little things

Into the Ibis

| Mairead

(Our new home…)

We are in our room at the Ibis hotel in Niort. The room is bigger than Ruby and the toilet doesn’t need to be emptied. There is hot water, a shower and the high point: a bath! I am cleaner than I’ve been for 72 days. This is the life. Although we do miss a kitchen.

(Not McDonald’s breakfast…)

We’ve had breakfast and lunch in McDonalds and we went to a restaurant in the French chain, Au Coutelle for a snack. Which turned out to be a bit more complicated than we imagined. We spotted a lovely sounding platter of meats and patês.

(These wildflowers are everywhere)

They take the drinks orders first and Denis ordered a glass of wine while I had a mint juice drink. Then the very young food waiter arrived and we told him we would just have the platter, between us. He was a little taken back and asked hadn’t Denis ordered a drink? We agreed yes he indeed had.

(Can’t get enough of the blue)

Fortunately he spoke the next bit in English because it was getting a little complicated. “Oh you must have a main course meal if you have alcohol” Denis looked at me and I looked back, well that’s interesting, we were saying, in silence. More food? Less alcohol? Denis picked the second. I said, Stop the alcohol order and he (literally) ran to the kitchen.

(Old mile marker)

Very soon he arrived back and said he had talked to his supervisor and it was ok but… (looking at Denis and holding up one finger) you can only have one! Denis promised he would only have one. One small glass of wine was produced. The platter was indeed very good.

(There was a bread machine in Benet too)

It’s funny what you miss when you’re just visiting… there may be a particular alcohol license that requires a full meal? Or this chain is concerned about food intake versus alcohol intake? Or… well, I don’t know what else…

Learning the customs, Mairead.

The Lessons of Benet

| Mairead

(1. Watch out for the signs…)

We are still in the town of Benet but… today the part arrived! We are over the moon. Could it be that difficulties arise in order that we can have an opportunity to be over the moon? About a piece of engineered metal getting transported to a small town in France to a man with mechanical skills who is available to do something very specific with it?

(2. Notice the beauty…)

I am also over the moon about all the hours Denis spent with Duolingo in bed each morning practicing French (it’s a free language learning app…) because when we stood in front of the French receptionist there was communication and understanding.

(3. Grow where you land…)

I am also over the moon that we have a place to stay tonight while Ruby overnights in the garage. There will be a bed, a shower, a desk and WiFi and there’s a restaurant and it’s not expensive. There’s even a Lidl supermarket next door.

(4. You might have to go round and round…)

When everything goes well it’s natural to expect everything will continue to go well. When things stop going well, it’s natural to expect things will continue to stop going well. But at precisely this moment we had a choice…

(5. Don’t be dramatic!)

It was easy for us to become disillusioned and only see things going badly now. Today it seems we have an opportunity to be over the moon, notice and be grateful for ever little teeny tiny thing that goes right.

(6. You don’t have to be perfect to be useful…)

In that way we are neither expecting everything to go well or expecting everything to go badly. We have suspended our expectations in order to look at what comes to us in the moment and be grateful for it. If it is something we like we will be over the moon, if it is something that makes us uncomfortable we will deal with it.

(7. Take the next step… open the door)

After sitting for days with the discomfort of a not knowing what will happen next we know the next step… we are off to a hotel to spend the night while Ruby is in the garage.

Missing her already, Mairead.

On a Time Out

| Mairead

(Want to buy a shop?)

We are stuck in a very lovely small French town called Benet. I say stuck but that’s just me being dramatic. We are kinda stuck yes but we could be in worse places. The part for Ruby is due tomorrow and we’ve only been here for three days… Plus, most things we need are here.

(I love the font)

There’s a supermarket (closes for two hours at lunchtime) a cafe (closed today) another cafe (open today) a library (but is it really a library? I don’t know the answer to that) a magazine shop, a post office, an old church, a rustic toilet and three flower shops (all open today and smelling beautiful) and washing machines (open 24 hours.)

