Encore France: Day 12, Cappy to Amiens

 

From the journal:

 

After a light breakfast and a quick tidy-up of the boat, we completed the handover formalities with Bertrand, including giving him a box of Australian chocolate-coated macadamia nuts (yum yum) and receiving from him a Locaboat cap. All went very smoothly and there were, of course, no hassles with the vessel.

We were now ready to say goodbye to Cappy, and so Bertrand phoned a taxi for us and it turned up very quickly to whisk us off on the next stage of our holiday: a little time in Amiens. The fog was incredibly heavy, but the driver drove surely through the greyness and we were in Amiens in no time at all, with him pulling to the kerb outside our hotel.

Our room wasn’t ready as it was still only mid-morning, and so we left our luggage with the receptionist and went in search of the famous Notre Dame d’Amiens. The hotel was very, very close to the Cathedral and all we had read said that you could see it from the hotel and so would have no trouble locating it. However, the fog was so heavy that nothing was visible in the sky, and it was actually quite difficult to get our bearings as the visibility was so low.

Nevertheless, by a very circuitous route – probably covering double the actual distance – we at last came upon the Cathedral, which is actually the largest in France, and we were indeed duly impressed. The dimensions are absolutely awesome, and somehow the incredible soaring ceilings inside make your soul soar also. You feel so tiny in this space but somehow so lifted up. Were such structures really built for the glory of God, or for the glory of man? Whichever is more true, I doubt that anybody could visit such places without thinking of God.

How sad, though, and what a reflection on society, that outside all such monuments to God’s love and grace one always finds beggars holding out their paper cups for alms while inside people spend so much money on candles, postcards and – frequently quite tacky – souvenir medallions.

After visiting Notre Dame we wandered along the main shopping mall and found a jeweller’s store where we were able to buy a watch for the man’s battery. That the watch hadn’t been working for a few days on the boat was no big deal: time becomes almost irrelevant when you are drifting slowly through the beautiful French countryside.

By now we were both beginning to feel, however, that we had stepped out of France and into the Arctic Circle – it was absolutely FREEZING. We spotted a Galleries Lafayette and went in there to buy some warmer gloves, getting the shop attendant to remove the labels so that we could wear them straight away as our normal gloves just weren’t doing the job.

Now much warmed – no, now less freezing, we went to a café, La Forum, for a truly delicious lunch of Ficelle Picardie, a truly great ham and mushroom crepe, and local cider. Wonderful food, and also wonderful to have heaps of room in which to enjoy your meal, so different to the usual matter of sitting almost thigh to thigh with strangers at cafés and bistros in Paris.

Beautiful building opposite the Cathedral

 

It was now time to return to the hotel, which we were glad to do because as soon as we left the café we were hit once again by the cold, cold air.

What a surprise awaited us in our room! We were allocated room 130, which was obviously VERY newly renovated (smell those paint fumes!). One wall was covered in totally gorgeous wallpaper of drawings of sheep, white on a black background, obviously a little something for when you can’t sleep. Another wall was painted bright, bright, bright lime green. Wow! And then we checked out the bathroom. Truly amazing! The vanity, which was a large glass bowl raised up over a lime green cupboard, was quite groovy enough, but then – the piece de resistance – we noticed the burnt orange/vermilion glass shower screen over the bathtub. It was the same colour as the paint on the walls above the tiling, which mercifully was white. Incredible décor indeed. It was just so delightfully quirky and unexpected that we absolutely loved it, I have to tell you.

My man then opted for a shower in that fantabulous bathroom while I decided to walk back towards the town centre in search of a hairdressing salon. I found one only a couple of blocks from the hotel, and was delighted with the treatment I received there – shampoo, trim, blow-dry, and a great cup of coffee all for about €20, a damn sight better than the 60-odd I had paid in Paris previously.

 

Now you really can count sheep.
Fabulous, isn't it.

 

When I got back to the hotel we checked out our local map and, as the fog had now lifted and we could actually see where we were going, decided to head out to have a look at the St Leu area, which had been described to us as the “Venice of the North”. Well, the streets we walked down in search of this particular Venice certainly did not inspire confidence: lots of scary looking skinhead types, young yobs, beggars, and graffiti everywhere.

But then – ah, doesn’t this happen so often – we turn a corner and … no, it wasn’t “Venice of the North”, but suddenly it was there in front of us, charming, quaint, absolutely lovely, lots of old houses squeezed together fronting the canal, many of them restaurants offering wonderful-sounding dishes and with great smells emanating from inside. We decided to return the next day for lunch.

We then retraced our steps to the hotel, stopping at a supermarket along the way for some iced tea, chocolate and wine. And, hey, here are some of those yummy French party mix type lollies. Must have some of those. A good idea?

Back in our room we drank our iced tea and munched on some lollies while we read a newspaper (our first in over a week). We then opened a bottle of wine for a little pre-dinner drink, thinking of what culinary delights we might sample this evening.
 

