Friday, 19 May 2017 to Thursday, 25 May 2017
Our travelling plans for the next few months were now slowly starting to take shape. We will be in Sète until mid June; the month thereafter will be spent in Marseille where after Lyon is lurking beyond that, where we will be until mid August.

Now many may question our reasoning for going to Marseille because, apparently, you either love or loathe it, but most people love it though, Didier being one of them. He describes it as a crazy, noisy, busy and bustling city… and he loves it! Yes, crime there is high, but in the touristy areas it consists mostly of pick pocketing and such, not unlike any other large city anywhere in the world. Having said that, the main reason for going there is that my roots are rooted not far from there. La Motte d’Aigues, where my greatest of grandfathers came from back in 1688, lies a short 65km north of Marseille.

And then, the reason we’re going to Lyon is because Estie and Dries will be in France beginning August. They will spend time in Strasbourg, Dijon and Lyon, and that’s where we will meet up with them mid August, we’re really looking forward to that. And now we will start planning the next part of our lives as there are still many friends that we need to get to in various parts of Europe.

This morning I did a flurry of admin, then a flurry of yoga and ended with a flurried breakfast, I had work to do. The rest of the day was spent getting the post ready for publication and the reward for such would be a drink at our favourite pub. But alas, that would not be destined for me today,

I got bogged down on this blogging thing far too late in the afternoon and I eventually only published at around 20:30. But of course I was still rewarded with a beer, at home, but still a beer.

Saturday we had not planned on doing anything specific, there was plenty of rugby to watch. But, Adri mentioned last week that she’d like to go for lunch next Saturday and, um… I guessed that would make it today.

But, where would we go? When we initially booked our three months in Séte we had an alternative choice available, a lovely apartment in Cap d’Agde, but Sète won the day being 18km closer to Montpellier. But of course I had been keen to check out that alternative choice and today was to be that day. We had asked Didier about the place and he noted that Agde was not great, Cap d’Agde was great, so we were keen to check what we may have missed out on.

We caught the 11:10 train to Agde and 15 minutes later we disembarked, stepped onto the waiting Agde bus line 3 and five minutes later were off to the Cape of Agde. The 8km bus ride takes a long 40 minutes as it goes in there and out the other side and then some, but it was all good, we got to see a fair amount of the general area.

We stayed on the bus until it would go no more, as we often do; we disembarked at the Avant Port bus station right by the sea. From that far end of the port we started making our way back along the canals to somewhere else. Lovely little restaurants dotted our path which gave way to holiday apartments, while to our left the canals were packed like sardines with yacht upon yacht lying alongside each other. I have never seen so many yachts in one place in my entire life.

I walked along in a dream like state, perving at all the boats until I reached a few yacht brokers in the boat yard and took note of some of the eye popping prices displayed in their windows; I was jerked back to reality with a heartless yank. But, thankfully we were not here to buy a yacht; we were here to buy lunch, the yacht can wait for another day!

Just past the boat yard we came upon another area with plentiful restaurants and clothes and curios shops, and the third restaurant we passed, La Taverne, caught our fancy. Maybe it had something to do with the menu that was translated into several languages, one being English, or maybe it was the food fumes that greeted us.

 

 

Everybody seemed to be having the menu du jour (menu of the day) which gives you a choice between six starters, six main courses and four desserts. I started with a bière pression, which unfortunately was not part of the menu du jour, and soon thereafter we ordered a half litre of their house rosè, lovely stuff. For starters Adri had the salmon salad; I had the calamari rings with a small salad accompanied by a truly gorgeous little sauce, which also went well on the fresh slices of baguette that were presented.

For main course we both settled on the same dish. It consisted of five small pieces of fillet from five different fish, mashed potato in the centre with veggies separating each fish just in case they got annoyed with each other. This all was covered in a wonderful creamy white wine sauce, delicious! We also chose the same dessert, homemade caramel flan served with fresh cream Man, this lunch was top quality and as we rolled out of there we promised to come back, and I hope we do!

The waiter spoke perfect English but I could hear Dutch in his voice which he admitted to when interrogated. He was a regional manager at his company in The Hague when they restructured and he was retrenched. He was devastated and retreated to his retreat in Cap d’Agde where he owned an apartment; he never went back… and that was 20 years ago. He jokes that when he came here he was a millionaire, in French Francs that is, but when the Euro arrived, well, the exchange rate is fixed at 6.5 Francs to the Euro…

The French lady owner, who’s English was near faultless, told us that the restaurant is a purely family business. Her son looks after the starters, her husband is in charge of the main courses and she does the desserts, nobody interferes with the other’s work. She jokes that they like it like that; if there is a complaint about the food everybody knows who is blame, just ask which course was in trouble!

