Viva Espagne

Well I can't believe Debs is letting me loose on the blog. It is probably because we have done nothing but lie on a beach for the past week. The sun has blazed down as we lay on the fantastic beach in Santander. Yes I thought it was just the name of a bank too. 

We arrived for some 100 year festival so tapas and cheap cerveza abounds. 

There was a fantastic firework display one night with fireworks coming out of the sea. 

We also have a huge fair complete with gypsies and goldfish. 

This place is a great spanish resort for spaniards so no english breakfast or all day happy hours but god do they love ice-cream. They literally queue at one parlour in their dozens even after 11at night. 

I had an interesting moment with a very old spanish lady who requested that I zip her dress up on the beach due to her arthritis (or at least i think thats what she was on about). So that’s it here, off to watch a free opera concert and drink sangria; quality! 

P.S. Debs has just reminded me about our bat and ball comp on the beach. We are up to 148 hits between us. Yes very sad i know!

On top of the Pyrenees...

Is where we should have been today.  I should be writing to tell you what a jaw dropping view we had seen from just over 2000 meters near to the top of the Pic du Midi in the Valle d’Ossau.  Unfortunately for us though the clouds came rolling in over night and not only is the summit no longer visible but the whole mountain seems to have disappeared in a shroud of grey cloud. Bloody mountains (you don’t get this at the beach).   To be honest though we have only ourselves to blame since for the first two glorious days we lay by our beautiful swimming pool convincing ourselves it was too hot to even contemplate trekking up a mountain. 

Despite being unable to reach the summit today we have still had a relaxing few days in this stunning area. We are staying amongst the rolling vineyards of the Jurancon with a breathtaking view of the entire spine of the Pyrenees.    Our place is called Chateau Bellvue and it certainly lives up to its name.   After driving through the wrought iron electric gates at the foot of the half mile long driveway, then passing the lamas in the field to the right, we were greeted with the delightful spectacle that it the Chateau.  To be honest we had just booked a gite and were not expecting anything of this nature.  Judge for yourself.....

It is the home of Eric,Valerie their children and a menagerie of animals.  I have already mentioned the lamas but in addition there are donkeys, tortoises, honey bees (which make delightful honey), chickens (whose eggs we have eaten each morning), Whiskey the cat, two St Bernards (Max and Tequila - yes there is an alcohol theme) and a spaniel called Patouche. 

Not bad for someone who is afraid of dogs!

We did manage to drag ourselves away from the chateau to visit a nearby mountain lake but unfortunately the clouds were so low that you could only just see the end of your nose!  If the photos on the information boards surrounding the lake are anything to go by I am sure it is absolutely gorgeous (when you can see it!)

La Ville Rose

Our original reason for stopping in Toulose was to break up the journey to our next destination but we are really pleased that we chose to do so.  Known as La Ville Rose, due to the red brick used to build most of the city, the centre is elegant a stylish.  

The city sits amidst the River Garrone and the Canal du Midi which link the Mediterranean sea and the Atlantic ocean. The banks of both provide beautiful tree lined towpaths, a perfect spot for a slow amble in the shade of the midday sun.

We hopped aboard a boat which allowed us to explore parts of both waterways - to be honest though we could have seen the same on foot and the most exciting part of the trip was how alarmingly similar the driver looked to Billy Connelly.  

With the second largest student population in France the city is busy and full of life.  It is young and vibrant with a hot bed of nationalities, cultures and cuisines. The pedestrianised lanes darting out from the Place du Capitole are awash with cafes bars and all manner of ethnic cuisine.  The collection of Indian restaurants puts Rusholme to shame!  Given that it was obviously a speciality of the region we opted for our first curry of the trip - delicious!  

During the summer months the city council transform the left bank of the river in to Toulouse plage (a fake beach).  

It is completely free and our love of beaches meant that we had to pay a visit.  There was everything from sun beds and sand pits to badminton courts, beach soccer pitches, volley ball courts and table tennis tables.  At last something I can beat Mike at -  a whitewash - three games to nil and I shall now make him sorry for all the gloating he did about the boules!!!!! 

Le Tour de France

Given it was on our doorstep it would have been rude not to find out what all the fuss was about. To be perfectly honest, before finding out that the 14th stage of the Tour de France would be leaving from a village less than 15 km from where we were staying, neither of us had shown that much interest.  We were vaguely aware that some crazy men in lycra were pedalling thousands of miles around the country in the blazing heat but that was about it.  We were therefore surprised by how infectious it became once we arrived.  There were thousands of spectators dancing to the beat of a samba band, wearing bight yellow and jumping to catch all the freebies thrown in to the crowd by the parade of sponsor’s caravans.  It was amazing how excited some people got over a sachet of free soap powder!  We figured that since we were there we my as well join in so decked in our bight yellow we jumped and screamed with the best of them and managed to bag a cake, a sickly gel drink and the illusive soap powder!!!!!! (It was worth the dirty look from the french woman whose hands Mike ripped it out of).  

