Almost three months have passed since I returned from a fortnight in France. In the past I've promptly posted
reflections on my holidays, so this one's long overdue. It got off to a shaky start when all UK flights were cancelled due to a failure in the Air Traffic computer system, but we finally flew into Toulouse, one day late, on August 29th.
The following morning we picked up our hire car and motored south - not directly via fasts roads, but by a meandering route on quiet, toll-free roads, stopping frequently to take in the sights, sharing the driving, enjoying French cuisine and trying out my French on unsuspecting café owners (who seemed determined to try out their English). The speed limit on most French roads is a leisurely 50mph (80km/h) which definitely helped me adjust to a gentler pace of life.
We had booked a smart-looking gîte, with lovely mountain views, in Roquefixade, about 50 miles north of the Spanish border. Here I am, getting acclimatised with a glass of le vin français (of course).
Most of the houses in Roquefixade nestle beneath a high cliff, topped by the ruins of an ancient castle. It's a very quiet place, with no shops, which was a big disappointment. On previous visits to France, one of the great delights has been going to the local boulangerie every morning for croissants and a baguette, then returning to our gîte for breakfast. It's a wonderful way to start the day!
However, what Roquefixade lacked in commerce it certainly made up for in splendid countryside and well-signposted walks.
While we were enjoying the delights of France, Great Britain was enjoying (enduring?) a record-breaking heatwave. I followed the Met Office forecast with interest, noting that daytime temperatures in Lydney were the same as ours, and higher at night.
Looking for somewhere a degree or two cooler, we took a walk in a nearby forest that seemed oddly similar to the Forest of Dean. In this photo I may look like a real cool lady but, believe me, the appearance is deceptive.
I've mentioned before on this blog that I've long regretted that my Secondary Modern school didn't teach foreign languages; that was reserved for the Grammar School kids. Of course, I may have hated learning French, but I'd love to have had the chance to find out.
A little over 4 years ago, I decided to do something about this deficiency in my education by learning French with Duolingo. I'm proud to say that, immediately prior to this holiday, I'd clocked up 1492 consecutive days on the app, and had held a place in the Diamond League (Duolingo's highest) for 68 weeks. Angie was indeed a star pupil!
But how would it all work out with 'real' French people? Well, I'm pleased to say that I managed quite well, confidently ordering food in shops and restaurants, chatting with les serveurs and occasionally asking for directions.
What I still lacked, though, was the skill to engage in 'small talk', such as on the day when I eventually found a boulangerie. Several people were standing around, chatting and waiting for a fresh batch of baguettes to emerge from the oven. They tried to draw me into the conversation, but to no avail. "Je suis désolé, mais je ne vous comprends pas," I confessed. O well... don't give up yet on Duolingo!
However, there were funny moments, such as when I was looking for somewhere in Foix that sold fresh fish.
"Ils vendent même des cachalots là-bas," said one helpful guy, pointing up the road and giggling. I mis-heard him.
"Mais je ne veux pas une casserole (But I don't want a saucepan)!" I replied. He burst out laughing... and that was the day I learned a new French word for a whale - cachalot.
