On the road again
Diaries from another drive through France.
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Nothing fills me with more unbridled happiness than when Andy and I travel around in the van. For the past 10 days or so, we’ve been making our way from the very top of France, down the east and across to the Dordogne. It’s been a dreamy time filled with hot sun, cool breezes, bright stars, and lots of swimming. We’ve eaten our body weight in figs and had croissants every day for breakfast. So I thought that this week I might just share (an edited version of) my journal from our time on the road. A cop out? Maybe. But hopefully also a nice story.
10/09/23 — Paris, Gare du Nord.
I’ve just taken my seat on the TGV from Paris Gare du Nord to Arras in Normandy where I’ll meet Andy to start our adventure. He got the Channel Tunnel (Chunnel, as he calls it) from Folkestone to Calais this morning — a trip he had been keen to try since we usually get the ferry, and by all accounts, he was very impressed with it.
I’ve spent a great couple of days in Paris, visiting a giant trade show, walking through the Marais in the heat, and drinking Sancerre on a steamy terrasse with Gigi, solving all the world’s problems. I love this city and I’m glad to have had a couple of days here after so long.
I can’t help but notice, though, that alongside the breathtaking beauty of it all, there’s a kind of brutality. The homelessness here seems so much more hopeless than in London for some reason, although of course, it’s pretty bad there too. And it just doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere.
The train is moving now and I feel a little guilty being able to take all the good bits and glide right away from the bad. It’s a beautiful day — sunny and hot — and I’m trying to feel grateful for a moment to reflect on the hard stuff before taking off towards the good times that are just over there.
Later that evening — somewhere near Arras, Normandy.
We’ve just had dinner at our first camping perch, up a dirt road by a large fishing lake. Andy picked me up at 14:40 from Arras station, we went to the only supermarket open on a Sunday afternoon (Carrefour Express) where the selection of fruit and veggies looked a little dilapidated. We got a baguette, good butter, peaches, cherry toms, mâche (as in the type of salad leaf), cucumber and feta so that I could make a lentil salad with a can of lentils that had been in the cupboard for ages. Shallots and garlic and lots of vinegar for the dressing. Plus a melon for an afternoon snack. It all ended up being quite good.
It’s still perfectly warm and the sun is setting right in our eyeline, casting shadows and reflections all over the water. The birds are chattering and I’m sure the mozzies will be out soon to laugh at our citronella candle with a broken wick. We will have to pick up some coils at the shops tomorrow.
Andy is lying on a picnic blanket, sun-soaked in his mango budgies, considering our crossword, and it’s just so nice to be on another adventure together. It’s the first of many days of swimming and eating and enjoying the trees and sounds and silence. We’ll both sleep well tonight.
12/09/23 — Losne, a village near Dijon.
After waking up from our first sleeping spot and thinking how lucky we are to be alive, we drove a couple of hours to the town of Reims — directly east of Paris. We parked at a supermarket on the outskirts of town and made ourselves sandwiches (beurre, fromage, tomates, mâche, anchois, in case you were wondering) before cycling the 20 minutes or so into the centre.
It was hot — like very hot — and both of us were sweating by the time we parked our bikes in front of the very impressive cathedral. It seems like all French towns, no matter the size, have one of these. Perhaps that’s why they live so long. We went inside and it was cool and quiet and I loved the stained glass windows by Marc Chagall.
We wandered a little before deciding we should go to the nice-looking park we had passed on the way in. There were hammocks and swings and wooden tables where I could sit and send some emails and make some calls. Then very suddenly, Andy found a river-side spot for us to camp that night on Park4Night. It was 2 hours away though, so we left quickly so we could get there in time to swim and make dinner before the sun went down.
It was down yet another dirt road and on the banks of the Aube — l’aube means dawn which I thought was very romantic — and when we first arrived we were worried we wouldn’t fit because there was already a camper (with a nice Dutch man in it) and a couple camping with a roof tent, but we just scooted right by them into a spot by the water and we all had enough space and privacy between us.
The water was fresh and clear and full of little fish that nibbled our toes. It was such a relief to get in after such a sticky day. I made River Café cannellini bean and fig salad for dinner which was delicious and surprisingly easy to make with only a camping stove and a wobbly table. The figs right now are perfect and gooey and sweet and I probably won’t stop eating them the whole time we are here.
We slept in a little — till 9:30 — and when I got up I jumped straight in the water again. I wish I could do that every day. For breakfast, we had yoghurt, fruit and toasted nuts and by the time we set off, it was 11:30.
One thing I’ve noticed during this trip is the agricultural landscape. We’ve tucked ourselves away from it in the evenings, but on the road, it’s all huge fields of sunflowers and corn and onions and something that looks a bit like a turnip.
Many of them have been harvested now so the soil looks bare and sad, vulnerable to the elements, the hot sun and the heavy rain that fell today. It’s not the kind of land you imagine when you’re walking through a Saturday morning market and everything looks so fresh and gorgeous. It’s the kind of landscape that whispers Big Ag in your ear and reminds you that feeding this many people in the way the system is set up to feed them actually means mono-crops and lots of chemicals. Something to think about.
