We’re Broke…

(Beautiful fishing huts in this area)

Well Ruby is broke, sniff, sniff. You may remember when we were travelling from Castro Marim in the Algarve region of Portugal and the shaking and clunking started? Then we got the wheels balanced and it seemed to go away.

(Love French windows)

It came back. We left our friends on Monday morning and extra noises had been added to Ruby’s repertoire of clunks and clanks. Could we possibly get home before we’d need to address this?

(And French houses)

We were on our way to motorhome parking in a small town and the noises were getting more worrying. Then the sat nav stopped working. We had to abandon the small town and go to a larger one but on our way we passed a motorhome shop… and it was open. As you know, open shops are not always a given in France. It was too much of a sign to ignore.

(And old French trees)

We drove in and explained the noises to the man at the desk who brought us around the back where there was a full garage with people who looked like mechanics.

(And French paddling)

Denis explained again to the receptionist who explained to the mechanic manager. We handed over the keys and waited. It took three hours but they finally came back with the results… the word dangerous was mentioned. It seems we would not be getting home before we addressed this. Then they gave us the quote… it’s all a bit upsetting.

Sniff, sniff, Mairead.

The Brocante Game

(Dinner with friends)

This is the third year we have stopped at our friend’s summer home and they always pull out all the stops but this year they added extra entertainment. The Brocante Game.

(Everything necessary to clean your rifle…)

If you don’t know, Denis loves board games but this isn’t a board game. It’s like a treasure hunt game. Here’s how it works… Our friends drove us to a Brocante in the neighbouring town of St. George de Didon. What is a Brocante? I asked too. It’s a car boot sale. It was huge.

(Gourd ladle from Mali… very useful for ladling gourds)

We arrived around noon on Sunday morning and it was buzzing. All the French families who were selling their goods had set up their wares on long tables and behind that, they had their gazebo (you know those temporary open sided tents?) and were seated under it having their Sunday lunch. Mother, Father, grandparents and children all having substantial French lunch. When someone wanted to know a price or haggle a price the family would stop for a moment to deal with the sale and then go back to lunch. Very civilized.

(Very old jug for… ass’s milk, prehistoric it seems…)

We were here to play the game… We had €10 to spend on anything we could buy from these people. Anything. Then when we got home we would make a quick video of our purchases without reference to the purchaser.

(Coke can twirling thingy..)

The video was then sent to the judges (long suffering friends and family of the Brocante Game…) For the rest of Sunday and until we left on Monday we were entertained by the responses of the judges who didn’t know who had bought what. The results are still coming in.

Which one would you vote for? Mairead.

Sleeping with the Sailors

(View from the door)

We had another little mishap with the sat-nav before we finally arrived at Mortagne-sur-Gironde in the afternoon. It’s such a beautiful place and the sun was shining madly to make it even more beautiful. Of course I was searching for shade…

(Nice shade)

This is a marina (or port) for luxury yachts on one side of the huge estuary that leads to Bordeaux. As well as space for yachts they also have room for motorhomes. What we didn’t know at the time was this was a bank holiday weekend for the French. Unlike the Irish bank holidays which are usually on a Monday (except Christmas and St.Patrick’s Day and Good Friday, hmm didn’t know we had so many exceptions) this French bank holiday started on Thursday and ran until Sunday.

(Brave sailor)

So it was busy, very busy. Which is good because then all the services are open. There were little wooden takeaway shops for drinks or chips or crepes or oysters. There were numerous restaurants also. I got the sense this was a taste of what it might be like in the summer but for the rest of the year it’s probably closed. We were very lucky to be here at this time so we celebrated with takeaway chicken and chips!

(A little off center?)

We slept well that night and the following morning we were up early to visit our friends. We needed to empty all the grey water and black water otherwise Ruby would be sitting outside their house in the sun fermenting… better to prevent that. Fortunately there was an area on the far side of the yachts to empty and get everything smelling lovely.

Shipshape, Mairead.

(Mortagne-sur-Gironde €9.50 includes electricity pay at parking meter. All motorhome facilities and possibly restaurants. Can you see the huge estuary leading down to Bordeaux?)

Storm After the Calm

(Very interesting roundabout’s here)

Denis choose avoid toll roads on the sat-nav this morning. He had this lovely idea that we would ramble to our next spot through the glorious countryside. He imagined we would make stops as the humour took us. First at a cafe and then a supermarket and finally some shaded picnic tables. Lovely.

(Deck chairs and parasols, maybe we should park on a roundabout?)

Unfortunately it didn’t turn out so lovely. Every cafe we passed had no parking or was incredibly difficult to get into. We kept going. We came to a big town and I saw a sign for a supermarket. Go left, go left! says I. He went left. The sign lied. There was no supermarket… or if there was it was far, far away.

