The main course was a little strange. I had strips of beef in gravy, with french fries. The beef was good and the fries were excellent. But with the candle light, crystalware and silk napkins, the fries seemed out of place.
The hostess was a very angry woman, the antithesis of our server in Talmont St. Hilarie. She seemed angry that patrons had bothered to come to her restaurant. She seated us brusquely and then went off to shout at a family who had just come in.
Her husband, or at least her partner, was diametrically opposite. He was short with an enormous shock of black hair and a black beard that ringed his face. He seemed to find everything about life delightful and he was always laughing and smiling. I found his jokes, fast and furious and in a foreign language, almost incomprehensible, a fact he found hilarious and he spent the evening chortling to himself.
The couple behind us began trying to get the proprietresses attention, obviously finished their meal and looking for the bill, but she studiously ignored them and continued to bustle on indescribable errands from empty table to empty table.
Finally the server plopped the bill onto their table as if it was something disgusting that would stain her hands. They got up and hurriedly left. We looked forward to our own bill with something approaching dread. But when we began looking around for our waitress she appeared suddenly and assured us that as patrons of the hotel, we did not have to pay until we left.
We returned to our room and watched French TV for most of the night. Not as much of a cultural experience as one would like to assume. We watched the best of American pop culture in French dubbing. Will and Grace, Friends, Simpsons, all rerun episodes that sounded insanely bizarre with French coming from familiar actors lips.
This morning as we packed we watched the "Ewoks Adventure" in French.
Leaving Mirambeau was hard, not because we were attached to the place but because there was an enormous hill on the south side of town. We had noticed yesterday that we are definitely in wine country and today only served to confirm it. Everywhere were lush green vineyards, stretching to the horizon. It seems as if no other crop is grown in this region. Long lines of vines sweep by as we pedal, like a million lines of writing that compose a vast alcoholic poem.
Every fifty yards is a sign inviting us into chateaux for tours, wine tasting and purchasing. Even the houses seem richer. Instead of small holdings of run down farms there are large, well kept, estate houses surrounded by acres of vines. No grapes though, looks as thought the harvest season has passed. Not a good sign.
Finding our campsite for the night turned out to be a far greater challenge than we had expected. We were both totally exhausted by the time we turned off the main highway and we still had thirteen kilometres to go. Eventually, after much moaning on both our parts we did get to it and it was open so we are grateful for small miracles.
The campground, however, left a few things to be desired. There are many permanent residents and the poverty level was high. We were more than a little uncomfortable. Many sat on their tent porches, drank wine and glared angrily at this pair of interlopers who had broached their privacy. Goats and ducks and dogs had free reign of the place and made their presence felt with trails of feces and the faint smell of urine that occasionally wafted by.
The goats were, however, very amusing and we watched with childish fascination as they chased each other in a never ending ring around a tree. We found a swan and goose floating in small pond behind a fence and Heather proved that she had learned nothing from our trip to England, so many years back, by sticking her fingers through the fence and having it nipped at by the goose.
We went for a walk to the camps office to see if there were pamphlets of information about the area, but the owner raced in front of us, slammed the door and locked it, only to run out again, through the back door. We were astonished by her behaviour.
At that instant her son came running out of the woods carrying her granddaughter while a woman followed behind carrying horseback riding helmet. The owner pulled up in a car, they all piled in and they disappeared in a cloud of dust. I'm guessing that whatever happened it was a little more urgent than us looking at pamphlets.
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