PS: PHotos are coming soon - just paying for every minute of internet and can't manage everything at once!

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Wed 13th - Sat 16th October : Au revoir France and hello Italy....

So Wednesday dawned through our great big ancient shutters.....

We left our beautiful bedrooms, lovely white cotton linen, huge stone bathrooms and amazing hosts .....and back to the car and our air of gypsy circus. A bee line route out of France and straight to Venice to get the ferry to Greece. 

All the campsites in Northern Italy are closed so we stopped for 2 nights at a B&B outside Cremona. Typically only we could find a place like this. Bizarre owner who was intensely shy, yoga obsessed and kept doing prayer stances all the time. We were in the tiniest hamlet and would have expected a big burly Italian farmer and his wife – instead it was incense and thai themes and oh so many mosquitoes. Two bedrooms though – so that was a bonus -  and a bathroom between us which was very modern. We had the worst night ever the first night being eaten alive by mossies and hearing that “eeeeeeeee” in our ears. So the day spent touring around the Cremona area was slightly jaded by itchy blotches, sleep deprivation and following the tour guide advice of the owner of what was a “must see “ if you only had one day. One look at her flowing clothes, shamanic tattoos and the decor and books around the house should obviously have warned us. We went off on a wild goose chase to a village she claimed was THE thing to see in the area. We found a 100year old man made medieval theme village which was all shops of cartoon and kitsch wizards, sweets, medieval weapons and closed gift shops. Within 30ms of arriving Euan fell into a puddle of mud up to his waist and that was the outing over. Even his underwear was mud soaked and although he was quite game for continuing sight seeing naked it was only 13degrees and perhaps inappropriate.  

So a quick trip to a supermarket where i whizzed round alone and collected larder items that you feel you must buy if in Italy – gorgonzola, olive oil, amazing pasta....and back to the B&B. 

Left Cremona on Friday morning and headed to Venice. Italian motorways are officially pretty hair raising and the closer we got to Venice the crazier it became. You are charged a small fortune to use the motorways and then feel you have just taken your life into your own hands. 3 lanes – the slow lane all gigantic lorries nose to tail thundering along at 110kph (although the sticker on their back door would claim they were limited to 80) with every truck driver clutching his mobile phone. The middle lane was for all the even faster lorries overtaking  and the fast lane was for very new, very big and very fast cars which went ape if you were doing anything under 150kmph. We were between a rock and a hard place ;-)

Anyway, tonight we are in a Novotel, outside of Venice. It was the same price as a static caravan at the nearby campsite – that was not a difficult choice! Went into Venice centre by bus today and wandered around and ate pizza and pasta next to the canal. Not quite sure how and where we get to the port tomorrow for the ferry to Greece....the instructions for the greek travel agent were fairly vague, actually non existent...but we seem to have to drive back into Venice...which appears to be a car free city. Well, tomorrow is a whole new day.
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Sunday 10th - Wednesday 13th October, backwards before forwards...

                       

Sunday morning 10^th finally dawned after a night of tears, howling gales, a flying tent pole, flapping canvas and loud pattering rain. However it also brought a change in our camping fortunes as we encountered yet more incredible kindness. David and Liz Smith, a couple we had never met before but had a link to through Craigclowan, invited us to come and stay a night with them. It was a bit of a way in the wrong direction (we were heading East to Italy and they were back North West near Avignon) – however when someone offers you a real bed and hospitality for the night (in their castle) and you are in a miserable campsite and have woken up in pouring rain and have scarcely slept as the 60mph winds whipped at the canvas, you don’t say no.......

I don’t know that we have any photos which would really give you an idea of this amazingly special place. We found the most amazing welcome from a family we had never met before and the most amazing tale of restoring a castle which in parts is 1000years old. Liz and David opened their front door, welcomed us in, allowed big hot baths aplenty and positively encouraged use of the washing machine. A washed out campers dream.

