Funny Hats, Frilly Dresses, Funfairs and Fireworks

Moissac. No idea of significance of outfits. Handing out delicious apple aperitif & cooking barbecue.

The canal and the River Tarn at Moissac are separated by a couple of rows of houses, a road and an esplanade - usually a tranquil spot for a stroll. There was nothing tranquil about the area on the weekend of our arrival though. I have never seen so many carnival rides, rifle ranges and sundry other fairground attractions crammed so close together. You had to keep your wits about you for fear of losing them along with our head. How they all fitted in with their enormous trucks and extricated themselves once again after the weekend via the narrow access road I don't know.  A bit like a 3D jigsaw puzzle.

The carnival was here as part of the festivities for the Pentecost weekend. Also in town were 8 young women competing for the title of Rosière de France. This isn't a beauty contest; the girls are supposed to be virtuous and hard working but I don't know what the judging entails although wearing white gowns seemed to be expected.The girls were driven around town in vintage cars accompanied by a brass band.

Moissac's own Rosière and the brass band then transferred to boats on the canal and proceeded down through the lock onto the river where they joined another boat full of young 'marins' (children dressed in sailor costumes).

These children and some older Marins had been stationed around the town all weekend handing out portions of bread to passers by. I did ask what the significance of the bread was but sadly didn't understand much of the answer (must be the accent).

The Rosière then threw a wreath into the water to commemorate all those sailors drowned in the river whilst the brass band played the Marseillaise. The solemnity of the moment was a slightly reduced by the competing swing band playing at an open air tea dance on the bank, plus the carnival ride music, screams and so on but no one seemed to care. In fact, the brass band then came ashore and continued to play with great gusto no more than 50 metres away form the swing band. Neither band missed a beat in their different repertoires and nor did the couples on dance floor.

The weekend finished with fireworks backlit spectacularly by lightning strikes. Apparently the display was curtailed by technical problems but I didn't notice. They had been practising all weekend with heart attack inducing, randomly timed explosions so nothing really should have gone wrong.

Moissac is now back to its normal, relatively quiet self. We are ready to make a move but it's raining. Plus we can't decide which way to go - east or west?

A Striking Start

Ten months is a long time to leave a boat - and a blog - untended. Our last two cruising seasons were greatly curtailed but for the best of reasons; the birth of grandchildren. Leaving the littlies on the other side of the world this year is quite a wrench, hopefully we can skype.

Thank you to those of you have come back to join us for 2018 - our tenth year on l'Avenir - and welcome aboard to new readers.

Arriving and travelling in France in May always takes a little planning due to the number of public holidays but this year has been complicated by strikes (grèves). Strikes and protests are far from an unusual occurrence here but they are usually over and done with in a day or so. Not so this spring. In April the railway workers began three months of rolling strikes and were joined by Air France during May. The railways helpfully published a calendar of strike days which amount to 3 days of strikes per week but you can't find out which services are cancelled until 24 hours beforehand.

So, unable to take the TGV from Paris to Toulouse we luckily managed to book a flight (not Air France). Then we just had to get to Moissac a distance of around 75 km and on the main line from Toulouse to Bordeaux which may or may not be any use thanks to the strike.

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The staff in Toulouse station are helpful and pleasant, the queues at the ticket office being almost entirely comprised of disappointed and displaced tourists rather than angry, local commuters. Each of the ticket booths is manned (unusual) and the officers all appear interested and concerned (extraordinary). When I explain where we want to go my ticket officer looks immediately sad and shakes his head but, impressively, manages to avoid the default 'shrug'. 'I think it is not possible,' he says. I suspect this is the opening statement to everyone. He then begins sifting through a pile of printouts of the day's cancellations and typing into his computer. Rob limps up to join me at the counter (his knee in complaining mode). Bear in mind that having been 'economied' from one side of the globe to the other we aren't, at this point, looking our energetic and smart best. Our officer pauses his typing, looks from one of us to the other and says something. I don't understand and ask him to repeat. I still don't understand, so apologise. He blushes (he's young), squirms and looks from one to the other yet again whilst searching for words I'll be sure to understand; the be brief and blunt method. He hesitates a bit more then decides on that simple phrase you learn in your first French class at school (but which is conspicuously absent from adult classes).
 'How old are you?'
 I smile (sort of) and reply to the question I think he was originally asking. 'No, we don't have any discount cards.'

But, we have tickets! And with a discount for looking (being) ancient (thank you young man) they cost just 11 euros each. The drawback is that we have to wait until 4pm (it's 10am and the station loos cost 70 cents a time) and the train will go only as far as Montauban where we'll have to transfer to a bus. A bit of an expedition but we'll see a bit more of the countryside than we expected.

We eventually arrive in port in the early evening to find l'Avenir somewhat grubby and looking slightly worse for wear (like us).  She's still afloat and warm and dry inside though.

The liveaboards in port are all on their way to a nearby bar and invite us to join them. We are exhausted but go anyway. The beginning of a lively Pentecost weekend in Moissac.