Travels with Floozie2

Fete des Bandas

Friday 4th July. We left Parc Verger to move 18km down the road to Camping Le Meteorite in Rrochechouar for the music festival; the Fete des Bandas. A Banda is similar to a military marching band in instrumentation; brass, woodwind and percussion. It does march (loosely!) but the emphasis is on playing catchy tunes with as much noise and fooling around as possible. It is wholly infectious and you can’t help but get caught up in it all.

The weekend started, or was supposed to start, at 9pm with a concert by the Rochechouart Banda (a more understated affair – great band) in the courtyard of the fabulous Chateau. True to French form, it was well past 9.30 before kick off; when we arrived, the place was like a ghost town! The courtyard had been laid out like a Parisian show theatre with tables and chairs, candles and table service all in front of the stage. This was all because the second half of the show was a “Spectacle de Music Hall” which promised to give us an “unforgettable evening of beauty, charm, grace, splendid costumes, warm lights and evocative music” involving lots of chorus girls in feathers! Which is more or less what we got. The troupe was obviously a young dance school – few were over 20 - and they danced to backing track music and a great light show. Whilst they weren’t exactly professional, they did make a pretty good job of it (there were several funny moments with costume problems- the cat’s tails being one of the best!) and what they lacked in polish, they certainly made up for in stamina. They were on and off stage for two-and-a-half hours in a show that involved at least twenty (fabulous) costume changes. It was past one in the morning when they finished.

One or two of the dancers stood out, some for all the wrong reasons. There were only four guys to the twenty odd girls and one of them was a stocky bald headed lad who looked like a very camp Al Murray (the ‘Pub Landlord’ comedian) who pouted his way around the stage. The leader of the troupe was an attractive older lady who Amanda thought was nearly her age. I reckon that’s a bit uncharitable and she was more mine. Whatever, she had a killer body, especially in the very tight costumes!! There was one young girl who moved well and managed to smile throughout the show, which most were unable to do as they were concentrating on the next move or watching the girl next door to get their placing, so our eyes naturally followed her.

In between the dancing there were two young singers. The lad, Sebastian, was an old hand with a great voice. His stage presence would have suited a 50 year old lounge singer better, but there was no denying his talent. He was overshadowed however by Marion, who was making her debut. She was a hot babe who moved with the grace of a dancer (actually better than the dancers themselves!), which would have been quite enough for me. But when she sang, blimey! Hell of a range and she would have sung most of today’s so-called pop stars off the stage. She was quite mesmeric. She and Seb sang duets and the pair of them had great harmony. It was a joy to watch them both, despite the material they were singing (typical old fashioned French stuff). We walked home very happy and having enjoyed a terrific evening of music, song, dance and champagne!

Saturday started at 3pm. We arrived in the square expecting to watch the show band “Blue Lions” in the Chateau square. Wrong again! No, they were off around the town like everybody else! There were about ten bands doing a circuit of the town, stopping off at various points to do a few tunes. We sat in bars or cafes to watch and it was interesting when one band arrived at a place to find another already playing. The resulting ‘tune’ was interesting! The Blue Lions caught up with us, so we eventually saw them. They were a formation marching band and very, very good. There were four bass drum players, each drum a different pitch and they could play with such precision it sounded as though it was one person playing them.

We were really enjoying the music and the town, when it suddenly dawned on us. If you were to take away the bands, there’d be hardly anybody there. We just couldn’t get over how poorly attended this great event was. Was it a lack of interest, or the general “quietness” that seems to be around at the moment. Whatever, we couldn’t understand anyone wanting to miss out on this!

There were a couple of other Bandas that were a bit different, more “street music”. The best of these was a band called “L’aile ou la cuisee” (the wing or the leg) who interacted with the crowd and had a lad singing through a megaphone. There was a brilliant trad jazz band and a group playing African drums but the best of the lot was Ouish Lorraine (yes it’s an ‘O’ not a ‘Q’!). They were a combo from Paris with a repertoire so varied it would be impossible to place them. They did a unique version of Brittany Spears’ Toxic! I didn’t hear them play the same piece twice in 12 hours, and they were playing a good while of that. And you couldn’t stop them. After they’d done one stint after the other on the two stages around the Chateau, I found them at the bar, jamming. Totally brilliant musicians, the drummer left me speechless (and wishing I practiced more and had such an innate sense of rhythm!) The music just went on and on. It was also busier in the evening and as the music played, we ate a repas of moules & frites in a big marquee.