And then there was the service...poor Liz never stopped catering for us all. Proper lunches (not just torn off chunks of baguette) and hot dinners, lovely Vin a L’Orange (got the recipe for this one...just wait till you try it) and children who had veritably died and gone to heaven. There was a room up on the top floor where all the “grown out of” toys were put. They moved in immediately and we never saw them, except when Adam and Andrew got home from school and then they were glued with adoration to the heels of the bigger boys. Mara made an excellent comment while there...”Mama, did you know that this place is actually a castle on the outside? It’s so strange because it is a house on the inside”. What a perfect summation – that is indeed what it was – a beautiful old and impressive building turned into a true home. So, thanks to Liz and David for looking after us and allowing us to make lots of use of their internet phone and wi fi and make calls backs to Perth, book a ferry to Greece (easier said than done....Greek travel agents....another story) and organise our next few days.

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28th September to 9th October, Normandy to the Camargue

Once again I am behind the times; it seems to happen all too easily!

We left Normandy on 28^th September and hot footed to the south coast of France. One night camping near Tours (only 3 degrees at night...brrr...) then another night in the mountains (brrr again). Got to Montpelier on 30^th and headed straight to a MacDonald’s for their free wi fi and to get news on Beechwood and communicate with the agent. No news really. The prospective new tenants will not sign until their house sale goes through so we won’t get news till around the 21^st of October and then they want to move straight in. Nail biting continues (actually I don’t have any left).

Found a campsite in a wee village called Lansargues in the midst of the Camargue region which is rather like Spanish Basque country – own dialect, lots of bulls (Torreaux), bull fighting, their own type of cowboys who round up the bulls (called Guardians) and lots of white horses (the type used for the bulls). Small and quiet campsite which was just what we were after. Set up the whole tent ensemble and almost immediately became friends with a lovely French couple next door who own their own mobile home on the site – Georges and Sylviane. What a bonus this was, Georges spend the first evening (unbeknown to us) creating a tour route for us to follow the next day to see the highlights of the area – Aigues Mortes (an ancient village still enclosed by the ancient city walls), Le Grande Motte (a rather ugly modern seaside town with bizarre architecture and millions of yachts) and then onto the wee village of Stes Maries de la Mer.

Through George and Sylviane we were introduced to Christian, a real life Guardian (complete with 2 white horses called Pegase and Aramis. He let the children have a ride on Pegase and showed us his collection of old horse drawn carriages. We watched the last round of a bull fight in a nearby village – unlike Spain, in French Torreaux the bull is superior; he is not killed but many young men in white  (Les Razeteurs) try and remove 3 ribbons attached to the bull’s horns. Very exciting – men in white leaping out of the ring very acrobatically - the kids loved it.

Two nights quickly became extended as the car alternator packed up and the car disappeared off into a garage to await a new one for 4 days. We were left with bikes and the generous assistance of Christian who drove me to the supermarket and generally helped us out with everything we couldn’t achieve by bike power alone. (by the way, the it turned out the only reason the alternator broke was due to a mistake back in Scotland – the garage there had over tightened some belt or other and this overheated and something broke off into the alternator and broke it. A frigging expensive error on their part. I leave Pieter to get on their case).

So our over-riding memories of our 9 nights in the Camargue region....

