Travelling the south coast of France

Having a permanent bed would be really really nice. So there.

Every evening we have to take the table down and unfold the bench seats. There’s usually some kind of commentary about how dirty the floor is. I wait in the back to hand over the additional foam pieces we lay on top of the bed to make it more comfortable. We roll out the sleeping bags that we zipped together, throw on the pillows and we’re done. Don’t ask how long we’ve slept in those sleeping bags without washing them. It’s not pretty.

While the bed is ostensibly for two human bodies, I suspect the van was designed pre-French Revolution when the French were teeny tiny little people prancing around in high heels.

It’s pretty small and yet, you get used to having less room; sort of. The main disadvantage of not having a permanent bed is that if someone wants to sleep in or go to bed early, the other person has nowhere to sit, read, watch a video or make some tea while the other person sleeps. 

What to do in Sète

We drove back down from the gorge in Saint-Guilhelm-le-Désert to the seaside town of Sète. Sète is a port town on the end of a spit and it’s sliced up with canals. On one side is the ocean and on the other side is a saltwater and freshwater lagoon called the Etang de Thau. They grow, (raise?), oysters in the lagoon and we were curious to try them given how good the oysters are where we live in Normandy.

You could trek way up to the top of a hill called Mont Saint Claire for a wonderful view of the bay and the lagoon but after reading some comments, people are saying it’s too far to walk. Pussies. Haha, I’m one to talk as we didn’t go up there.

Alas, we were looking forward to seeing our friends and I still was feeling pretty off. There were dozens of really nice looking restaurants, and there are museums and shops. If you’re in a van, there is parking but it’s an oddly oriented town with canals and bridges but there definitely are places to park on the opposite side of the canal from the centre of town.

We drove back around the bay to Bouzigues and down near the water where our friends have a lovely home. Their house is filled with art and light and it’s super cozy. Behind their house is a swimming pool and a garden and they even have a mandarin orange and a pamplemousse tree! I love that word. Pamplemousse means grapefruit, which is kind of a weird name for such a gigantic citrus fruit. Alas, the little jewels weren’t ripe and I would have had to wait another couple of months at least until they were ready to be picked.

We had the luxury of our own bedroom, fresh towels and even our own bathroom! It’s so relieving to be welcomed with such generosity and care and being able to use a toilet without having to announce it to your travel partner is such a blessing. Having a large bed to sleep in was such a joy and I’m sure my husband was happy not having to perform Cirque du Soleil-type contortions just to pass over me to go pee outside in the middle of the night.

We enjoyed a few days of beautiful wine, meals, laughs and a farmers’ market where I bought four seabreams that we grilled on the bbq. Absolutely delicious. Depending on how well you get along with your travel companions, it is always nice to have other people to talk to along the way. It allows each person to share and listen to someone else for a change and have conversations that don’t revolve around the daily logistics of van life.

There is a cute marina and some lovely, old, wooden boats our host enjoys sailing. There’s a beach, and seaside walkway, restaurants and a place to get ice cream. It’s lovely, sunny and open there; A really beautiful spot, but not easy for campervans to park for free. We were lucky in that our friends have a place for us to park inside their property and behind a lockable gate. Yay.

It’s also a total nightmare for driving around as all the streets are one way, with loads of roadwork going on so be super careful how you drive and be sure to plan your route with care. Also, I did see on Park4nite that a place people used to squat is now blocked off because it was actually on someone’s property.

On our walk along the seashore, we stopped and bought a case of oysters from a vending machine! It’s a pretty cool system. The producers put them into crates with the date, size and number of oysters and then stick them into refrigerated cubby holes. You shove your credit card into the machine, pick the number of the cubby you want, pay and then it clicks open and you can take out the crate. Done!

The boys opened the oysters and they were really delicious; surprisingly so. I don’t know why I’m surprised actually. It’s not like Normandy is the only place on the planet with good oysters. My husband kept the lid off the crate and said he was going to fake out some friends at home the next time he buys some oysters.

Going to the health clinic is France…again.

It was good to see our friends but as I mentioned in my last post, my health wasn’t great. I woke up in the middle of the night with such pains in my stomach and gallbladder that my husband had to drive me to the local hospital/clinic. It was a Saturday and I was able to see a doctor within less than an hour but had to go back on Monday for an ultrasound to see if there were any stones stuck. The bloodwork came back negative for infection and I was essentially cleared to continue my travels with the caveat of “We can’t guarantee that you won’t have another attack along the way.”