The buildings opposite the cathedral.
(Just bought my first ever photo-editing software and have to try it out - sorry.)

 

Hm! I quite suddenly started to feel really, really tired. I had no enthusiasm for dinner, but was quite sure that once we were out I would be okay and so we rugged up and headed to the centre of town. By the time we got there I was almost sleepwalking and was once again experiencing strong stomach pains. The thought of food was decidedly unappealing, to the point where I couldn’t even face watching my husband eat and so there was no way we could go to a restaurant.

My poor man; it was happening again.  He was so sweet and settled for a waffle from a street trader which he ate while we walked back to the hotel. I wasn’t as ill as I had been in Picquigny, nowhere near it, but it certainly spoilt the evening for us.

And the lesson is: avoid those French mixed lollies, as they must be the culprits. My man thinks it’s the blue ones, that blue lollies are just wrong. I can’t agree there, instead feeling that there is simply a sweetener (or some additive) used in the local lollies which my whole system objects to.  Such as bummer as they taste so good.

And so to bed – a lovely, comfortable bed with crisp white sheets and a fantastic pillow. Ah, heaven.

 

Encore France: Day 7 - Corbie to Amiens

From the journal:

 

We were up fairly early (well, early for us – everything, as they say, is relative) and went for a good long walk around Corbie. I had bought a few postcards in Paris and so we visited the post office and I sent them off to Australia, making myself perfectly understood in my struggling French and having a brief chat to the woman who served me.

 

Accidentally, by taking an unplanned journey back to the port, we discovered a large supermarket, ATAC, where we were able to stock up on more bread, cheese, vino (of course) yummy Normandy butter, eggs and fresh greens, plus of course some of our favourite ham and terrine.  Then on the way back to the boat we called in at the patisserie and picked up – yes, of course – some Paris Brest and Éclairs, the perfect holiday food.

 

L'Abbatiale Saint Pierre, Benedictine abbey in Corbie
founded in - wait for it - 657 AD.

We set off from Corbie at about 2 o’clock and travelled on to Amiens, arriving there probably somewhere around 5 pm. 

Love this little box which the cakes came in
at the patisserie in Corbie. Charming.

 

Bertrand at Locaboat had warned us not to tie up in the main mooring site in the middle of town as it can get quite noisy and the youth there can become, in his words, rather “lively”. He advised us instead to moor by a restaurant, le Vert Galant, which is owned by a friend of his. At first we cruised straight past the restaurant because, while we could see some mooring bollards, the bank looked very steep and seemed to be covered in long reeds. However, after cruising on to check out for ourselves the main tie-up area in the centre of the town we decided that Bertrand was indeed correct as it didn’t look particularly desirable. There was a bunch of drunken guys arguing by the dock, and throwing bottles into the river. We turned the boat and headed back to le Vert Galant to tie up there for the night. 

Riverside homes in Amiens

 

Just as we were pulling in and I was getting ready to try my best to throw a line over a bollard, a lovely man who was strolling along the canal path at that time offered to catch the mooring line for me, which was a great help. My man was then able to jump off the boat and secure the stern line and then put the little gangplank across from the deck to the pathway. It was indeed a nice spot. 

Our first impression of Amiens had been so negative that I wasn’t interested in walking around town and wondered whether I had made a bad decision in arranging for us to spend some time there post-cruise. Of course, the man wanted to be off and stretching his legs and so I stayed on board reading and catching up with the journal while he went for an hour’s walk. 

 

And a few more.

We probably should have taken Bertrand’s advice and eaten a meal at his friend’s restaurant, but we really enjoy sitting up on the back deck of the boat of an evening, eating a really simple meal, sipping on some great French wine and letting the world turn dark around us, and so that is what we did. There was a little noise from people leaving the restaurant later in the evening, but nice happy noises, and so we were really glad that Bertrand recommended this spot.

 

See you tomorrow. 

Encore France: Day 5 - To Cappy and Locaboat

From the journal:

We were up and at out so bright and breezy this morning, excited to be heading off on another canal boat trip, really thrilled to be seeing another area of France.

First port of call was a little café on rue Monge for a simple breakfast of coffee and croissant. We hoped that there would be a supermarket handy to the Locaboat marina in Cappy, but thought we would cover ourselves by picking up a few basics - coffee, sugar, toilet paper, tea, butter – from the Fran Prix just in case. The morning was freezing and so we made a quick detour to the Monoprix off the boulevard to buy a nice warm hat so that my ears wouldn’t drop off with the cold on the canal. This was a very good move, believe me.

Back to the hotel where I quickly separated our clothes and various bits and pieces into two lots: Paris, and canal trip. All the things that we knew we wouldn’t need for either boat trip or our stay in Amiens, such as dressier clothing, high heels, plus Paris guide books, we left in our large suitcase at the hotel, taking with us only two small carry-on bags and my rather large tote. The hotel staff kindly called a taxi for us, and we were off on our way to Gare du Nord for the next step of this adventure.

