My birthday was coming up which means only one thing; the first holiday of the year. Paul had been chatting to a friend of his a few months previously and had found out that he and his wife owned a holiday apartment in St Chinian, in the south of France. He had done a rapid calculation of the driving times, contacted his friend and booked the apartment.
I only had one day left to get my packing done after a very busy weekend. Paul was up and out early getting the car serviced so, whilst I sat in bed and had my morning coffee, I made one of my infamous lists. Every holiday has a list! Once that was done I dragged myself out of bed and started on the difficult task of deciding exactly what to take. I had been checking the weather reports for St Chinian on a daily basis and it seemed to me that it wasn’t going to be much more than a degree or two warmer than it was here. On the other hand, knowing my luck, we could arrive in the middle of an unseasonal heat wave! However, things were destined not to go to plan. I had no sooner started to gather together my belongings when I got a text from Manda. Dad was poorly and they were having to get the doctor out to see him. Obviously this caused me some concern and I began to think that my long awaited holiday would have to be cancelled and continuing to pack seemed a bit pointless. Manda kept me informed by texting a running commentary throughout the afternoon. Turns out it was just a bug! Whilst all this was going on Paul had come home and Kate and Harvey had turned up so everything stopped for a cuppa. And then Paul’s sister Mandi turned up as well so between chatting to them and texting Manda I didn’t get very far with my packing. Then Paul decided that we ought to run a few errands and do a bit of shopping ready for our trip. By the time we got home it was early evening so I had to hurry with my packing. And here was I, hoping to have got it all done so I could have a nice bath and get to bed early. Fat chance. I was still dithering around at 10pm searching the caravan for my wet weather gear, which I eventually found behind the passenger seat in my car! But at least by then I knew Dad was OK so we could go without a guilty conscience.
After only four hours of broken sleep Paul nudged me awake at 6am and handed me a cup of coffee. Time to get moving if we were going to get to Dover in good time. I think I was up and ready in record time for me, but he had his usual moan about my faffing around, finding all sorts of extras that were essential and had to be crammed in somewhere. It’s a good job we were driving down as I’d have been well over my weight allowance! I can’t remember what they were about now but the usual cross words were exchanged before we left just before 7am. We stopped outside Netti’s to make sure she had a key to the house; she had; then just around the corner to check Paul had put the money in; he had; and lastly on Adwick Road to check his shoes were in; they were; by the time we reached the Pastures Road traffic lights we had phoned Netti to tell her to take my keys to hers, which got us arguing (Paul and me) because I was telling her the wrong thing. Finally we settled into our journey and made very good time down to The Alconburys where we got caught in the early commute traffic jams. We stopped at the motorway services on the M11 and had a surprisingly excellent breakfast before continuing on to Dover; where we were soon one of about twenty cars on the ferry heading to France. Once through Calais we pulled up in an Aire to set the sat-nav for Orléans before embarking on the long drive down, which the sat nav estimated would take us about four hours. Well, that’s four hours without our lifelong nemesis; Paris! We dutifully followed the directions the sat-nav lady was giving which landed us slap dab in the middle of the Parisian rush hour! I should have known there was something amiss when I saw the church of Sacré Coeur, all white and glowing in the evening sunlight, followed by the Eiffel Tower! It was amiss big style. The sat-nav sent us down a long road with traffic lights every hundred yards or so, making it stop start all the way. Then she told us to turn left….into a one way street! So we had no choice but to go straight ahead and then follow the sat-nav rerouting, which seemed to have absolutely no sense of direction so before long we were completely lost, in the middle of Paris, again. Several times the directions tried to send us up one way streets; at one point it had us turn left into a bus lane where we drove for two blocks before we could get into the right lane; finally ending up on the inner Peripherique. And by then we were so confused that we thought we were going the wrong way round Paris and heading back up north. Oh for a good map book! Oh yes….I’ve got one for France but we left it back home in the caravan!! In the end, out of sheer frustration, I bit the bullet and activated data roaming on my phone and opened google maps. Although it cost me ten quid in Internet charges and took an hour and a half I eventually managed to find the right way so I think I did slightly better than the sat-nav. And just when we thought we had cracked it, the bloody sat-nav took us off the main road and round the back streets of Versailles as well! Where we took yet another wrong turn and had to turn around in a funeral directors driveway. Once we finally got ourselves on the right motorway we again made excellent time and eventually arrived at our hotel for the night, where we had a welcome shower, a drink and an early night.