We capitulated at half one in the morning and walked back to the camping under a star lit night, as the music washed down from the town.

Sunday. Up early-ish and very sleepy after the late night to get to town for ten and the restart of festivities. It was the big competition; the Bandas were playing for the big prize – a very heavy replica of the lion carved into the Chateau wall. We got to the square – nothing and hardly anyone about! Ah well, we have yet to learn about the leisurely approach the French have to timekeeping.

Eventually we heard sounds of playing from the town centre so wandered up. It was a repeat of yesterday, although it was now all Bandas and the other “fringe” bands had gone and new ones had come in. There were seven or eight bands and all were having a great time. The day went by with a lunch in the marquee, visiting the craft and produce stalls and voting for our favourite Banda. For me there was no competition – Banda Follet won hands down for sheer entertainment, especially from their band leader who was completely wired. I’ve never seen anyone with so much energy!! And the rest of the crowd obviously thought so too, as they won. After all the ceremony was over, all the bands struck up together; on stage, in the crowd, by the bar. It was a brilliant end to a brilliant weekend.

I took loads of video and hope to montage it together and post on YouTube with a link here. If I work out how to do all that! Then you’ll see what it was all about!

Rocky

Monday 7th July. Took Pooch out before returning the hire car. He found a small furry critter as his won’t but, despite the squeaking noises, the inevitable didn’t happen. When I looked, his quarry wasn’t a mouse or vole, but a tiny, tiny kitten. Black, eyes still closed, no more than a week old. Abandoned, although in good condition. There was no mother to be seen and no other kittens. I couldn’t make it out. Had Pooch disturbed the mother cat whilst she was taking the kitten somewhere and had she dropped it and ran? More likely it had been dumped as the area cried out as the type of place that would happen. But no siblings? Maybe they had already been taken by other creatures and this chap was the only one left. One thing was for certain; I couldn’t leave him there.

I wasn’t too keen on taking him back to the RV either as I knew what Amanda’s reaction would be. She would want to keep him. That however, was nigh on impossible as he would need constant care and then there’d be the problem of getting him to the UK in the Autumn. Which we couldn’t of course. Anyway, we went to the vet in Rochechouart; not much help. So we went to Oradour where we’d taken Pooch. They were more helpful, but said that there were no cat rescue places in the region and the SPA would not be interested. By now Amanda was too upset to continue and had to go back to the car. It was at that point a lovely lady who had brought her dog in for treatment said she would take him. I took one look at her and knew he’d be in good hands. And her little Yorkshire terrier was so lovely with the kitten. A happy ending to the story. I’m not sure what would have happened if she hadn’t taken him. Oh, who am I kidding, we’d have kept him wouldn’t we and worked around it. That’s what we’re like with animals. Daft as brushes. It would have made life very awkward, but pretty interesting I guess. But, the eventual outcome was for the best. At least that’s what the head says. As for the heart…..

Amanda was upset for days. She became instantly attached to him. I called him Rocky as ‘roche’ in Rochechouat is ‘rock’ and he was a fighter like Rocky. The lady said it was a good name. He was a plucky little character and will be a lovely cat with a great story. He’ll have a good life.

And so to Switzerland.

I discovered yesterday that the hire car wasn’t due back until today, which was just as well with what happened yesterday. So finally got away; I drove Floozie2 and Amanda the car to Limoges airport. Handed over the keys to car, which they didn’t want to check, so I hope I don’t get a nasty surprise on my credit card statement that I have to deal with. I’m not too trusting of car hire firms; they take advantage of damage situations. Probably just being paranoid, but the way our luck is running at the moment……..

The rear air brake gauge is acting up so I’ve had to disconnect the warning buzzer. It’s a very odd intermittent fault. On the first day we got to Cosne d’Allier. At first we didn’t think we’d get on the site as it looked too small. But the warden, a youngish chap called Frank said no problem. Sure enough, there was a nice place tucked away out of view. It turned out that Frank was a big fan of motorhomes converted from coaches and had a rally of 25 turning up in August. Not sure where he’s going to put them all! He showed us pictures of some that he hoped were coming and was very excited about looking around Floozie2, with his young son William. He took a glass of wine with us and we nattered on for quite some while. Then there was lovely family who were wandering around, so they got a tour also! It was a great way to get to talk to people.

