I woke up this morning not very happy after last night’s incident. However, some things have a way of working out, as you will see later.
I was prepared and down for breakfast at 8. Breakfast was a large cup, with tea and cold milk (as specified), pieces of baguette and a croissant. The fruit juice was of indeterminate origin, so I gave it a miss, and there wasn’t much room left inside anyway.
I, as usual, gave my hostess a pin (either kangaroo or koala, although kangaroo seems to be the favourite. We then had a discussion about Australia, but it was rather limited. Then I headed off to pack and leave. Just as I was leaving (after pushing pieces of the car back together), mine hostess rushed out and asked if I would like a bottle of wine (I think it was their’s as part of the farm is a vineyard. I politely declined as I wouldn’t drink it before leaving Europe and didn’t want to have to carry it half-way around the world. My only comment on this was that this was the cheapest night for me (€25) and in many ways one of the best. Price is not always a determinant of quality.
I left and headed in, wanting to check with the police as to whether I should report it or not.
The first problem was finding the police station. It was stuck down a tiny one-way street with no parking anywhere near. After my third drive past I stopped in their driveway and went in to explain and ask. The officer on desk duty knew as much English as I did French. The woman who was on the desk with him took one look and headed off to do other things. We were halfway through when two more police came in, and one did understand and speak English quite well, but after clarifying two points, he found something else to do away from the desk. His female colleague stayed, but she couldn’t speak English anyway. He needed an occupation and couldn’t understand “retired” so I said teacher of Mathematics. The female officer squirmed, but he said he was good at and enjoyed Maths. Eventually we finished, after half an hour, and we all said goodbye, especially the one who could speak English, who now appeared back on the scene (once everything was done). I headed off to a Renault dealership, where the service adviser just hit everything hard, said it all needed to be replaced, but it was perfectly okay to drive. I took him at his word and headed off.
I went up to the viewing point for the Millau bridge. It had a lot of information, but also a lot on sale and you needed to join a guided tour to walk right under the supports, and I didn’t have the time anyway. I got some souvenirs and headed into Millau, to get some photos there and finally drive across. In town I had to circle a roundabout to get to a parking spot to photograph the town and the river and … the police were there, including the English speaker, who waved back at me once he recognised me.
After taking the photos (of the Tarn River), went up to the A75 and bought my toll ticket, but went off to the viewing spot first. I took some photos and asked a French couple to take a photo of me with it, which they did reluctantly UNTIL they found out I was Australian. Then it was all friendly smiles and talking in English.
On my way back to the car park (even the viewing point is big business), the Fire Brigade were trying to get into a spot, had trouble and had to call the police, who included the English speaker, who again waved back and gave a second take, as if to say are you following me. After thatI was off and over the bridge.
Well, it was an experience, but because of its size and construction, it was just like driving over a ridge road. The view, when I cold get it, was great, but there was no swaying or movement, which I did expect.
After that I headed off towards Turin. My choices were nine hours, or six using toll roads, so I opted for the toll roads. My view on pictographs for toll roads – they should have a toilet bowl and someone tossing money into it, to illustrate the folly. Altogether, I think I spent nearly €60 on tolls today, all on the Mastercard. I will find out the exact amount when my statement comes in (so the final version of this may be edited).
Nearly every road I had to take was a toll road. I stopped to take photos at one point, and was asked by a Frenchman whether I thought the view was good. Again, as I explained I liked it in broken French, he looked uninterested, but after finding out I was Australian, I had to end the conversation as he wanted to know how it compared to France, in what ways, and so on. I went off at Orange (France, not NSW) to check on the McDonald’s and they had WiFi (but very small advertising of it), so I called in, sent my blog and photos and checked my emails. Then it was off again, but all the stopping had stretched my arrival time in Turin to after 8.
Once I was in the Alps proper, the road became slower, but still far quicker that the ordinary road beside us. I found one problem with the SatNav, when roads cross at different heights, the SatNav can’t really tell which one you are on and sometimes gives directions for the other road(s) – which can be very confusing if followed.
Just before I got to the long tunnel, I filled up, as I intended to let the car go on the Autostradas in Italy, to make up time. Faint hope. After being the only car at French Customs as I entered the tunnel, I got a few questions, but with the EU passport was waved through quickly. The tunnel was interesting – all the rules, but you don’t get time to read them – and also slow and downhill. Once out, on the Italian side, the speed limit was only 100 (though I was the only one sticking to it, which was unnerving when one car came up behind me (I was next to and overtaking a truck) and then overtook me as if I was standing still. However, I don’t want to waste time in an Italian traffic court, so I stuck to the limits.
I got to Turin (Torino) well after 9, feeling a little tired and so I let the SatNav choose a hotel for me. It was a little pricey, but included Internet and breakfast, and I didn’t have to search. But I did have to park the car in a spot with only thirty centimetres at each end – and I did! Right out the front of the hotel, so I feel it should be safe. I took the SatNav out just to remove an obvious temptation – something not necessary when parking in a farmyard.
I settled into the room, which is hot – the weather today got up to 31°C and then was only 10°C when I was out of the tunnels and in near fog – did the photos and then this blog, tried to ring Connie for tomorrow (no luck at 9:30, so I’ll try now at 10:30, as I need a town to head to). I need a good night’s sleep for a long drive tomorrow on unfamiliar roads.
Monday, May 5, 2008
4 May
I woke to the noise of the river flowing by. I didn’t realise how loud it was until this morning. I prepared for breakfast and was down just after 8. I had my toast with vegemite and ham. I also had tea and orange juice. Then it was back, pack, write some postcards and then go down and pay. I got some more postcards and stamps (Andorran) and paid for those at the same time. Then, at the car, I had to look up the addresses to send them to, as well as write them.
I headed off to look at the shopping in Andorra. The first problem was to find it, because all the roads lead in different directions and I found myself in a tunnel (when I hadn’t gone through one in Andorra yesterday). Eventually I found myself in a shopping area (the one frequented by Spanish, by the registration plates), but it appeared more like a large supermarket than anything else. I looked at some electrical goods but they were still more expensive (comparatively) than Australia. I got some DVDs, as they were cheaper than I had seen before, but still dearer than Australia.
I asked about postboxes and was told to look for the Post Office. I found that through the SatNav, then had to get there as the one-way streets were different to those programmed in. I did, but then couldn’t park, so had to stand in a bus zone while I rushed out to post a total of fifteen postcards. Most will go to those who don’t have computer access, but some will go to those who I think will get a kick out of getting a postcard form Andorra with an Andorran stamp. I just hope they get posted out as I found there isn’t an Andorran Post Office, but there were Spanish and French ones.
Then I headed out. I filled up with diesel at the €1,038 that I had seen many times yesterday, only to find it €1,00 at the very next service station I saw. Leaving was interesting because of the roadworks and the narrow and one-way (and different at different times lanes) roads, but eventually I was through most of the Andorran towns and into the real Pyrenees. I chose not to go through the tunnel, rather over the passes, to see the Pyrenees with snow. This I did, and it was spectacular. As I came down the other side I found the town there where all the French go to shop – and did they go! Traffic jams everywhere! I got through and then found myself at the French border Customs point. Here there was another traffic jam, but I found out that there was only one girl on and she was pulling over particular cars – I had again got passport, car papers and everything else ready only to have them just sit there.
Then I was in the French Pyrenees National Park, and heading out down a river valley. Whereas coming out of Andorra had been mainly uphill, this was just coasting in third or fourth gear and using little fuel.
The scenery was great, but similar to other mountain scenery. I looked around in the early afternoon for a patisserie but, of course being Sunday afternoon, none were open.
