3236 miles later - the story of a road trip
My friend Marc lives in the arse end of France. He has a small holding, which he keeps with his girlfriend Leena. They have a big vegetable patch, an artist in the garage, cows hanging over the fence, and lots of animals. Rabbits and chinchillas and guinea pigs and chickens and dogs and a cat and geese and all manner of lovely farmyard-type things. In the daytime Marc works as a blacksmith - he has his own forge in the local village, near the banks of the river Dronne. It was a lovely place to visit. Izzy was happy as she got to gawp at all the animals and be bathed in a bucket in the garden. I was happy because I got to see my friend (who I miss terribly) and the geese stayed away from me. ephraim was happy because he got to drive a tractor. Easily pleased, us Shockleys.
Whislt Marc worked on some iron gates for someone who is clearly far too rich, we went to Aubeterre sur Dronne to see the amazing church that's carved out of the rock.
The following day we went into Perigeaux, which is a lovely city with a nice vibe. We found that the Lonely Planet restaurant recommendation came up trumps again, and consequently dined rather well. I would never have thought of pairing foie gras with lavender and apricot, but it was absolutely gorgeous. We were also overjoyed to discover that Izzy will behave herself very well in a restaurant provided that she is kept in crusty bread. We didn't hear a thing from her - she just sat and munched, whilst staring at the things going on around her. This was repeated on several occasions over the days that followed, although unfortunately she didn't get to lick foie gras off her fingers with a big grin on those days too.
On our last day we went to Brantome, which is an absolutely beautiful town, sitting on an island in the river. We got there too late to get into the abbey or the troglodyte caves, so sat and had ice cream by the river before going for a walk to look at the pretty old buildings around the town. We found an ancient sterotype* at the chateau gates, and he convinced us to pay him for a tour. It turned out to be not at all what we were expecting, as it wasn't a tour of the chateau, but a walk around the chateau gardens where he had placed a great many bamboo canes with laminated pictures attached. He then proceeded to lecture us on architecture at a miillion miles an hour in a mad professor style, leading us to different canes and variously pointing to laminated pictures of architectural features at other buildings - and at one point even other buildings that did not have the feature he was discussing. It was nuts, but one of those things that was so funny that we were glad we did it.
*old French bloke with a floppy hat, a big nose and a staff
Then we drove the nice roads to Biarritz, where we got stuck in traffic a bit, but at least satisfied my lovely man's curiousity. We then proceeded with all due haste to Zaragoza, via a brief picnic lunch at a service station just outside Pamplona. I didn't like Zaragoza very much, so won't dwell on it. We stayed in the Holiday Inn, so after putting Izzy to bed we didn't have anywhere to really be. So we set up the baby monitor in the corridor by the lift, and sat there eating pizza and drinking wine. It was quite fun actually, although I did get VERY drunk.
The following morning we went to the palace - I can't remember what it's called off the top of my head, mainly because its name sounds a bit like Al-Jazeera and that's what I kept thinking of. However, it's a lovely old palace of Mudejar construction, with substantial extensions built by the Catholic monarchs. Well worth a visit.
Then we hit the road again. Lunch and petrol was eventually located at Daroca. It was having both a fiesta and a siesta at the time, so it was higly decorated but also almost totally deserted save for the inevitable fast food van. Strange, but lovely. At Teruel we decided that we were fed up of the main roads, so decided to cut directly south across country to Almansa. We initially thought it was going to be a complete bust as we were stopped by the Guardia, but it turned out that he only wanted to pull us over to let the oncoming cycle race through unhindered. It's just as well he did, as the next 17km was on a very tight twisty road with lots of blind bends and beautiful countryside. The road then opened right out across the plain like you see in American films like Thelma and Louise, and suddenly I was able to go faster than I could on the motorway, whilst still getting a spectacular panorama. I liked that road. Then Almansa to Dad's villa was motorway again, and we eventually arrived at about 8pm, feeling glad not to be travelling anymore.
