April 21: Glory be to God for Glossy Things!

I hadn’t planned to do a post today, but it was just the most perfect walking experience. We started in coats and gloves (4 degrees and blustery), and ended in tee-shirts. It was a clear, fine day, walking through the glossiest countryside: fresh crops sprouting, especially the wheat, with its almost sage colour; leaves unfurling on trees that are already grey and orange with vibrant lichens; the meadows full of dandelions, egg-yolk yellow and as big as my palm.

The La Puy way did comply with certain of the stereotypes: very few cafés and fewer restaurants; next to no English spoken. But, the way was full of walkers – not crowded, but busy: particularly families, walking with toddlers who were alternately squealing with delight and wailing with misery.

The wealth of this area is palpable, particularly after the poverty of the Camino Portuguese. All the villages are perfectly appointed: stone houses glow with pristine mortar, un-splintered shutters in primary colours. The land is deeply fertile: fields are starting to glow yellow with oilseed rape; cows are heavily pregnant and feeding on sweet grass and wildflowers. And, there is the tourist dollars (or rather euros). This is spectacular country (for city dwellers) and an easy weekend ride/drive from the big cities of Paris and Lyon. Unlike the Camino Francès, which is really “designed” for foreigners passing through, this is all about domestic tourism, from the dinner service at 8pm to the boulangeries, the short coffees and the total absence of multi-lingual signage.

It’s nice to be both in and out of the “bubble”. Forced to use my high-school French, I am more capable than I had expected, but less than I had hoped. The words come in a mix of Bulgarian, Russian, French and Spanish, which sounds impressive, but is more a measure of the two-to-three hundred words I have of all of them, coming randomly as I search for a sentence.

I had a lovely, if stilted, chat with our host for tonight. His butcher is, apparently, award-winning (“le mellieur de France”) so it sounds like Carey is in for a treat. I will be having eggs, again. I fully expect to live off omelettes (so far, 2 and counting). It’s good protein. So long as the breakfast pastries remain flakey and delicious, I won’t be complaining.

The terrain is not all farmland. We walked through acres of fragrant forestry, climbing up, then scrambling down rocky paths on the steeper slopes. Our end point for today is perched atop a craggy gorge. After finding our beds, we sat with our beers in a café on the square and watched the hawks soar overhead.

Our hostel (“gîte”) dorm for the night doesn’t have a functioning shower (unless you are prepared to go with cold-only, which Carey was, but I am not). I washed our clothes and myself in the sink, which suffices. We have 5 beds in our dorm, which we are not sharing with anyone, so, I guess, it balances out.