Day two was a short hop to Luzy as we neither slept well. We landed at the Chateau de Chigy camping. They weren’t too keen on taking us despite the fact the place was huge and fairly empty. I think we suffer the fall out from Romany gypsies and a lot of places are wary when they see something like us turn up. Sometimes we notice the charge for twin axel units is more than twice that of normal ones. It’s a real shame, but understandable I guess. Anyway, she relented when she saw we were Caravan Club members and we got the most amazing pitch overlooking a lake, all by ourselves! We were there by 1pm, it was a lovely day and we sat in the shade of the trees and lazed. Lovely. In the evening we had a fine buffet salad in the restaurant and then there was a ‘turn’ singing. A lady of a certain age with a lived in look sang some good old French standards with great deftness, including ‘Non, Je ne regret rien’ which was brave and well executed.

Personally, I found the place a bit unkempt, the sanis not really up to scratch and overall expensive, including the meal, no matter how good. BUT, the location was perfect and the experience at dinner was worth it all. Plus, there was an excellent pool complex we didn’t make use of. Plus to cap it off, we put on some music and danced barefoot in the dew laden grass as the sky grew dark and the stars came out. I saw Amanda dance like never before, so free and uninhibited. It was a joy just to sit and watch her. It was a beautiful evening.

Day three. Up early with a fabulous sunrise over the lake. Took Pooch for a walk in the woods and we were away by 9:30. We were having a good run until Arnay-le-Duc when I mis-judged a corner and clipped the kerb with my rear wheel. Unfortunately it sported a metal gully opening which took a chuck out of the sidewall of the tyre. It didn’t puncture, but was too badly damaged to continue. As it happened, I ended up on a garage forecourt. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the equipment to help me, so I ended up calling the AA. A brilliant Irish lad called Colm sorted everything out and within half an hour a guy turned up. Then had to go away again to get his compressor sorted to do the job! Anyway, we got underway again 2 ½ hours later. I remember the days when I could change a wheel in five minutes. Not anymore! We got to a place called Gray, which was far from it, and settled on the camping Municipal there. It was next to the river, not much shade and it was 34C. After a long day the heat was oppressive. We ate dinner in the shade of Floozie2, only to find mosquitoes were doing the same with us so we had to retreat back into the oven we called home. Unfortunately we didn’t have enough electrical power to run the air con. That’s the problem with these RVs – they’re power hungry and the systems are inefficient so whilst we might have all the goodies on board, more often that not we can’t get the electrical supply to use them!

I took Pooch into town for a wander. A mistake: I was tired, he was a pain and I ended up getting irritable with him. Not his fault; he just gets excited with all the smells and other dogs and loud bangs. I shouldn’t have taken him if I wanted a peaceful stroll.

Gray is odd. There’s a bit of a Med feel to it with a colourful café bar/restaurant vibe going on. But scratch the surface and you notice a lot of closed shops, a lot of empty restaurants. One prime position hotel was all dark and closed up. Hmmm. Still, a distant storm was interesting to watch.

A hot, humid night and we were off again. Dropped into the Champion supermarket for fuel. €380 this time. Ouch! Noticed a hissing of escaping air. Amanda went into the supermarket to get groceries whilst I checked the hiss. Definite leak and the front suspension was deflating with the engine turned off. I found this out when I almost got my head stuck when I had it between the top of the wheel and the wheel arch trying to locate the problem! I managed to extricate myself but had a grazed ear for my troubles. I eventually found the source and thought it was a pipe that had split. Not good. Another call to the AA. I asked if they could locate a truck garage. Maybe one on the other side of town they said. Do you want to make it an official call out? No, I’ll see how I get on. The other side of town was a vast industrial zone. No garage, but a farm machinery dealer. The accounts lady there put me straight onto a garage just out of town, in the direction we were going! We were there in 15 minutes. We wandered into the reception, explained the problem and despite the fact they were busy, the next thing we knew, Floozie2 was over an inspection pit. Five minutes later we knew the problem. One of the air dump valves on the levelling jack system wasn’t closing and air was constantly escaping. What to do? No problem! The mechanic popped a strip of rubber around the valve, covering the dump holes and tie-wrapped it on. End of problem. Started the engine, the suspension rose straight up and no hiss. It’s been fine since. We gave the mechanic €5 for a beer or two for his trouble as they wouldn’t take anything by way of payment. How good is that?