I stopped to look at possible places to overnight and found one I thought would be perfect – and rang, only to find they were booked already. I continued on to a town called St Affrique, and stopped there and read up to find other possibilities. I did, rang, and there was room at the in (well, farmhouse really). I said I would be there at 7:30, and then drove off from where I was stopped only to stop again for about ten minutes as the town had had a festival that day, the centre was blocked off and the police were directing traffic around the centre on what were otherwise one-way streets. Everywhere the SatNav told me to turn was blocked off, so I just headed right out of town and then took directions. I arrived at the farmhouse at 7:25 after an interesting drive up, then down, a narrow road and seeing the Millau viaduct for the first time.
I booked in, had a look at the room, then headed into Millau to look for tea and Internet. This was at Macca’s, so I checked my email and sent a bulk one out. I hadn’t written my blog, of course, nor finished with photos, so I couldn’t send those.
After, I went out to the viewing area under the Millau Viaduct. It is an impressive piece of engineering, and while I took some photos, I hope to get more and better ones tomorrow.
Then it was back to my lodgings. Bad luck struck just 650 metres before I arrived, in the form of a deer, which ran out straight into the front quarter of the car. I stopped up the road and then came back and removed the deer from the road. The car had reinforcing pieces which had twisted, and were scraping on the front wheel, so I pulled them back up and everything seemed okay, so I continued on, unpacked, did my usual things and finally retired for the evening.
One of my correspondents asked about what a SatNav was. I’ll explain that and the difference between a SatNav and a GPS.
A GPS is a device which uses the Global Positioning Satellites to determine position. With a few satellites, the fix gives your position on the earth’s surface (in whichever co-ordinates you specify, but I use degrees, minutes, seconds of latitude and longitude). With more than three satellites, the fix gives your position on the earth’s surface and the altitude. You can use this to map positions or just to mark positions. I use it for marking the car’s place, so I can find it again without having to remember exactly where it was. I also use it when walking, either to backtrack a path or to determine how far I have walked.
A SatNav also is a device which uses the Global Positioning Satellites to determine position, but it has inbuilt maps (either in internal memory or on cards – SIMM, compact flash or SD) which it then uses to show where you are in relation to roads and places. It can then use that to calculate paths to other locations, and display those as directions on a road map on its screen. The directions can be read out to the driver or just appear as written directions. When read out, they allow the driver to follow the instructions to get to the required place, such as an address or a place (such as a tourist bureau or a Mcdonald’s), providing the place is in the memory. It is very useful for navigating freeway interchanges in the US, where at 75 miles per hour you can weave from one freeway, through others, to your final freeway and then to your destination. It’s also very useful for me to find a McDonald’s, see if it has WiFi and so keep in touch.
I chose to get mine in Australia, become familiar with it so I could interpret the instructions as well as program it quickly, then load it with North American (US and Canada) and Western European maps at home and enter in the places I was going to visit. I could also create itineraries for places and get an estimate of the time it would take me to travel in an unfamiliar country (so I found that San Diego to Tucson was the same as Melbourne to Adelaide).
My SatNav is a TomTom One XL and my GPS is a Magellan 200.
I headed off to look at the shopping in Andorra. The first problem was to find it, because all the roads lead in different directions and I found myself in a tunnel (when I hadn’t gone through one in Andorra yesterday). Eventually I found myself in a shopping area (the one frequented by Spanish, by the registration plates), but it appeared more like a large supermarket than anything else. I looked at some electrical goods but they were still more expensive (comparatively) than Australia. I got some DVDs, as they were cheaper than I had seen before, but still dearer than Australia.
I asked about postboxes and was told to look for the Post Office. I found that through the SatNav, then had to get there as the one-way streets were different to those programmed in. I did, but then couldn’t park, so had to stand in a bus zone while I rushed out to post a total of fifteen postcards. Most will go to those who don’t have computer access, but some will go to those who I think will get a kick out of getting a postcard form Andorra with an Andorran stamp. I just hope they get posted out as I found there isn’t an Andorran Post Office, but there were Spanish and French ones.
Then I headed out. I filled up with diesel at the €1,038 that I had seen many times yesterday, only to find it €1,00 at the very next service station I saw. Leaving was interesting because of the roadworks and the narrow and one-way (and different at different times lanes) roads, but eventually I was through most of the Andorran towns and into the real Pyrenees. I chose not to go through the tunnel, rather over the passes, to see the Pyrenees with snow. This I did, and it was spectacular. As I came down the other side I found the town there where all the French go to shop – and did they go! Traffic jams everywhere! I got through and then found myself at the French border Customs point. Here there was another traffic jam, but I found out that there was only one girl on and she was pulling over particular cars – I had again got passport, car papers and everything else ready only to have them just sit there.
Then I was in the French Pyrenees National Park, and heading out down a river valley. Whereas coming out of Andorra had been mainly uphill, this was just coasting in third or fourth gear and using little fuel.
The scenery was great, but similar to other mountain scenery. I looked around in the early afternoon for a patisserie but, of course being Sunday afternoon, none were open.
I stopped to look at possible places to overnight and found one I thought would be perfect – and rang, only to find they were booked already. I continued on to a town called St Affrique, and stopped there and read up to find other possibilities. I did, rang, and there was room at the in (well, farmhouse really). I said I would be there at 7:30, and then drove off from where I was stopped only to stop again for about ten minutes as the town had had a festival that day, the centre was blocked off and the police were directing traffic around the centre on what were otherwise one-way streets. Everywhere the SatNav told me to turn was blocked off, so I just headed right out of town and then took directions. I arrived at the farmhouse at 7:25 after an interesting drive up, then down, a narrow road and seeing the Millau viaduct for the first time.
I booked in, had a look at the room, then headed into Millau to look for tea and Internet. This was at Macca’s, so I checked my email and sent a bulk one out. I hadn’t written my blog, of course, nor finished with photos, so I couldn’t send those.
After, I went out to the viewing area under the Millau Viaduct. It is an impressive piece of engineering, and while I took some photos, I hope to get more and better ones tomorrow.
Then it was back to my lodgings. Bad luck struck just 650 metres before I arrived, in the form of a deer, which ran out straight into the front quarter of the car. I stopped up the road and then came back and removed the deer from the road. The car had reinforcing pieces which had twisted, and were scraping on the front wheel, so I pulled them back up and everything seemed okay, so I continued on, unpacked, did my usual things and finally retired for the evening.
One of my correspondents asked about what a SatNav was. I’ll explain that and the difference between a SatNav and a GPS.
A GPS is a device which uses the Global Positioning Satellites to determine position. With a few satellites, the fix gives your position on the earth’s surface (in whichever co-ordinates you specify, but I use degrees, minutes, seconds of latitude and longitude). With more than three satellites, the fix gives your position on the earth’s surface and the altitude. You can use this to map positions or just to mark positions. I use it for marking the car’s place, so I can find it again without having to remember exactly where it was. I also use it when walking, either to backtrack a path or to determine how far I have walked.
A SatNav also is a device which uses the Global Positioning Satellites to determine position, but it has inbuilt maps (either in internal memory or on cards – SIMM, compact flash or SD) which it then uses to show where you are in relation to roads and places. It can then use that to calculate paths to other locations, and display those as directions on a road map on its screen. The directions can be read out to the driver or just appear as written directions. When read out, they allow the driver to follow the instructions to get to the required place, such as an address or a place (such as a tourist bureau or a Mcdonald’s), providing the place is in the memory. It is very useful for navigating freeway interchanges in the US, where at 75 miles per hour you can weave from one freeway, through others, to your final freeway and then to your destination. It’s also very useful for me to find a McDonald’s, see if it has WiFi and so keep in touch.