(The wool shop)

There’s also a wool shop but I just looked in the window. I’m not going in because the window looks too good and there’s no more room in my craft cupboard… anyways, it’s closed today.

(There are flowers in the car park…)

Yesterday I couldn’t see all the nice things in this town. I was grumpy and had fallen out of love with France. But today it is raining and I realise that love is not always happy… I am weirdly thrilled by today’s rain. (Yes, weird.) Yesterday it was sunny and I was grumpy and uncomfortable. Hot weather is not always wonderful. Life is not always comfortable.

(…and washing machines)

France is France. This is a great place to be if you are irritated by little things because she says, this is how we rock, take us or leave us we will still be here when you come back and you will be glad we have not changed. If you don’t want to come back to us that’s ok we will be just fine without you. With love and beauty from your pal, France.

(The old church, Benet)

Today I can love that France. She is who she is, she is not trying to woo me. She will not be concerned if I do not woo her. She will still take two hours off for lunch and close on Sundays and every Monday and the one Wednesday I’m in town.

(Love the shutters and the lacy railings)

Because, when I go home she will still have to live here and mind her children and water her garden and buy flowers for her Mum. She will still have to get up at 4am four days a week to bake the baguette and croissants and if she knows how to take a break then maybe I should be thrilled because it’s possible that taking breaks makes her croissants taste so good.

My relationship with France just got more complicated, Mairead.

Just hanging around…

| Mairead

(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.)

Oh Happy Day!

| Mairead

(Can you see us on the left with the canal in front of us?)

Yesterday’s mood has lifted and the sun is out and we are in another amazingly beautiful place. Still no cafe or Boulanger but there’s a French bread vending machine outside the post office (closed today, it’s not Sunday or Monday…) I’m very hopeful it will have bread in it by tomorrow morning.

(Here’s France being very French)

We are beside a canal, a most beautiful canal – the Garonne. The village nearby is called Camout sur Garonne. All day long there’s activity going on, in or around the canal. There’s cyclists, fancy row boats (of singles, pairs, teams) there’s fishermen, runners, walkers, picnicking people and us sitting here watching the world go by.

(Peaceful, shady walks)

We passed a lidl on our way here and got the toilet paper but now we’ve no butter, Mairead.

ps the vending machine had bread this morning… who needs butter? Me, I’d love some butter, Denis.

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

| Mairead

(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.)

Spanish Surprises

| Mairead

(Lovely old gate in Palencia)

After lunch we changed plans and decided to move from the beautiful view and my stork and travel a couple of hours here to Palencia. Travelling by motorhome you can do that, travelling by motorhome you sometimes have to do that. Earlier at Bragança the toilet cassette empty station was full to overflowing so we couldn’t empty our cassette. There were no facilities at Puebla de Sanabria so we went on to Palencia.

(Old bridge)

We had a moment of confusing when we were almost there. There was something wrong with the sat-nav. It was 2.55pm and the sat-nav was predicting we would arrive at our destination in five minutes. It also said our time of arrival would be 4pm. But that was an hour and five minutes away. Something was definitely wrong.

(Straight through the park)

It happens every time we cross back over the border into Spain. The time difference. We lost an hour. We will get it back when we land in Ireland. (Must remember to enjoy that.) What do the people who live beside a timezone change do? How do they avoid confusion? Of course it could be really useful when you run out of time to pop across the border and get another hour. Imagine that…

(Cute statue near the cathedral)

Palencia is a very old town with a great free camping place just ten minutes from the sights. There are toilets and showers and something we really need at the moment – a washing machine. I spent the afternoon washing clothes. There’s also a few clothes lines, solar power.

(Old stationery shop)

There’s also a cathedral, churches museums, loads of shops and plenty of restaurants and cafes. We found a lovely tapas bar. Another thing we forget when we cross the border, no one speaks English and there are no English versions of the menu. When I asked the waitress if she spoke English she opened her eyes wide in happy surprise and shook her head to indicate no. French? Same response.