(The ducks have priority)

Never mind we’ll carry on, but the sat-nav was feeling a little poorly. She took us down a road so narrow they had put up signs sayings No Motorhomes. We turned around but she returned us again and again to that narrow road. She may have a bug…

(Big sky, quiet road)

Then we worked it out… this was the only road in our chosen direction without tolls to get us across the huge old Dordogne river. In fact we had to cross the river twice because it is so old it meanders around the place. Twice it meandered in our direction. There was only one solution… Denis turned off the avoid toll roads.

(Don’t turn left!)

Very soon we were collecting a toll ticket at the ticket booth. Sometimes you just collect a ticket and later you pay the toll, the amount of which depends on how far you’ve travelled on the tolled road. When it’s time to exit the motorway you stop at the toll booth put in the ticket and pay. This time I put in the ticket and for the first time ever it said: ticket invalid press call button (or something like that in French.)

(Are you sure we can go this way?)

Ok so, please imagine you are at home and something similar happens and you have to press the call button at an unmanned toll booth. (Or better still you are at the train station and there’s an announcement.) Are you imagining? You press the button. Imagine the voice through the muffled speaker. They are saying, Ock do chee saery? What does that mean? You don’t know, do you? But because you are at home you expect they are speaking English and after a few attempts at, could you repeat that, please, you understand.

(Can we just go back to the calm?)

I had no idea what the voice in the call button speaker was saying. I asked, Do you speak English? The one word I could understand was No. She said the first thing again and for some reason Denis understood (he was at the far side of the van in the driver’s seat maybe the acoustics work better over there?) she was asking, in French, where did you pick up the ticket? (By the way, his French is definitely improving.)

(Empty road, my favourite)

Oh that’s easy, we were near Bordeaux (although this whole motorway is near Bordeaux) of course she couldn’t understand my version of call-button-speaker French. We were doomed to remain at her toll booth for ever. The line of cars behind us knew it too, they had started their backing away maneuver.

(Very, very rare toll ticket)

She eventually took pity on us and said something, who knows what but I did catch an revoir and so did Denis. He was thrilled, she didn’t charge us! But the barrier was still down and there was €8 outstanding next to the credit card symbol. I paid the toll, the barrier rose and we drove off. But we still had the ticket. We’ve never been able to keep a toll ticket before.

Any offers on a barely used, very, very rare French toll ticket? Mairead.

Just hanging around…

(Reflecting)

We stayed a second night by the canal. Just being. Walking along the paths. Taking pictures. Getting by without butter, we do have the five litres of olive oil after all…

(The neighbours)

It’s so peaceful here. I might have mentioned that yesterday. Just us and the French fishermen. They are a persistent lot, I haven’t seen one fish taken from the canal. Maybe fishing isn’t about catching fish. Maybe it’s about waiting for fish to bite?

(Sunset over the canal)

Maybe it’s about being in the right place at the right time. Maybe it’s about being prepared to be surprised. Being ready for the result. Being alert to the fish signs.

(The path less travelled)

I don’t know the fish signs but funny enough we will be meeting the fisherman brother and his fishing family, accidentally, coincidentally on our way home, maybe I will ask him.

(The cycle path)

This has certainly been a trip with surprise meetings, with friends and now with family. With being in the right place at the right time. With being prepared to be surprised by the extraordinary ordinary things.

With hanging around and letting go. Mairead.

(Caumont-sur-Garonne: free parking, motorhome facilities, toilet, water €2, four hours of electricity €2, tokens from Mairie or post office.)

Wet, Wet, Wet

(Way, way, way in the distance behind the clouds are the Pyrenees)

Orion is a constellation but it’s also a commune in France. A commune in France is like a district or a parish. (I’m getting all my information from Wikipedia.) We stayed in a commune near Orion called Orriule. On a clear day you can see the Pyrenees from Orriule. It was not a clear day.

(On top of the world)

We have been spoilt with the weather lately so the arrival of torrential rain has been a shock. Also, there are only 137 people in Orriule and none of them runs a cafe or Boulangerie, our step count is abysmal due to the weather and lack of motivational pastries and we are snapping at each other.

(Can you see the little cows?)

These are the sort of days I make my crafts. You may remember the cupboard filled with my craft supplies? So I got busy and made loads of beautiful things. I am so pleased with myself. Pictures? No, I forgot to take pictures… no couldn’t possibly take pictures now. No, of course I’m not lying about the crafts.

(Blue sky and fog in the valley as we leave Orriule)

I’m lying about the crafts. I didn’t do any. Someone might need to remember the storks… Maybe I’ll make a stork out of my supplies?

We’ve run out of toilet paper, Mairead.

Border Magic

(Saw this in the Spanish town, Irun on the border. Can you see the contraption over the bus? It extends down and connects with the roof of the electric bus. Could it be swapping out its used battery for a fully charged one while it picks up passengers at the bus stop?)

