Woke up to a true blue sky peering down through the forward hatch. No shops open today so a day for Wishstreaming, walks and views. We took the main coastal road the D6009 south which runs along the west side of the Etang de Barges et de Sigean.
Another large expanse of water separated from the sea by a long sandy causeway. Below these inland waters there is another called the Etang de leucate and a road has been built on the seaward causeway all down the eastern side. We peeled off the main road and took the minor road through the village of Leucate. It looked like a really quaint seaside resort with small squares and cosy restaurants. Some of which were open. As we continued down the causeway I happened to look to the seaward side and noticed a flat area around an inlet where the sea feeds into the Etang. There were about 20 Motorhomes parked up on the north side of the river and about 100 cars on the south. Eeeeek, brakes on and off at the next road to check it all out. Lining the river on the south side for about 100 metres there are makeshift restaurants in sheds, glass boxes, lean too's and cabins. All full to bursting with French diners seated in plastic chairs at plastic tables eating the most incredible platters of oysters, and
Whilst Jc can't eat fish or oysters he can eat moules, so in we go to the busiest restaurant and take one of the small plastic tables. The waitress comes over and speaks a leetle engeesh. We order some moules. She smiles as she confirms that we do understand don't we (presumably being philistine engleesh) that the moules are 'naturel'!
Me: Sorry, not absolutely sure. You mean no sauce?
Her: No, they are uncooked.
Me: Ahhh, no we don't want oysters, but moules...
Apparently nothing is cooked in these restaurants. It is all raw in their shell and what a popular dish it is. But not with us philistines I'm afraid. What if they knew we slunk back to our van and had pâté and cheese in their car park. Quel horreur!
Onward to the France Passion vineyard in Tautavel, north west of Perpignan and listed in our book as having not only wine (it is Fitou country), but also water and a loo. It is also in the centre of the village which suits us as we can have a beer in the local bar. On arrival in the village we find the offices which are closed. Phoning the patron results in him giving me another number as he is in Belgium, but yes we can stay on the 'terrain', and just call this other number and they will sort it.
No, she doesn't sort anything. Yes, the terrain is near the village. A disused bit of ground with a load of rubbish on it. Ou est du l'eau et wc? She has no idea. We are off to the next passion down the road in Paziols. The patron may also be in Belgium but says his father is at the offices in the village. Non, he is not there. And we are fed up. The lamb chop I am cooking for Gybo (only because she is still poorly) has been on and off the hob like a fiddler's elbow, and Kicker is beginning to beg for his supper. Suddenly a man arrives with a mobile phone. The man on the other end explains in English that we can either stay parked up where we are in which case we have to be gone by 8.00 in the morning or we can go to their camping car park down the road. I enquire as to the water and the wc. Yes, that is here by the office but not at the park.
The Passion has now gone out of the France Passion and we are now moored up in their camping car park which is a field by the main road. We will look for water and a loo in the morning. Goodnight.
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Location:Paziols
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