I’m having a couple of “domestic” days before we move on, on Monday. Heading for the hills to see if it’s a tad cooler, LWD is suffering a little at the moment. So whilst the washing is in the machine I thought I’d share an Encounter I had in Avignon.
I needed to pop into the post office for a few minutes and tied LWD up outside, as one does. A minute later I was minding my business looking for a suitable envelope when I was accosted by a French woman who demanded to know if it was my dog tied up outside. I admitted same and she proceeded to harangue me in French faster than I could understand but I managed to interrupt her flow long enough to ask (in French) if Daisy was OK and understood her confirmation of this fact, but none of the rest of the continuation of the harangue. I told her I’m English. She dashed off asking all and sundry if they spoke English and when she’d found someone, dragged her over to me and demanded a translation of her complaints. I still wasn’t quite sure whether she was telling me it was against the law to leave Daize unattended but I thanked her for her concern and said that I understood just to shut her up so I could get on with my business.
Unprepared to leave it at that, she informed me she would watch LWD. I did my best at a Gallic shrug and said that was fine if that was what she wanted to do. I continued to conduct my business – bear in mind that poor Daize has now been left a lot longer than she would’ve been had the woman just minded her own business. But she still couldn’t leave it alone and as soon as I got back outside to Daize she started all over again. I thanked her again and tried, unsuccessfully, to get away; only for an exact repeat of what went before; she harangued me; she accosted embarrassed passers by until she found one to translate for her (I felt so sorry for the lass she grabbed, as my facial expression made it quite obvious that I was by this time quite pissed off; the lass’s apologetic smile told me my sentiments were shared). I still didn’t quite get it but I think the gist was (and this is for you JJ) that I was a very “irresponsible dog owner” and LWD might’ve been stolen! Eventually the overwrought, and by now nearly exhausted, woman realised it was well past time she went. She wandered off with her latest translator and her companions, whom I’m certain she didn’t know from Adam (or his French equivalent), now haranguing them!
I checked Google translate for “sod off and leave me alone” … !
The tranquil Sorgue at the campsite last evening
🙂 🙂 🙂
All Roman/Medieval/Papalpalace heritage sited out so I’ve left Avignon. I’ve reverse planned my route to ensure I’m in Calais for the ferry on the 23rd Oct.
(and also so I don’t have to park anywhere near Calais. I’m not stopping for anything within a 15km radius – don’t care who throws themselves in front of me. I’m not stopping because I don’t know how to lock the cab doors when I’m driving without the internal sensors registering my movements and I really don’t fancy announcing my arrival in Calais with the alarm system screaming. I’ve got such a sophisticated alarm system it goes off as soon as I stick my toe out of bed. Perhaps it’s time to read the manual …
I digress; how unusual.
So. I’ve headed slightly north and a lot west and am now in the Dordogne. One of my longer journeys but so many of the campsites are now closed shorter drives with an overnight stop are not as easy to work out. On the way the heavy cloud around Montpelier had me worried but by the time I reached the desired services on the A75/E11 the sun was out and I managed to get what I wanted …
The tallest, longest bridge in Europe. It took some amazing inventions to get this bridge slung in sections over the gorge, but even so I doubt it will last as long as the Pont du Gard. Both are equally beautiful.
Left the motorway immediately after the viaduct and a few kilometres later replied “I don’t think so” to an exhortation to visit “Micropolis – Le cite des insectes”. Given my recent difficulties with one particular species of insect and the approximately 20 itchy bumps that still remain, I felt the invitation was a tad insensitive.
However, I might be slightly tempted to have one last dose of heritage – they have some grottes with prehistoric cave paintings near here – but I’ll bet a few euros they don’t allow photos there either …
🙂 🙂 🙂
and I now understand why the superstars resort to drink and drugs. But I’m getting ahead of myself…
Spent a couple of days in Arles discovering what the Romans did for Them (apologies Pythons) – sport, culture and the arts, fresh water ….
Then popped over into the Camargue
and that’s where the fans caught up with me. I was followed, mobbed and then attacked. Without my security guards I had no option but to leave after one night and return to anonymity. I’m a Mozzie Magnet, a Blood Babe despite liberal use of jungle strength repellant, wine, garlic and tea tree ointment. Needless to say I did not leave a forwarding address.
Diverting via the Pont du Gard (Romans again, got everywhere) I’m sheltering in Avignon to see what the old Popes got up to when they weren’t sur le pont d’Avignon. You’ve got to hand it to the French, they do love their ponts and viaducs.
🙂 🙂 🙂