Advertisement
Published: September 19th 2008
Edit Blog Post
19th September
We have arrived in the Dordogne at last (2 wet days ago). I have always wanted to explore this region.
The journey here was tiring. We moved on from Carnac and spent two nights near La Rochelle on a very quiet site in the Marais du Poitevin Regional Park.
I think we have overdosed on the travelling (driving) over the last couple of days. It has made us tense and snappy. One or two things have conspired to darken the mood a little over the last few days since Carnac. In fact many of those things have been the bloody French machines it has been our misfortune with which to interact .
Take the
Superloo in Concarneau. (Please!)
As we are on a budget, we chose to buy takeaway sandwiches and Coke for lunch and to sit by the harbour rather than patronise the tourist trap cafes and get ripped off for a 3+ euro coffee that line the marina.
Trouble is there are not many public loos in French towns and we feel a bit cheeky using a bar loo when we are not patronising the establishment. So when we came across the
“superloo” we decided to give it a whirl.
It cost 30 C a go. Trouble is, it would not accept 5 or 10 C coins. Getting desperate we put 40C in and it opened. I went in and stood in horrified wonder as the automated toilet seat slowly descended into position over the poo smeared bowl. These things go through some sort of dishwasher like cycle after each time they are used so every surface was covered with water and cold.(except for the poo on the bowl)
I gingerly sat on the cold wet seat and did the necessary. As I looked round I could see the sprinkler type washing gizmos that came on to clean the cubicle and felt nervous. As I came out Martin said that as the thing had overcharged us (10cents!), he was going in next before the door shut...err Martin .... think about it ! Luckily I stuck my foot in the door and kept it from closing . It was tempting to just let my foot accidentally slide out though!
In La Rochelle it was the petrol pumps.
On the way in, we had seen a
huge Le Clerc hypermarket that had the cheapest petrol. we called in as we left the city.
We thought we would try the automated bank card pumps for the first time. Martin put in his card and a French woman’s voice came back at him , rather bossy and quite loud but he didn’t understand it. Was it the machine talking to him or the woman cashier in the kiosk ? The machine spat out his card and the voice uttered something new! Martin frantically looked around him to see where the voice was coming from. He tried again, shouting to me “what is she saying ? The woman in the kiosk is talking to me!” The voice boomed again and the card was rejected again . I figured it was the machine talking to him, not the woman after all .
“It probably just doesn’t like your card”.
Martin was getting tense.... but not half as tense as me.
What he didn't know was that I had become transfixed by the scene unfolding a few feet to the other side.
A curl of white smoke was drifting out of the adjacent petrol pump!
In fact it was coming out of the bin into which you throw used paper towels that you have used to mop up petrol and diesel spills.
The seconds passed like minutes as I watched horrified as the smoke grew from a wisp to a puther . A small elderly French man was filling his tank with petrol just inches from the smouldering bin , his back turned away completely oblivious!
Martin was still ranting on about the bloody card machine and the woman, as he got back into the car to move to another pump. I pointed to the smoke. I knew I had to alert the woman in the kiosk urgently but my mind went blank... what’s French for fire???
Luckily another driver saw it and we shared horrified looks and he scuttled off to the kiosk.
“reverse back quick! That pump is on fire!
Further !” “But how am I going to get petrol now?”
“ Sod that, the old guy is still pumping his petrol oblivious. It could go up at any time!!!
"Back up!” The attendant came out with a mobile on her ear and a shovel full of sand. The old man couldn’t figure out why his pump had stopped. The guy who’d raised the alarm gestured to him his predicament. The sand was inadequate and the attendant went to fetch a fire extinguisher and we decided then to clear off as fast as we could! A minute later we saw the fire engines with the blue lights on heading in the direction of LeClerc!
We got stuck on a dual carriageway and ended up driving a long way to another petrol station. Paying at the kiosk this time, a beady eyed woman told me in incomprehensible French to do something to the card machine. Oh no not again! I put in my pin. Not what she wanted. She sternly repeated her incomprehensible request fixing me with that black beady stare. I just kept pressing the green button and smiling in a terrified way and somehow completed the transaction.
Don’t even ask about the Sat Nav!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.102s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 11; qc: 52; dbt: 0.0541s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Tom Bannister
non-member comment
Old people + Modern Technology = Chaos, I'ts a proven fact. Especialy when it's all in French.