J'adore France!!

Buggery bollocks !
I have just spent half an hour composing a superlative blog (well, I say it was superlative but really you’ll never know as recreation will be impossible) and the bloody server went down. I curse you Telecom France!
So, repeating myself only to myself (hence boring only myself, I flatter me, myself and I) my reflections on Germany, on balance, are that the north is a little cheerless, the south somewhat friendlier and on the whole Germany hasn’t quite done it for me which is a pity considering my Germanic heritage. Munich, like Cologne, was much more enjoyable and though perhaps my feelings have been dictated somewhat by the weather and the conditions of the caravan parks involved, I think it might be a better place to visit in the winter when the snow may make enchanting what the sun could not hide.
We had been keen to visit Vienna but the weather played the larger part in our decision to head for sunshine and replenishment of our fading tans. It was time to head west west west, for paradise is apparently there. And, sitting here in western France in 30 degrees, a little burnt from the 25km ride on our hired bikes, I have little to curse but French Telecom.
Our drive west headed for a short southerly detour to the Black Forest; a drive up misty and spooky hills and valleys. Hansel and Gretel got lost here, I whispered to the video camera on a little stroll. I have also captured Alex prancing about and humming "walk in the black forest". He’s a dill sometimes.
We headed for La Rochelle on the western coast of France, little anticipating the oft repeated France goes on holidays in August maxim would be so true. We were rejected from some six campgrounds "Non madam, ça c’est complet" but have found something a little inland which we flatter ourselves is even better - a municipal campground run by a cool chick. It has a man made beach on a river for swimming and very clean sanitaires (yes, I continue to report on the state of the toilets and though France has many things going for it, the cold porcelin sans toilet seat or the squats sans dry feet are not on the list).
We will be paying for this doing bugger all of nothing day tomorrow for we must drive to Calais to get the ferry back to the UK, some 500 odd kms up the road by 8pm tomorrow night. That, however, is tomorrow and in the meantime, after our ride back to camp we will swim in the river, cook something delicious and drink more beer.
Back in France I am once again struck by the siesta. I kid you not entire towns close down on the stroke of noon , or even before. In Avrille where we stayed a couple of days ago, the post office opened from 9.30 to noon, the library for one hour from 10 till 11 and the tourism office from 9 till noon. And that is their entire hours for the day, the siesta lasting till the following morning! Alex is working on his theory that no one in France actually works ; look around you at the countryside, feel the warm sun and find a bar tabac for a coffee or cool drink and you can hardly blame them. I think I want to live here, preferably in a Chalét or Château.
Jason and I had one of those moments today where, sitting outside the bar tabac with a café au lait (and they’re very shy with the lait) in the midday sun, quiet streets and waiting pushbikes; we toasted France with our coffee cups and lamented the cool weather before us in Scotland.
One of those things that I noticed about Germany is the cigarette machine; they were in most cafés and bars and restaurants and also in the middle of the street, down the most unlikely suburban streets even and the consequence is that no shop actually sells them. Compare and contrast with France where you can only buy cigarettes in a tabac. These tabacs are often combined with a bar in the smaller towns and it is these establishments that will be open in the day if any. But every town, no matter how small, manages to support one. I guess that is stout testament to the amount of smoking over here. Of course, you can still smoke in restaurants and just about any building which has been interesting to note how much our culture has changed in the last five years.
I love France.
We head for Edinburgh next to see a couple of days of the festival, return the motorhome, sorry, camping carrrr, to Manchester and spend four or five days in London before the rest of my family buggers off back to taunt you with slide show nights. The European adventure is coming to a close though we are all agreed that to live somewhere like Grenoble or Gap or any number of smaller towns in southern or western France is quite the thing.
Just a quick note on comments: thank you and keep them coming. I don’t reply to them as they are emailed to me from some kind of robot who wouldn’t care if I emailed it back at most or would rudely refuse to oblige me, which is usually the case. But I do get them and enjoy them so keep it up mon ami!
xx