We spent a very quiet night in the car park at Irun, Spain. Next morning I noticed a river just behind us. While I was taking a picture I noticed something else… it was France over there. On the other side of the river there were signs, in French. I could see them… from Spain. Heady stuff. If only there was a time zone change. Oh well.

(I am standing in Spain taking a picture of France… that’s border magic)

On closer inspection I could see a bridge… to France. Maybe we could take the bridge? Maybe we would not have to pay the toll, again. Sorry, Estelle! Maybe things would go better today in France.We took the bridge, so far so good.

(The most beautiful villages in France)

Within an hour we had arrived at Labastide, a member of Les Plus Beaux Village de France. (The most beautiful villages in France.) It definitely deserves to be a member. I spoke to the nice young man in the tourist office and he said their village was the nicest. I am motivated to find out if he’s telling the truth. I wonder if there’s a The most beautiful villages in France guide book?

(Main street)

He also told me this was the Basque region of France and like it’s neighbour the Basque region in Spain it has two official languages. The people of both regions speak the same (small differences) language. I was intrigued by that.

(Modern water feature)

The town is adorable, old timber and stone houses with red roof tiles line the main street. There’s a church at one end and a port at the other. We were staying at the port. Well, it used to be a port, a river port but no longer in use. There were two restaurants (closed for dinner, Monday is often a closed day in France) the tourist office and lots of artist studios (most also closed.) The bakery was closed too. There was a shop selling macaroons. It was open. It would have been rude not to purchase, it was her granny’s recipe.

(Old shop fronts)

I went to see the Mairie (the Mayor). I didn’t actually see the mayor, just his office. To stay in the motorhome parking for the night you have to register with the mayor and pay your €5.

Done. Mairead.

(Labastide: Parking, €5 pay at Mariè, includes electricity, toilet.)

Next Stop Spain, no, France, no, Spain…

(The duck pond near motorhome parking at Vitoria-Gasteiz)

We stayed a second night in Palencia and then moved on to the city of Vitoria-Gasteiz. We were here last year. It’s just a car park with facilities for emptying but there’s a great electric tram line just 5 minutes away that brings you into the old town.

(Even the tram line is green)

We weren’t going into the town but I remembered they are very proud of their green spaces so we went for a walk in the local park. Lots of people were enjoying the space and the ducks.

(Love the colours on this guy)

Next morning we moved to France… for a while. We had stayed in a grand supermarket car park last year just over the border and were looking forward to our first croissants there. Then we remembered it was France and Sunday. Supermarkets only open in the morning on Sundays, some don’t open on Sundays at all. This was a big supermarket more like a mall with lots of small shops too, it would definitely be open.

(Look at the lovely spot they reserved for us… from 9am to 9pm)

It was closed. Not only that but since we’d been here last they’d put up a big welcome sign with a little red addition… motorhomes could only stay until 9pm. Not welcome overnight. But.. but… would they throw us out? We waited all day and even went for a little walk in the area – very pretty. We had dinner, wondered some more.

(Nice stone bench in the neighbourhood near the supermarket)

Then we moved on. The closest place was 6km back over the border. (We’re on first name terms with the toll booth operator – Bonjour Estelle!) We’re back in Spain.

We’ll give France one more chance tomorrow. Mairead.

(Irun, Spanish-French border: Parking, free after 7.30pm and before 9am, shops and restaurants nearby.)

She Rises

(That’s a stork up there)

Yesterday morning we left Portugal. As I write we are in a town in Spain called Palencia. Leaving was a strange experience. First, the road was narrow and it twisted this way and that as it wound though the mountains. I was twisting this way and that too. It was uncomfortable. I hate leaving.

(The town of Puebla de Sanabria, Spain)

Just another characteristic of my human mind. Discomfort makes me crave familiarity. I am discomforted by change. The road signs change. The names of towns are unfamiliar. The possibility of a morning coffee very unlikely. I am a creature of habit breaking a well formed habit and it’s painful.

(River view)

We arrived at our destination for the night, a car park in the town of Puebla de Sanabria. It was hot. There was no shade. I was grumpy. The nearest coffee was up, up, up a steep gradient on the other side of the river. It was getting hotter. There will be no coffee. I leave Denis to park the van while I take my mood to the riverside.

(Can you see her?)

And there she is. Standing waiting for me. How quickly I forget. A stork. Every stork has been reminding me to stay present. Reminding me to drop my expectations, my past losses, my future hopes. Just be here now.

(Just at the last moment… she rises)

I looked across at the other side of the river and it’s beautiful. I hadn’t noticed. I missed something beautifully right in front of me because I was holding on tight to something I didn’t have.

I made tea instead of wishing for coffee. Mairead.