot of the morning trying to finish off an extremely difficult quiz sent on by a friend and then spent the rest of it sitting on the terrace in the fairly weak sun, which was a real pleasure. Our hosts joined us out there for morning coffee and cake and we had an idle hour or so quietly chatting or just listening to the silence. There is masses of birdlife all around so there is never really silence, but no cars or motor bikes; the planes overhead are so high that one can see the jet trails but barely hear them; and even the cows and dogs seem to take a break on Sundays. What a magical place!

France 2015 Chapter 2

Monday 23^rd February saw the start of our first full week in France. We were still staying with our long-suffering friends  in Peyrusse Vieille, but due, come what may, to leave the next day. The morning was spent packing , which really meant unpacking and repacking as we had not really ever unpacked properly. After all, we were only intending to spend three nights with them, initially.

In spite of having already taken  a couple of bulky gifts and a car cover out of our suitcases, I had enormous problems getting everything else back into them again! Finally it was done and there was just time for a quick lunch before we scooted off to look for Madame Castell, secretary to the Mayor of Espas. Happily, she was there and even recognised us from two years ago, so there was some kissing of cheeks and chatting about family before we got down to business. We wanted her to explain to us what the implications were of ‘a visit from the Mayor or the gendarme’ as mentioned by the lady in Auch, and on our side, we needed to explain that although we had used the Espas address, we were not actually going to be staying there this year. She took it all in her stride and even emailed all our documents through to Auch so that we didn’t have to call in there the next day. “Don’t worry about anything” she said, “They will give you the ten-year permit. Just carry on with your holiday and wait for the SMS which will tell you when they are ready for collection”. What a kind person she is.

All  of which left us free to get on the road the next day and aim straight for our next destination – the little hamlet of Le Puech outside the slightly bigger village of Vabre Tizac in the Aveyron department. It wasn’t a wonderful day for sightseeing as we had rain most of the time, with a few patches of blue sky and warm sun and then an unexpected hailstorm at lunch time followed by some flakes of snow as we arrived at our new abode. Talk about getting it all in one!

Our little flat is quite small with one bedroom and an en-suite bathroom, and a large open plan living area of lounge, dining room and kitchen. Very cosy, though and I think we are going to manage quite well here. The night that we arrived, the owners of the flat who live here permanently in the house above the flat, invited us to a delicious supper and it was rather late when we staggered downstairs to our bed. They are ex-British and very friendly.

We knew that we would have to go out and get a few groceries, but when Wednesday turned out to be cold and rainy we gave ourselves permission to stay under the blankets for quite a long time! It had to be done though, so after lunch we ventured into the nearest big town, Villefranche-de- Rouergue, about 15 kilometres away. It is a lot bigger that we expected with all four of the big supermarket chains represented, and what looked like some lovely shops. Definitely somewhere to return to when the weather is better. We tried walking around a bit  but there was no point in trying to take photographs and we just got very wet.

The next day was a complete washout, quite literally, so we did nothing all day that required us to go outdoors, but on Friday we had a lunch date with our new hosts. They were taking us to a restaurant located in the old school buildings of Vabre Tizac , which, now and again puts on a fish and chips meal for all the local British expats. There were probably about twenty people there, but it turned into a very jolly occasion, and by the time we left we had made a few new acquaintances, whose names I shall probably forget very soon.

Saturday was the first really sunny morning and we were so impressed that we got up at once and were out on the road before nine o’clock, a miracle for us.! We went back to Villefranche, and how different it looked in the sunshine! The main road encircles the medieval centre of the town which is mainly pedestrian  passages. A colossal Cathedral de Notre Dame looms over the whole town standing at least eight stories high and dwarfing the one and two storied buildings around it. The passages are lined on each side with shops of all sorts. A shoemaker rubs shoulders with a ladies’ lingerie shop, while across the way you might find a coffee shop, or a dress shop or even a florist. And don’t think for a moment that mundane items like computers, washing machines and stoves have no place in such ancient surroundings; they are there too, although I think that most people buy large appliances at the big supermarkets.

On the way home we took a slight detour to La Bastide l’Eveque, which as its name implies, is a walled, defensive village. Most of the surrounding wall has fallen down, but the village is rather cute with small houses once again cowering beneath the sturdy church. Most of the houses in this area are stone built with very steep roofs to discourage the snow from settling.

Sunday was a repeat of Friday – cold, grey and very wet. We heard that it was snowing in parts of the British Midlands and almost expected it here too, but instead had to put up with thick fog right down th ground level. A good day for reading and watching telly. It can only get better!