Moules Frites

Saturday 9 April

There is second, smaller market in Port Saint Louis on Saturdays – fresh fish and some vegetables and fruit  – so we took the long hot walk in.  With too much left-over food on board and no refrigerator, we had to forego the fresh fish but we’ll make sure we have an empty meat larder next week.  There’s a second hand chandlery in the port and we found a decent old bike – one of those nifty little folding jobs.  It has one flattish tyre so we’ll return on Monday with our pump and bring it home.  We stopped and had a beer with Lennart and Ulla, who have now moved to Port Saint Louis and are parked a hundred yards from the supermarket – lucky toads.  We made a plan to meet for dinner on Monday.

After the tiring walk back and a lovely lunch of fresh salad with tomatoes, avocado and olives, Brie and baguette, I was too tired to attempt laundry, even though it was a sunny, windless day.  So I just sat and read my book, or tried to.  Mike bustled about and needled me – he hates to see me sitting on my butt doing nothing.

Sunday 10 April

The predicted Mistral has arrived, and I’m sorry I didn’t do my laundry yesterday.  I managed half of it which now flaps furiously in the rigging and then spent an hour in the restaurant posting the blog, checking emails and having a long Skype chat with my mate, Caroline.

My attempts to sneak back into my book were thwarted by Mike, who wanted to start work on the engine and he can’t manage that without his reliable ‘spanner boy’.  We re-familiarised ourselves, reading the manual, and discussed what needs doing, but stuff needs to be bought and it will have to wait for a working day.  Frustrated, he went off to assist a neighbouring sailor with his hydraulics (I assume he was the spanner boy in this instance) and returned to say we were invited to dinner.  And I’d just prepared a delicious stew from a fat slice of beef with an enormous marrow bone in it.  Ah well, we’ll have to have it tomorrow, and perhaps there’s enough to invite these folk back.

Monday 11 April

Dinner last night was great.  Our hosts were three Swiss Italian gentlemen, very charming.  One of them produced an excellent Spaghetti Bolognese (quite different from how I make it, but better of course) and we drank all manner of aperitifs, wines and liqueurs.  Communication was in a combination of English and French.  Our main host and the boat owner, Renato, lent us a book on the French Canals, a trip he says he has always wanted to do but never managed.  The book is rather old but still valid and we are enjoying it.  The three of them (their wives don’t like sailing) have gone off today for 3 to 4 weeks in the Med and we’ll see them when they return.

At about 4pm, with hair tucked into caps and heads down, we struggled against the full force of the Mistral into Port Saint Louis, pushing our one bike in the hopes that we could both cycle back.  Having arranged with the lady in the second hand shop to return today for our bike, she wasn’t there!  Monday, we were informed by her mother who runs the neighbouring marine upholstery shop, is her day off, like most shops in France, actually.  We tried the banks also, to inquire about opening a French bank account, but they were also closed.  We did find a bakery open and bought an enormous and totally delicious loaf of bread – pain levain – which is heavier, tastier and less crusty than the baguette.  It will last us some days (unless I get too greedy).  We then did a bit of shopping at the supermarket and arrived early at Pinta lugging beers for pre-dinner drinks.

Another Swedish couple joined us (Swedes all speak such good English) and the six of us trooped into the Port Restaurant for the moules/frites. Apart from an infestation of hungry mosquitoes who took a particular fancy to my ankles, it was a very nice evening and the meal was excellent.   After dinner I whizzed home on the bike whilst my brave captain walked, weighed down with ten litres of wine (two five litre boxes) in his rucksack.  Good man.

On my return, I find that somebody has added the word 'WOMEN' in large black letters plus the scientific female sign onto the door to the 'FEMMES', but it makes no difference.  The Frenchmen continue to prefer our showers.  Amusant, hein?