The riders made an appearance and the race kicked off with an amazing fly by from the french version of the red arrows trailing the blue, blanc rouge in the their wake!!! 

Terrible pictures I know but they were so fast!

What made the trip even better was the fact that our guy was in the lead (much to the disgust of the Australian that I was stood next to - ha ha).  Anyway we are now converted and keeping an eye on whether he can manage to hold on to his lead - fingers crossed.

Bastille day at Sidsmums

Sid is not an old friend whose mum let us stay at her house for the weekend. It is a great little hostel just outside the medieval city of Carcassone. No that was not a typo, I did mean to say hostel and not hotel. I know that some of you reading this will not believe that we stayed in a hostel but we have to admit that it was great. A real little gem.  Essentially it is a homely little gite, where we had a double room, with small dorms in cabins in the tree shaded garden.  It is no longer run by Sid (or his mum) but by a really friendly Bolton lass called Tracy (her dog Fergus and her two cats Sid and Aury) who couldn’t do enough for us!  We had some really interesting housemates which meant that we did not stop laughing all weekend.

The short journey in to Carcssone was definitely worth it.  The old walled city is utterly breathtaking.  Its two spectacular rampart walls, joined together by 52 stone cinderella towers, look like something straight from a medieval fairytale.  It doesn’t require a vivid imagination to picture the archers sat atop the walls defending their territory whilst jousting and merriment took place in the dry moat.   We decided to fight our way through the hoards of absent minded tourists slowly ambling the winding alleyways mouths ajar in admiration and and take a trip around the chateau.  The quirky little anecdotes and historical background made investing in an audioguide worth it.  

Quirky is perhaps a good word to describe much of our stay - including our first evening in Carcassone.  We opted for a restaurant which served up a degustation plate of starters, along with a main and cheese (all at the same time). All of the dishes were made with locally sourced fresh produce which were sold in the adjoining shop.  The menu was so complicated that (other than our main course - which we specifically chosen) we had no real idea what to expect.  As such we were very pleasantly surprised when everything was delicious, including the main course of cassulet, (a speciality of the region much like a thick broth full of white beans, cubes of pork and a huge chunk of duck - In hindsight perhaps more of a winer dish - I couldn’t move for hours after I had finished!!!). Better than the food however was the wine.  Not even the fact that he had over 200 bottles to choose from but more the self service option that we plumed for.  We were provided with an electronic card (pre loaded with 100 Euros - very dangerous) which we used to select a taster glass, small glass or large glass of any one of the wines.  The bottles were all visible through the glass and were separated by colour. Thankfully we had a seat close to the machine so it was not too embarrassing when one of us went back very 5 minutes!!!  We finished our evening by watching a very random free open air concert with a seriously  aging rock band and a pair of french piano players who appeared to be singing love songs to one another - certainly different!

Bastille day obviously brought something out in Mike - he had decided that hostels were his cup of tea (despite only ever having stayed in this one) and in true backpacker style he was going to learn to walk the tight rope and juggle - 

Unsurprisingly he was a disappointment at both and his interest quickly feigned.  We decided a better option was to take a trip to the nearby village of Limoux to pick up supplies for the gastronomical delight that we planned to make for ourselves that evening.  Having been truly fleeced at the boucherie (for what turned out to be some delightful faux fillet) we picked up a bottle of fabulous pink champagne (although technically they cannot call it Champagne). The whole thing was grown, picked, made and bottled in Limoux.  We then sat down to a hostel meal Deb and Mike style with steak, salad and champers!   

We rounded of a fabulous day by taking a trip to the top of a nearby hill to watch the hundreds of thousands of Euros that must have been spent in fireworks shooting off the ramparts of La Cite. The 20 minute demonstration was pretty spectacular, at times made to look as though the whole city was a blaze.  the 700,000 visitors that flocked in to see the demonstration left with smiles on their faces - that was until they sat in their cars for 3 hours trying to get home!

Montpellier

Montpellier was a complete surprise. Given it is a city normally overrun with students we expected something a little tatty and rough around the edges.  It was the complete opposite. Even the outskirts were pristine!  Despite the classic architecture of the old quarter buildings. Montpellier feels modern and stylish.  Its brand new high speed tram skirts silently past the neoclassical Opera on place de la comedie and both work fabulously together.  

The entire old quarter (a pretty sizable area) is entirely pedestrianised (although this doesn’t seem to include mopeds!) which makes ambling the cafe lined pavements a true delight.  

Almost every other building is a cafe or restaurant which makes choosing where to go an evening long task.  After carefully considering a number - we ended up with tapas - typical!!  Having said that the food was fabulous and the music has got us in the mood for our upcoming visit to Spain. 

On our second day we felt like a rest so it was handy that a 15 minute drive took us to some pure white sandy beaches where we whiled away the hours playing bat an ball - I have given up with boules - I can’t cope with Mike’s gloating!!!!! We had a little explore around the town of Palavas and I even managed to drag mike in a cable car (well more of a metal bucket really) to take us over the river! 

