17 April

And so my sojourn at the Ferme de Cleuf Nois was at an end. I woke a little earlier (the quiet in the country makes me sleep fitfully after so many years of noise) and was down for breakfast at 8, having done some packing between dressing and going down.
I gleaned that the farm was a dairy farm (though the odours sort of gave it away) and started in on my repast. As I was struggling to get the baguette down, another person came in, but there were only three altogether overnight. After I finished getting what they surely considered a poor effort of a breakfast down, I paid for my stay (€60) and said my farewell. I finished packing and was off a few minutes later.
I headed south-west and was soon back into the rhythm of driving again. I decided that I would see about cashing some travellers’ cheques (according to the Internet and Amex, Le Poste would cash them for no commission, so I decided to try that.
I called in at a seaside town, Carteret, where I could park (and find the toilets) only to find parking was at a premium because it was market day. The markets occupy the largest open parking space in the town, so parking becomes hard to find and difficult to keep. I chose a small town because service is usually far better there. So into Le Poste and … they couldn’t cash any. But, I was told, the next town along could. Problem: even though it was only two kilometres away, it was bigger and parking more difficult to find. I found a tourist bureau, but then realised I was in the same area – no new list of chambres d’hote! Then off to find the Post Office, couldn’t see it, found a town map and then realised I was standing outside it. In and the saga began. No, can’t cash them. But, ask another and yes, but only €200. I settled for that, and then it took a time and a lot of paperwork to get the cash. The problem is that I can only find a bank that will cash them via the Internet, so I have to know which town I will be in at a later date. If I choose too big a town, parking is difficult or impossible, and if I choose too small a town, there won’t be a commission-free bank. I can use an ATM, but then there will be a withdrawal cost and I don’t know at the time what the exchange rate is.
So I headed out, €200 richer and with a lot of experience. I was driving next to the sea and the Channel Islands were to my right (west). Then I decided that I had better aim for Brittany now if I was going to get there, find accommodation and be settled for the night.
The drive along was good. The land became far more undulating and the fertiliser used on the farms far more odiferous (i.e. it stank!). I also had to get some DVDs to burn photos to, as I am running out of room on the laptop again, but every time I saw a supermarket I had already gone by.
I passed by another small town, so pulled in to get a baguette for lunch (I’m converted, let me live on bread and water as long as it is French bread). After an amusing banter about my poor French again, as I left I saw a Gendarme leaving, so asked him how they differed from the police. National and military was the answer, so I presume the police work under the Napoleonic Code, while the Gendarmerie work under military code and therefore attend to matters relating to civil security rather than crime. He was very pleasant, but his command of English equalled my command of French (and it also shows that you can teach everyone English, but not everyone will learn it).
I then headed west until I hit the major town of Lannion. The fuel gauge had begun beeping at me, so I stopped at a Total service station only to be told the pumps weren’t working. I went out, this time tentatively, as I didn’t want to run out of diesel. Unlike petrol, where the current electric pumps will just pick up the new petrol in the tank, in a diesel if the pump runs dry, it has to be primed and is far more difficult (and something I do not want to become expert in). Just along the road I found, on my way into town, a supermarket with its own fuel station. The diesel was nearly ten Eurocents a litre cheaper, so that wasn’t too bad. Here the system was simple – you filled up and then were funnelled past the payment office, where from your car you paid. Then it was over to the supermarket.
Here life became interesting. I found the DVDs and made a selection which I hope will be okay. No sooner had I finished than a little girl asked me to get a CD from the top of a display. I got it, but had to get her to indicate which one. I then said I didn’t speak French too well, but she just said “Thank you”, in French of course, and went off. At the checkout I spoke to a couple who had been to Australia (twice, including Melbourne, Sydney, Cairns, the Great Barrier Reef and Darwin). Then I couldn’t get my credit card to work (strange, as it had worked not fifty metres away and not five minutes earlier), so I had to use cash, a strange thing for me under the circumstances (and which I really didn’t want to use, as most chambres d’hote only take cash).
Down in the town I found the location of the tourist bureau, but again it was market day so I had to find a parking spot. The free car park was full, so I went to the paid one (paymant). Luckily for me, the season hadn’t started yet, so the machines weren’t working and the boom gates weren’t there. I found the tourist bureau (not a visitor information centre, and there is a distinction – the latter have nearly all free information and only a few displays of material for sale, while the former have a lot for sale and work on getting people to spend money in some way.
I got my list of chambres d’hote, walked around a little (was spoken to by some local lads and lasses, interested by my poor accent (bonjour) and then more interested when they found out I was Australian, but that fascination disappeared when I said I was an ex-maths teacher. It seems one constant over the world is that the average student doesn’t like maths, and isn’t afraid to say so. Off I went, back to the car, and started to ring to find accommodation (this was about 4:30). My first few tries went unanswered. Then I got answers, but nothing for tonight. Then the penny (centime) dropped – it was the second-last day of the school holidays and everyone and his/her children were in the Brittany area (nice beaches, nice weather) and of course it was going to be difficult to find accommodation – two days’ time and the story would be different. By 5 I gave up and headed off to McDonald’s, to both kill time until more would be home and to post yesterday’s photos and blog (and to check up on email).
In McDonald’s I had to wait as the people two in front of me couldn’t be understood. I found it funny because I could get my order through nearly as quickly as the locals. Then it was set up, start transferring the photos, post the blog and then check emails while the photos were going (they take about ten seconds a photo at the reduced size I post them). Then I could actually eat. I did try to see if I could find the location of Blood Banks, but of course I got no hits (I used Red Cross instead of Rouge Croix).
After I had finished I went out to telephone again. On the fourth try I got success, then realised it was over an hour away (but centrally located for me, as I can explore the three coasts from the middle and not have to worry about finding somewhere to stay, but now I need to find somewhere to do laundry, within five days). I set out and got there within an hour and a half, and decided the place was nice enough to stay three nights. The only problem is it takes a long time to get any message through each way. I got my material and headed up (each seems to be up) to my new room, decked out completely in pink (it’s meant for a family, with a small pink bed in the corner for a little girl – boys have to suffer!). After getting settled, I wrote my blog, then went to sleep.