La Rochelle and the arrival of Pat

On the 12th of May we packed up with excitement in a hurry to reach La Rochelle where we would meet with Graham’s brother Pat. A seasoned European camper he was making his way down to join us for the last ten days of the trip. After a time of concern that we had not directed him to the correct campsite, he finally pulled up looking rock and roll on his scooter bursting with tales of the adventures he had on his journey down.
Once Graham and I had completed our jenkers (mine inside the caravan, Graham’s out) and Pat had pitched his tent (in our Garden), we sat down with a cup of tea and spent the next few hours catching up. Krista and Pat bonded as they compared notes on their recent experiences in French hospitals. Pat paled when we informed him of the probable bill he would soon be receiving as a result. He felt suddenly less pleased about the size of the f…… great needle that had been introduced to the elbow damaged on the banks of the Loire.
There followed a relaxed time in our campsite just outside La Rochelle. We walked along the beach, visited the town centre, caught a little of the hair-raising World Cliff diving championships and kept Pat safe from a group of excitable French girls on a hen-night. While Pat and Graham reminisced about the French camping trip they had taken together ten years ago (‘where does the time go?’), Pat and Annie compared notes on bargains procured. Annie and Graham made a strong challenge with the pushchair and baby back-pack, due to an on-going problem with a wheel and Pat’s unerring devotion to the Meccas of Lidl and Aldi, the former won hands down. He also triumphed in several evening games of Rummicub and Scrabble.
Having persuaded Pat to wean himself temporarily from his camping diet of ‘potato puree and tinned mackerel’, we think he was impressed with the standard of meals produced (mainly by Graham) in our humble galley kitchen. However his experiences of the great LeClerc stir-fry, tuna au poivre, vegetarian shepherd’s pie, tuna pasta, grilled fish and baked potato, were curtailed when due to a gas leak we were left without an oven for the last week of the trip . Whereas Graham and I found ourselves at a loss and slightly hungry, a superior camping experience paid dividends as Pat returned happily to his rations.
After a delayed departure from La Rochelle when Pat’s battery went flat, we made a couple of nights stop at Le Mont St. Michel. Then we moved on to what was to be our last proper destination of Trouville and Deauville. As expected I loved these Normand seaside destinations made famous by their wooden promenades and historic popularity through history with the rich and famous. Deauville is comparable to somewhere like Cannes and has retained its affluent grandeur. But Trouville its idiosyncratic twin with all its highly unusual residences lining the beachfront, is more like Hastings. A former majesty echoes sadly from several dilapidated grand hotels, little populated restaurants and a shabby-looking Olympic lido. You can almost hear the chinks of the champagne glasses and the sound of the band as the ghosts of a past fast-set seem to party on forlornly behind the graffiti-ridden boardings of the town’s decaying casino and ball-room. An unexpected pilgrimage I felt satisfied to stumble across the final residence of Marguerite Duras, one of my favourite authors.

Bordeaux - Graham's Birthday

As we journeyed onwards to Bordeaux we wondered if we were ever to enjoy more than two uninterrupted clear days … We settled in the sunshine in another holiday village type campsite, a surfers’ paradise on the edge of a small and alternative Californian style town called Monchic. The mood on the campsites had suddenly changed, with the onset of summer the average age has dropped to below 40 and Krista is no longer a novelty amongst the scores of other small children and babies. Although it is refreshing to be surrounded by families, we have been struck by the different level of friendliness you receive from younger people. Having grown used to being welcomed by neighbours, we are now adapting to fellow campers who perhaps looking to get away from the stresses and strains of daily life are hesitant to make a link and barely say hello.
A little like a Center-Park, this campsite was superiorly equipped with leisure facilities and amenities. While a most fantastic lap pool was closed for refurbishments, it did have a great tennis court. Graham and I fitted in a couple of games as Krista took her morning nap. Tennis was put off the agenda when on the verge of a rare but fantastic victory against Graham I managed to sprain my ankle badly. Instead we spent the afternoons lounging by the sites aesthetically designed leisure pool, Krista and I playing in the shade, Graham topping up his tan.
We celebrated Graham’s birthday with a stroll into town for a tub of the licorice flavour ice-cream we had discovered and later some toasted gaufres with squirty cream and a candle.

Last few weeks ...

