Jon up early, annoyingly bright eyed and bushy tailed,
Noush…well.. not so much. Weather slightly overcast so a good day for a mooch
around the city centre. For once there are no dramas finding the city centre
(but let’s face it, we’ve been here before!). Troyes is a soul easing city.
It’s old: creakingly, leaningly, medievally old. The buildings all have a wonk
on, beams askew, shutters dropping and all peeling and faded, but happily
leaving living side by side with sensitive modern architecture. A busy and
happening café society is alive and kicking, it’s fun. Why are the French so
obsessed with their hair?? There are more hairdressers per square mile than in
the whole of the world. Anywhere. Ever. And they’re all bald men!! But all the
shops live in the history and the peace of the city, just loved it here.
Eventually we leave the city to get back to Mesnil for BBQ and Moo
walk (naturally we get lost, but it’s less painful than normal, I think we’re
getting good at it).
Zut alors! Les flics! The Gendarmerie have landed… C’est un
catastrophe! Or is it….
After a refreshing swim in the lake (bliss) we de camped to the
van for bbq and beer. This is a nice place. Feeling very relaxed after the
strains of the city. A good time to crack open the bottle of very expensive
Russian Vodka we purchased. Fast forward two hours and a very nearly empty
bottle of rather tasty Vodka and the bloody law turn up. Two young Gendarmes
ask us politely to move on as apparently you can’t stay here after 10pm. (We
knew this). Noush politely, and in mildly
slurred French explains we stayed here last night and besides that we can’t
move (the 200 yards down the road) because we may be one over the eight. Mr
plod replies that as we speak French, we could definitely understand the signs
and we knew full well that we shouldn’t be overnighting, but as long as we
proceed in a steady fashion all will be well. So we did. It might have been a
slight give away that I parked the van across the spaces rather than in it, but
hey, seems we were given permission from above. In fact it kind of summed up
the place. Signs clearly stated no dogs on beach, no swimming, no walking and
all manner of normal activities you’d expect around a lake in summer were not
allowed. Drink driving, however, is.
Only in France. Hic.
Perestroika.
Looking forward to Mesnil Sunday market tomorrow (not too early
please).
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