I chose to get mine in Australia, become familiar with it so I could interpret the instructions as well as program it quickly, then load it with North American (US and Canada) and Western European maps at home and enter in the places I was going to visit. I could also create itineraries for places and get an estimate of the time it would take me to travel in an unfamiliar country (so I found that San Diego to Tucson was the same as Melbourne to Adelaide).
My SatNav is a TomTom One XL and my GPS is a Magellan 200.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
3 May
I awoke after 7 but really didn’t want to get up and about. After spending yesterday being driven around and being taken care of, it was a struggle to realise that today I would be back to doing everything by myself. But I eventually got up and prepared myself for breakfast, to find that not only were Barry and Jean up, but lunch had already been prepared and breakfast was only waiting for me to arrive. [Whoops – forgot; I had better not describe such hospitality in glowing terms lest many other relatives take the opportunity to partake and Barry and Jean end up being swamped – so everyone can ignore those comments above.]
After a leisurely breakfast I was off after being seen off. I programmed the SatNav for Andorra (and no toll roads, thanks) and was predicted to arrive at 8:15. That seemed satisfactory so I followed the route given to me, which initially took me in entirely the wrong direction, but then I realised I wasn’t going through any residential areas, so I was going to get to the highway quicker. My fears were allayed and I quickly hit the highway (a lie – I drove smoothly onto the highway) and set off east, then north. I stopped to fill up with diesel at about 11:30 and took lunch into the cabin with me and ate that as I drove along. My observation that cruising at 120 km/hr was using fuel as a prodigious rate was correct (but as I have left the log book in the car and I’m currently typing this in the hotel room, it will have to wait until later to be calculated on the spreadsheet and officially entered in) and so a lot more fuel than I thought was needed went in.
Not long after, I was directed off the highway as it became a toll road. I don’t mind as I then get to go through countryside and towns and see the real country. Immediately the houses looked older and more run-down, there was less construction and the occupations became far more rural. At this point, two things occurred – I saw the name of a business that sent my into paroxysms of laughter (I won’t write what it was as sensibilities may be offended, and just wish I could have pulled off and taken a photo – but I will look up its telephone number to verify it does exist) and I found that I was passing directly by a McDonald’s. I called in but found it didn’t advertise anywhere it had WiFi, so I went straight out.
Later I found myself driving along the C12. It is a scenic route along the valley of the River L’Erbe and is worthy of note for just that. However, for some reason, it has radar cabinets about every two kilometres along the first sixty or so kilometres. That became very unnerving as I was seeing beautiful river sights and suddenly saw the camera and wondered whether I was travelling at the correct speed (it’s 100 km/hr along the road, but can be 60, 70 or 80 for a few hundred metres before and after intersections, and 50, 60 or 70 at the beginning and end of towns (and 30, 40, 50, 60 or 70 in the towns)). However, I’ll keep my fingers crossed.
I did see a beautiful castle (ruined) which I photographed, which was at about the 45 kilometre post, and at the same time saw an irresistible ferry across the river – two longboats with a platform between them to carry cars, and you had to drive on and make a sudden quick turn so enough cars could fit on (and then stop suddenly so you were still on). Not far down the river at the eighty kilometre post was a nuclear power station – I didn’t realise Spain had many, and not hidden up near the Pyrenees.
Not long after this I was in a river valley, narrow, spectacular, with lots of tunnels and twisting road. There was a huge amount of traffic coming down and I couldn’t understand why. I got to the Andorran border (again, no-one at home) and on the other side all the cars were being searched by the Spanish officials. There was a huge backlog.
Just after I entered Andorra I saw why. Huge shopping centres, where I suppose goods are far cheaper than in Spain, and only certain amounts can be brought back – but of course many people want to bring back a lot more. I pulled over, went to the Information Centre (open until 8, and it wasn’t even 7 yet – I had made good time) and got a list of accommodation places. Then I went into Andorra La Vella to get tea – and found a Hungry Jack’s (not really, a Burger King, but close enough). While having tea (no, they didn’t have WiFi) I read through the list of accommodation options and found some had Internet. With price, Internet, parking and breakfast as criteria, I narrowed it down to three – and went to call and found … no mobile signal! I programmed the first full address of one I could find into the SatNav and found it was only five minutes away. I arrived there in ten (narrow streets, sudden intersections which can’t be seen until you’ve passed them and corners which aren’t obvious meant I had a few wrong turns – the SatNav wasn’t wrong, I was) and enquired. The price was right so I went on up and saw the room – okay – and the Internet was WiFi. I had parked just opposite and was assured that would be okay, so I took my stuff up, set up, got myself ready and uploaded all the photos, all the blogs, even this one (but not until after I had written it), caught up on emails and then went to sleep with the resounding swoosh of the river right across the road in my ears. Tomorrow I intend to have a quick look around Andorra after breakfast, see if there are any souvenirs worth getting and then I’ll be heading off to Millau to cross the longest highest bridge in the world, before then heading towards Italy!
After a leisurely breakfast I was off after being seen off. I programmed the SatNav for Andorra (and no toll roads, thanks) and was predicted to arrive at 8:15. That seemed satisfactory so I followed the route given to me, which initially took me in entirely the wrong direction, but then I realised I wasn’t going through any residential areas, so I was going to get to the highway quicker. My fears were allayed and I quickly hit the highway (a lie – I drove smoothly onto the highway) and set off east, then north. I stopped to fill up with diesel at about 11:30 and took lunch into the cabin with me and ate that as I drove along. My observation that cruising at 120 km/hr was using fuel as a prodigious rate was correct (but as I have left the log book in the car and I’m currently typing this in the hotel room, it will have to wait until later to be calculated on the spreadsheet and officially entered in) and so a lot more fuel than I thought was needed went in.
Not long after, I was directed off the highway as it became a toll road. I don’t mind as I then get to go through countryside and towns and see the real country. Immediately the houses looked older and more run-down, there was less construction and the occupations became far more rural. At this point, two things occurred – I saw the name of a business that sent my into paroxysms of laughter (I won’t write what it was as sensibilities may be offended, and just wish I could have pulled off and taken a photo – but I will look up its telephone number to verify it does exist) and I found that I was passing directly by a McDonald’s. I called in but found it didn’t advertise anywhere it had WiFi, so I went straight out.
Later I found myself driving along the C12. It is a scenic route along the valley of the River L’Erbe and is worthy of note for just that. However, for some reason, it has radar cabinets about every two kilometres along the first sixty or so kilometres. That became very unnerving as I was seeing beautiful river sights and suddenly saw the camera and wondered whether I was travelling at the correct speed (it’s 100 km/hr along the road, but can be 60, 70 or 80 for a few hundred metres before and after intersections, and 50, 60 or 70 at the beginning and end of towns (and 30, 40, 50, 60 or 70 in the towns)). However, I’ll keep my fingers crossed.
I did see a beautiful castle (ruined) which I photographed, which was at about the 45 kilometre post, and at the same time saw an irresistible ferry across the river – two longboats with a platform between them to carry cars, and you had to drive on and make a sudden quick turn so enough cars could fit on (and then stop suddenly so you were still on). Not far down the river at the eighty kilometre post was a nuclear power station – I didn’t realise Spain had many, and not hidden up near the Pyrenees.
Not long after this I was in a river valley, narrow, spectacular, with lots of tunnels and twisting road. There was a huge amount of traffic coming down and I couldn’t understand why. I got to the Andorran border (again, no-one at home) and on the other side all the cars were being searched by the Spanish officials. There was a huge backlog.