By the time the storm came with its thunder and hailstones, we had taken shelter in a sweet little bar in Dijon — a town I was totally delighted by. The architecture was old and charming, the streets were clean, and the mustard was excellent. We bought a pot of wholegrain Moutarde Maille from the Maille shop which I used in the dressing we had on our salad at dinner.
After Dijon, we drove another hour to where we are now, by the Saône River, perched under some trees to protect us from the thunderstorms that the weather app promises us later tonight. The sunset was orange and pink and purple and when the gentle drizzle started Andy and I stood at the river’s edge and watched and listened until it got dark.
13/09/23 — Still in Losne.
It was a very rainy night, as the forecast predicted. Before going to sleep there was lightning and thunder, but the downpour really started around midnight. It was only then that we closed all the windows. The wet smell and cool breeze had been too good till then. We were semi-protected by the tree cover, but the rain was so hard that I got soaked when I went out for a wee — very liberating weeing nude in the wild though.
This morning we got up early, around 7:30. Everything was still and the rain had stopped, so we went for a run and a dip in the surprisingly warm water. Andy cycled to the boulangerie for pastries and bread and we both used the shower bag filled with river water to give ourselves a proper wash.
I needed to charge my laptop in the afternoon, so we went into Losne and found a bistro that smelt of cigarettes, quite pleasantly actually. We got soaked on the way in, but once we sat down out of the wind my jeans started to dry a bit and I could make a couple of calls.
There was a group of young people there — three boys and a girl who must have been my age or maybe a bit younger. They were laughing and playing darts and having a nice time, but I did wonder if this was their usual Tuesday afternoon. What do they get up to in this sleepy town? On a rainy day, it didn’t seem like there was much on offer for them. Maybe it was the fact that Andy and I are on the move at the moment that made me feel an overwhelming sense of stasis from them. But I hope that I’m wrong and that their lives are happy and full and they are going where they want to go.
It’s spitting again now and we’ve just had some leftovers from last night — corn tortillas with rice and beans, sweet corn, lettuce, and guac. It feels nice to be staying put today. Calming, grounding, borderline boring, but in a good way. I could watch the ripples that the raindrops make on the water for a long time, I think. But I’m also tossing up how heavy it can fall before I retreat to the van.
15/09/23 — Annecy <3
We drove about three and a half hours yesterday, from Losne to Lake Annecy. It was amazing to go from those endless agricultural fields that were so flat and depleted post-harvest, to the foothills of the Alps, covered in trees and grassy meadows and happy cows.
We parked in a neighbourhood off to the side of town which felt to both of us a bit Japanese with it’s smooth, narrow roads, clean steep streets, and the mix of new and old houses. We cycled down the hill, along a boulevard of tall plane trees by the edge of the water. I couldn’t believe how blue and clear it was. And how sweet the town was with its cobbled streets and colourful buildings and endless ice cream shops.
After a bit of a walk, we stopped for a swim and a lie-down on the grass. It really is the most beautiful place, with the calm blue waters below and the jagged mountain tops above. I couldn’t stop thinking how much the whole place reminded me of the book Hotel du Lac. It just has an Old World air about it. The kind of place where you decamp for the summer and there are flirtations and murders and you dress up for dinner.
On our way back to the bikes we got ice cream at the Glacier des Alpes. We got four scoops for €7 — chocolate (very thick and fudgy), lavender and honey, macadamia nut, raspberry, and a small complementary scoop of the violet flavour. All outstandingly good but I think the lavender and honey surprised me most.
For dinner, we bought supplies for mushroom gnocchi and drove into the hills where we found a spot overlooking the valley. Our first spot that wasn’t right by a body of water, but a real beauty nonetheless. We crisped up our gnocchi and ate it by candlelight. The sunset was moody and pink, and by 9:30 we were both very sleepy. I think it was my best sleep so far, last night.
Today it’s 25 degrees and sunny and the plan is to laze around at Plage Saint-Jorioz, a different lake beach than the one we were at yesterday that has more trees and grass and is easier to get into. Andy has been on another run, bought pastries, and we’ve had our first dip. There is a diving platform here and I’m determined to jump from the top level (5 metres!) before we leave today. (Spoiler: I jumped twice, but not without a bit of fanfare both times).
We left Annecy a few days ago now and I’ve gotten a little lazy with my diary keeping. Since my last entry we’ve eaten saucisson and fondue and more ice cream, we’ve seen friends, been to St Etienne for the Australia vs. Fiji game (well done, Fiji), and driven across to the Dordogne where we are parked up at Mum’s place for a few days.
It’s been balmy weather and we’ve picked more figs and learnt the names of the constellations we can see at night using an app on Andy’s phone. It’s pouring today but there are more dreamy times to come!
I’ll leave it there for the minute. See you in the next one!
Annabel
Absolutely loved this ❣️