Advertisement
Published: October 19th 2012
Edit Blog Post
So that was France and Spain then? Well all we had time for in our four week journey fitted in between saying goodbye to a daughter and hello to in-laws.
We have been travelling not blogging. Surprisingly wifi in France was not ubiquitous. We struggled to get contact with the outside world. Graeme thought it was great. I, of course was not so happy. No travel blogs!
So after our return and a quick trip to Morocco squeezed in I find some time to bring the travel tales up to date.
Our first camping site was parked outside an elementary school in Dannes after following signs to three camping sites all of which were closed. Not only closed but shut and barred.. We realised we were late, not only timewise but for the end of the season.
My first practice in talking French for many years was to a pony-tailed and bearded young man hanging outside the local bar. It found me grabbing for recognisable words in a babbling stream and hence we slept outside the school. He told us it was fine, I'm sure that was what he said. A good spot until the families started
streaming in.
So we followed the motor home parade – le camping car – on most signs into towns – interdit – a never-ending cavalcade then mustering in areas where they seemed to breed and multiply, genetically modified to become larger, shinier.
Do motor home owners feel like they are bucking the trend? Certainly not, wanting to do the ordinary in an extraordinary setting? With their satellite TVs and chemical toilets, onboard showers and state of the art kitchens one wonders why a camping site is necessary. Isn't the idea to be spontaneous? To stop where there's a view? But no, mine's bigger than yours – a rally for motor home owners. We passed many a dumpsite where the owners were out comparing vans, a topic for conversation certainly and possibly the only socialising they do as the self-containedness leads to an anti-social experience. Is this travelling? Is this seeing the country?
She says, driving around in a Bongo mini-camper! Better to stay a couple of days in Avranches coming back to wonderful dinners cooked by a friend from a previous life who has thankfully made the transition into the present one.
A three hundred year
old house filled with paintings, mostly his own, he paints as avidly as he used to drink wine! A former bioligist and wine dealer he retains his impeccable taste offering only the best of which I valiently tried to partake. Having worked our way through champagne, a deep red pomerol together with mackerel pate on biscuits, crevettes en Indien, and a long-cooked veal dish he opened a bottle of mandarin liqueur.
It must have been the wait. The dear man had cooked the veal the day before waiting impatiently for our arrival. He had mistaken the date and as our non arrival time stretched out he checked his email to confirm his rising suspicion that it really was the next day.
So as I sipped some mandarin liqueur, our communication was fraught with misunderstandings, dictionary close to hand, a wonderful mix of English and French, past events and hand gestures. Generally we smiled, deep conversation was spasmodic but oh, comment cet homme charmant!
The drive and visit to Fougeres the next day was undertaken in a bit of a mandarin haze, not quite tangerine skies but by St Malo and Cancale I was ready for the veritable
feast prepared again by Andre's own fair hand.
Oysters have never been a favourite of mine but I have praised 'Oysters Andre' through the years. Cream, saffron and a little Singapore curry powder on top, popped under a flaming grill for a few minutes and served piping hot.
And knowing I have a soft spot for moules, he had prepared mussels for me with a little Indian sauce, a nod to my heritage, he said.
Next, a whole guinea fowl, head and all, eyes peacefully closed thank goodness, ignorant of our salivations
We had contributed little to the feast but a small pear tart which was enjoyed with a little cheese.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.07s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 15; qc: 35; dbt: 0.0391s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Dancing Dave
David Hooper
FOUGERES
Magical castles, villas, up market mobile homes...and magnificent food...washed down with champers and liquers...what a life. Looking forward to your feasts in Morocco!