No Card No Cash
Day One:
We made our way through a peak hour Metro trip heavily loaded with backpacks and camping gear to pick up the lease car. With a GPS, road signs and a photocopied map from Citroen there was an overload of contradictory directions that led us to miss our turn off and drive in a maze of narrow streets, get stuck in a traffic jam, reverse up a one way street, and negotiate a six exit round about to get back to Citroen. By this point it became clear the GPS was more reliable than me at navigation, so with this new attitude we found the freeway and set off for the Loire Valley.
After stopping for a magnificent tour of the Palace of Versailles and its hectares of manicured gardens, we resumed on the A11 freeway. As we neared our exit we were struck by a toll booth that demanded a whopping 17 euro fee. We tried all 5 of our visa cards (travel, debit, Australian credit, UK credit) all were politely declined by the automatic toll booth. I hit the hazard lights as we scraped jacket pockets for coins, we had close to no cash. Kelly hit the help button and in broken English begun a barrage of phrases “card no workey” “five card no good”. The little voice of help spoke no english except for the repeated CASH? CARD? This continued back and forth until the little voice finally gave up and came out to talk to us. She spoke slowly enough for me to understand there was no way we were leaving without paying the full toll – at this stage we only had 13 euro. She took Kellys drivers licence and address, and instructed us to pay the remaining 4 euros by cheque at a postoffice, which we gratefully agreed to do before she let us go.
As we exited, the car windows came down to let in the country air and the sight of glowing green fields interspersed by flowers and stone cottages. We arrived at my friends farm in Baugé to stay in the attic room of her 17th century farm house under exposed wooden beams. We enjoyed a warm meal with local wine and ancient bread baked in a wood fired oven by the farmer across the way. After the intensity of Paris I felt myself starting to unfurl and enjoy the slowness of country life.
Day Two:
We left at a leisurely mid-morning pace to find the farmers markets and procure cheeses, salad ingredients and a baguette for our lunch time picnic planned later that day. We started a drive highlighted in the Backroads of France guide from Rochefort to Bordeaux along the West Coast of France. We stopped if we felt drawn to, to see the little stone communities built a top the hill and protected by a now defunct fort and moat where once there was a sea. Nearing nightfall we approach Blaye, a portside community with the old town at the top of the hill that had seaside camping. Unfortunatley it was closed until May, so with little option we nestled our little Citroen in amonst the campervan set next to the Port. The sight of our converting the car into a bed with blow up mattress brought the amusement and conversation of serious campers who came to find out about us and admire our pretty car “tres jolie voiture!” We had sunset drinks at a local terrasse bar and ate at the only restaurant open in low season. We spent an uncomfortable night at a near 45 degree angle of head to feet in a fetal position which became more pronounced as gravity overtook me in my sleep while outside it poured rain.
Day Three:
It was a relief when morning came. We cooked and ate hot breakfast with gusto before jumping back on the road to Bordeaux. The walking tour weaved us around monuments and spectacular archiecture as we were drawn to explore the chocolateries, artisan shops and vast array of markets that animated the pedestrian city centre. The annual organic market was in full swing so we picked up some gourmet foods to spice up our campsite cooking, and even scored a second hand espresso maker. After a morning spent convinced we could live here, we dragged ourselves back onto the road to commence a slow weaving tour of the Dordogne region following the river of the same name. We drove unaffected through several small towns hoping to find a winery but all were closed (as everything is on a Sunday in France). Feeling a little disheartened we drove over a hill to be captivated by an immense Chateeaux built a top a dramatic cliff face overlooking the river at a little place called Beynac. We got out of the car and neither of us wanted to leave so we checked in to a charming family_run riverside hotel. Finally having a hot shower was close to a religious experience. We cosied into the communal lounge against an open fire and made conversation with other travellers over a bottle of local wine. Before sunset we wandered the steep winding streets that gave better and better views across the valley. That night we enjoyed a delicious four course meal and I slept like a baby. Today w are off to discover the inside of the castle before continuing on to explore this magical region. Except for the odd car, the countryside feels like stepping back in time to the medieval ages.
Jyai