Pilgrimage Pt.8.
Needing to stamp my Créanciale with the fussy old lady I leave at five to find café noir and log on to the matrix. She is very helpful, via a French couple translation, I must fill in my information on my Créanciale prior to leaving France. I had no time to even read what was within the companion piece or the Créanciale itself. I'm wake at 6am and after packing, breakfast and ablutions it is already 8am when I set off for l'eau, compote de pommes and banane and the Chemin St Jacques.
That was my third stamp. I leave her with the dignity of kiss on each cheek and to discover a café to engage with those back in England.
A discussion with my room mates for tonight explains that Aubrac is famous for its beef in France. I can understand that once you see the miles and miles of rolling grasses with hardly a house in sight; Sauges has a population of 2,000 only. So I am happy to discover that the café I drink and communicate from is, from 7pm, a brasserie specializing in beef. Last night I told myself to be frugal when out eating, but today I have grown tired of pain et fromage constantly. I won't be able to escape it until I reach Finisterre, Spain so tonight will be the other side of beef in France! The shower beckons me!
It is Friday in France. I've only just thought of this truth. I hope everyone in England has a fine Whitsun weekend regardless of the horrid things that occurred in Woolwich. Not the weather for it either here or up north; an anti-cyclone is bringing the arctic too close during this month of transitions. Most French I speak to expect 2013 vin to be bad; it happens: more brandy based alcohol, bio fuels and industrial spirits this year?
I've dug out my jeans and jumper to improve my body temperature and the radiators are on all over Europe. This cold spell I can live with if June sparkles and I can choose just shorts all the time. The unseasonal weather actually gives me time to adjust to long walks and carrying a large rucksack and tent. I can feel my additional timber vanishing with each turd, piss and sweat since Tuesday at 6am onwards.
When do French persons eat their evening meal. I have had a Plat du jour at 12:30. I should ask as femmes might frequent the brasserie this night;I am wishing my French was better. Maybe I am the strong silent type or silent but deadly. I will be consistent and try to get this tongue before I reach the first goal of Saint Jean Pied d'Pont.
Best steak ever. Top notch. Rare and perfect. A chef without any ostentations simple. No crazy attire. Just fantastic grub. Mousserron champigone in creme with a gratin cauliflower. Met the older Japanese who has been walking with jetlag since Le Puy. He told me his name but I forgot. Tired I am and so to bed?
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