1.  Our 3 lovely new friends who could not have been kinder or most welcoming and gave us an amazing insight into the region
2.  The children getting to ride the horses and being pulled by carriage throughout the local countryside while Pieter, Sylviane and I rode behind on bikes. We collected apples, grapes and berries en route.
3.   Another adventure in Christian’s 4x4 into the heart of the Torreaux – to the Manade he is connected to (the name given to the farm owning the bulls for the fights to which a group of Guardian ride for). We saw the salt marsh lands and all the flamingos, duck hunters Cabanas (ancient old stone buildings which provide shelter for a few nights when out in the middle of the marshes for shooting). There are other Cabanas for the Guardians when they are out herding the bulls.
4.   Evenings spent talking with Georges and Sylviane and one dinner in their “house” with Christian – me struggling to understand his local (and strong) accent and everyone being very sympathetic with my French. Lovely local sausage, Kir Royales, great red wine and excellent company with new friends.
5. Some days of glorious weather, some days of howling gales and home schooling around the tent – the routine has formed that Pieter deals with maths and I do English. While one was having lessons the other two got to bounce around on the campsite trampoline!
6. Not very warm showers and having to share each one with 2 shivering, purple lipped children – or on a good day, only one.
7. An afternoon visit by bike to the local wine farm “Domaine de Moulines” where the kids played outside in the vines and collected conkers while we did tastings by ourselves with the grandson of the wine farm, Vincent. All great wines, most around £4 – wow.
8.  Mara thrilled to have a real life French lesson from Sylviane
9.   Archie with a new vocation in life – no longer wants to be a racing car driver, but instead Une Guardian (no surprise there – chasing round the countryside on a white horse and rounding up bulls with a long pointed Trident!)

Sadly we eventually had to leave this place we felt we had come to know better than most tourists. On Saturday 9^th October we left Lansargues after some sad farewells (Mara particularly upset to leave G&S and we had to explain that actually it wasn’t sad to leave as we had made new friends who would always remain our friends in France) and drove to the very tip of the peninsula south of Hyeres in the Cote D’Azur (Presqu’ile de Giens). We stupidly arrived really late as we detoured to Arles on the way to see the town that Vincent van Gogh spent much of his life. So we arrived at a rather awful campsite, plagued by camper vans and motor homes and no locals at all. We ended up pitching the tent in the dark, in howling gales and rain and scarcely speaking to each other. When all was finally set up and pegged down again (and again...and through the night....again) we made it inside (by now about 9pm) – grumpy and miserable. The tiniest pitch in the world without space for the car, the dome tent, or any privacy (I could touch the table of the camper van next door from our tent) – plus it was a rip off. We were cold, the toilets were miles away ......grrr.  To add to the evening as we finished some heated up soup I got the news that Uncle John Fyfe had died. Wow. Such a massive part of my life and most of my childhood memories involve UJ and AI. Many tears that night, from all of us. He was an amazing, gentle man. He taught me one of most major habits –whistling – from the operatic stuff I seem to do subconsciously to the monumentally loud and unladylike football stadium kind.
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the last 3 weeks

It has taken me a while to blog again - hoped i would have great news to report that Beechwood had a new tenant. Not yet, although there is a family in the pipeline who have put down a deposit but won't sign until the sale of their house goes through in 3 weeks time. Nail biting stuff and we continue to live on a shoestring. Frustrating.
Anyway, we had 3 weeks in total in Normandy - unexpected and we are indebted to the Brysons for letting us stay in their cottage. We had the opportunity to really mix with the local way of life though - the farmer and his wife next door took us under their wings and had us over a few times for sociable things. A real test of my French which has probably never had a real test run as i have always bowed out whenever anyone with better French piped up. However in this family there is no-one with any better French so it has been mine or nothing. I have been amazed at what the grey cells can dredge up 17 years after school finished. I think i could say we actually conversed which i would never have thought possible - albeit with some hand signals, the occasional reference to a dictionary and much umming and erring. So big memories of 3 weeks:

