By the time I had packed up my soaking tent I was cold and wet. I decided to get breakfast on the road. I had an old oversized chequered lumberjack shirt, a full centimetre thick, badly torn, but warmer than any jacket I ever owned. I call it my festy shirt on account of never going to a festival without it. I didn’t expect to actually use it in the south of France!
Whilst driving into town I notice a sign, “For sale, here!”... !???. Indeed!
So it was, cold, wet, hungry, covered in mud, badly in need of a shave, and looking something like Grizzly Adams emerging from the hills, I went into town to find breakfast. My squeak announcing my imminent arrival.
The first ‘bar-restaurant’ I tried said they had no breakfast but directed me towards the ‘plac’ (the square in the centre of the village). Clearly they didn’t want me there.
The curious butchers in question
Royston Vasiey
The first place in the ‘plac’ was closed. The second was open. As I walked in the only other customer finished his coffee and left. “Can I get some breakfast here?”. “Nothing to eat here” the old lady said while looking at most in the most peculiar way. “You can get a croissant over there” gesturing towards the same butchers the lady in the post office mentioned yesterday. You gotta be kidding?! Ok, “Je voudrais un cafe au lait” (I’d like a coffee with milk). She said nothing but set the coffee machine in progress. She didn’t put any milk in it... “avec lait?” I said. “No lait!” she said. I clearly remember specifying “lait”.
I paid and took my black coffee to the only table that wasn’t covered in stuff. It looked like she was moving house and was using the cafe as a temporary storage place. It was really hot too. She had the heating on. She snatched the paper on my table in front of me and cleared a space on the table opposite and sat there... in her slippers... just glaring at me!! I had taken her place! Looking around the cafe I was astounded. Plants everywhere, not actually arranged, just everywhere. On the floor. On the seat next to me. At the end of the table was a 3 foot high doll in a white Victorian looking dress. You remember Chucky? It was spooky like that. The walls were covered in brown carpet! I guess they ran out of wall paper... No?.. no!.. no wall paper either. I wanted to leave but my coffee was too hot to drink. It had no milk in it.
Don't smile at the locals
So I sat there. With her still glaring at me. I’ll try a smile I thought. A gesture understood by thousands of generations of pre-humans as the universal sign of friendliness! I smiled. Clearly she interpreted my gesture as a threatening one. Her scowl deepened and she shifted position perceptibly, probably to defend against my imminent attack!
I realise now why there are no tourists. The locals had frightened them all off. Beautiful though the countryside is I can’t imagine myself living amongst people that treat every outsider like a potential murderer. Even if I did currently resemble one. My book on France advised me that people here can be ‘hostile’ to outsiders but I took it to be tongue in cheek. Coffee down, I left without saying goodbye. I got into my car, punked up the stereo, revved my engine, and left the town in a cloud of filthy chip stink!
Shortly after passing the “Hotel Bastide” (I swear I’m not making this up) I saw a sign; “Welcome to the Auveyrone”. No longer in the Auverne, maybe people will be friendly now. I drove onto the larger and altogether more accommodating town of Espallion.
Ommelette
Still not eaten, I parked and found a cafe that reputedly had food! This isn’t as straight forward as you might think. See its now after breakfast time, but still before midday.. when the plat du jour starts. “Can I get some food?”, “Oui monsuir..”, “Chaud manger?” (hot food?)... “ah...”, “C’est possible omelette”, “Oh oui! sil vous plait... that would be great.. merci boucoup!”. Was she flirting with me? “Oh oui Oui monsuir!!”. Her name was Veronique, she was sexy. Still, she ushered me to a table out of the way were I wouldn’t frighten the guests, or give them ideas like 11.30am was an acceptable time of day to be eating food. Sitting there making blog notes she probably thinks I’m some kind of eccentric writer or something.
My specially made omelette was just a basic egg omelette. No fromage, no ham, no tomatoes.. but it was hot, filling, and good! I left Veronique my email address.
The next large town Rodez you have to drive up a mountain to get to. Still, it’s very impressive. I ditched the festy shirt, tied my laces up and bought myself a rustic French loaf to tuck under my arm. My disguise as a Frenchman complete, I walked into a bar for another coffee. This time they had milk! While I was dinking my coffee I noticed there appears to be some kind of Olympic event on in town. Lots of people walking around in shell suits with “Russia” or “Slovakia” written on the back.
After Rodez I filled up at Lidl’s again and made my way to Millau, where they have recently built the biggest/highest viaduct in the world. The scenery here is stunning. It’s getting more and more impressive all the time... rockier... lots of gorges! I made camp by the river and setup up the laptop to update the blog. This brings you bang up to date... as I’m still doing it. While sat here with my food and wine some ducks came over looking for bread. I made sure there wasn’t any duck pate on the bits I gave them.
Its 8.40pm – just starting to rain again, at least I’m in the camper tonight. Although not sunny at least it’s warmer here due to the lower altitude. I suspect I’ll be here a few days. It’s a lovely spot, I can walk into town and it looks like a great town. And the ducks are sitting next to me.. I feel like one of the family. ‘Bonsoir’, I bid the ducks goodnight.
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