Monday, September 1, 2008

A beach about Brittany

We arrived on the eastern side of the narrow Quiberon peninsula in the evening. The tide was out, revealing a large bay covered in slimy green seaweed, which was, of course, deserted. The municipal campsite was worryingly inexpensive (10 euros a night for camping car, people and dog, and electricity, and as much hot water as you could scald yourself with, all in...)



The weather was overcast, but at least we were in for a romantic evening alone together ...


... and then my phone rang. Drummer boy and girlfriend happened to be camping in a nearby rather more upmarket camp site, and would we like to take them out for dinner?
No... but they were welcome to come and enjoy both our view of uninterrupted seaweed, and our barbecue.

The evening started cheerfully... with aperitifs...

Drummer b and girlfriend hit each other playfully as the evening progressed and my diet was once more postponed. And Porridge waited for something edible to fall on the floor.

The next morning we realised that we were in the middle of a summer encampment of foraines, or gens de voyage. We deduced that they were travellers, or fairground folk, since they all had exactly the same brand of very expensive caravan with tele satellite dishes on the top. Washing machines were plugged in as I made my way to the bathroom block, and I saw one enormous caravan which had served as a disco the night before with an outdoor dance floor. Wild whooping had been heard into the early hours.

In the bathroom block, it was spotless. Nobody other than ourselves seemed to use it the whole time that we were there. I found myself harbouring unworthy thoughts about personal hygiene until I realised that within those gleaming caravans were gleaming bathroom suites...

I crept back, clean but chastened, to the camping car and we decided to go for a walk and try to find a real beach.



We walked so far that we were forced to stop for refreshment:










But it was worth it when we got there...





We moved the camping car and spent the next night there watching the sun set...

12 comments:

Zhoen said...

Happy dog, happy dog, what else is important?

hexe said...

How fun! That plate full of mussels looks delicious! I have to wait for my next trip to Maine to find some.

Dick said...

Evocative pictures, Rosie. As for your caravan companions, defintely foraines, I'd say. Nomadic Roma have a strong notion of taboo concerning internal washing or toilet installations. To live alongside such facilities is considered ritually unclean ('mokkadi' in Anglo Romani) and the usual process on moving onto a site is to set up external premises. So fairground or circus folk seems more likely.

Sorry - lecture over!

herhimnbryn said...

That dog is in his/her element!

Mike said...

My wife and I have small get away planned for the end of the week. We are driving up to an unexplored (by us) part of Michigan for a few days. I don't think we'll have to deal with seaweed though. Probably no mussels either.

Dingo said...

Porridge! What a fantastic name and what a beautiful dog. The beach pictures are amazing. I was almost able to relax just by looking at them. Almost.

Lucy said...

They always give dogs those things to drink out of don't they, are they ice-cream boxes? In Honfleur the dog always gets served, without asking, before you do, very civilised.

Lovely Porridge running up pictures! This made me laugh lots!

aoc gold said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
katydidnot said...

and would you like to take them out to dinner. heh.

Omykiss said...

Nice pics ... did you take your spice coupboard with you?

Rosie said...

zhoen- yes we found happiness on that beach alright, all of us.
Hexe - the mussels tasted all the better for being at the end of a 10 kilometer walk.
Dick - thank you for your interesting lecture. The jury is still out as far as I am concerned...I went into the nearby forest and found it full of..well..you know...so perhaps they still felt the call of the open air.
herhimnbryn - I just have to hope the seawtaer doesnt bring back her ear infection!
Mike, have a good time!
Dingo, come on I am sure you can relax if you try...even Outrage has to put her feet up sometimes
Lucy I like the way Porridges ears flap in the breeze like Piglets in winnie the pooh
Katy I am certainly noy paying to take them out when we have perfectly good sausages to burn
Omykiss- we did take our spices and of course the soya sauce bottle leaked as usual...

meggie said...

Porridge looks so happy!
Thanks for sharing your trip.