1. first social visit to the farm for an aperitif and we arrive to watch a heifer struggling in labour, the farmer with his left hand totally immersed "up there", the wife dancing out of the way of cascading poo and holding a torturous looking metal winch which was dragging the calf out by the feet. Archie was near gagging in disgust, Mara was most concerned with everyone's welfare and Euan was just about underneath the cow with fascination. Calf was born, thought to be dead and tied upside down by its feet to a metal gate and kicked in the head a few times and had two buckets of water thrown over it. Still nothing (quelle surprise). Then it was given an adrenaline shot and heh presto - all was well. Sigh of relief from Mara, "can i touch it" from Euan and "yeuch, it's covered in snot" from Archie. Then we got down to the proper business of tasting home-made Pommeau (delicious) and white wine mixed with Creme de Cassis (seemed odd but tasted like juice and is truly deadly). We rolled home for lunch.
2. two visits to the hospital for Archie and his broken arm. Amazed how well the nurses spoke English, how grumpy the secretaries were (so like our GP's surgery at home), amazed at the similarities to the NHS (wait here, now wait there, now over there please...oops... wrong department and wrong paperwork, wait there instead). Cast is now off, arm still looks squint and swollen and doctor recommended an x-ray in 3 months - round about the time we will hit Sudan - great!
3. being the only customers in the nearest Aldi - every visit! (you know i love it!) 
4. the local Marche (markets) where we always bought bread and thereafter wandered, or would have wandered, but it seemed more like we dragged, the kids. Did buy local cured sausage and discovered in amongst such really tempting items like dried sausage with chestnuts, dried sausage with red wine horrors such as dried DONKEY sausage. eeh gads.
5. sleeping like logs due to the fantastic Normandy tradition of wooden shutters - the kids slept till 9am, sometimes 10am every day. We should start an importation business.
6. visiting the nearby town's crustacean festival - very interesting for the kids - live lobsters and crabs and such all crawling around and being picked over by avid consumers. Rather smelly however and the sight of the locals buying "une kilo" and sitting down at a trestle table with a bottle of vin and sooking and slurping their way through the shells, slime and bits was not for the faint hearted.
7. Mara being allowed to go by herself to the farm to collect the nightly fresh milk - so proud of herself. Still slightly threw me each night to be handed a litre of body temperature milk - seemed less off putting in the morning after being chilled. She went off this duty after 3 days of rain and then the walk to the cow shed turned into a poo slide...she then tried to convince Archie he might like the chore instead (she's not daft) which he only fell for once. 
8. Normandy seemed rather poor which was sad, so many many houses tumbling down - and real old gems of places with charm and character. I only got to the tip of the ice berg with the reasons why, but the architecture is beautiful and it was such a doleful sight to see ancient buildings going to ruin.
9. visiting and picnicing in beautiful spots like Abbey D'Hambye ( http://www.abbayes-normandes.com/Abbeys?cbbArc13=&ficCode=66&page=1) - from 1147, Ducey (from 1066 http://www.google.co.uk/images?hl=en&rlz=&q=ducey+france&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=CUamTNDsBY-SjAeAjqnADA&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=4&ved=0CDAQsAQwAw&biw=1024&bih=499) -  all history and awe-inspiring craftsmanship completely lost on kids of course.
10. my guilt over the falling apples - it nearly killed me. Orchard on our doorstep and all these apples becoming windfall. I made bucketfulls of pureed apples but only P and I would eat it. So got Caroline to email a chutney recipe and spent an afternoon doing that - felt rather sackcloth and sandals like in a cottage with no TV and no radio in the middle of nowhere and kids doing puzzles on the floor and the stove lit and me stirring at the stove. Till i realised i'd added 2 desert spoons of cayenne pepper instead of chilli powder...and someone's cast got swung into someone else's eye...and someone's 200 piece puzzle got stood on by the crying someone else with the sore eye....you get the picture.
11. home-schooling began. Phew, new respect (of which i might add, i had plenty already) for teachers. Was absolutely shattered after the first afternoon of it. Different reasons why, one child so blessedly conscientious, another so dammed intuitively smart but with attitude of a 15year old, the last who point blank refuses to come anywhere near the table to sit down because he's got grasshoppers or spiders or moths to catch. Ou est le vin blanc?

will let you know in another blog about where we are now - in the deepest south, having chased the sun. Will have photos too :)

Fxx

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