We rolled on around the corner and discovered another array of restaurants and bars and clothes shops of all persuasion, all overlooking the canals and more yachts. We strolled along and past it and on to another stretch of the canal, and that’s where we came upon the place we had the option of renting. I had forgotten that I had saved the location as a “favourite” on maps.me and all of a sudden this star obstructed our way. The apartment block is right next to the canal overlooking the most yummy looking yachts… man, I love Sète and the l love staying there, but maybe if we head back this way sometime, just maybe we’ll try this place out.

Here we made a u-turn, we had a star in our way, and I was thirsty again. You would have been too if you had your fair share of a half a meter long piece of liquorice. The sweet smells from the sweet shop was tempting and my will was withering with each breath. I kid you not, that line of liquorice jumped up of its own accord and into my hands and before I could protest it crawled down my throat… it was just impossible to stop it. I have not had this stuff in… oh, I don’t know, yonks?

With what I assumed was a black tongue I ordered the half litre jug of sangria with two glasses at L’Arlequin. Only problem was, these things aren’t served in jugs, they’re served in large 500ml glasses, so two of them arrived unannounced. I couldn’t send one back now could I, that’s what I ordered, so we buckled down, put on our drinking boots, got connected to the wifi, and read, relaxed, people watched and marvelled at the yachts the rest of the afternoon. Adri did that switching thing of hers again and when I looked up my nearly depleted glass was now more than half full. I scowled at her with a smile.

It was 17:35 when we left a weaving path behind us, maybe it was the fault of maps.me, maybe it wasn’t. We had to hurry, the second last bus for the day was about to leave, the last one was not for another two hours, and I could not face another sangria. We just made the bus and then we just made to the train, it was 19:30 when we unlocked the door to our apartment, tired, happy, and weaving.

Before we got on the bus, behind the bus stop cubicle on a grassy knoll, there sat a youngish guy with his daughter, him with rasta red hair – and it did not look pretty – seemed like it had not been washed for a week or a year. Adri and I made eye contact and in unison rolled our collective eyes. But then we happened to sit across the aisle from them and they were having such fun, the little girl chatting and then singing songs, her rasta dad happily singing along, a happy family.

Somehow we made eye contact and started chatting. He grew up near Paris and travelled most of his life, also spent six years in India and then returned when his baby girl was born. They lived in Spain and have now moved back to France and they were actually on their way right now to view a long term rent in Agde, while mom was waiting for them back at the hotel.

He mentioned that he had travelled all his life and it was now time to settle down. We had a good chuckle when I noted that I was going in exactly the opposite direction, having been settled all my life and now going travelling. His little girl Mila, probably five, shyly nodded her head when Adri offered her cookies which she gladly accepted, offering her dad one as well. What a lovely young family and I’m ashamed to say, looks can be deceiving… but then I knew that.

Sunday morning I woke up with a sneeze attack, there must have been 12 in that batch of 14, the last two refused to be vocal. You know that feeling when you breath in a cubic metre of fresh air in anticipation of a sneeze… and then it just teases, it refuses to blow… and there were two of those, I guessed they were probably past their expiry date. Could this be hay fever? Of course it could, it was printemps (spring) in France and flowers were blossoming everywhere, sending their sweet smells to meet you on your way. I approached our pillbox and searched for the Clarid, and that claridded me up in no time.

While Adri did washing I searched the web for interesting places close to Sète and further afield which we could visit next. There are two bus companies that do duty in Sète; Hèrault Transport and Thau Agglo Transport, the former concentrate on regional routes and the latter local. The few times we requested bus information at the tourist office the answer was invariably c’est difficile (It’s difficult).

And it’s not always easy to do route planning when two or more bus lines are involved and the timings are also not always feasible, but mostly it is fine. Sometimes busses have different schedules for different days, many lines don’t operate on a Sunday, there are different schedules for different seasons, and so on. Needless to say, you’ve got to keep your wits about you. It’s normally easier to follow your planning through using paper schedules from the tourist office but they’re not always available, then you have to search for online ones and page through different browser windows… Yes, c’est difficile.

We were contemplating going to Marseillan Plage today but we would have missed the 13:30 bus and the next was only at 15:53. With the last bus back at 17:30 it would not really have been worth the effort for spending less than two hours there. This lean bus schedule is due to it still being low season and is valid between 3 May and 25 June; thereafter it is cramped with plentiful departures for high season. The same schedule as presently then takes effect once again between 28 August and 1 October, and thereafter this bus line ceases until 3 May next year… Yes, c’est difficile.

