France at last...

So what about France I hear you all say??  Ah yes France; land of the baguette and beret.  We have been here several months now and the first thing you notice as a world traveller with a loyal following of interested readers is that the French have not embraced the internet.  Internet cafés don’t seem to exist and wifi (or “whiffy” as it is known here or perhaps this just sums their thoughts up on such outrageous outsider ideas - the French once had there own system and I think they are still slightly put out by the lack of uptake by the rest of the world!) is as scarce as hen’s teeth and to have it actually work is twice as rare as rocking horse droppings.  A typical conversation we used to have before we succumbed to the “isn’t this relaxing not being connected” attitude that prevails here was;

“You have whiffy ?”

“Mais oui but of course” (the French hate to think they don’t have the things that you want)

“Does it work” (a very pertinent question to ask we have come to understand)

“Ah, I am desolated but there is a problem with him.” 

“You fix?” (this question is more for your own amusement than of relevance because the answer is always the same)

“Alors, I am desolated but I think not today” (“Today” is an important word in this instance.  It is best practice here to leave open the possibility of some magical restoration of the whiffy at any moment when you know only full well it has never worked since Pierre put it in and there isn’t the remotest chance of it ever going to but the sign on the door lures dozy tourists into parting with money before asking the appropriate questions and in these economic times…)

But I digress…

Bonjour from France

I finally caught up with Murray and Bramble in the beautiful seaside harbour of St Vaast (that’s pronounced San Var for those that want to avoid being laughed at when catching a bus).  What a lovely place.  Fabulous markets and amazing side streets and, after Spain, very laid back and quiet.

We are planned to head into the canals from Honfleur but had to negotiate the D-Day coast to reach it.  It’s a tricky coastline with strong tides and acres of sand banks but very rewarding with quaint fishing harbours and picturesque marinas. 

In Grandcamp Murray was serenaded in the shower by the “Majorettes” – 20 nubile baton twirling marchers in short pleated skirts and white knee length boots accompanied by a full brass band bashing out tunes from the 40’s.  Best shower for a while apparently! (They weren’t inside the shower block but out on the street for those of us that need to wash more than our ears!)

Carentan also provided entertainment and an introduction the canal locks French style.  Rule number 1: When entering downwind, always attach stern line first

Rule number 2: If you have not followed rule number 1 and now discover that 40 feet is exactly right length to lie sideways in the lock do not be tempted to follow any advice of the lock keeper.

Rule number 3: “I am desolated and a grand idiot!” is the first phrase to learn in France!

Rule number 4: “I am desolated and my dog is crazy!” is the second phrase to learn and we put this to good use when Bramble discovered the local restaurant and tried to spend as much time in there as possible, with or without us!  The French really don’t mind dogs begging at the table…

After a night anchored off the Mulberry harbours at Aramanche where we nearly lost the dingy when the tide came in unexpectedly fast (fastest kilometre I have run in a while even if it was downhill!) we cruised along to Courseulles where we think we broke some rule about dogs on the beach.  Very funny!  The voice of God (well it could have been the bloke in tight, red swimmers in the surf hut I suppose…) bellowed something in French with “chien” in it over the loud speaker as we stepped foot and paw on sand.  Everyone looked at us but we chose to play the “sorry, can’t speak French ”card and continued our saunter unmolested.  I think the crowd was impressed by our show of disobedience as they closed around behind us blocking any attempts to apprehend us! 

Considering the French’s reputation for loving dogs to distraction we find it to be not as dog friendly as expected.  They aren’t allowed on buses unless contained (sorry Bramble its back in shopping bag!), they aren’t allowed in many shops or restaurants, they cost extra on the train and the plethora of boutiques selling outrageous doggy outfits just don’t exist. (You should be able to hear Bramble sign of relief about that last one from where you are sitting!)  They do however take grooming very seriously and even the tiniest town has a dog salon.  Maybe one day, Bramble…

Another myth blown has been the lack of “good’ beer.  We find “Northman” at a medieval fair selling “tres bon” beer by the bucket load.

 

Some of the things we have noticed about France so far are:

 

ü      Pretty flowers everywhere and enormous immaculate vege gardens.  We never knew how seriously the French take their plants but we are not sure they do as we never see anyone tending them.

ü      Said vegetables must be for show as we never receive any on our plates.

ü      No matter what time of the day there is always someone carrying a baguette and the end is always chewed off. (Do they come like that?)

ü      Wait long enough (or usually not even that long!) and a man will pee in front of you and hopefully not on your shoes.

ü      The streets are usually treelined and the old architecture flamboyant but pavements are for parking your car on.

ü      Maps make no sense what so ever and town maps are always orientated to cause as much confusion as possible.

ü      Shops etc are always open but are, conversely, guaranteed not to be when you want to use them.

ü      Time-keeping is optional and punctuality Greek-esque.

ü      Thatched cottages originated in France and they do them better than England.

ü       2 hour lunches are a minimum.  The longer is better – particularly when you are waiting to get in a shop.

ü      Dogs are for kissing.  When approaching a dog be prepared to prostrate yourself for some serious lip action.  Bramble was initially shocked by strangers advances but has since resigned herself bestowing love and tongues as required.

ü      The French are funny, friendly and helpful.  Anyone that tells you otherwise is English.

 

We have organised our mast to be un-stepped in Rouen and shipped by a German guy to Port St Louis down south so we begin CC’s transformation from ocean going yacht to canal boat by taking off sails and running rigging etc in Trouville/Deauville and stowing as much in the lockers as possible.  It’s only one more stop before we head up the Seine towards Rouen and Paris and we are getting nervous and excited about the inland portion of the journey. 

 

The old harbour at Honfleur is a combination of Padstow and Hydra and we love it.  Swanky restaurants line the old harbour walls and the streets are full of art galleries and souvenir shops.  Ridiculously tall old wooden buildings lean drunkenly against each other and waver out over the streets and cobblestones.  A magical place with great ambience.  We will be sad to leave it and the sea.