We woke to a dull morning the next day and after an early breakfast we checked out just after nine. Whilst having breakfast we got chatting to a couple of older blokes, turns out one of them was 70 that week, who were just coming to the end of a six week jaunt through Spain and France on their Goldwing motorbikes. We made straight for the motorway where we had an uneventful journey, even though it rained all the way. In fact, at one point we were driving past fields full of snow where I made a joke about having to phone work to say I was snowed in in the south of France!. We did stop at the Millau Viaduct, which I have been wanting see ever since we had watched the program about its construction. Well I have now finally seen it, have the 50 photos to prove it, and it was well worth the wait! And the rain stopped, briefly. I am trying to convince Paul that we need to stop at the proper visitors centre on the way back!
From there we made really good time to Saint Chinian, arriving at the apartment by tea time. The apartment was quite fabulous. Small but spacious, light and airy, and it’s got proper shutters that you have to close in the evening! Just the kind of place for a romantic getaway. Not that we were there for romance, far too old and used to each other for that! Once we were unpacked it was time to find something to eat. We set off, in the still pouring rain to have a wander round the town to find somewhere. The first two restaurants we came to were closed, no surprise really as there was hardly anyone about. We went straight past the next one with the two very loud, common looking women with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths sat outside and had a look at the last one, which looked a bit deserted apart from a couple of locals propping up the bar. And then we were out of town, so we turned around, retraced our steps and headed for the pizza place we had spotted just across the square from the apartment. It looked a little less than salubrious but hey, a takeaway pizza is a takeaway pizza! We went in to order and found a very passable restaurant area in the back with several customers already tucking in. So we ate there, and it turned out to serve excellent pizzas, although the young chap serving them also seemed to be the young chap who did everything from the cooking to the washing up whilst his colleagues sat at their computer playing games! We also ordered a pitcher of the house red wine which left us feeling very warm, fuzzy and satisfied by the tie we left. On our way back to the apartment we noticed that it was right next door to the local home care/nursing and meals on wheels headquarters! They even parked the delivery vans in the square. Could I not get away from it even on holiday? Once back at the apartment it wasn’t long before we fell into bed and slept soundly.
We had planned to get up quite early so we could go to the local market which sets up right outside the front door but it was mid morning before we got out to have a look at what was on offer. In the end we headed for the local Boulangerie for bread and croissants before making our market purchases. We also called in at the tourist information centre and picked up some leaflets about the area along with the details of a couple of local walks. I only hoped the weather would allow us to do them! It’s very strange only buying enough for the two of us; a couple of carrots, four potatoes, one small cauliflower; after being used to buying for a large family. Once our shopping was done we returned to the apartment to scoff our croissants with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, over which I decided that we could spend the afternoon having a little drive around one of the routes shown in the leaflets which wended its way around a few of the significant wine making villages in the area. We set off and headed for the first village passing through horizon to horizon grapevines. Well, not exactly grapevines, more the blackened stumps which would become the grapevines come summer. Several villages on we ended up at the Canal Du Midi, where we parked up and took a little stroll along the canal bank. We decided that it was no nicer, really, than a walk along the towpath back in Mexborough! And it also confirmed my dislike of the nautical life, the smell of diesel and wet ropes, and mould, and green slimy stuff, and damp everything! Makes me shudder at the mere thought. We did, however, spot an identical boat to Mother’s. And it was for sale! And no, although the thought did cross my mind, it disappeared very rapidly into distant memory! We returned to the apartment before going to the local supermarket to finish our shopping. Back in the square we paid a visit to the wine sellers where we were greeted with great disinterest by an ageing bimbo, who never offered any assistance but merely stacked more bottles onto the shelves the whole of the time we were there. Maybe she thought that as we were English we wouldn’t know the difference between a good vintage and vinegar! So we didn’t buy anything. We decided to try and find somewhere more friendly to buy some nice wine.