Last night Adri wanted to prepare Penang curry for supper but to my dismay she discovered that there was no more coconut milk in the pantry. We settled for farfalle, or bow-tie pasta, with a tomato and basil pasta sauce, washed down with some red wine on the side. By the way, I have never had farfalle before coming to France and I’m starting to quite like this variety, the sauce seems to stick to the ties in that bow, creating a burst of flavour with each mouthful.

Due to this coconut mishap of last night we were in serious need to go shopping and this time it would be at our newly discovered Auchan Supermarket. Because it was too far too walk with any meaningful purchases I dug into my collection of bus schedules and maps. I found Séte bus line 3 which will pick us up at Les Penitents – five minutes’ walk from home – and drop us about the same time distance from the shop.

The first thing that normally goes onto my shopping list is cheese but after a quick recce of the fridge I noticed Comte, Camembert, Pecorini Romano, Emmental, and Gorgonzola staring lovingly back at me, so no need to upset them with more competition. In fact, on further inspection there was not much of anything needed, but I was sure we’d find something to buy; we just had to try hard.

After an intermediate level Yoga session and a breakfast of leftover bow-ties and baguette with salami and cheese, we left in a hurry, not sure why though, bus line 3 is in plentiful supply.

We walked from pillar to post and back to the pillar just to get our bearings for what was where at Auchan, and then we started to load up. Chicken fillets, rump steak, a flan, caramel pudding, a few beers, veggies, pasta sauce, you get the drift. Nothing of importance, but can you believe, we nearly forgot the coconut milk! And of course they were fresh out of that divine tiramisu, sigh, we’ll have to go back.

The rest of the day we did more nothings than we had for a long while, it was a lazy day. Late in the afternoon the wind picked up, a chill rushed through Séte and there was even a drizzle mid evening. The Penang was divine; we longed for Thailand, we’re sure to go back there sometime. After supper we snuggled up in bed with warm tea, a slice of flan and a few episodes of The Americans.

Tuesday we needed to face bureaucracy, or so we thought. It was just past 11:00 that we made our way to the local Society Sociale l’Assurance Maladie (Social Society Health Insurance) office in Séte. We needed to find out whether we have to apply for a Carte Vitale which is a card that you need when getting medical attention of any kind. It must be noted though that, with or without this card, you will never be refused access to medical care, one of the reasons why France’s medical care is consistently rated the best in the world. Without the card a visit to the doctor will cost you around €25. Compare that to the €38 I used to pay for a doctor’s visit in SA. If you have a Carte Vitale, 75% of this amount of the €25 is reimbursed.

We entered the offices with apprehension not knowing how many curved balls we would be receiving. I rattled off my by now flawless French rhyme of “I’m sorry, I do not speak French, do you speak English?” to which the lady replied “Très peu”  which I assumed meant “very little”. But this was done with a huge smile, and she tried her best to assist us. While explaining our situation to her she kept on replying “C’est diffcile” until we showed her our passports with the OFII residency permit, her eyes lit up with a “No problem”. Long and short of the story, she gave us forms to complete, advising us of which supporting documents we needed to attach, and then we can hand them in to this office… and then we’ll see what happens.

When we got home I opened an ice-cold Ottweiler pils – brewed by the Karlsberg Brauerei – which was rather light and pleasant, as a pilsner should be. I was sitting on my puny porch from where I had a sea view and a seemeeu (seagull) in my sight. The sea was a handsome deep dark blue, the seemeeu was gray and white, and I was happy that was not the colour of the sea.

There are three families of seagulls on three different rooftops around us, each one with a few baby gulls in their nest. The parents watch over their young ones every single second of the day, feeding them and making sure they don’t fall off the edge of the roof. It would be another few weeks before the young ones would take flight, first from rooftop to rooftop and then, when they’re ready, join the rest of the swarm of seagulls swirling overhead. I could not help but be reminded of that 70’s song called The Seagull’s Name Was Nelson, as per the version by Des and Dawn Lindberg below.

There was a timid knock on the door, it was Renate, we had arranged to buy no name red wine with her but she had already been.  We had a quick chat, said our goodbyes and a few minutes later there was a rustle at the door. As Adri opened to investigate Renate was just scrambling up the stairs after having left us two litres of her no name wine at our doorstep.

Rump steak and chips were on the menu tonight and the need for a steakhouse had just evaporated, theses rumps were as good as they get. Served with a side salad of tomato, lettuce and green peppers drizzled with balsamic vinegar, wow! And of course there was a block of Gorgonzola cheese of which hunks accompanied chunks of rump down the old hatch. Adri commented that “We can just as well finish the Gorgonzola, it’s mouldy?” Hmm… yea right.