In the days that followed we didn't do much more than play in the pool, lounge on the beach and shop for shoes. Izzy got really enthusiastic about the pool - so much so that she'd keep pointing at it and saying"perper" excitedly. She didn't like it when the nasty lilo thing attacked her granddad though. And she definitely formed an opinion that swimsuits are not to be got wet, and paddling pools are only to be entered when one is fully clothed. *grin* On the last day we left her with Dad and Nenita and went to the beach just the two of us. Cocktails were had, and we played in the waves - the Med was as rough as I'd ever seen it, and it was quite exhilarating. I just wish I knew how to bodysurf rather than having to crash through the waves trying hard to keep my footing.
We went to Elche, as it is full of cheap shoes. It now has slightly less of them, as we all ended up with some. Izzy even chose her own, by hanging onto a pair and screaming blue murder when we tried to take them away. At least they were vaguely appropriate and came in the right size. She was happy when we let her keep them, although very disgruntled when the same trick didn't work on the matching handbag. Co-ordinating accessories at 11 months! Go Iz!
Unfortunately I was unable to locate a pair of New Rocks at the expected outlet, so we discovered that we were going to have to go up to Yecla for them, and the shop was only open on the Friday night/Saturday day. Not great, but we changed our plans so we could go. Yecla was interesting to wander around - it was clearly hit very hard by war, and the basilica still wasn't reopened, although they did appear to be working hard towards its restoration. The New Rock outlet was well worth the trip though - I never knew they did so much cool stuff! Their motorbike helmets were particularly cool - perspexavenger and rinkyandmerlin you should take a look if you ever end up with 350 Euros or so to blow on something pretty. They even do New Rock platform flip flops! We came out with 3 pairs of boots for less than one pair would cost in the UK, so counted it a score.
Then we hit the road again. An overnight sleep near Valencia finished somewhat earlier than expected so we hit the road to Montpelier
by 7am, meaning that we got there by mid-afternoon. Weird city. It reminded me of Bucharest in the way that it has an old city full of romantic architecture (although it's not derelict like a lot of Bucharest) and then a new area full of more modern concrete Communist monumental stuff. Unlike Bucharest it had a nasty vibe (in my opinion) and I got very grumpy with it.
The following afternoon/evening we were in Orleans, which I liked much better. John had picked up a tummy bug, but still made it out to walk around town and to see the impressive cathedral. I'd like to spend more time there if we get the chance, but sadly on this occasion it was only an overnight stop within striking distance of Calais, to enable us to get the ferry the following day.
So on Monday we got up early and made our way twoards Calais, giving Paris a wide berth. This meant that we picked up the post Le Mans traffic fairly quickly, and stayed with it until erm...Surrey. I have never seen such a high concentration of rare and beautiful sports cars being driven on public roads in one day. For example, at one point we found ourselves in a tunnel near Rouen with an E Type, a Cobra, a Nissan GTR, a Corvette, a Monaro, a Porsche, a Ferrari 328 and some TVRs. The queue for the ferry contained such beauties as a Ferrari Dino (as well as a much older Ferrari that I didn't recognise and various others like GTOs and 328s), two old Aston Martins, a whole bunch of Jags ranging from E Types to Mark IIs to XKRs, Monaros, Porsches, Corvettes, MGs, a Maserati or two, some Minis and most of the TVRs in the known world (and of course a few Imprezas). This also meant that when the time came to start the engines in the hold it sounded rather lovely, and everyone started playing silly buggers, revving engines and tooting horns. That set the tone for the M20, which we covered rather rapidly despite the heavy traffic - but Lordy was the heavy traffic throaty and fast-moving. I was sorry that we had to stop for petrol at Clacket Lane and lost almost everyone. I'm regretting not taking some pictures, but then again you can never really capture the atmosphere of that kind of thing. However, we do want to try to do a classic car convoy to Le Mans next year - the more the merrier - as I can only imagine what a journey like that last section would be like if there was a whole bunch of us on a trip together.