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Mediterranean Moment

Friday, August 7th, 2009

by Rachael
Narbonne-Plage, France

wind:
blowing fiercely
a-l-l   d-a-y   l-o-n-g
demanding trees bow low,
forcing sand along the beach,
whipping washing to stand at attention
completely U-P-R-I-G-H-T on the clothesline,
never-a-moment-stopping
hot ceaseless blast
the mistral
blows

It blows and makes a day at the beach less attractive than yesterday.
Yesterday the water was warm; today it’s cold.
Yesterday the sand was smooth; today it stings your legs and flies up in your eyes.
Children return to the motorhome a bit miserable.
I have stayed inside (coz it’s too windy outside) embroidering French knots, content.

Time on the road: none at all!
Distance covered: okm

things that go bump in the night

Thursday, August 6th, 2009

 

“It’s going to be a great spot to catch the sunrise,” Jgirl14 correctly informed us before going to bed last night, and in preparation she set the alarm and kept the camera at the ready. The rest of us slept on.

But then we had a good excuse. Not long after turning the lights out, a car had skidded onto the gravel on the wrong side of the road just down the hill, screeching to a halt. Looking out the window, we saw a young lady walking up the middle of the road, obviously upset, shouting something we couldn’t quite hear or presumably understand. It was one of those times that we didn’t know whether to intervene or ignore – she sounded angry rather than injured. Following soon after, a clearly drunk man staggered offering ceaseless English-with-European-accent promises, “I’ll be careful, believe me, believe me.” For some time they conversed and we retreated behind our blind. The upset, but sensible lady must have walked off, though we are not sure where to, and the increasingly desperate man shouted into the clear night air, “Angelina! Angelina! Angelina!”

Thinking it would not be easy to fall asleep, we accomplished the impossible.
And woke up, well after Jgirl14, thinking of another late night conversation we had witnessed. We had thought it would be hard to sleep that time too, but we managed then too!

Muffled whispers slowly increased in volume until they were loud enough for us to realise that although we were lying beside a German canal, the voices were being exchanged in our mother tongue.
”I’ll bring the package after midnight.”
”OK I’ll be waiting.”
”Will you be OK?”
”It’s been too long, but I’ll be ready.”
It sounded sinister! Guarding our volume much more carefully than our visitors were, we considered whether we were pretending to sleep beside a drug exchange or not! Listening more carefully, we discovered the two guys were downright strange. They talked of their salvation experiences, “seeing the light”. They surmised sleeping beside “those two vans” would be the safest. The one leaving to pick up the package warned the remaining one, who laid his bicycle on the hard ground and then followed suit with his body, to “be careful”. With a final reassuring “I’ll be back”, the package-giver-to-be left.
At that point we were not overcome by sleep! Indeed, we were both wide awake when he returned. Although we could not see, he apparently handed over the package wrapped in a (presumably brown) paper bag. It rattled and then with a mouth full of sardine sandwich the vagabond uttered his sincerest thanks for the offering. A few more “be carefuls” followed and we all drifted into sleep, those of us inside presumably much more comfortable than the gypsy on his concrete bed. Bizarre things happen under the cover of darkness!

We might have missed the sunrise, but Jgirl14 didn’t.

If there were not pictures to prove it we would have struggled to believe it could have been so beautiful – by the time we awoke, a thick miserable mist had blown in, completely obscuring the sea and even the nearby headland from view.
But believing the scorching sun would burn it off, we drove down into the grey to a campground on the beach. Signs declared it to be full, but we sent our French speaker (that would be Grandpa) to ask if that’s really what they meant, and we were told to wait. From the van I could understand the hand signals – you’ll be able to get two spots, but not together, you’ll just have to look, and please keep right. Grandpa confirmed this to be true. Thankfully we found two parks within shouting distance, more or less across the “road” from each other. But before we had even set up camp, another van pulled out and we were able to reposition ourselves right next to the sand dunes, side by side, with tarpaulin and baby wrap augmenting the shade from the awning, a very pleasant outdoor living space created between our vehicles.

It really could not be more idyllic. Well, I guess it could be. But it would seem we have made the transition to European motorhoming; being used to kiwi-style camping which includes as standard both grass and trees, initially we had looked for similar places, sometimes feeling a bit disappointed at the sparse use of green underfoot. But now we are accustomed to laying out our fake grass green carpet on gravel, and not minding that there is no canvas flapping or beach nearby. Of course, this time is different – we ARE at a beach, but there is still no grass and the few trees are on the the wrong side of the sun to afford any protection. We’re in a metal and gravel jungle, but as I say, we’ve made the transition and it seems perfectly idyllic. Besides, there might be close to 150 campervans in this park, but we have the prime spot right on the beach.

As we settled down for lunch a farmer’s wife came honking through the park – on offer were fresh breads, croissants, chocolate pastries, small cheeses, salami (choose as big a piece as you like), tomatoes, lettuce, freshly dug potatoes, watermelon, grapes, peaches, apricots…..this is not a difficult difference to get used to!

By mid-afternoon Rob was appreciating the security this park will provide: “We’ll leave the windows wide open tonight!” he declared to shouts of approval from everyone who heard him. No more closing them up for safety in spite of the temperature. There’ll be no strange noises this night.

Time on the road: not long!
Distance covered: 10km

in search of shade

Wednesday, August 5th, 2009
by Rach hovering just above the coast near Narbonne, looking out at the Mediterranean Sea It doesn’t seem that long ago that we were desperately in search of sun. Today we, with the rest of the population in the south, looked ... [Continue reading this entry]

village wander

Thursday, July 30th, 2009
by Rachael Uzerches, France Do you have an hour to come for a stroll? I went alone this morning (although Grandpa VERY NEARLY came with me - “It’s a miserable business going alone",” he said, and only very strong reassurance bordering on ... [Continue reading this entry]

not food, even though it’s France

Monday, July 27th, 2009
by Rach Motorway Aire just shy of Nonancourt,France We’ve been told every conversation in France turns to food. And early this morning a Bonjour at our campervan door did turn into a request for sugar. But we are not foodies. We ... [Continue reading this entry]

different

Saturday, July 25th, 2009
by Rach Quend-Plage-les-Pins, France “I wouldn’t bother travelling to Europe; it’s too similar to home.” How many times have we heard that? Often it is said by people who, by virtue of the proximity of their home town to The Continent, have the ... [Continue reading this entry]

last night in england….

Thursday, July 23rd, 2009
Yes, it’s our last night. It’s 9:30pm so we still have 24 hours here, but this will be our final English resting place – aptly, a Sainsbury’s carpark. As we have driven southwards the past few days we have mused over ... [Continue reading this entry]

another day, another (unexpected) castle

Tuesday, July 21st, 2009
by Rach back at the couchsurfer’s lane in Stratford-Upon-Avon, England You wake up almost at today’s destination coz you travelled so much further than planned yesterday. All the same, there are a few miles to cover and just for a change, ... [Continue reading this entry]

from wet-n-windy to windermere

Saturday, July 18th, 2009
by Rach somewhere in The Lake District, England “No need to go any further, chaps, let’s build ourselves a wall right here,” declared Hadrian one wet and windy day. No history book will tell you this, but I reckon he had ... [Continue reading this entry]

good for a giggle

Wednesday, July 15th, 2009
by Rach, who does not like driving in the pouring rain with useless wiper blades that leave a smear at eye level and make her hunch over the steering wheel like a granny to see beneath it! beside a cricket ... [Continue reading this entry]