Just after I entered Andorra I saw why. Huge shopping centres, where I suppose goods are far cheaper than in Spain, and only certain amounts can be brought back – but of course many people want to bring back a lot more. I pulled over, went to the Information Centre (open until 8, and it wasn’t even 7 yet – I had made good time) and got a list of accommodation places. Then I went into Andorra La Vella to get tea – and found a Hungry Jack’s (not really, a Burger King, but close enough). While having tea (no, they didn’t have WiFi) I read through the list of accommodation options and found some had Internet. With price, Internet, parking and breakfast as criteria, I narrowed it down to three – and went to call and found … no mobile signal! I programmed the first full address of one I could find into the SatNav and found it was only five minutes away. I arrived there in ten (narrow streets, sudden intersections which can’t be seen until you’ve passed them and corners which aren’t obvious meant I had a few wrong turns – the SatNav wasn’t wrong, I was) and enquired. The price was right so I went on up and saw the room – okay – and the Internet was WiFi. I had parked just opposite and was assured that would be okay, so I took my stuff up, set up, got myself ready and uploaded all the photos, all the blogs, even this one (but not until after I had written it), caught up on emails and then went to sleep with the resounding swoosh of the river right across the road in my ears. Tomorrow I intend to have a quick look around Andorra after breakfast, see if there are any souvenirs worth getting and then I’ll be heading off to Millau to cross the longest highest bridge in the world, before then heading towards Italy!
2 May
I woke at just after 8 but decided I could last a little longer and was finally up about 9. I had breakfast outside on the verandah with the Thomas’s, including real vegemite on real toast. The washing, which Jean ad kindly done the night before was nearly, but not fully dry, so Jean ironed the shirts which were then not only dry to wear but pressed. After I showered I too was washed, pressed and dressed.
At this stage Barry and Jean took me to for a drive around Roquetas De Mar. Now I had an idea of what the geography of the area was like, it made sense. There is a long drive along the waterfront and an equally long promenade and beach. There were many people already out on the beach and they included families, groups and individuals. Unlike the US beaches, there were no organised jogging groups or sports groups playing.
We then went through the town of Roquetas De Mar. There is the old town, now about two to four hundred metres from the beach, the new developments between the old town and the beach, the redevelopments in the old town and the new developments on the land side of the old town, including a very large shopping centre. While driving around, Barry had told me there was an Opel dealer in the town, so we dropped in there. No-one could help us at the time so we went along, had a coffee, and then went back. By this time the spare parts manager was back and he was able to me, but didn’t have the parts I wanted. These could be ordered and in by Wednesday, he proudly proclaimed in English. I ordered the parts and Barry will post them on. They are for the Barina, but I can’t get the parts in Australia.
We then went back to the beach and went for a walk along to the south. Here we saw many people walking along and one group of girls in a pedal-powered car. When I went to take a photo, they all posed before rushing back on their way to, well along the beach I suppose. At this stage Barry had a call and we had to return to the flat to meet the owner and the letting agent. After greetings all around, we headed out again to a Chinese restaurant (in Spain) for the celebration on Jean’s birthday. All the guests were members of the Tappas Club, a group of expatriates who meet on a regular basis. There were about twenty in all, and I met them but like an Australian barbecue, the group segregated into a male and female table. During the dinner, which lasted just over two hours, there was much hilarity and levity and the receiving of a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
After the dinner, two members headed to the outdoor room of the restaurant to fight to the death in a game of Scrabble. While everyone else watched, the two fought it out with deadly earnest (no, sorry, he’s still hosting late night TV in Melbourne) until finally Dave won and was presented with a printed and laminated certificate.
After the battle to the death had concluded and the bloodlust was satisfied, everyone drifted off. Jean Barry and I returned to the unit and had a cup of tea, I brought my washing in and Jean brought theirs in, we had a cup of tea and we chatted. After a bit of work tidying up family tree entries, I checked my email (reservation confirmed for the end of May, envy of travel from another – so I know at least one person is reading the emails and blogs), sent one out and then did some discussion about my plans. I will have to leave here tomorrow morning in order to travel to Andorra tomorrow, go into France and cross the highest bridge in the world (when I come to it) at Millau, then head over to Italy and travel south to meet up with an ex-school colleague somewhere in the south on the sixth.
I burned the photos of today as large and small images for Barry, then burned my small photos so far for Barry and Jean onto a DVD. After, we watched some of these as we chatted about their content, people and the world in general. Although we did not solve ALL the world’s problems, we had an enjoyable time until we had some supper and then headed off to bed. After writing up, I was off to sleep by 12:30.
At this stage Barry and Jean took me to for a drive around Roquetas De Mar. Now I had an idea of what the geography of the area was like, it made sense. There is a long drive along the waterfront and an equally long promenade and beach. There were many people already out on the beach and they included families, groups and individuals. Unlike the US beaches, there were no organised jogging groups or sports groups playing.
We then went through the town of Roquetas De Mar. There is the old town, now about two to four hundred metres from the beach, the new developments between the old town and the beach, the redevelopments in the old town and the new developments on the land side of the old town, including a very large shopping centre. While driving around, Barry had told me there was an Opel dealer in the town, so we dropped in there. No-one could help us at the time so we went along, had a coffee, and then went back. By this time the spare parts manager was back and he was able to me, but didn’t have the parts I wanted. These could be ordered and in by Wednesday, he proudly proclaimed in English. I ordered the parts and Barry will post them on. They are for the Barina, but I can’t get the parts in Australia.
We then went back to the beach and went for a walk along to the south. Here we saw many people walking along and one group of girls in a pedal-powered car. When I went to take a photo, they all posed before rushing back on their way to, well along the beach I suppose. At this stage Barry had a call and we had to return to the flat to meet the owner and the letting agent. After greetings all around, we headed out again to a Chinese restaurant (in Spain) for the celebration on Jean’s birthday. All the guests were members of the Tappas Club, a group of expatriates who meet on a regular basis. There were about twenty in all, and I met them but like an Australian barbecue, the group segregated into a male and female table. During the dinner, which lasted just over two hours, there was much hilarity and levity and the receiving of a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
After the dinner, two members headed to the outdoor room of the restaurant to fight to the death in a game of Scrabble. While everyone else watched, the two fought it out with deadly earnest (no, sorry, he’s still hosting late night TV in Melbourne) until finally Dave won and was presented with a printed and laminated certificate.
After the battle to the death had concluded and the bloodlust was satisfied, everyone drifted off. Jean Barry and I returned to the unit and had a cup of tea, I brought my washing in and Jean brought theirs in, we had a cup of tea and we chatted. After a bit of work tidying up family tree entries, I checked my email (reservation confirmed for the end of May, envy of travel from another – so I know at least one person is reading the emails and blogs), sent one out and then did some discussion about my plans. I will have to leave here tomorrow morning in order to travel to Andorra tomorrow, go into France and cross the highest bridge in the world (when I come to it) at Millau, then head over to Italy and travel south to meet up with an ex-school colleague somewhere in the south on the sixth.
I burned the photos of today as large and small images for Barry, then burned my small photos so far for Barry and Jean onto a DVD. After, we watched some of these as we chatted about their content, people and the world in general. Although we did not solve ALL the world’s problems, we had an enjoyable time until we had some supper and then headed off to bed. After writing up, I was off to sleep by 12:30.
1 May
I woke to the sound of heavy rain (I thought) and arose to be ready by 8. When I walked outside – it had not rained – the sound I heard was the hot water going through the radiators.