Crepes for dinner provided a perfect and to  a really enjoyable two days.  

A week in Provence

Well its not quite a year but we did manage to pack plenty in to our stay.  We found ourselves a lovely little farmhouse just outside St Remy de Provence which we we used as a base to see some of the region.  Our pet cat, affectionately named dust bag by Mike, (according to him she looked like the contents of a hoover bag!!) gave the place a real homely feel as did the freshly picked lavender alongside our homegrown basil!

St Remy is a quaint little village with plenty of cafe bars and restaurants that kept us fed watered and amused.  It is a maze of winding alleyways, tree lined boulevards and artisan shops selling local produce.  It is also very central which allowed us to visit many of the surrounding villages.  

Avignon, a tourist mecca, was one of our first stops.  This is probably everything you imagine a Provencal town to be; stone cottages surrounded by medieval ramparts, vines  to the outside and shops selling everything lavender related on the inside.  It is dominated by the huge Palais des Papes and the accompanying Notre Dame Cathedral the enormity of which is best appreciated from the other side of the river in the Rocher des Doms gardens.  

On our way back from Avignon we stumbled across Les Baux de Provence, one of France’s most beautiful villages (or so the sign on the outskirts told us).  It is in the midst of the Alpillies national park and perched precariously on top of a hill above the surrounding vineyards and olive groves.  The Chateau des Baux (or the remains of it anyway) is the star of the show.  As well as providing a fabulous insight in to the lives of those around in the 10th and 11th centuries, we got to fire medieval crossbows (and both hit the bullseye)  and view a demonstrations of an enormous medieval catapult. In addition it offered some truly spectacular views! 

Provence is all about its village markets - on arrival our host gave us a list of one we could visit everyday!  We chose the biggest at Carpentras.  We decided to pass up the live kitten, baby goat and pot bellied pig that we for sale and just grab a bunch of organic fare for our picnic at the nearby fontaine de Vacluse - France’s most powerful spring.  That is if you visit in winter. If, like us, you visit in the middle of summer all you can see of the spring are the water stains on the walls which show what a spectacular sight others before you must have witnessed!!!  Nevertheless, the emerald green waters of the clam streams running from the source were still a beautiful spot for a pic nic.  

We were told that the best way to explore the nearby marshlands of the Camargue was astride a horse so that is what we did.  Our peaceful ride through the countryside provided an excellent vantage point from where we were able to spot an abundance of birdlife including pink flamingos and herons (there were plenty of others but to be honest we have no idea what they were!).  We were slightly taken by surprise when our horses happily plodded waist deep though the river for part of the journey but aside from the wet shoes and mosquito bites it was amazing. 

No trip to Provence would be complete without a tour of the lavender fields so ignoring the woman in the tourist office who told us it was too early in the season, we jumped in the car and headed for the Abbaye Notre-Dame de Senanque.  We arrived to see an idyllic 12th century abbey surrounded by gloriously fragrant purple blooms. We gave a self satisfied smile, glad that we had decided to make the trip.  We continued North towards the surrounding slopes of Mont Ventoux, Provence’s biggest mountain at 1909m high.  Here fields of lavender are interspersed only with vinyards.  A truly spectacular sight. 

On our final day we crossed the border in to the Languedoc and headed towards the Pont du Gard, a huge Roman aqueduct now a UNESCO world heritage sight.  Rather than simply drive there and walk across it, 8km up stream we jumped in a Kayak and lazily paddle our way towards the bridge, occasionally jumping overboard for a refreshing dip in the river.

More by good luck than good management we arrived in St Remy during the town’s annual festival. We were completely surprised to learn that the piece de la resistance was the evening’s bull fight.  We looked around, checked that we were not in Spain - no, we were in the heart of a sleepy little Provencal town and then we were off to a bull fight!!!  We were reliably informed that there would be no blood (not unless the matador was useless!!) they don’t kill the bull in France, they tie ribbon around its gigantic horns and incredibly athletic guys run precariously close whilst they try to cut it off.  Strangely it was hugely entertaining especially when, to the squeals of the few hundred strong crowd, the half ton bull cleared the surrounding fence panel to chase after the matador that was taunting it!!!!  

The next night’s bull related activities were slightly different - there were no professionals involved and they brought the bulls in to town!!!  No safety of an arena this time just a few metal fences with holes wide enough for humans to pass through, surrounded a ramshackle pub/ restaurant which was selling beer to already leathered young french men!!!  All the makings of a health and safety nightmare! (Brian if you are reading you would be having kittens).  A wagon soon bulled up carrying the bulls.  It simply dropped its tailgate and let them out.  Unsurprisingly the bulls were not at all happy at this situation and ran directly at the drunk young lads who had squeezed through the railings and were  waving pieces of cardboard at them.  An interesting evening to say the least!