The following morning we were greeted by glorious sunshine streaming in through the windows. In a very unme-like fit of early morning energy I was up first. Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil I checked on the weather for the area so we could decide what to do. I was so engrossed that I never noticed Paul had joined me and finished the coffee making duties. We did think of going into Nîmes but since it is quite a run and time was getting on, we decided to do something nearer to St Chinian. I had been looking at a walk along the Gorges D’Heric, about 30 miles away; to my surprise Paul agreed, quite quickly for him. I guess he didn’t want to give me time to change my mind! We had a very pleasant drive up to the gorges and found the car park easily enough, despite the normal French lack of signs. And what a bonus, it was free until May! With the sun still shining and the temperature warming up we set off up the footpath. Well, I say footpath. It was, in fact, a narrow concrete roadway, which serves as an access road to a hamlet way up the gorge, about three miles away. And that’s where we were heading! Or trying to in Paul’s case. He really is the founder member of “The Whingeing Walkers Society”! First it was his new boots – they needed breaking in. Then it was the back of his legs – they were aching. Then the front of his legs were aching. Then he’d got a fly in his eye. There seems to be no end to his little gripes. And then come the “rest periods” where he has to sit for ten minutes, every 50 yards or so, before going on. I usually do something useful at these times; like taking lots of photos of him sitting on various rocks, walls and benches. I wouldn’t mind but he says he does actually enjoy the walks we do……..when we’ve finished them! Mind you, it was all uphill, so I had to let him off. After we’d been going for an hour he decided that he’d definitely had enough, so I gave him his bottle of Lucozade and left him sitting on yet another rock at the side of the river whilst I carried on with the walk. It took another half an hour to get to the little hamlet and even I was getting ready to call it a day and turn back until I spotted a sign saying “buvette – 10mins. I was nearly there so I had to go on! By the time I got there I was really hot and sticky, so the jumper finally came off. The hamlet was nothing special so I didn’t stay long. The walk back down seemed to go quicker but it still took the full half hour to get back to where I’d left Paul. I was half expecting him to have strolled back to the car as I’d been so long but no, there he was, sat on his rock waiting. We had a very pleasant walk back down to the car with hardly a whinge! We returned to St Chinian by way of a very twisty, turny mountain road through all the vineyards. At one point we were looking down into a valley which was full of grapevines. Every spare bit of land for as far as the eye could see was covered and you really got an idea of the full extent of the wine growing business in this area.
The following day we took a long drive into Nîmes to visit the Roman amphitheatre, mainly because it was the setting for the film Gladiator. We found Nîmes easily enough but had a bit of a job finding the car park. Paul had set the sat-nav for Nîmes centre but it only took us to just off the motorway, so once again I turned on the trusty iPhone and Google maps. But even that wasn’t good enough. We were fine until we got to a very strange junction which made it look like we were going the wrong way, so we went the way we thought was the right way but, in actual fact, it was the wrong way. So we had to follow the one way route right around the town. We actually drove straight past the car park and the Arena at one point and ended up weaving our way through a maze of back streets all the way back to where we had started. We had our usual cross words as we went around again. It was a bit like driving round Limerick a few years previously. We eventually found our way back to the underground car park where Paul thought the car might be above the height limit. We just made it! Then we had to find the Arena. Maybe the fact that we were already in Arena Square should have told us something but, as is our nature, we nearly went in totally the wrong direction, so cue more cross words! The arena itself was awe inspiring. Not for it’s size since, like most of these monuments, it was now dwarfed by more modern buildings, but for the design and engineering that went into it all those centuries ago, before modern technology. Once inside and equipped with our audio guide, which we hardly listened to, we set off on our tour. I particularly like the Roman word for the entrances and exits, “vomitoria”! because it looked like it was spewing people out after an event. And whilst looking at the design of the Arena, and, I suppose, most Roman amphitheatres, it occurred to my small brain, that modern architects are still using the same basic design for sports stadiums today! How cool is that!! Out in the arena we climbed the tiers that made the seating. And I mean climbed! I had a right struggle getting up each one with my short legs! And whilst I was haring off taking photos from every angle possible, Paul was sat in the sun, on the seats reserved for the plebeians, imagining the gladiatorial fights and wondering at how many lives must have been lost on the sand below. We then descended into the Gladiators Corridor and read all about the different types of gladiator. All in all it was a very interesting visit and as it came to an end I was left wondering if the Romans ever envisaged that the Arena would still be used as a place of entertainment more the 2000 years after they built it and what would they have thought of Metallica, who performed here in 2009. That evening we decided to eat out. We were going to try the restaurant on the main street but as we got to the end of the square we noticed that one called La Caleche was open. I suggested we try there as it had very good reviews. And I’m glad we did. The food was delicious and we passed a very pleasant evening eating good food and drinking pleasant wine. Although I must admit, I was a temporarily flustered by my rack of lambs ribs. But the lamb was cooked to perfection. As was Paul’s steak apparently, as I witnessed a very rare event, Paul actually saying that his meal was……mmmmm mmmmmm!