Breakfast was set out with bread, a croissant, a pitcher of orange juice, milk, oranges and kiwi fruit and what appeared to be a slice of cake.
In a moment, mine hostess appeared and asked if all was right, then returned a few minutes later with a pot of tea. She pointed out the slice of cake and said it was a special Basque gateau. I worked my way through a piece of baguette with vegemite, a piece of baguette with strawberry jam, the croissant, an orange and the slice of gateau. It is probably best described as almost teacake texture with a filling in the middle of some aromatic fruit in a custard. What the fruit was I couldn’t recall, but it may come to mind later.
After I had finished the tea and some orange juice, I had to walk a little to settle it down. Then mine hostess returned, I settled the account and said my goodbyes. Then I went back to my room, packed, packed the car, checked, and finally left.
I departed through the village of St-Jean-Pied-de-Pont and headed south. The road went through a narrow river valley and the river became smaller as I got further from the village. Then up came advertising signs for Spanish businesses over the border and I prepared passport and car papers … only to find I had already arrived in Spain and there was no border. The language on the signs and the slightly different speed signs were the only obvious difference, until the businesses and their names became visible. So all my preparations were for naught.
Then the road climbed and the views became beautiful and panoramic. I stopped by the roadside to get a scene, only to find a parking area a few hundred metres down the road, so I stopped there too. Then the road dropped and I was in my first Spanish village.
Memo to self: Check that roads and villages are clear of walkers, cyclists and anglers before driving through Pyrenees in Spain. The roads were literally lined with hikers of all nationalities, all shapes, sizes and ages, and with loads varying from nothing to packs which would make Foreign Legionnaires blanch (standard packs used to be 56 to 72 pounds while Legionnaires would carry a standard 112 pounds). They walked beside the road, they walked on the road, they walked across the road (out of bushes, in cut pathways, straight onto the road). They were almost outnumbered by cyclists – and these meant business. One came around the corner, cut the corner, was in the middle of my lane when he saw me and I could see him curse me (the sneering lip and derisory look gave it away) and he reluctantly went back to his side of the road. In some cases, bunches occupied an entire side of the road and following cars had to rely on a clear road the other way to get past. In one small town the number of hikers looked to be about five times the number of occupants of the village.
I pulled up at a rest stop. The only comment I will make is that the standard of facilities and cleanliness of them leaves much (a huge amount, to be precise) to be desired.
As I left the Pyrenees behind, a feature which was to stay with me appeared – wind farms. A few wind generators or almost hundreds together, they remained a constant sight throughout the day. Also evident were farms of solar panels, some in operation, some still being constructed. At this point the scenery was of green farmed paddocks, undulating land and mountains visible in the distance. As I moved on, the mountains turned out to be the edge of the central plateau of Spain, and I was skirting its northern edge.
I was directed by the SatNav onto a tollway, being the shortest route in terms of time. I thought I would put up with the additional cost, but half an hour later, and €15,10 lighter, I wasn’t so sure. It did cut about an hour off my trip, so in terms of what I wanted, I put up with it. I stopped at another rest area to have a drink and rest my backside (the two-hour seats were taking their toll). Here I spoke to a father who was amusing his four young girls while the mother was feeding the baby in the car. Soon another problem emerged – on the tollway, the speed limit was 120 kilometres per hour, and the little Clio was having to do 2750 revs to maintain it, and fuel was being consumed far faster than before. A projected range of 1700 kilometres from the tank had shrunk to 1600 by 10:30 and was down to 1500 by 11:30. By midday I needed to fill up and found a service spot. Here I got a pleasant surprise – the attendant spoke good English and the price was nearly €0,10 a litre cheaper than in France. I filled the car, used the station facilities (cleaner than the rest stop, but still not great) and then headed off. Another feature filled the skyline – cranes for building construction were everywhere – small villages, large towns, cities! If the world is not moving to Spain, then there will be a lot of unoccupied housing.
I thought about travel and times and accommodation and looked for a Tourist Bureau. I found a town with one just down the road and got directions into it. The town was quiet, which I thought was due to siesta. I parked, found the Tourist Information Centre, and it was due to open in a few minutes. I waited, and waited, and waited. Every notice on the door was in Spanish, English and French, EXCEPT the one which said today was a festival day and so the office was closed. Now not only didn’t I know what options were open to me, I couldn’t find out what was available.
I rang Barry, a cousin-in-law who I was going down to visit, and explained what had happened. He gave me the final directions to his place and so I set off. I took the chance to scout out the McDonald’s but it did not obviously advertise Internet access. I will check tomorrow.
The ETA given was 9:25 and with travel quite rapid due to little traffic on the road, I headed south, then west. I found out another problem with convex mirrors – the setting sun, visible in them when I scanned the mirrors, gave such a bright image that for nearly two minutes my central vision disappeared (I couldn’t see the car ahead of me unless I turned my head to the side). I checked, and the image of the sun directly ahead of me and in the flat central mirror caused no such problem.
Now the sea became visible and so did polythene tents of varying sizes. I was soon into the urban area and now had to negotiate crowds while listening to directions and trying to follow them. I ended up in the spot where I could follow Barry’s directions and … I was in the right place, found their place, buzzed, took my stuff up when Barry came down to meet me, and then had a good chat (while Jean hand my washing on, only a small load but including my jacket, which will now be able to see me home). Eventually I was off to bed at just before 2 (and hope I can get a sleep-in!).
Breakfast was set out with bread, a croissant, a pitcher of orange juice, milk, oranges and kiwi fruit and what appeared to be a slice of cake.
In a moment, mine hostess appeared and asked if all was right, then returned a few minutes later with a pot of tea. She pointed out the slice of cake and said it was a special Basque gateau. I worked my way through a piece of baguette with vegemite, a piece of baguette with strawberry jam, the croissant, an orange and the slice of gateau. It is probably best described as almost teacake texture with a filling in the middle of some aromatic fruit in a custard. What the fruit was I couldn’t recall, but it may come to mind later.
After I had finished the tea and some orange juice, I had to walk a little to settle it down. Then mine hostess returned, I settled the account and said my goodbyes. Then I went back to my room, packed, packed the car, checked, and finally left.
I departed through the village of St-Jean-Pied-de-Pont and headed south. The road went through a narrow river valley and the river became smaller as I got further from the village. Then up came advertising signs for Spanish businesses over the border and I prepared passport and car papers … only to find I had already arrived in Spain and there was no border. The language on the signs and the slightly different speed signs were the only obvious difference, until the businesses and their names became visible. So all my preparations were for naught.
Then the road climbed and the views became beautiful and panoramic. I stopped by the roadside to get a scene, only to find a parking area a few hundred metres down the road, so I stopped there too. Then the road dropped and I was in my first Spanish village.
Memo to self: Check that roads and villages are clear of walkers, cyclists and anglers before driving through Pyrenees in Spain. The roads were literally lined with hikers of all nationalities, all shapes, sizes and ages, and with loads varying from nothing to packs which would make Foreign Legionnaires blanch (standard packs used to be 56 to 72 pounds while Legionnaires would carry a standard 112 pounds). They walked beside the road, they walked on the road, they walked across the road (out of bushes, in cut pathways, straight onto the road). They were almost outnumbered by cyclists – and these meant business. One came around the corner, cut the corner, was in the middle of my lane when he saw me and I could see him curse me (the sneering lip and derisory look gave it away) and he reluctantly went back to his side of the road. In some cases, bunches occupied an entire side of the road and following cars had to rely on a clear road the other way to get past. In one small town the number of hikers looked to be about five times the number of occupants of the village.