We envisaged handing in our Carte Vitale documents on Wednesday but there was a lot of completing and gathering of documents that had to be done. One of the requirements is that you need to specify a French bank account, which of course we don’t have. A quick reschedule of priorities had to be done; we had to go to Montpellier.

We were now running late for the train. As we passed the bus stop, bus line 102 was just about to depart. We decided to board, we would reach Montpellier before the train that we would now have to wait for. And it also cut out the walk to the station, the day was hot, it was 30°C.

It was just on 14:00 when we arrived in Montpellier and the banks were now open. I toddled off to my selected bank while Adri went for a visit to the Musée Fabre, a museum of art, which she had been yearning to do for a while now, we arranged to meet back there at 17:00.

I entered the bank with trepidation running deep, and my worst fears were realised, the man behind the counter could not speak English, nor Afrikaans, but his French was pretty good. He phoned somebody from “upstairs” and a presentable young man arrived and took me in that direction. I had to answer a few questions which he sent off to his head-office, they would provide an answer within a week as to whether I am eligible for an account with them. Fair enough.

I left feeling rather neutral, on the one hand progress was made… positive, on the other hand I don’t have a bank account… negative, and therefore neutral. I needed beer to tip the scales in my favour. I wandered the streets and happened upon my personal street, Rue Joubert, and tried to go for a beer at Didier’s favourite pub/restaurant, situated at the end of my 40 metre long street, or rather passageway.

 

 

 

As I sat my sorry ass down I was approached by a friendly lady that didn’t want my sorry ass there as the restaurant was booked out for a family reunion. How was I to know… and can’t they accept me into their family, the food looked great! I moved on to Cafe Joseph – or Cafe Jo – where I would be more appreciated… and I was. I settled down with an Edelweiss pression blond bière, got wifi, people watched, and generally had a great time waiting for Adri to finish her Fabré.

It was 17:00 when a beaming Adri emerged from the Musée Fabre, there was an amazing art collection and one would probably need a whole day to really appreciate the works. Adri was thirsty so we went back to Cafe Jo for a beer and a shandy.

On the way there I finally got a chance to get a picture of the guys begging for weed. As I’ve said before, at least they’re honest! It was past 17:00 and Jo’s happy hour was in full swing with a special on a large Heineken draught. That, together with lemonade settled the thirst for both of us.

We were hot and tired and wanted to get home as soon as possible so decided to take the train, rather than a tram and bus ride home. We had to wait 20 minutes for the next train, and then another 35 minutes… all trains were delayed due to maintenance on part of the tracks… bummer.

In order to keep Adri’s Pay-As-you-Go Thai mobile number alive it had to be topped up with some baht, else it would expire in the next five days. We tried to top up with a credit card but to no avail, they only accept Thai cards. We then tried to top up from Adri’s Thai bank account and that’s when we discovered that her old (stolen) mobile number was still specified on there and thus it was not possible to receive the OTP to process a payment.

In order the get this amended, I requested the change online which produced a printed request that needed to be signed and sent to AIS. They then requested a signed copy of the bank book, the passport as well as the exit stamp in the passport. And this is what kept me busy most of this Thursday morning.

As we were running out of time and not sure of the eventual success of this process we in the meantime asked Patrick in Thailand to top up the number with a few baht, and of course he came through for us. The number is now valid until the end of next month, thank you Patrick!

We had a date for drinks with Renate again today and it was just past 18:00 that we crept upstairs to drink in that lovely view from her balcony.

Renate – who is fluent in German, French, English and Italian with a smattering of Spanish and Danish thrown in – has an amazing memory despite her 77 years and red wine. Continuing with her life story that was left dangling since last week, she told that, after she left Monaco she moved back to Berlin where she finally bought the apartment she was renting, at a good price… this was beginning 1989. At the end of 1989 the Berlin wall came down and the value of her property increased fourfold within a year. Shortly afterwards the prices did come down but she sold at that high price to a neighbour who sorely wanted her property to extend his own. It was this money that she used to buy her Séte apartment 22 years ago.

At the time she was working for a French organisation in Berlin, translating documents between German and French, and she loved her job. After selling her apartment she quit her job and started working as a translator in Italy, a country that is very close to her heart. But, the rest of her life story would have to wait for another time; she wanted to hear every detail of our life stories which we of course shared with her over another beer and more red wine.

It was just before 21:00 that we crept downstairs, it was too late for supper and we had too many snacks in any case, so we settled down for a spot of reading until it was lights out.

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