Well, the market had set up and was well under way before we even surfaced! And it was three times the size of the Thursday market. Just shows how good the double glazing is in the apartment! We had a leisurely breakfast before heading down to do a bit of shopping. We stocked up on a few more veggies and another pot of preserves, made from courgette, lime and ginger this time. We bought that one as it sounded intriguing. Paul seems to like it, since by Sunday evening he’d polished off half a jar of the stuff! We also bought some of those big square continental pillows they have in France. I’m going to get Suzy to make me some nice cushion covers so we can have them in the sitting room. From the market we wandered down the high street and, after calling in for some bread, sat outside a cafe sipping coffee in the sun. There followed a lazy Sunday with more coffee sipping with the friend whose apartment we are staying in. We had intended to go for a walk that afternoon but by the time we had said our goodbyes it was a bit late and it was clouding over. So we spent the afternoon watching really rubbish TV until bed time.
My birthday. Loads of birthday wishes on Facebook and FaceTime calls from Bozzie and Netti. In Netti’s case it was to show us the snow they were getting, whilst we were sat having breakfast with the windows wide open and the warm sun streaming in. And I’ve been moaning about the rain showers here! After breakfast I decided that we should have a bit of a drive around, in a different direction, to try and find “La Curiosité de Lauriole”. Where you can see the strange phenomenon of things rolling uphill! Which turned out to be in the middle of nowhere and which we drove past several times due to the usual problem with signage in France, the signs had disappeared! And by this time, Paul was beginning to get a little grumpy with all this driving around in circles looking for nothing in particular as far as he could see! We found it eventually, when I recognised the bit of road from the pictures I had seen. And, to be fair, even Paul found it mildly interesting. He took the brake off the car and indeed, it rolled up the hill! So then I got out of the car and tried to get a shot of a bottle of water rolling uphill. It was a bit mind boggling trying to work out why we were seeing the road going uphill when in actual fact it is going downhill! I got back in the car just as the heavens opened. From there we headed back towards St Chinian where we had planned to go for a walk. However, we only got as far as the medieval town of Minerve, perched high on a rock in the middle of a gorge where we decided to stop and have a look around. We found our way to the main car park and set off down the deserted main street where all the shops and tourist trap galleries were shut up. And to make matters worse, it had started raining again with rumbles of thunder in the distance. We were just about to give up and return to the car when we spotted a restaurant which was actually open. We quickly checked the time and as we weren’t too late this time we went in. It looked a tad posh but since it was my birthday we decided to give it a go. And I’m glad we did. We had the €21 Menu which was for a three course meal. It was a little intimidating as there were no English translations on the menu but the waiter was very patient with us and helped us with our ordering. In the end we decided to adventurous and just go for it and see what we got. First off we had this tiny little bowl of some kind of soupy stuff which was very tasty. We think it was mushroomy. On the menu it was called the “Mise en Bouche”, which I later discovered is a small nibble of something tasty to whet your appetite. Then came our starters, ham and foie gras on garlic bread for Paul and, I think, butternut soup for me. For the main course we knew we had ordered something with pork and something with beef. Paul’s turned out to be beef stew made with red wine and which he said was cooked to perfection. Mine was crispy spare ribs with mash. Both meals looked very nouvelle cuisine but turned out to be very filling. And then came the sweet. I chose the crème brûlée, which was the best crème brûlée I have ever tasted. And Paul? He chose this little chocolate pudding which came with cream AND ice cream. And after which, having devoured every last morsel, was heard to mutter his most detested phrase “nomnomnom!” We finished this most excellent meal with a nice cup of coffee served with some kind of sweet. By the time we left the restaurant it had warmed up nicely and the sun was shining once again. We finished our tour of the little town, going down to the ramparts and looking across to the catapult which had been used to defeat the town in the middle ages. I think Paul probably enjoyed the afternoon more than he would have done tramping over the hills round St Chinian. Back at the apartment we spent the rest of the day just lazing about and letting that fabulous meal finish digesting.