I pulled up at a rest stop. The only comment I will make is that the standard of facilities and cleanliness of them leaves much (a huge amount, to be precise) to be desired.
As I left the Pyrenees behind, a feature which was to stay with me appeared – wind farms. A few wind generators or almost hundreds together, they remained a constant sight throughout the day. Also evident were farms of solar panels, some in operation, some still being constructed. At this point the scenery was of green farmed paddocks, undulating land and mountains visible in the distance. As I moved on, the mountains turned out to be the edge of the central plateau of Spain, and I was skirting its northern edge.
I was directed by the SatNav onto a tollway, being the shortest route in terms of time. I thought I would put up with the additional cost, but half an hour later, and €15,10 lighter, I wasn’t so sure. It did cut about an hour off my trip, so in terms of what I wanted, I put up with it. I stopped at another rest area to have a drink and rest my backside (the two-hour seats were taking their toll). Here I spoke to a father who was amusing his four young girls while the mother was feeding the baby in the car. Soon another problem emerged – on the tollway, the speed limit was 120 kilometres per hour, and the little Clio was having to do 2750 revs to maintain it, and fuel was being consumed far faster than before. A projected range of 1700 kilometres from the tank had shrunk to 1600 by 10:30 and was down to 1500 by 11:30. By midday I needed to fill up and found a service spot. Here I got a pleasant surprise – the attendant spoke good English and the price was nearly €0,10 a litre cheaper than in France. I filled the car, used the station facilities (cleaner than the rest stop, but still not great) and then headed off. Another feature filled the skyline – cranes for building construction were everywhere – small villages, large towns, cities! If the world is not moving to Spain, then there will be a lot of unoccupied housing.
I thought about travel and times and accommodation and looked for a Tourist Bureau. I found a town with one just down the road and got directions into it. The town was quiet, which I thought was due to siesta. I parked, found the Tourist Information Centre, and it was due to open in a few minutes. I waited, and waited, and waited. Every notice on the door was in Spanish, English and French, EXCEPT the one which said today was a festival day and so the office was closed. Now not only didn’t I know what options were open to me, I couldn’t find out what was available.
I rang Barry, a cousin-in-law who I was going down to visit, and explained what had happened. He gave me the final directions to his place and so I set off. I took the chance to scout out the McDonald’s but it did not obviously advertise Internet access. I will check tomorrow.
The ETA given was 9:25 and with travel quite rapid due to little traffic on the road, I headed south, then west. I found out another problem with convex mirrors – the setting sun, visible in them when I scanned the mirrors, gave such a bright image that for nearly two minutes my central vision disappeared (I couldn’t see the car ahead of me unless I turned my head to the side). I checked, and the image of the sun directly ahead of me and in the flat central mirror caused no such problem.
Now the sea became visible and so did polythene tents of varying sizes. I was soon into the urban area and now had to negotiate crowds while listening to directions and trying to follow them. I ended up in the spot where I could follow Barry’s directions and … I was in the right place, found their place, buzzed, took my stuff up when Barry came down to meet me, and then had a good chat (while Jean hand my washing on, only a small load but including my jacket, which will now be able to see me home). Eventually I was off to bed at just before 2 (and hope I can get a sleep-in!).
30 April
I arose today after waking at 5:30 with the rain falling heavily. By the time I was out at 8, it had stopped and the sky was clear. However as I went to go in for breakfast, I looked for but could not find my little electronic translator. I had it the previous morning and that was the last I remembered of it. I asked whether I had left it at the breakfast table yesterday, but apparently I hadn’t. After finishing breakfast (again getting little baguette slices of toast for my vegemite), I looked through everything again, but still not luck. The only other place I could have had it would have been the laundrette, and I had to post a letter in Lourdes, so I went into town. I found a parking spot (good) and found one of the ladies in the laundrette (good) but it was not there (bad). I posted the postcard (found a letter receiver easily) and then left Lourdes. I was beading towards Biarritz, as it looked a nice seaside town. I was aiming to spend the night at a little town called St-Jean-Pied-de-Pont, so I would be near the Spanish border for my entry into Spain tomorrow.
I took my now usual route of asking the SatNav to direct me via no motorways. That way I get to look at the countryside and sometimes find some interesting places. Today was no exception. I found myself in a town called Orthez, with a Post Office right beside my route. I dropped in with the (hopefully) second-last parcel, found it was under seven kilograms (the limit for the cheap postage to Australia). I filled out the Customs declaration and handed that over, all was pronounced okay and I left. Fran should get another parcel within a week and there is nothing special inside, so it can wait until I pick it up.
Buoyed with this, I had another look for the translator – no luck. As I had got a ticket for an hour, but only used about fifteen minutes, I thought someone else could some luck, so the lady who took th spot after me gratefully took it and placed it on her dash. I headed out (about 11:30 at this stage and around the first corner was a … Macca’s, with WiFi! So I had an early lunch and updated my photos and blog, checked emails and sent two, plus the bulk one, out. All the while doing this, there was a baby sitting just over from me who seemed fascinated by me and would giggle each time it looked at me. It ignored the parents and older brothers, and food, so I was trying to concentrate on two things at once. I’ll know if I didn’t succeed if I get correcting emails tomorrow.
I headed out of Orthez and expected to get to Biarritz about 2, and did arrive there on schedule. Along the way I saw an E LeClerc and wondered if they stocked electronic dictionaries – and after ten minutes of waiting as there weren’t any staff, and finally having to ask a security guard, the answer was – no.
At Biarritz, I could not believe the umber of people around. It seems that the season is starting and so people (and cars) appear from nowhere. Whereas in every other town I have been able to find parking in the city centre, this time I had to head out. I stopped at a oceanside road, where waves were pounding the rocky shore. I had a quick look around, but so many people are now a distraction. I headed back towards Bayonne, whereI had seen a E LeClerc bookstore (DVDs, electronic devices, etc.) so I thought I would try that – no luck. However I was just heading back towards the road (I was on a service lane) when I couldn’t believe my eyes – a Rip Curl shop, with a little explanation about the company at Torquay (Victoria). I stopped, took some photos and spoke to the staff there. They said it was the beginning of the season and they expected to be very busy within a week or two (hence the people at Biarritz and the waves). There were four outlets in the area.
I rang up about accommodation and had success with the first, amazing as the lady speaks Spanish and a little French, but no English, and me, well. I said I would be there about 5, but when I programmed the SatNav with the address, the time was only about an hour. I headed off anyway, still in amazement that the car was giving me a projected range now of about one thousand seven hundred kilometres from this tank. Along the way I stopped in a Lidl supermarket to stock up on munchies in case I am travelling all day tomorrow in Spain and can’t find somewhere to have a meal. As usual, there was only one checkout operating and the line of three stretched to twelve before another opened. The woman behind me shrugged and I said it was the same anywhere in the world. Finally I left.
I got to the town and found – crowds!
Memo to self: when choosing a small country town to stay in, check to see if it is the hiking capital of the Pyrenees first.
I eventually located my place for this evening, but got no answer when I knocked. I thought I would go to the Tourist Information Centre (seen while going through the town) and get some info on the town and sights to see on a few hours stop. Could I find a parking place near there? Not on your life! Things do work out with a purpose and I tootled around until I found a parking spot and found I was at the base of the Citadel, variously a hostel for travellers on pilgrimages and a fortification in time of hostilities. While I was walking through the citadel area, it also struck me that I had seen a lot of crude signs along the way with one common feature – Basque!
Memo to self: when choosing a place to stay, remember to check if it is a hotbed for revolutionaries.
