France’s Greatest Strengths

Familiar enough to be comfortable, different enough to be exotic, with a language that is not entirely impenetrable. France.

Crossing the border back into France

We crossed the border from Spain under the control of Gandalf’s newest mascot and captain.

“The Child” needs no support

“The Child,” or Baby Yoda, (also, “Grogu”) joined our ever growing crew of shipboard mascots in Cambrils, Spain, just yesterday. Originally he hung In the window on a keychain, but it quickly became plain that he didn’t need artificial support so we let him just levitate in place all by himself.

I’m not sure if I should worry about the slow multiplication of trinkets that adorn Gandalf’s spacious interior.

A prize to those who can tell which one is not a mascot.

Four is not such a bad number, but that is only those in the window, on public display. Lower your gaze, when sitting inside, and you will find an assortment of contradictory characters.

What would the Pope say? Would Wicca approve? And whose is the climbing rack?

Beneath these multifarious, mostly false icons dangling uselessly from the gear stick, hang two leather pouches. “What treasures are in those?” I hear you ask. Precisely none, is the answer. They contain nothing. Never will. They are of a shape and size entirely useless to their purpose. Maybe a single boiled sweet might fit, or a couple of insignificant Euro cent coins, or maybe some gravel.

But the whole ensemble has been there for so long that they have become an integral, immovable part of Gandalf’s character and can therefore never be removed.

Pretty, but useless. So, pretty useless

Anyway, back to the subject. France. Land of unexpected surprises.

Carcassonne. So good they used most of the letters twice.

In Carcassone for example we found the Christmas market had started a day early. We had only gone in for a stroll from our camping spot. It was s low key affair with all that could be asked of such a festive gathering, Christmas music, lights, decorations and…

Vin chaud pour deux s'il vous plait

…vin chaud (mulled wine). Don’t mind if we do. Yum!

On the subject of Christmas Markets, bigger is not always better. Carcassone doesn’t even get a ranking in France’s best and yet it was utterly delightful.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Carcassonne

Honey. I shrunk the town!

All with the amazing castle as a backdrop (if you stood on a chair… with a periscope. And were very tall. - Just a five minute walk away though.)

Bordeaux Christmas Market On the other hand, which we visited the following day, is ranked in the top three. We dare to disagree.. It was rubbish. A fenced in area of about 50 shacks where 3 million (perhaps a slight exaggeration) people formed long queues at the many food stores or ambled at an interminably slow pace round the remarkably few shacks selling local crafts. Even my photos are dull.

“Enjoying” a festive queue for roasted chestnuts

Such fun!

We voted with our feet and left. To cheer ourselves up we went for a drink at a posh looking bar/restaurant where the waiter brought our drinks in stages. Two drinks took 15 minutes to arrive., or at least two cups with liquid in arrived. Five minutes later, two saucers and sugar arrived along with a bill bearing no resemblance to our order. Five minutes later he grudgingly brought the correct bill. We paid and were intrigued and somewhat miffed to find that he even brought our change in stages. First the notes arrived followed by a further 5 minute wait for some, but only some, of the coins. First a euro appeared followed by a further two minute wait, before another two euros was plonked unceremoniously on the table. No more though. He had obviously decided to hold back some as a tip. He got very upset when he found out that my French was just about good enough to tell him he didn’t deserve a tip and could I have all my change please? (To be honest, I surprised myself).

In his defence I think he was, well… hopeless. He clearly hated tourists, customers, his job, Bordeaux and possibly small kittens and puppies. Maybe he was in training for a job in Paris?

None of this has put us off France though and our journey north through this marvellous country continues.

Stay tuned to see who else I can upset. (Hopefully no one).

May the Farce be with you.

And, no, it’s not a typo.