Then came the last full day of our holiday. After a couple of early arguments we ended up going into Narbonne as we had been told, and I had read, that the indoor food market is one of the best in France. We got to Narbonne OK but then things became a little complicated; as usual. We followed all the signs pointing to the market, “Les Halles” and it’s car park, around the one way system only to drive straight past the car park on account of they had dug up half of Narbonne! So around we went again with tempers fraying and many a cross word uttered. As we approached Les Halles for the second time, Paul decided to turn left and found another car park a short walk away. So off we went to this famous market. And do you want my honest opinion? Doncaster market is every bit as good! And as for having lunch there, well it didn’t look too inviting. Since we’d walked all around the market in about fifteen minutes flat we decided to wander off and see what the rest of Narbonne had to offer. After negotiating the building site which seems to occupy the whole area we fetched up in a little cafe, very reminiscent of the one in ‘Allo ‘Allo for a coffee and a pee before going to look at the cathedral. We wandered around in search of it for ages, nearly coming to blows yet again! We eventually found the entrance only to find that it had just closed for lunch. We found somewhere to sit in a little garden for a while until it dawned on us that we were in for a long wait in a chill wind so off we trotted to find somewhere warm for lunch. We found an excellent cafe where we had an average but tasty meal. We returned to the cathedral just as it was opening. It is only small, and only took us a very short while to see it all, including translating many of the information boards. The main memory of the place is that it was extremely dusty! Back in St Chinian we called in at a couple of wine merchants looking to buy some of the local wine. In the first one the chap greeted us but when we said we were English, he retreated to the back of the shop and stood chatting with his buddies and never offered any advice. So we left without buying anything. We then returned to the one we’d tried earlier in the week and this time we got a lot more help and even got to taste some of the wines, leaving with a case of wine and a very warm glow.
We were up early to find there had been a change in the weather overnight and day was chill, grey and overcast. We piled our luggage into the car and set off on our long drive home before the town was awake. As we drove northwards the weather worsened eventually turning into thick fog through the mountains. Well, I say fog, it was more like we had gone up into the low lying clouds. And it didn’t look like it would be worth trying to convince Paul to go down to find the Millau Viaduct visitor centre either. Except that as we approached the viaduct the fog cleared and it was quite bright! But by then we’d passed the exit. Oh well, another time perhaps. Then as we climbed again it started to snow. I know that I had joked, on the way down, about getting snowed in in the south of France but I hadn’t meant it! Despite the bad weather we made very good time to Orléans where we went to the hyermarket for more wine! I was determined to stock up this trip!! Then we decided to try and find the Buffalo Grill for dinner. We drove round to where we thought we needed to be but couldn’t find a way in. So we went back to our hotel, parked the car and walked there. The route was a bit strange as the pavement kept changing which side of the road it was on, so you had to keep crossing over the road and the tram-lines. And it didn’t help that we were arguing yet again! It was worth the effort though as the food was good with steaks cooked to perfection. Back at the hotel we had an early night as Paul wanted to be off early to get round Paris.
We were up early, breakfasted, checked out and on the way by 9.00. Which meant, we realised, that we’d be going round Paris in the rush hour again! But, to our amazement, we only had one minor glitch when Paul left the Peripherique by mistake. Once we were back on the right route we made it through with no further problems in only half a hour. However, not long after that we caught up with the very slow moving traffic, caused by the heavy snowfall a couple of days ago.
The motorway had been cleared but it was still slippery in many places and the sheer volume of traffic, mainly lorries, was making it very slow going. At one point we were even driving through a small blizzard. And then, suddenly it cleared, the sun came out and we made excellent time to Calais where we headed for the car park in the centre of town, to find that half of Calais had been dug up! It seems to be the theme of this holiday, French building sites I have visited! Nevertheless, we parked up and went looking for somewhere to eat. We chose the restaurant which was full of French people; again, it was a good choice, Paul had a huge mixed grill whilst I had my Moules Marinière; after which we made for the ferry port. We were lucky enough to be offered an earlier sailing which gave us a good start on the last leg of the journey from Dover so we arrived home in good time.