After an exhausting uphill walk (I don’t know why they needed all the fortifications in most of these places – attackers in armour and with weapons would have been too tired to fight by the time they got to the defences), I got a panoramic view of the countryside and an appreciation of how rugged the Pyrenees are – and that, even today, shutting a few roads would block an area off completely. Needless to say, the walk down was more pleasant.
I drove back to where I was to stay and had just parked when the lady of the house came out, we introduced ourselves and she showed me the room. It was very comfortable and modern, the any difference between it and most of the last ones that it doesn’t have a dual-flush toilet (I’m obsessed by how much water is wasted now – and McDonald’s in France has a lot of waterless urinals).
I unpacked and set up with the laptop in the lounge, intending to do my blog, process the photos and write some letters. Things have a way of changing and my hostess came in, I had photos up and she saw them, and I said I would show her photos of Australia (the work last night was paying off already). She said to wait a minute and came back with a teenager who was staying here and lives in Biarritz (he recognised the pictures of it and the Rip Curl shop). I showed them pictures of Australia and had the map out, then showed them some pictures of France. Then he had to go, she had to cook and my battery was flattening. I went to my lonely writer’s well-appointed accommodations and charged the batteries for the camera (two sets), plugged the laptop in and finished this.
One other interesting sidelight I’ve picked up on is to do with bus stops. On some narrow roads you wonder where the bus stop is – and the answer is – the road! The bus just stops, drops and picks up passengers and then is on its way. The same happens outside hotels in towns. The bus stops, and so does the traffic behind it. You either wait until all the passengers and luggage are unloaded, or hope there is a break in the traffic the other way and everyone passes on the wrong side, usually over double lines.
Also, the difference between a forest and a wood. A forest looks as though it actually has some natural aspects to it and has undergrowth. A wood, which may be as few as three trees, is planted with precision and is clear in the middle (although there may be undergrowth around it, giving a semblance of privacy for those who enter it).
And there are car stops before intersections. In many small towns, there is no room for traffic to turn a corner and pass a waiting car. The traffic light can be anything up to twenty metres back from the intersection so traffic can turn, straighten up and then pass the waiting cars. It seems to me that front-wheel drive, with its larger turning circle, must have exacerbated this.
And now, tomorrow, the adventure continues as I enter Spain, using my EU passport to hopefully smooth ways (and my Australian passport if that gives a better response).
My concerns are: WiFi; accommodation, language (in that order).
I took my now usual route of asking the SatNav to direct me via no motorways. That way I get to look at the countryside and sometimes find some interesting places. Today was no exception. I found myself in a town called Orthez, with a Post Office right beside my route. I dropped in with the (hopefully) second-last parcel, found it was under seven kilograms (the limit for the cheap postage to Australia). I filled out the Customs declaration and handed that over, all was pronounced okay and I left. Fran should get another parcel within a week and there is nothing special inside, so it can wait until I pick it up.
Buoyed with this, I had another look for the translator – no luck. As I had got a ticket for an hour, but only used about fifteen minutes, I thought someone else could some luck, so the lady who took th spot after me gratefully took it and placed it on her dash. I headed out (about 11:30 at this stage and around the first corner was a … Macca’s, with WiFi! So I had an early lunch and updated my photos and blog, checked emails and sent two, plus the bulk one, out. All the while doing this, there was a baby sitting just over from me who seemed fascinated by me and would giggle each time it looked at me. It ignored the parents and older brothers, and food, so I was trying to concentrate on two things at once. I’ll know if I didn’t succeed if I get correcting emails tomorrow.
I headed out of Orthez and expected to get to Biarritz about 2, and did arrive there on schedule. Along the way I saw an E LeClerc and wondered if they stocked electronic dictionaries – and after ten minutes of waiting as there weren’t any staff, and finally having to ask a security guard, the answer was – no.
At Biarritz, I could not believe the umber of people around. It seems that the season is starting and so people (and cars) appear from nowhere. Whereas in every other town I have been able to find parking in the city centre, this time I had to head out. I stopped at a oceanside road, where waves were pounding the rocky shore. I had a quick look around, but so many people are now a distraction. I headed back towards Bayonne, whereI had seen a E LeClerc bookstore (DVDs, electronic devices, etc.) so I thought I would try that – no luck. However I was just heading back towards the road (I was on a service lane) when I couldn’t believe my eyes – a Rip Curl shop, with a little explanation about the company at Torquay (Victoria). I stopped, took some photos and spoke to the staff there. They said it was the beginning of the season and they expected to be very busy within a week or two (hence the people at Biarritz and the waves). There were four outlets in the area.
I rang up about accommodation and had success with the first, amazing as the lady speaks Spanish and a little French, but no English, and me, well. I said I would be there about 5, but when I programmed the SatNav with the address, the time was only about an hour. I headed off anyway, still in amazement that the car was giving me a projected range now of about one thousand seven hundred kilometres from this tank. Along the way I stopped in a Lidl supermarket to stock up on munchies in case I am travelling all day tomorrow in Spain and can’t find somewhere to have a meal. As usual, there was only one checkout operating and the line of three stretched to twelve before another opened. The woman behind me shrugged and I said it was the same anywhere in the world. Finally I left.
I got to the town and found – crowds!
Memo to self: when choosing a small country town to stay in, check to see if it is the hiking capital of the Pyrenees first.
I eventually located my place for this evening, but got no answer when I knocked. I thought I would go to the Tourist Information Centre (seen while going through the town) and get some info on the town and sights to see on a few hours stop. Could I find a parking place near there? Not on your life! Things do work out with a purpose and I tootled around until I found a parking spot and found I was at the base of the Citadel, variously a hostel for travellers on pilgrimages and a fortification in time of hostilities. While I was walking through the citadel area, it also struck me that I had seen a lot of crude signs along the way with one common feature – Basque!
Memo to self: when choosing a place to stay, remember to check if it is a hotbed for revolutionaries.
After an exhausting uphill walk (I don’t know why they needed all the fortifications in most of these places – attackers in armour and with weapons would have been too tired to fight by the time they got to the defences), I got a panoramic view of the countryside and an appreciation of how rugged the Pyrenees are – and that, even today, shutting a few roads would block an area off completely. Needless to say, the walk down was more pleasant.
I drove back to where I was to stay and had just parked when the lady of the house came out, we introduced ourselves and she showed me the room. It was very comfortable and modern, the any difference between it and most of the last ones that it doesn’t have a dual-flush toilet (I’m obsessed by how much water is wasted now – and McDonald’s in France has a lot of waterless urinals).
I unpacked and set up with the laptop in the lounge, intending to do my blog, process the photos and write some letters. Things have a way of changing and my hostess came in, I had photos up and she saw them, and I said I would show her photos of Australia (the work last night was paying off already). She said to wait a minute and came back with a teenager who was staying here and lives in Biarritz (he recognised the pictures of it and the Rip Curl shop). I showed them pictures of Australia and had the map out, then showed them some pictures of France. Then he had to go, she had to cook and my battery was flattening. I went to my lonely writer’s well-appointed accommodations and charged the batteries for the camera (two sets), plugged the laptop in and finished this.
One other interesting sidelight I’ve picked up on is to do with bus stops. On some narrow roads you wonder where the bus stop is – and the answer is – the road! The bus just stops, drops and picks up passengers and then is on its way. The same happens outside hotels in towns. The bus stops, and so does the traffic behind it. You either wait until all the passengers and luggage are unloaded, or hope there is a break in the traffic the other way and everyone passes on the wrong side, usually over double lines.
Also, the difference between a forest and a wood. A forest looks as though it actually has some natural aspects to it and has undergrowth. A wood, which may be as few as three trees, is planted with precision and is clear in the middle (although there may be undergrowth around it, giving a semblance of privacy for those who enter it).