And so we are now on a camping by a beautiful lake near Gerardmer. It is in Les Voges, a stunning mountain region near the German border and more importantly the Alsace wine region! We went to a wine tasting last night, which was interesting and very tasty. I like Alsace wines, apart from the reds, which are a bit too light for me. The lady doing the tasting was speaking in German when we arrived (late!). She then swapped to English for our benefit as the other participants were Dutch and were all proficient in English, but spent most of the evening swapping between the two and her native tongue, French! Whilst the wine was being sipped, the camping provided morsels of Tarte Flambe. It’s like a pizza, only with what I think is a filo pastry base with onions, lardons (small bacon pieces) and crème fraiche. After the tasting, we ended up in the café bar with one each and a punnet of chips. Totally delicious with a blanch tranche (a white beer with a slice of lemon!) So having said I wouldn’t drink today, I ended up sozzled. Amanda ended up with some bottles of her favourite wines, a Gewurtztraminer and of course “bubbles” in the form of a Cremont, the Alsace version of Champagne. We then watched The Bourne Identity (good movie) and went to bed.

We are having such a great time doing this, meeting interesting people and seeing new and exciting places. More importantly, our attitude to life is beginning to adjust and we are getting more relaxed. As far as we go together, it just gets better and better. To think at the end of last year we were about to go our separate ways! Blimey, what a rescue that was. We are having such fun!! Even the tyre incident, which in the past would have sent me into a frenzy of anger and self beratement was met with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders and a “it’ll get fixed” mentality. And I think that’s just it. There’s a shifting of thought to the spiritual again, a frame of mind I was scared I’d lost, and everything else is less important, particularly the material things that can be fixed or dispensed with altogether. It’s a good place to be, although I get frustrated that the journey is taking so long. There again, maybe I would be better off remembering the Zen dog:

He knows not where he’s going
For the ocean will decide
It’s not the destination
But the glory of the ride

Thing is, the journey to one’s own spirituality doesn’t have a destination. It is just that; a journey, ever changing, ever challenging. Making you live. Allowing you to live. And with it comes peace and happiness. At least that’s what I believe and that’s what’s important for me. I’m glad I’ve seen the light again!

What’s more, Amanda is by my side on the journey.

Pooch goes missing

Saturday 12th July. I took Pooch for a pre-dinner walkies into the woods. I ended up going a bit further than I anticipated and lost my bearings a bit. Then Pooch caught a scent and disappeared. I called for about an hour but he had gone deaf. As it was getting late, I decided I had to let Amanda know what was happening, or she’d start to fret. I found a road and flagged down a kind lady and explained my situation. She brought me back to the camping. It was only then I discovered just how far wrong I had gone. I’ve always prided myself on my sense of direction, but they say pride comes before a fall and this was my fall. By road I was a good 6km from the camping and there was no way Pooch would find his way back. So at 8pm I set off back into the woods with supplies and a torch. It took me about ¾ hour of fast walking/jogging to get to where I left Pooch. I found a group of students who were wild camping nearby and asked if they’d seen him. They said no, but took my phone number in case he turned up. I went to the point where he disappeared and started calling. I gave myself until it went dark before heading back. About 20 minutes later, a heard a jangling and a panting and turned round to see himself trotting down the path without a care in the world. It was a relief filled reunion. I took him to meet the wild camping group and of course they were all over him like a bad rash. I spent a while chatting and having a laugh, both sides laughing at their pitiful attempts at the other’s language. They were a good crowd and gave both Pooch and I water to drink! And so I set off back. By now it was past 9pm and getting dark. I figured it risky to head back through the woods as it was a tricky path in the light, let alone the dark, so had to take the long road back. My feet were grumbling, my legs were like jelly and Pooch trotted along as if he’d just started off on his walk! Little bugger! I got back to a tearful Amanda at exactly 11pm, hungry ‘cos I’d missed my dinner and in some discomfort from the screaming muscles! Pooch has always had a tendency to run off, but usually within striking distance of home. He never covers a wide area, he just keeps going and going in circles. So this time he was in trouble as I don’t know whether he’d be able to find his way back to base over that sort of distance. We have to remember also that he’s no youth any more. Anyway, the good news he’s sat on his chair as I write this on Sunday morning. He’s a little subdued because his itchy skin is playing him up again and must be uncomfortable. I still ache but I’m happy to see him in his chair. All is well!

