LA ROCHELLE

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LA ROCHELLE - 5th May 2007 (Saturday 25º)

Wake up at 8:45am. Heavy drapes, earplugs and red wine last night ensure we sleep in - the day is half gone!

We wander down to the breakfast area where we are served by a lovely little French woman who is a busy as a blue arsed fly. The room is so quiet that the normal clinking and clanking of cutlery makes you wince and noises that would normally be absorbed (e.g. conversation) bounce around the glass and tile enclosure. Stirring your coffee can be compared in relative decibels to those generated by a Boeing Jet Engine.

Two women at an adjoining table are whispering surreptitiously. I suspect they are planning the election of a French woman as President - but after finetuning my eavesdropping I realise they are talking about the use by date on the Strawberry Yoghurt.

Speaking of French Presidents - we are here in the middle of the Election Presidentielle. The battle is between Madam Segolene Royal and Mr Nicholas Sarkosy and it looks like being a near run thing. I firmly believe that Women should rule the world as they don’t need to have pissing competitions with Armies and Nuclear Weapons, as do the little men who rule most of this world. Unfortunately another little man wins this one.

As we stumble out into bright sunshine we find ourselves immediately in the middle of a little flea market. After delving into a table of bric-a-brac I emerge holding an ‘as new’ 1957 Diary complete with original pencil and locking clasp. Seeing I was born in 1957 and this trip is my 50th Birthday present from Ma Cherie this ‘find’ has special significance.

We talk to a friendly Englishman who is making a living selling War Memorabilia at the Market. His Mum finds the stuff in the UK at Council Clean-Ups and sends it to him to sell to the French and Tourists I guess. He has a particularly clever device, which is shaped like an ice cream cone but longer. It bends in several places and has mirrors at strategic points in its interior - it is in fact a Trench Periscope and would be used by Soldiers to check out the battle field without the need to raise ones head above the trench and risk getting a slug between the eyes from the Germans.

We stroll along the quiet side of the Old Port and catch the Ferry across to the more happening side of the harbour. It’s lunchtime already (that’ll happen when you get out of bed at 9:00am) and we seek out some seafood for lunch.

We select Andres which is well loved by the locals and gets a good rating in the LPG. Once seated we order the Sea Bass with Asparagus & White Wine cream sauce. This was probably one of the top 3 meals we had in France and went wonderfully well with a bottle of Entre Deux Mars (a white wine from Bordeaux).

I draw a sketch of the Old Port and the waiters wander by to see what I am doing. One of them brings over a menu for me to keep as it has fish sketched on the cover and he thinks I may like it. He is right - I do like it.

We hear an almighty crash and turn in time to see that a large umbrella in a nearby street market has blown a table over that was groaning under the weight of home made lollies. They are scattered all over the ground and suddenly there is an increase in the numbers of attendant children and seagulls.

We listen to a wandering Jazz Band and decide that a nearby Harbour-side Bar has Guinness Beers that require nursing. This takes some care and much time, as Guinness drinkers would well know.

Some unsuccessful shopping for shoes leaves Deb with none of the benefits drawn from Retail Therapy, but the place is full of little boutiques and hope springs eternal.

I can’t believe it but it is time for dinner. This diary is looking more like a list of food and wine taken at restaurants rather than a Travel Blog. We eat at another LPG recommendation - Pizzeria Rigaletto - here the food is good but the best entertainment is the fight that the gay owner is having with his boyfriend who is having a hissy fit.

A short walk to the Hotel and another day bites the dust.

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Photos

Election Presidentielle
She ran second - unfortunately.

The Old Port
Rowers come and go all day.

Andres for Lunch
We were the last ones out and considered going back in for dinner!