Hitting the Atlantic Coast at Biarritz ready for a leisurely journey towards Calais then home, we were struck by the significant drop in temperature. As has become the theme of the tour we were regaled by more tales of how ‘lovely’ the weather had been here last week and that what we were seeing was unprecedented for this time of year. We did not expect anything different by now, so bravely went back under the seats to unpack our winter clothes and pile on the layers for an outing into the centre of town.
Biarritz has a delightful olde world feel about it and we enjoyed hanging around the entrance to the impressive Hotel Imperial where an Audrey Tatou film we’d recently loved had been made. Sparing a thought for those who had booked up for a week of sunshine and luxury in this grand old seafront hotel, we hurried out of the biting wind back to the sanctuary of our warm, dry caravan just before it started to pour. I was not surprised at this as I had as usual hung a long line of washing. Once again I tried to comfort myself with the thought that rain acts as a natural softener … When it became clear that the wet was once again with us for several days I resigned myself back to the dryers and many more Euros in change.
Even the most pleasant of campsites seem miserable and deserted in the rain. No exception, this one was saved by the fact that it has the best swimming pool yet. 20 metres, indoor and heated I enjoyed having it to myself for the three days we were here. My ever indulgent Graham and Krista watched from the side while I lapped up and down.

Biarritz

As we hit the Atlantic Coast at Biarritz ready for a leisurely journey towards Calais then home, we were ourselves struck by the significant drop in temperature. As has become the theme of the tour we were regaled by more tales of how ‘lovely’ the weather had been here last week and that what we were seeing was really quite unprecedented for this time of year. Not expecting anything different by now, back we bravely went under the seats to unpack our winter clothes and pile on the layers for an outing into the centre of town.
Biarritz has a delightful olde world feel about it and we enjoyed hanging around the entrance to the impressive Hotel Imperial were an Audrey Tatou film we’d recently loved had been made. Sparing a thought for those who had booked up for a week of sunshine and luxury in this grand old seafront hotel, we hurried out of the biting wind back to the sanctuary of our warm, dry caravan just before it started to pour. I was not surprised at this as I had as usual hung a long line of washing but once again tried to comfort myself with the thought that the rain acts as a natural softener … When it became clear that the wet was once again with us for several days I resigned back to the dryers and many more Euros in change.
Even the most pleasant of campsites seem miserable and deserted in the rain. No exception, this one was saved by the fact that it has the best swimming pool yet. 20 metres, indoor and heated I enjoyed having it to myself for the three days we were here and whiled away some time lapping up and down while Krista and Graham watched from the side.

Home soon!

Hello to all our faithful followers. We are enjoying our last few days in France, heading for Calais and the ferry on Sunday evening. We have met up with Graham's brother Pat and spent five nights together in La Rochelle. We have now all moved up to a site near the Mont St.Michel and leave tomorrow for Deauville. Using the last few days to reflect on the trip, we can't believe where the time has gone. Despite a tour never to be forgotten, we are all happy to be coming home. Krista is very adventurous and needs more space to explore, its quite difficult to keep her contained in the caravan with its confined spaces and obstacles to her safe passage! We are so looking forward to seeing everyone and can't wait for you to meet our 8 month old bundle of joy (and grinch) who is growing up so fine and quick.

7th May - I can stand up on my own!

Holding on to my highchair that is!

Lourdes

Lourdes
Passing so close, we both wanted to stop off in Lourdes and see what it was all about. Graham’s brother Pat had been right when he said that it was well worth a visit. The 19th century town that built up after local girl Bernadette is said to have seen various apparitions of the Virgin Mary is set in an amazing location on a rushing river amongst the Pyrenees. Through the tat of the icon peddling streets we got to the area of ‘La Grotte’ (where these visions occurred) in time for the 4.30 pm daily procession of pilgrims.
A bizarre but touching sight we watched agog as the hundreds of sick people progressed to the chapel. It seems that each pilgrim is assigned a personal nurse, dressed in a old fashioned red, white and blue uniform to wheel them about the place in ungainly, blue, hooded, wheelchair contraptions. Something to do with the Order of Malta we couldn’t work out whether these nurses were nuns, volunteers or just civilian nurses employed to accompany people on this pilgrimage. Some looked quite holy while others too glamorous in high heels and plenty of make-up to be brides of Christ.
The pilgrims passed in country groups, the largest being Italian then Maltese. There were a considerable number of French, Irish and Austrians, then a spattering of Brits towards the end. We vowed to find one of these and get the low down on how it all worked. Since the opportunity didn’t arise, we will have to do some internet research. Some pilgrims were old, others quite sick. Many looked pained while others seemed made up to be there. We were a shocked to see some fully covered stretchers and guessed that these transported those pilgrims who sadly hadn’t quite made it… Initially a little unsettled by the experience we got quite into things with all the singing and waving. Plenty were cheered by the sight of Krista enjoying the proceedings from the side. One girl was very happy to see the large crowds who had turned out to say hello to her and blew regal kisses from side to side. A couple of young men had brought water pistols to keep them amused.
Waiting to visit the cave where Sainte Bernadette was said to have received her visitations in 1858, we were suddenly being fast-tracked to the front. Not quite sure what was happening we hoped that we hadn’t given the wrong impression with the permanent makeshift sunshade that protects our ‘baby vampire’ from the sun. Happy to avoid the long wait we didn’t protest but thought it polite to remove Krista from behind her screen lest prayers should be wasted on our bonny girl.