After the ultrasound confirmed the presence of a gallbladder filled with large stones but none stuck in nasty places, I trundled back down to see the main doctor again. He burst into the examining room flapping a piece of paper and declaring, “ Well, madame, you have COVID-19!”

“Huh?”

“You have COVID.”

“ Um, that’s odd because I came in because of pains in my gall bladder and I was never tested for COVID.”

The doctor squinted at the document in his hands and then peered at me over the paper with a suspicious look.

“ What, really? You mean you didn’t have a cotton swab stuck up your nose?” 

I was feeling snarky and in pain and snapped back at him 

“ Well, you were the one who examined me an hour ago. Did you stick something up my nose?

He gave me the typical Gaelic one-shouldered shrug, pursed his lips in a nice little sneer, slammed the paperwork onto his desk, and grunted that he’d have to deal with that “later.” He was still looking at me like I was lying or something as he prescribed me antispasmodics and painkillers and then sent me on my merry way. Huh? I had Covid?

I mean, honestly…

Is Covid being falsely diagnosed?

Something was a bit fishy about this whole deal. I have heard that hospitals receive more money from the government the more COVID cases they “identify.” Is that really true or is it a rumour?  I really didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole but I also didn’t want to be told I had the dreaded virus when I hadn’t even been tested for it. Alas, a day later I got a text from the French health authority ordering me to self isolate. Not likely. I wrote letters to the clinic ordering them to correct the mistake and sent several letters to the government letting them know as well. I don’t think they ever did anything about it.

Château du lac Sigean

We left our friends (and the comfy bed) to continue on our way and little by little I was starting to feel better and the pain was subsiding. We didn’t want to drive too far so ended up staying in the parking of a chateau/vineyard that has one hell of a story. 

Nazi’s occupied the chateau during the war and the owner, an eccentric compte and Russian prince, collaborated with the Nazi’s and after the war he was arrested and executed. Some believe he was a double agent for the British but who knows really?

A worker on the vineyard eventually inherited or took over the ownership of the chateau and vineyard, and his grandson, Laurent now runs the place. He explained the story in English to the German couple sitting next to us and I could see the difficult and conflicting emotions swirling around the couple. if you want to learn a bit more, then click here to go to their website.

It’s hard for me to know what Germans think about all this. Do they have regrets? Do they experience shame or do they behave like they should listen with lowered heads when really they’re fed up with always being reminded of what happened during the war?

What is the Law of Attraction?

I am not sure it’s such a good idea to constantly remember wars and atrocities even after having been indoctrinated with the usual rhetoric. Lest we forget, indeed, but I also believe that what we focus on grows. People say, “We need to remember what happened in various wars in order to prevent them from ever happening again.” Right, by that logic, we should be free of war and yet, are we? Has anything really changed?

The law of attraction says that what you think about, manifests. I also know that whenever I focus on what’s not going well in my life, whenever I just complain about stupid things that I can’t change, like the weather, or other people’s driving, or thinking about a war that happened almost 80 years ago, I just end up feeling crappy.

So, in exploring the concept of Law of Attraction, I have read Eckhart Tolle’s books, am currently reading, Ask and it is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks and I really try not to indulge in complaining. I do find that the more I practice, the better I feel and in the end, I cannot help anyone in the world by feeling bad. I can only help others by taking care of myself, my thought processes, my inner world. Do I succeed? Sometimes, and sometimes I fail spectacularly.

But I continue to try.

Long days in a van, driving from place to place, looking for places to stay and being glued to my Apple map GPS giving me directions in a American English that butchers French place names, I am reminded of one small truth.

Life is short. Too short to bitch and complain all the time about beds, toilets, comfort, gallbladder pain and making mistakes. I want to embrace life and be gentle as I travel. I want time to myself and really have no interest in conflict or drumming up old wars because we shouldn’t ever forget.

Saint-Cyprien, Argeles-sur-mer and Collioure

We drove down through Saint-Cyprien, Argeles-sur-mer and hiked along the cliffs to Collioure, a beautiful little town.

We had sandwiches and a beer sitting on a wall overlooking restaurants filled with people eating overpriced tourist meals. I was happy with my sandwich.

All of these places are right on the water and the views are amazing. They’re also tourist towns and I cannot imagine the traffic and masses during the high season. 

We hung out for a little longer than we wanted in these towns in order to use up the gas in our tank, get a new one, get supplies, water, clean out the toilet and generally stock up on things we may have a hard time finding.

Why? Because, my friends, this part of the trip is over and we were heading into Spain for the next part of the voyage. 

Olé!