This lakeside camping is in a stunning location, surrounded by high pine forested hills (about 280m) (No wonder I’m knackered after yesterday – went over them twice!) and pretty quiet. The lake is crystal clear and were it not for the fact the temperature has plummeted I’d be in there for a swim. The camping is the busiest we’ve seen for a while and is one of several along the shore. We got on OK having been turned away from another as we were too big (I suspect they didn’t want us) although the pitch slopes both ways so it was interesting getting level! We have a great view of the lake over the tops of all the other campers and we’re just enjoying chilling out. It’s rained quite a bit, so we haven’t ventured out much but if it clears this afternoon, I may take off on my bike and explore a bit. We shall definitely return here in the future as it’s beautiful!

Wednesday, 23 July 2008. For the better part of the last week we have been in Uberlingen. Uberlingen is on the German side of Lake Constance about a third of the way along the northern shore. It’s a pretty, vibrant little town with an interesting ‘old town’, plenty of decent restaurants, many of which line the promenade along the quayside. From here, you can board any number craft to take you to different parts of lake Constance, including the town Constance itself on the opposite shore more of which later.

We arrived last Thursday having been booked, courtesy of our friends Hans-Peter and Uli into Campground Uberlingen, about 1km west of town. It’s a pleasant enough site with friendly and, as it turned out, helpful staff. It lies between the peaceful lake and the busy railway line and road, although to be honest after a while you hardly notice them. The site is large but not suitable for large units despite what the guidebook says. The pitches they tried to get us on to were way too small and we ended up being directed to a patch of ground next to the staff ‘vans and reception – and the railroad crossing. It was a very tight squeeze getting to the pitch past the reception and I did just catch the side of Floozie, but you’d hardly notice. Another little ding to add to her character. Still, it’s spacious and with the added bonus of being able to get fresh water onboard and the grey (washing-up/shower) water off, so we can carry out our ablutions with impunity and put a wash on. Come the weekend, everyone else was crammed on like sardines, often with only a foot between units. Very cosy indeed. I couldn’t help but think what would have happened if there was a fire. Packed so tightly, I don’t think there’d be a single unit left after the conflagration. The Caravan Club would have a dicky fit if they saw the state of the place!

We took a wander into town that evening along the road and then a cut through a pleasant park join the promenade. We saw a large colonial house standing in the grounds that advertised itself as a café and reading room that was duly noted for further exploration. Along the path, over a wooden bridge that marked the entrance to a boat yard and there was the promenade. It runs for about a mile and was a hive of activity, mostly the building of market stalls and burger-style vans that look set to sell all sorts of foods and alcoholic beverages. It became apparent that booze was to be a prominent feature in the near future and all suddenly became clear when we found a poster advertising the “5th Annual Promenade-Fest” a festival of arts, crafts, food and booze. In bright colours the poster promised over 100 stalls offering all manner of hand crafted wares, convivial dining on spit roasted pork chops, live music and of course booze. This is something I really like about the Germanic mindset – it likes its booze in much the same way we Anglo Saxons do (similar heritage). The difference being that despite copious amounts of the stuff is imbibed by our German cousins, they very, very rarely feel the need to shout/swear or sing raucously at 3 in the morning, nor do they feel inclined to pick a fight on some poor innocent before vomiting heartily and pissing in a shop doorway. More decorum is displayed and in three days of revelry I didn’t see one instance of abuse, not even from the youth of the town who were the model of congeniality. We came across one group of at least 20, having a drink and chatting and listening to some music that they were playing so quietly on their boom box, I had to go over and ask them to turn it up so I could hear it.