Toulouse

Toulouse
Next stop was a small village called Martres-Tolosane around 60km from Toulouse. The campsites seem to be improving in quality as we move west. In a peaceful natural setting amongst the trees, on the edge of the Garonne and at the foot of a small mountain this one was no exception. Although we were disappointed to find yet another empty swimming pool despite the weather being hot enough for outdoor swimming … we did manage to get in two games of tennis without interruption from our sleeping cherub.
We stopped near Toulouse so that we could visit an old BA friend of mine, Bérengère and her family. We had been out of contact since I had left flying in 2006 but I had managed to find her again through her brother on Facebook. I’m so glad we did. Bérengère is a real keeper and after a lovely afternoon together in her hometown of Saramon with her partner Gäetan and her two children Lou and Milo we vowed never again to leave it so long.

Carcassonne

From Sainte Maxime we travelled back through Marseille to St Martin de Crau for the night. On the way we stopped off to say another hello to Stéphanie and family. Krista picked up another bag of clothes, a hand knitted waistcoat from Stephanie’s grandmother and we stocked up on Josie’s delicious fig jam.
St Martin de Crau is a typical Provençal town close to Arles and we were at first excited to see that we had unexpectedly arrived in the middle of its annual Bull-fighting and horse-riding Feria. It was Saturday night and the small town was buoyed up with a party spirit, so we decided to pack Krista into her pushchair and go out for dinner. It soon became clear however that it was not so much the place for a touring family to be. While the wine and beer flowed copiously, everywhere we looked were the ubiquitous groups of dodgy teenagers skulking hopefully for a kiss or a fight on the one night of the year their sleepy town came to life. Therefore we opted for a pizza and an(other) early night. The pizza worked out fine the early night did not. Returning to the caravan we discovered that our pitch was right at the back of a place that had been transformed into a ‘Eurodisco’ for this special night. Put it this way – thanks to what must be said a great sound system and a pretty good DJ we didn’t get a wink of sleep before 2am! We had planned to hang around to see what was going on the next day but after the torturous night we couldn’t wait to get back to the tranquility we have grown used to over the past 5 months.
After one more night in a beautiful but mosquito infested campsite near Narbonne, we rediscovered our peace in Carcassonne. Here we enjoyed three nights in what we found to be a gorgeous place. Whereas ‘La Cité’ of Carcassonne is perhaps only worth one visit in a lifetime, the newer town is a good place to spend some time. It has a picturesque setting on a river and a sprawling park to run or walk in. The campsite was perhaps one of the best we have been in so far with its sunny, spacious grassy pitches. We were finally able to set Krista up on a blanket to play with her toys and she had a lovely time rolling off onto the grass to taste the mud and the daisies.

I like this highchair...

...and what I like I get!!

I like this highchair...

... and what I like I get!!!

Sainte Maxime, France

After 2 weeks on the Côte d’Azur we are now crossing France making short stops on our way to Biarritz. The temperature has shot up in the past few days and we now find ourselves thinking that it is getting too hot. Oh why as humans can we never be satisfied, must we drive ourselves mad with our constant complaining?
We voted the campsite at Sainte.Maxime one of our favourite. This was due to the perfect location, upon the water’s edge, an unspoiled view of St.Tropez bay and the great Dutch couple – Hank and Corry next door. While Hank enthralled us with tales of life as an Amsterdam police detective and tickled us with his subtle sense of humour, Corry was always bright and upbeat. Like many women away from their grandchildren, she was smitten with Krista. Krista took a particular liking to their little dog Lotja. However even she could not compete in her affections with the gang of pigeons that popped round to our awning for their daily crumbs of French bread.
As usual we took few trips out in the car, preferring to walk or run along the cycle path into Ste.Maxime or Port Grimaud each day. Graham was the victor in the great race to submerge the whole body in the sea and achieved two strokes of breast on the 19th April. I came in third on the 21st but did swim for at least five minutes. We therefore held our own against our Lyonnaise neighbours who took second place by swimming properly on the 20th.
Krista is now approaching her 8 month anniversary and growing up faster than possible to believe. Keeping us amused with her chatter and songs, we now need eyes in the back or her head as she explores every nook and cranny of the caravan. She sits up securely rolls and almost crawls on all fours, held back not by an incredible strength but a slight lack of technique. She can just about pull herself up to standing and will use any available structure to do so. She likes to play with anything that is not a toy, the more unsuitable the better – electrical wires being the number one favourite and now as we have moved outside mud and daisies.
She gets extremely frustrated when things are not quite as she thinks they should be … we look forward with trepidation to the ‘terrible twos’ if this is how she is at 7months. She still has no teeth but doesn’t let this stop her in the food stakes. Like Graham she has developed a fondness for French bread (far more appetizing than the rice cakes I’d like her to prefer). Also like Graham she’s been developing quite a tummy on the ever abundant supply of French patisserie!
To keep tummies in check we have bought her (ourselves) a wonderful racing red pushchair designed especially for running. (Although we really don’t have the space for two large pushchairs, this was a bargain we just couldn’t pass on at a local boot-fair). The spokes in one of the wheels need repairing but once that is fixed we can’t wait to get it down to the park-run for a trial. In the same deal, we also got a baby back-pack. Krista sits in it like the Queen of Sheba made up with her new view of the world.

