Day 2 (Part 2)
On the Road to La Rochelle
We had envisaged this to be a bucolic ride through France, baguette et saucisson en main on the road. Like Jack Kerouac with a gallic twist. Having visited the "airs" (truck stops or translate it at leisure) next to the toll motorway, we were losing hope: the food provision was pretty much as in the UK - crap overpriced sandwiches (and of course, Lion bars), no saucisson, no bread.
But ho! we found a détour to a Super U, and even though we détoured a bit too much, we eventually found a cheaper petrol station and, another détour en plus, got to the blasted Super U market and, like true tourists - besandalled, behatted, bewildered - threw ourselves on the bread and saucisson (and cheese, and cake) counter, and had a just passable coffee for the wunderbar amount of 1€ each accompanied by the sweet chimes of supermarket muzak.
Rather than eating our victuals in the parking lot, surrounded by bemused native children who were possibly not that familiar with the sight of a not-very-battered two seater with an open top, we decided to drive down to the next "aire" and organize "une pique-nique". We found such "aire" but the three tables were taken by three caravans - greedy buggers, don't you have tables inside your recreational vehicles? - so had our pique-nique on the grassy kerb. Don't get the wrong idea; it was lovely, quiet and clean.
(told you I was wearing a hat)
We had envisaged this to be a bucolic ride through France, baguette et saucisson en main on the road. Like Jack Kerouac with a gallic twist. Having visited the "airs" (truck stops or translate it at leisure) next to the toll motorway, we were losing hope: the food provision was pretty much as in the UK - crap overpriced sandwiches (and of course, Lion bars), no saucisson, no bread.
But ho! we found a détour to a Super U, and even though we détoured a bit too much, we eventually found a cheaper petrol station and, another détour en plus, got to the blasted Super U market and, like true tourists - besandalled, behatted, bewildered - threw ourselves on the bread and saucisson (and cheese, and cake) counter, and had a just passable coffee for the wunderbar amount of 1€ each accompanied by the sweet chimes of supermarket muzak.
Rather than eating our victuals in the parking lot, surrounded by bemused native children who were possibly not that familiar with the sight of a not-very-battered two seater with an open top, we decided to drive down to the next "aire" and organize "une pique-nique". We found such "aire" but the three tables were taken by three caravans - greedy buggers, don't you have tables inside your recreational vehicles? - so had our pique-nique on the grassy kerb. Don't get the wrong idea; it was lovely, quiet and clean.
(told you I was wearing a hat)We continued with the inside (and rather puerile) joke that every "F" numberplate was for Finland and marvelled at the state of the Finn cars - ever so popular around this part of the world: du Citroen, du Peugeot, du Sacré-Bleu et du "tracteur" (saw a couple of those) at the height of fashion. On the while, the car seats are getting whiter and whiter with the rub of the factor-gazillion suncream we duly splatter on our just-not-that-bronzed-yet skins, and my handwriting is, as always, like a demented tourist's scribble on a Wish You Were Here card. I blame Phil.
[yes, these posts were written with pen and paper - not that you can see it.]
Some miles further, in Nantes, we see a big "GREVE DU LAIT" written in white, possibly in milk itself, on the side of a tractor. This confirms our worse fears; the French cows are certainly taking industrial action!
You can see we are bored; Phil has won the "to toll or not to toll" debate by choosing "not to toll", and I can only happily agree, as this saves me 7€. This is why we are now stuck behind a row of caravans and understand why the continental motorways are sooo empty.
[yes, these posts were written with pen and paper - not that you can see it.]
Some miles further, in Nantes, we see a big "GREVE DU LAIT" written in white, possibly in milk itself, on the side of a tractor. This confirms our worse fears; the French cows are certainly taking industrial action!
You can see we are bored; Phil has won the "to toll or not to toll" debate by choosing "not to toll", and I can only happily agree, as this saves me 7€. This is why we are now stuck behind a row of caravans and understand why the continental motorways are sooo empty.
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