The station was, as it always is, insanely busy and noisy, and is not a place for relaxing, being aware always of the pickpockets who are ever on the look out for easy prey amongst tourists and locals alike. One incident which happened while we were waiting for our train was quite funny. An elegantly dressed middle-aged gent approached me and asked directions to somewhere. He had his suitcase with him and looked as though he was one tired traveller. I had to explain to him that I was sorry but that I was not a local, not French, and couldn’t assist. Goodness, you would have thought that I was intentionally uncooperative; he was so angry with me, swore and stormed off. I hope somebody sent him in the opposite direction to where he needed to go.

It was now time to board our train, and, as with the previous holiday, we found the train fantastic – extremely comfortable, such a pleasant way to travel. We settled back in our seats, and I took from my bag our baguettes and macarons which we had purchased at the famous Eric Kayser Patisserie. It was a delicious lunch which we washed down with a bottle of white from the wonderful Sancerre region.

When the train reached Amiens it was a case of rush up one long, long, long flight of stairs, along a corridor, and then down a different flight of stairs to platform 10 where our train for the short trip to Albert was almost ready to depart. This was a great little train, a two storey affair which was clean and bright with comfortable one-class seating that made for a pleasant 20 minute trip through the flattish landscape.

We had been told that there would be taxis available at the station, but found this not to be the case. However, a really helpful young ticket-seller at Albert phoned the local taxi company for us, and we were soon sitting back happily in a lovely – unexpectedly lovely – Skoda, driven fast through the winding roads between Albert and Cappy by a friendly woman taxi driver while all the while nice easy-listening music played on the car radio. It was tuned to, if I remember correctly, Cherie-FM, and I was over the moon to hear coming through the speakers the beautiful voice of one of my favourite Australian singers, David Hobson. I think he sounds even lovelier in French than he does in English. Even though the taxi ride was almost double what Locaboat had told us to expect, it was a great ride through delightful countryside, and still not expensive compared to tasxi fares at home.

When we arrived at the Locaboat offices we discovered that Cedric, who I had been communicating with by email, was away for a couple of days and so we dealt with Bertrand, who has marginally more English than I have French. This made the formalities quite interesting, but I do think we managed to understand enough to know that we were signing for the usage of the boat, some fuel, back-up services, et cetera, and not selling our souls for a mess of potage.

We had been of the belief that we could get some provisions there at the port offices, but this was not the case. There was also the issue that towels were not provided on the vessel, and nor could you buy them at the port. This sort of thing is fine if you are arriving by car and can trundle off and do a decent shop, but can make life a bit difficult for travellers such as ourselves. Bertrand then offered to run me into Bray-sur-Somme, a town a short distance away, so that I could pick up some shopping, including of course towels.

Note to boat hire companies: people cannot be expected to bring along their own towels, tea towels and such. If you don’t include them in the hire fee, at least have a supply on hand for sale.

Eventually, with a decent supply of wine, eggs, tomatoes, delicious Paris ham, and some nice little extras – not to mention towels (urgh!), we were ready to board our beautiful penichette, the bateau Labreilloire (pronounced Labraywah). She really was totally gorgeous, just the sort of lovely, stylish vessel we had fallen in love with on the website and in the brochures. The layout onboard was excellent, and the boat really comfortable. We knew we would really enjoy spending time on this delightful lady.

 

A beautiful stylish penichette at Cappy, in the mist.

Bertrand did a run-through of driving the vessel, manoeuvring, the usual warnings about keeping the ropes untangled and well organised on deck, and loaded the two bicycles we had requested. The store beautifully on the front deck. But then – oh then he scared the hell out of us by handing us a small mobile (cell) phone and explaining that as all the locks are managed by the Canal de la Somme authority, it was required of us before setting off every morning - or whenever we left a mooring - to phone a pre-set number, announce ourselves, our current location and state our destination. The operator would then confirm our plans and arrange for lock-keepers to be waiting at each lock we would be passing through. Yeah, right, start each day with making a phone call in French. And guess whose job that might be? Oh yes, oh yes. The first thing I did when he left the vessel was write down on a piece of paper exactly what I would say each morning, in my carefully constructed phonetic French, so that it would be a case of simply reading from a script each day.

It was too late and too foggy to leave, and so we just cruised slowly around the canalised river near the port, getting used to the handling of the vessel, before tying up again and then going for a bit of a walk around town. Oh, and it was chilly, I need to add, so we were very glad to have gloves, scarves and hats with us. I knew buying that hat in Paris was a good idea.

Almost looks like a Turner painting - except for the boat, of course.

That evening we enjoyed our usual boating meal of baguette, ham, cheese, those fabulous full-of-flavour French tomatoes, and of course a bottle of wine. It was then a case of pouring excitedly over the course we would be taking – a different one, as advised by Bertrand, to what we had planned - and then a quick shower and bed.

Ah, tomorrow: setting out on our second canal boat trip in France. How wonderful! Oh, and I will show you our fabulous bateau then - she's much prettier than this one.