My love affair with France started at school on the French Exchange. It was the 80s. People didn’t travel as often or as widely as they do now, so it was much more exciting. We drank egg-stinky water in Vichy, went up the Puy de Dôme volcano, visited chateaux, climbed the Eiffel Tower. My best friend Threaders and I, with the longest fringes known to man, smoked our first cigs, drank in our first bar and flirted in French. France was cool and so were we!
In the early 90s when my sister, Vick, and I were at uni, my parents bought a house near Angoulême in south-west France. Now, don’t go thinking we were posh; when I say house, it had 4 rooms. Initially, the loo was outside and getting bathed involved a plastic tub in the garden.
We cycled everywhere on some old bikes left behind by the previous owner. God, they were hard work. We rode to the town of Cognac one day, 30km away, and were so knackered when we got there we immediately fell asleep on a park bench. When we woke up it was time to cycle back again.
We rode off in a different direction most days, getting fitter, blonder and browner. In the evenings, we drank cider and ate walnuts from the tree in the garden. Most people our age were heading to Spain or Greece, but we thought chilling in Charente was way cooler.
Tony and I had our first holiday together at the cottage in France and we keep going back. To Champagne, to Burgundy, to the Riviera, to the Atlantic coast. And I still have a French wishlist as long as my arm. Strasbourg, Biarritz, Carcassonne are just three places that spring to mind. So what makes it so blinkin’ great?
One, the location. It’s easy to get to from the UK. You have the choice of plane, boat, train. You can take your car, your bike, your dog or your ferret. Yes, the Eurotunnel website specifically states that you can take your ferret. I’m intrigued – can you please get in touch if you’ve ever taken a ferret on holiday to France?
We love taking our dogs to France. Hurrah for Eurotunnel, only 90 mins away on a good run, and so easy with a pooch in tow. Ours show a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the journey, but the dog exercise areas go down well, and the pet reception centre in Calais (always full of dogs) is their idea of heaven. They sniff like mad as soon as they hit French soil, obviously it’s a whole new set of exciting and delicious smells. I tend to agree.
Two, the roads. Driving in France is lovely. You have the choice of paying to use the nice quiet autoroutes and zooming to your destination, or spending a bit more time and taking the characterful routes nationales. Then you get to play ‘Who lives in a place like this?’ as you pass through yet another deserted village with all the shutters closed. France feels very empty in a mostly crowded world.
A tip. To avoid scrabbling for cash or card at each motorway toll barrier, I ordered a liber-t tag from Emovis. It takes the payment by direct debit, which is much less painful. And you just speed through the dedicated lane. ‘Best thing you ever bought me,’ grins T every time. He loves any kind of priority treatment.
Three, the food. This should actually be number one. I will never understand why a bit of bread and cheese in France tastes better than a gourmet meal anywhere else. It just does.
Nowhere else in the world does Tony get up and immediately tootle off to the bakery, whistling. At home, if I suggested that he pop to Sainsbury’s for a loaf at 7am on a Saturday I suspect I would get a rude response.
Four, the attitude. The French just know that they live in the best country in the world. They pity everyone who doesn’t, particularly us poor rosbifs from the UK. This is why we will never get a good table in a restaurant, we’re just not cool enough. Just accept that you’ll be relegated to a corner and your dog will be trod on. It’s actually quite funny. We should take a leaf out of their book and talk up the UK a bit more, in my humble opinion.
Five, the style. Les Français just have a way of doing things. It’s that ‘je ne sais quoi’. I love the way everyone in France shouts a big, sassy ‘Bonjour’ as they walk into a shop, bank or cafe. If I did that in Maidenhead I’d get locked up. We Brits tend to skulk into places almost apologetically, trying to be inconspicuous.
In my early 20s I was invited to dinner by some French friends. What would I like as an apéritif, they asked. Huh? I really had no idea. We were the same age, but they were so much more sophisticated. There’s a ritual around mealtimes in France that I love. Everything has its time and place. Since then, I’m pleased to report, I have adopted the custom of apéro with gusto. I still think Pastis is revolting though.
Six, the wine. Keep your New World stuff. Loire Valley white and rosé would be my choice, preferably in situ. For red, Saint-Émilion is a gorgeous place that produces equally lovely wines. But to be honest you can’t go wrong so feel free to go for the house wine. Plus, it’s the only country in the world where proper champagne is made and that’s got to count for something.
I could go on and on, but I’ll save it for future blogs. Hopefully I’ve given you a taste of why I love the country so much. To me, France is still as effortlessly cool as it was in when I was in my teens. And I guess I’m hoping that if I spend enough time there it might rub off a bit on me.
Steph's Travels 