Ste Maxime

Hello all. We have just spent a fantastic two weeks camping on the beach in Sainte Maxime. After several paddling sessions Graham finally swam in the sea on the 19th April. Annie not to be outdone got in (for longer) on the 21st. Krista dipped her feet in but found it shockingly cold! She'll go in next year! We are now making our way to Biarritz.

More from Aix-en-Provence

It has been good for me to return to Aix and spend some time with my French ‘family’ there. I lived in Aix for about five years both during and after my university days. Stephanie is my good friend from that time and we have remained close despite the distance. We saw Stephanie and her two children Dionys and Hermès (three and fifteen months) almost every day either at the campsite, Stephanie’s home or in Aix itself. We paid a couple of visits to Stephanie’s parents and also caught up with her brother Laurent and his girlfriend Sandrine when Stephanie cooked a wonderful quiche and Spanish omelette.
I took as much advantage as possible of the Olympic size pool while in Aix. It felt gorgeous to be back in this place I had spent so much time in all those years ago. Now about 10 years since I left Aix, I didn’t imagine I would ever get the chance return to one of the top pools I have ever swum in. It was a strange experience, like stepping back in time as nothing seemed to have changed. The changing rooms are still manned in the old fashioned way with baskets for your clothes to hand to the attendant.
I always enjoyed watching the top-flight synchronized swimmers rehearsing between my lengths. I felt warm inside as I recogn€ized what had become the familiar sound of the coaches tapping time on the metal bars with a coin. The next generation of svelte dolphins-girls were now faultlessly cork-screwing their way to the bottom of the pool tirelessly perfecting their idiosyncratic routines. I’ve always told Graham about Aix’s synchronized swimmers, so was happy he could finally witness their Olympic brilliance for himself as he and Krista watched from the stands.
Toying with the idea of some French lessons in this time Graham took a 90 minute trial in a language school that used a learning method pioneered by a Hungarian called Georgi Lozanov. The trial involved him sitting alone in a room in a comfortable chair wearing dark glasses and headphones. Music was played and blue lights flashed in front of his closed eyes. He had to listen to a piece of text and repeat phrases. After a short break he returned to the room without the glasses and listened to more music and then followed a written version of the text as he listened again. At the end the teacher came to him, re-read the text, and he finally had to read the text himself. Somehow with in all of this the level of his language knowledge was assessed to decide where he would begin his lessons. Graham immerged a little shell-shocked from this bizarre experience and over lunch with Stephanie and I decided the method was not for him. In his words ‘I’m not paying €50 Euros an hour for those bullocks and now I think I’ve got a migraine coming’. He remains faithful to his old friend Michel Thomas.
So having planned to stay in Aix for up to a month but took the decision to move sooner. Despite being in a beautiful campsite at the foot of Cezanne’s Sainte Victoire mountain, we were unable to go out without the car. Due to the mountainous terrain the area is not well adapted for those who want to walk with a pushchair as we discovered with Alison on a hike around the Barrage of Bimont. We began therefore to feel a little trapped. So after just over two weeks in Aix-en-Provence we have moved closer to the Cote d’Azur and found a perfect campsite in between Sainte Maxime and Port Grimaud. Our pitch is quite literally on the edge of the sea and we have cycle track and pavement that lead all the way into both towns for our daily walks and runs.

Triple spin!!! showing off for our guest

Look I can do this much faster

... I wonder how much

Mine I think!

My New Chair

Dali Museum, Chilling in Sitges