Home calls

We’re homeward bound, booked on a 9.15 ferry tomorrow, Calais to Dover. The sound of seagulls and a more temperate heat remind me of home. We’ve been travelling slowly north-west-ish and have spent a few nights next to the Loire, near Amboise. Realising that my nodding off in the passenger seat was a symptom of travel weariness Gareth had picked up on the need for a break. Chateau visiting isn’t his style, but he magnanimously went along with a visit to one and a three day rest stop to “keep me happy”. 

In spite of the mozzies at our campsite by the river it was a nice break doing what tourists usually do on their holidays. The chateau Chenonceau may well have been Disney’s inspiration for his fairytale castles and its story is what fairytales are made of. The one that stuck with me, though, is its part in WW2 and the French Resistance. The chateau grew over a bridge on the river Cher. The river divided occupied and unoccupied France during the war and the chateau was used to smuggle people across into free territory. Bravo to that lady of the Chenonceau! I’ve  misplaced the brochure so I can’t tell you her name. Make sure you visit if you’re ever in the region.

A particular feature of the Loire is the use of caves, natural and man made, for all sorts of purposes - wine storage, restaurants, cafes, mushroom growing and habitation. A visit to the village of cave homes in Troo (cite des troglodytes) was intriguing. In English the term troglodyte conjures up a rather different image from the rather hip and cool residences we saw in Troo. One home was an Airbnb and a stay there would be quite a novelty. Gareth has dreamed of building an underground house but living in a cave, even one with UPVC patio windows, is something to contemplate. 

Since then we have trundled along on long straight roads through enormous wheat fields, watching what seem to be the most inadequate machines gathering the harvest. We’ve been getting into an end-of-holiday stupor. We’ve overnighted in different aires each night as we’ve trekked northwards. They are very often serviced with, at the very least, water. There are different systems across France, one of which is Flot Bleu. Sadly most of the ones we came across were not working or had actually been vandalised. We wondered whether travellers are becoming a nuisance to localities; there are a lot of us about, whether in posh or less glamorous rigs. Certainly maintenance of services wasn’t in evidence. A motorhome has needs - water and somewhere to dispose of waste. Mind you, we haven’t liked the way in which drinking water taps are often situated too close to the chemical toilet disposal point. Our antibac spray and kitchen roll have been well employed.

By the way, if there’s anyone out there taking up on my need for a Gareth/Alison translater app (Richard?) a useful extra feature would be a repeater or an amplifier. Gareth and I are no more than a few feet away from each other most of the time and yet the most frequent phrases that go between us are. “Did you say something?”, “Sorry, I didn’t get that”,“Say again” “What did you say?”, “Uh?”, “stop muttering” and “SPEAK UP!!” I’m convinced that he still has his ear plugs in (a necessary item if you are to get any sleep in some places). 

We both have trouble understanding Ms Satnav. She has an impeccable English accent; one that you’d expect to reflect a good education, but we have had many a giggle at her French pronunciation of towns and villages.

The Park for a Night app is a very popular French development. It has been most useful in finding aires and motorhome parking. I imagine it has significantly increased the use of aires; several times we have arrived at one to find it full. Vans squeeze in anyway and in some places we’ve wondered how people have room to open their doors. And so many motorhomes here in France are HUGE! We’ve wondered what the owners intend them for as it must be a challenge to get them some places. We spent one night in a large beach car park that was reached through a little village. There must have been at least fifty motorhomes parked up there for the weekend and of those, ours was the smallest. Picturing the convoy of homes on wheels getting through that village and past people’s windows made me sympathise with those municipalities that no longer service their aires.

Anyway, we’re now in a campsite in Calais. I’ve done some laundry, we can get a decent shower and maybe we’ll be allowed back into our homeland tomorrow. Today we’ll be doing what all Brits do before going back across the channel - shopping. We’ll be heading to one or two of the huge supermarkets to stock up on wine. Gareth has been diligently wine tasting and has his list of those he likes. I’m no connoisseur so I’ll be off in the sweetie aisles. See you soon, my lovelies!