The next three days were a blur of crafts, walks to and from the town, music of all types, speciality regional foods and great beer and wine. Amanda found a very smart stall selling fizzy wine and at once developed a problem with her legs. For the whole weekend, she couldn’t walk past it without grinding to a halt and spinning around to face it. Her legs only started working again once she’d paid for her prescription and drunk her medicine. We joined in the revelry of the spit roast on the Friday evening; it was truly delicious. I was presented with a plate upon which there was a pork chop so enourmous that I had to doggy bag some of it for Pooch. It was melt in the mouth perfection, accompanied by a potato salad and a green salad. A traditional band played traditional tunes, the massive throng chatted, sang or danced and the whole atmosphere was brilliant. True to German efficiency, the large crowd of diners were able to pay for and obtain their meal in double quick time. You had to pay for meals and drinks at a till. You were then given a receipt to claim your provender and a red plastic disc. This, it turns out, was to re-claim the deposit you’d just paid (in addition to the food) when you took your plate and glass back to the washing up area. How clever is that? You make sure that all the empties go where you want them and you don’t need loads of people to clear up or go looking for glasses and plates. I just loved that.

Suitably sated, we wandered off down the promenade again, pausing for a pirouette and medicine at the fizzy wine bar, to listen to the Beatles cover band playing in the quayside square. The crowd was huge and the band mediocre but the atmosphere of one great party made up for it. Amanda was ‘pulled’ whilst I was away getting drinks. Wilhelm sat down next to her, pinched the beer mat she’d got for me and started to talk. Unfortunately his English was a good as her German so he got nowhere and was probably miffed when I showed up. We spent the next half hour or so having a fairly decent conversation with this local character whilst he leched after the young girls walking by. He was in his seventies, but it didn’t stop him! We were, he informed us, drinking the best beer in the whole of Southern Germany. I suspect he was on commission.

We discovered one or two good eateries. Al Lago, one block back from the promenade near a small harbour made wicked pizzas. Café Anna was an up-market affair but very good. Next door was a an ice cream parlour that mad the most amazing concoctions, including ‘spaghetti’ ices, which was ice cream squeezed through a potato ricer to look like spaghetti. Cool idea in all sense of the word. We managed to eat some of the two dozen or so varieties of fish that they catch in the Bodensee (AKA Lake Constance). Zander was our favourite. Interestingly, and by the same token rather unfortunately, the water quality of the lake is improving so much that a number of the plants that used to grow in the lake can no longer do so. As a knock on effect, there isn’t enough food for the fish and their numbers have been dwindling for some years. I guess it doesn’t help when we keep eating them.

After a weekend of gluttony and sparkling wine, we were reunited with our friends Hans-Peter and Uli. This time, they had their delightful yacht ‘Moorever’ plus Stephanie, Uli’s niece and her friend Marlene, both students. Pooch was an instant hit and they were all over him like a bad rash. He lapped up the attention of course. So we sailed about a bit, went to Mainau, seat of Count ? which has great gardens and is a tourist honeypot. We also went to Konstanz which is a delight of a place. The old town is all café bars and boutiques (and bizarrely a Woolworths) and the Cathedral truly magnificent, especially the view from the bell tower. We only had a couple of hours there, but could have spent days. Especially as there was a wine festival just starting. If Amanda had brought her medications with her, we would have checked into a hotel and joined in the revelry. Still, one to remember for next year. It has also given us the idea of taking an emergency overnight pill box in case this sort of thing happens again.

Being on the water in the yacht was a sheer joy to me and even Amanda enjoyed the serene bobbing along as the light winds wafted us slowly along. We’ve never been sailing before and I’ve always preferred the idea of a motor boat, but I have to say I am smitten. H-P took me out in a fresh wind and we had the boat at a seemingly crazy angle as we cut up the lake. Sheer exhilaration and joy. Then a slow amble back down with the wind and a beer in hand. Pooch enjoyed his time on the yacht too and appears to be a natural sailing dog. He sat sniffing the wind or curled up on the bench seat and slept. The only moments of panic were when he was getting on and off, bless him. Still, he was soon soothed by the ministrations of his new found student friends!

Next stop Bregenz in Austria for an open air production of ‘Tosca’. It just so happens to be Amanda’s favourite opera and the setting is just magical. Even I’m looking forward to it!