And there are car stops before intersections. In many small towns, there is no room for traffic to turn a corner and pass a waiting car. The traffic light can be anything up to twenty metres back from the intersection so traffic can turn, straighten up and then pass the waiting cars. It seems to me that front-wheel drive, with its larger turning circle, must have exacerbated this.
And now, tomorrow, the adventure continues as I enter Spain, using my EU passport to hopefully smooth ways (and my Australian passport if that gives a better response).
My concerns are: WiFi; accommodation, language (in that order).
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
29 April
I awoke suddenly and realised it was the church bells ringing me awake. The alarm on the mobile didn’t go off for another hour. Then it was up, and although I had heard rain when I woke, I didn’t hear it while getting ready for breakfast.
Where I am staying has a number of guest rooms and also does evening meals. Therefore it is nowhere near as informal as the other places I have stayed at. I got a normal-sized cup and slices of baguette for my tost with vegemite. I also had small shortcake-like material, the closest to biscuits I’ve seen while away. I dunked them, but they weren’t too absorbent.
Back in my room I sorted out my dirty washing because, if experiences were as before, a lot of what I want to see doesn’t open until nearly 10, while the laundrette had opened at 7. I went down to town (Lourdes) and prepared to air my dirty linen in public (except it was all cotton, not linen). I got a parking place near and went over. There were two ladies who seem to run it from their place behind, and they do quilts and other large items. They will also do and press laundry. With a little assistance I got the washing going (it took thirty minutes) and walked down into the city to orient myself and see what was open – answer, very little except the market. Back at the laundrette I transferred the clothes to a dryer and then organised what I already had in the car. I planned a little out of my day, then the laundry was dry except for my trousers (I did remember to change into the other pair) and socks, so they went on for another five minutes while I hung the shirts up and put them into the car). I also tried to see if I could pick up a wireless network, but no luck today. Then, with all the washing clean (this time the shirts were reasonably clean, but the socks weren’t dry still) and the socks spread across the back window-ledge.
I went to the funicular railway so I could get a better view of everything. The ride up was slow but the view from the station was good; the view from the top was magnificent! There were mountains, valleys, Lourdes itself and a number of small hamlets nestled into the sides of mountains (including the place I am staying in). After soaking that in, and taking the odd photo (and some normal ones) I went down, back into the car, got a baguette for lunch, picked up a map I had left and then headed out to Cirquiel Gavarne. This turned out to be a drive, then a walk, to the foot of the mountains I had seen from the top of the railway. I did this then because it was noon when I came out of the railway and nearly everything shuts from noon to 2. As it was into the mountains, it was cool but the sun did have a bite. There were pony and donkey rides instead of walking, but I needed the exercise (memo to self: only walk a long distance if you have your boots on, not your shoes, as they are NOT comfortable for walks over half an hour). The drive up and back was slower than I thought, so I wasn’t back into Lourdes until 4:30. I parked and walked over to the Shrine area, but after a quick look around I left (there were processions and other events being celebrated and I didn’t want to get in the way). On my way back I went through what has been described as a shrine of tackiness, and I have to agree. Apart from shops selling every piece of religious memorabilia you could image (and a lot more, even if you have a vivid imagination) and having the most outrageous names (including St Lawrence O’Toole, whom I have never heard of). The hotels however outdo them, mixing religion and popular culture and getting it oh so wrong. The only consolation is the prices are fairly reasonable, as there is a lot of competition (with over five million visitors a year in a town of 16 000, there have to be a lot of hotels). The best sight I saw was a bus driver, talking on his mobile, driving a full complement of passengers along a narrow street and weaving his way in and out of parked cars and pedestrians.
After that I returned (it being 6:30 nearly) and organised my (now) clean clothes (I do have eighteen sets, but somehow every other time I have miscounted – terrible for a maths teacher). My jacket needs washing, but the problem is I have so much stored in it AND it takes forever to dry as it can’t go through a dryer and has to drip-dry.
Now to do the photos and then organise some other pictures and off to bed to set out for my last day (at the moment) in France. I expect to be in Spain Thursday evening on my way to meet a cousin-in-law and will then stop in France on my way over to Italy.
Where I am staying has a number of guest rooms and also does evening meals. Therefore it is nowhere near as informal as the other places I have stayed at. I got a normal-sized cup and slices of baguette for my tost with vegemite. I also had small shortcake-like material, the closest to biscuits I’ve seen while away. I dunked them, but they weren’t too absorbent.
Back in my room I sorted out my dirty washing because, if experiences were as before, a lot of what I want to see doesn’t open until nearly 10, while the laundrette had opened at 7. I went down to town (Lourdes) and prepared to air my dirty linen in public (except it was all cotton, not linen). I got a parking place near and went over. There were two ladies who seem to run it from their place behind, and they do quilts and other large items. They will also do and press laundry. With a little assistance I got the washing going (it took thirty minutes) and walked down into the city to orient myself and see what was open – answer, very little except the market. Back at the laundrette I transferred the clothes to a dryer and then organised what I already had in the car. I planned a little out of my day, then the laundry was dry except for my trousers (I did remember to change into the other pair) and socks, so they went on for another five minutes while I hung the shirts up and put them into the car). I also tried to see if I could pick up a wireless network, but no luck today. Then, with all the washing clean (this time the shirts were reasonably clean, but the socks weren’t dry still) and the socks spread across the back window-ledge.
I went to the funicular railway so I could get a better view of everything. The ride up was slow but the view from the station was good; the view from the top was magnificent! There were mountains, valleys, Lourdes itself and a number of small hamlets nestled into the sides of mountains (including the place I am staying in). After soaking that in, and taking the odd photo (and some normal ones) I went down, back into the car, got a baguette for lunch, picked up a map I had left and then headed out to Cirquiel Gavarne. This turned out to be a drive, then a walk, to the foot of the mountains I had seen from the top of the railway. I did this then because it was noon when I came out of the railway and nearly everything shuts from noon to 2. As it was into the mountains, it was cool but the sun did have a bite. There were pony and donkey rides instead of walking, but I needed the exercise (memo to self: only walk a long distance if you have your boots on, not your shoes, as they are NOT comfortable for walks over half an hour). The drive up and back was slower than I thought, so I wasn’t back into Lourdes until 4:30. I parked and walked over to the Shrine area, but after a quick look around I left (there were processions and other events being celebrated and I didn’t want to get in the way). On my way back I went through what has been described as a shrine of tackiness, and I have to agree. Apart from shops selling every piece of religious memorabilia you could image (and a lot more, even if you have a vivid imagination) and having the most outrageous names (including St Lawrence O’Toole, whom I have never heard of). The hotels however outdo them, mixing religion and popular culture and getting it oh so wrong. The only consolation is the prices are fairly reasonable, as there is a lot of competition (with over five million visitors a year in a town of 16 000, there have to be a lot of hotels). The best sight I saw was a bus driver, talking on his mobile, driving a full complement of passengers along a narrow street and weaving his way in and out of parked cars and pedestrians.
After that I returned (it being 6:30 nearly) and organised my (now) clean clothes (I do have eighteen sets, but somehow every other time I have miscounted – terrible for a maths teacher). My jacket needs washing, but the problem is I have so much stored in it AND it takes forever to dry as it can’t go through a dryer and has to drip-dry.
Now to do the photos and then organise some other pictures and off to bed to set out for my last day (at the moment) in France. I expect to be in Spain Thursday evening on my way to meet a cousin-in-law and will then stop in France on my way over to Italy.
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