We all do it, don’t we? Decide to make a change for the good. Remedy an irritating habit. Try not to be so judgmental. Promise to eat less, exercise more. Pray for more patience. Take up a new class. The list is endless.
Knowing, even before the Türkiye trip got off the ground, that this autumn would find us back touring France, I made a mental promise to brush up on my French. Just a little a day I told myself. Over a period of a few months. Surely that would result in a huge improvement.
And so it was, three days before leaving, I downloaded a couple of ‘French Today’ audio lessons. ‘It’s still not too late’, I told myself. Six weeks immersed in France, interacting with site receptionists, shopkeepers and the odd local, plus my audio practice – it can’t fail, my plan is bound to reap dividends.
Day 2 – We’re currently pitched up for two nights at Camping des Cygnes. About 6K shy of Amiens Centre Ville and 160K, or thereabouts, from Calais. I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself after a French only conversation with the site receptionist. That is, if you can call two sentences a conversation! 🤣 It was one of those where you work out in advance exactly what you want to say. On approach, you repeat it over and over in your head, until you feel sure you’re grammatically word perfect. Then, once uttered, you seductively readjust your beret and hope that the recipient doesn’t think you can speak and understand perfect French by responding in some strange foreign language that you’ve never heard before !!!
Day 3 – In this neck of the woods, the 12th and 13th centuries saw a plethora of Catholic Cathedrals being erected in the Picardy region. Often, funded by fleecing the plebs, while at the same time promising a lifetime of work, followed by an eternity of milk and honey.
Today we venture into town on the number 11. Leave Scoot to ponder why he isn’t chosen as the number one means of transport. Another chance to practise mon ackson. “Deux pour le centre ville, s’il vous plaît”.
Previously, we’d talked about trying to not always head straight for the main religious buildings. Even, giving them the cold shoulder. Yet here we are outside Amiens Gothic Cathedral, another intention gone bust. Attracted like moths to a flame. It’s the largest in France. You can fit two Notre Dame of Paris Cathedral’s in it and still have room for a couple of table tennis tables. We’ve also heard that John the Baptist’s head is here. Well, what remains of it anyway.
After a lunch of quiche and salad (what else), the afternoon brings on a couple of clangers.
Jules Verne lived in Amiens. When still at junior school, the first novel I ever read from cover to cover was Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea. His old house is open to the public. But not today. It’s closed every Tuesday. That’s today. Although we haven’t journeyed quite as far as to the centre of the earth, his old property sits on the outskirts of the centre. A forty-five minute round the houses walk.
Thirty minutes later we’re faced with more disappointment. An eighty minute wait to board a marsh boat at Les Hortillonages for a trip through a waterway maze of floating gardens, proves too long.
So, as two forlorn nomads, in need of cheer, we trundle into Quartier St Leu. Come across ‘Sorbet d’amour’ – offering the perfect pick-me-up, since 1935.
Sidenote – I must listen to some French Today – SOON!