it never felt so good, it never felt so right (Lussac - St. Emilion - Arcachon)

OK, so I tried to borrow a bike to ride the 4km to the boulangerie to get breakfast this morning, but it didn't happen. Since it was such a beautiful morning Jayne got up early and we drove in together. We were driving down the road chatting when this car coming the other way started flashing his lights madly. That's interesting I thought, he's driving on my side of the road. Expletive deleted as Jayne and I realised simultaneously that I was driving on the left and not the right. Despite sitting on the right side of the car to drive, it just felt so right. We know it's not funny, but we are still laughing about it now as we eat breakfast.

So, have you missed us? I know we skipped an entry. We went to the local markets yesterday and pretended to be French people and bought our provisions for the week. I wore shorts, no-one else did, so I still looked like a tourist.

It is important to shop regularly over here, particularly in May, because they have one public holiday per week. True. So next time some money grubbing capitalist tells you Australia is the home of the long weekend, tell them to check a few calendars from Europe. We have been duped dear reader into believing that we have the easy life and don't work hard. What rot (channelled Nanna for that one). So, today, the day before the holiday, is called pont du jour, or bridge day, which means many people will have Monday off to bridge to the real holiday on Tuesday.

And back in Oz, the chamber of commerce wants to have shops open every day of the year 24/7. We've lost sight of what is important. So, value what is special in your life. Work will always be there and in Australia the media will always tell you that you don't work hard enough. Pffft!

The markets
Yes, yes, I know I go on about them, but they are soooo cool. The freshest food and loads of other stuff, like tea-cup pigs. Cait wanted me to buy one, but they weren't for sale. They were to suck tourists into donating money for animal rescue. It worked.

Cute enough to eat.

Pigs aside, we bought tomatoes, snow peas, fish, lamb racks and ham slices. Now the place that sold the ham was a chevaline butcher. There was a queue and while we were waiting I started to look at what they were selling. Then it dawned on me. I asked Jayne what cheval meant and she told me I didn't want to know. So, it does mean horse? Lots of people were buying the loser from race 6. It looked pretty lean, but he obviously wasn't fast enough. Just so you know, we stuck with the pig (not the tea cup one) and bought ham (at least that's what the tag said - "jambon").

Lussac flower markets

Lussac
A nice 30 minute walk away is the village of Lussac. All you do is walk out the gate and meander through the vineyards. A pleasant way to spend the afternoon. If it hadn't been Sunday we would have been able to have a coffee as well. The 'other' markets had been on in the town square.

Vines everywhere

St Emilion
Is another nearby village, lots of Roman things, most of which don't even rate signage. Truth is, we realised that it was Sunday and France closes about 12:30 -1:00 on Sundays - just like we used to, how absolutely civilised. Unless you have run out of wine. Panic! Not to worry, St Emilion is the tourist mecca and everywhere was selling wine. Crisis averted.

Aussie, aussie, aussie, aussie
Yes, four times, because as the sun set over Listrac, there were four Aussies swapping travel stories and sharing a glass of wine. One of the other couples staying here is from Oz. They're Queenslanders, but that's close to being Australian. They have been on the road in Europe for almost 12 months. Their money is coming to an end, so they are heading home again to cash up. They have the most amazing stories, especially since this is not the first extended period they spent away from home. Hmmm. It is possible, even without Lotto. So, kids, get used to family dinner without us!

Which, dear reader, after our near death experience this morning, brings us to the events of the day.

Heaven, I'm in heaven
Sorry, couldn't resist another song reference. We headed for Arcachon, a quaint little town on the coast. Just before Arcachon we discovered Parc Ornithologique. That's right, a bird park. Oh yeah! We thought we'd wander in and spend an hour so walking around and looking at birds through the hide outs they had set up.

I knew we were on a winner even before we walked through the gate when I saw frogs and turtles. They were the most amazingly loud frogs ever! So excited! Jayne is so indulgent.


Basically, the whole area is a wetland, it is next to the river mouth delta. They have annexed an area and control the water level through a series of locks. There are viewing points around the walk and 20 separate viewing cabanas. There were quite a number of people there, given the best time for viewing the birds was just finishing, or had yet to begin (evening as they go to bed).

They're big enough to deliver a baby!

As you can see from the photos, it was a beautiful day. No rain. That's a first for a while. It was lovely and warm, but I was suffering from lens envy. My tiny little 300mm lens didn't cut it next to the camouflaged numbers that were as long as my forearm. And they were everywhere. I just didn't measure up, but I still got some shots. I know how to use my lens.

Enlarge this, he's cute.

Common in Oz, but not a native.

Look closely for the babies. I don't think they're ugly.

As we were getting towards the last few viewing huts, Jayne wondered how far we had walked. I thought maybe a km or so, until I checked the time. We had been walking and taking photos for almost 2 and a half hours! We had certainly done our exercise for the day.







  
Back to Arcachon
But we never quite made it. John kept detouring me to ridiculous places. He decided that a local school was the centre of town. As if! After an interesting drive where we saw some amazing architecture, clearly Asian influenced, we ended up heading back toward home. However, there was still one attraction to see - a giant sand dune. Oh, like wow man! That's totally gnarly dude. Not just any sand dune but the biggest sand dune in Europe!

Yes, go on, mock me. They have a sand dune here that has fibre glass stairs leading to the top. Well, close to the top. 140 stairs, or 160, I lost count because I was distracted (and amused) by a number of people I thought would expire before they reached the summit. They were all wearing totally inappropriate clothing. I can hear the breakfast conversation, "So, you want to climb the big sand dune today?"
"Sure, just let me find my best skinny jeans and my new clubbing t-shirt". Laugh, but it's true. The woman in front of me with the skin-tight grass green jeans ... no, perhaps another time.

The view from the top.

Stairway to heaven?

The real summit.

Down looks steeper.

Then it was back into the car and the search for a super marche began so we could restock our supplies before the next public holiday. All was right with the world.



So, as I am writing the last part of this, Jayne decides to turn on the TV to watch the news - about an hour early, it comes on at 9. AND THE BLOODY GILMOUR GIRLS IS ON TV - IN ENGLISH. OMG!!! Stop laughing Cait, this is not funny.

Tomorrow is a public holiday and we think we will drive to Rocamadour. here hopefully it won't matter that the rest of France is on another long weekend and we can visit an awesome village carved out of a mountainside.