(Post box at the post office)

It was a lovely moment because it was unexpected. She reacted without irritation or apology or sorrow or guilt or disappointment or anything negative. She seemed genuinely happily surprised. Almost like she couldn’t wait to see what might happen next.

(Wine bottle light fittings at the tapas bar)

What happened next was we discovered we know far more Spanish words than we thought. Words like Cerveza (beer) aqua con gaz, (sparkling water) and tapas came tumbling out of our mouths. Now we were smiling with happy surprise too. She pointed us at the tapas section in the menu and then went off to get our drinks. The words in the tapas section were lovely and mostly unfamiliar but they were only €2.50 each so we picked the names we liked.

(Love the coat hooks)

We picked well! They were amazing. The date on top of a rasher (not actual rasher but better if you can even imagine that!) on top of an egg on top of a pepper on top of bread one was the most amazing things I ever tasted. By the time we were leaving we could say multo bene which we hope means very good. It probably does because our waitress was smiling with a different happy surprised look. You know the one parents give to their children when they do something good? Although she was very young. Maybe it’s the look grandchildren give when their grandparents learn to use the remote?

Multo bene, Mairead.

She Rises

| Mairead

(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.

Another Day in Bragança!

| Mairead

(From the walls of the castle in the old town)

Yesterday was hot in Bragança but as it’s Portugal (thank you, Portugal!) there are numerous picnic tables placed near the camping car parking. As they are all placed strategically under olive trees (not actually trees but that’s a different story) it’s possible to move from one to the other as the sun moves and stay in the shade. That’s what I did.

(More scary stairs to climb)

First though, I went to the supermarket, we are down to emergency supplies again. This time not because we weren’t taking every opportunity but because we are moving in the early morning every day and pretty much occupied when we arrive. Also we are staying in small towns and villages. There hasn’t been an opportunity to go to a supermarket. Fortunately, there is a small one just across the junction from here so off I went with my list.

(I counted six old crosses in the short distance between our parking and the old town walls)

When we started travelling one of our favourite things to do was go to the supermarket. Yes, quite strange. (One of my least favourite things to do while at home…) They were interesting, so many odd looking products, so much art on the sardines, so much food we’d never seen before. Then we got used to them. We recognised the food, we became familiar with the layout and we stopped being in awe.

(Statue of D. Fenando outside the walls of the old town)

Except… when we go into small local supermarkets. For one thing they are often in darkness or at least dimly lit, so you have to strain your eyes to see what you’re looking for. It becomes like looking for treasure in a cave or sea glass on the beach. Also, the layout is totally different and it might even span two or three separate rooms. The products are totally different too so you have to pick up more tubs or jars or cans and examine them closely to see if they really are butter or tea (the green tea has finally run out!)

(Flowers in the streets of the old town)

To top it all some of the products are behind the counter and you have to ask for them. This doesn’t happen at the big supermarket. There you can be anonymous and never speak a word until your farewell obrigado as you leave. Here in the small dark supermarket you have to make a stab at communicating. It always turns out well. Mainly because each of us is highly motivated to be understood. I want the food and the shopkeeper wants to sell me the food. It’s a perfect match.

(Narrow gate into the old town)

I got tea, butter, bread rolls, and water all by myself but had to ask for cheese and ham from behind the counter. Way back in Santiago de Compostela (you remember that’s where I got to meet my friend?) in a small shop where everything was behind the counter, I was asking for cheeses but couldn’t make myself understood. I couldn’t see any cheese so pointing wouldn’t work instead I had to look it up on my dictionary app. The shopkeeper took my phone to look at my app because I was doing such a bad job of pronouncing it. Then she taught me how to say cheese in Spanish. I remembered and this is another great thing about Portugal if you know any Spanish the Portuguese will be able to understand you.

(Imagine. I love this balcony)

Cheese is queso in Spanish, I was pronouncing it queso (qway-sew), it is pronounced kay-zzo. The shopkeeper in Bragança understood me.

Our cupboards are full, Mairead.

(Bragança, free parking, motorhome facilities, toilets nearby, great location near the old town. Great restaurant just inside the walls.)