Swanky Paris Restaurants Eclipsed by our Local Bar
Our Hymer appears to have made an unexpected and complete recovery from its electrical ailments. The two leisure batteries refused to accept a charge from either mains power or from our suitcase generator for two days. Yesterday, clutching at straws, I fired the generator up, crossed my fingers and plugged it into the 230V outlet on the Hymer’s starboard side. A steady stream of happy amps marched along a plastic and copper highway before leaping enthusiastically into the battery bank.
I’m sure our electrical woes are far from over. We still need to invest in a battery charger in case the charging system goes down again. I also need to add a multimeter to my toolkit and find someone prepared to instruct an adult with all the practical capabilities of a four-year-old (me) on its proper use.
Cynthia returned yesterday, whisked in the blink of an eye from Paris to Narbonne. She travelled on a TGV, Train à Grande Vitesse, one of France’s marvellous high-speed trains. Much as she enjoyed the journey, she said that the sight of two trains passing each other at a combined speed of 600 kph (360 mph) is a bit of a shock to the system.
On our way back we stopped for lunch at Peyriac-de-Mer’s popular O Vieux Tonneaux. Their menu du jour was delicious. For €15 each we had a thick and creamy soup, boeuf bourguignon with melt-in-your-mouth chunks of wine-soaked beef and a sublime pear and egg custard dessert. Cynthia and her friend Eduardo ate out regularly in Paris. All of the swanky Parisian restaurants they visited failed miserably to match a simple meal at Peyriac’s village bar.
Much as we enjoy this area, we’ve decided to leave. We’ve done a little virtual exploration of Spain’s northeastern coast. The spaghetti-like roads indicate a steep and narrow route with expansive clifftop views over the sparkling Mediterranean. I hope my heart doesn’t fail before I see them.
We hurtled down Spain’s eastern coast in November 2016. We had Cynthia’s expensive Dutch bike stolen on our second day. That experience, and an arduous three-day 1,200-kilometre drive along a motorway flanked by abandoned graffiti-covered buildings and high rise coastal holiday apartment blocks, put us off Spain completely.
We didn’t give Spain a chance. We know we’re going to struggle to find organic produce to help keep Cynthia cancer free so we’ll stock up before spending a week there. Before that, Cynthia needs a few days to recover from frantic city life.
Hasta la vista, baby!