Life on the road...

Oct. 10, 2008, St. Tropez

We've holed up in a rented mobile home-style "bungalow" in a campground overlooking the Bay of St. Tropez. Sounds glamorous, eh? And it is -- if it wasn't for the beautiful cork tree swaying over our little terrace, we would have an unobstructed view of the Bay, with all it's yachts and sailing ships. On the other side of the tree there is a view of rolling hills, fields of grape vines, and more forests of gorgeous dome-shaped pines and more corks trees. But to tell the sad truth, what interests me most about this place is our little rented trailer that has the unparallelled comforts of a heater, lights, a warm and private shower, a toilet with a seat, and chairs!! Although back in Canada we have the equipment to camp with reasonable comfort, it's been a bit more of a challenge over here where the limits of first our luggage and then our vehicle mean that we are pretty much roughing it!!

It wasn't too bad in the beginning -- after our tent fly came off in rainy Wales, keeping our gear dry was the main concern, and anything after that was a bonus. Then when we landed in Switzerland our car was a little bigger, and it felt like luxury until we arrived at the campground and were informed we could not keep the car next to our tent; it had to remain in the parking lot almost 1/2 a kilometre away. This was nothing short of a catastrophe as I did all our cooking out of the back, and we perched on the bumper to eat (we discovered early on that picnic tables are not supplied in European campgrounds). Without the car, we also had no way to store our food (remember, coolers are North American inventions, and we wouldn't have room for one in the vehicle, anyway). I went off to my conference that first day in Switzerland, and when I got back Mitch had splurged and purchased a folding picnic table for a ridiculous price (I think it worked out to be about $150 Canadian). It seemed like heaven, even though it only had seating for four (thankfully the kids are pretty skinny!).

This new sense of comfort again rubbed off fairly quickly -- there was absolutely no shelter from the blistering heat or pouring rain in Lugano, it was really not much better than a gravel parking lot, and all for the bargain price of $75 per night. (At least the toilets had seats and were reasonably clean!) We had respite with our friends in Berlin for a couple of weeks which was a big relief, and then our next camping spot in Aachen, Germany, cost only 7 euros! Yeah! That kind of price was why we were camping! And it had not only grass and trees, but a picnic table!! Yahoo! Sadly we were only there for three nights before ending up at a site in Paris. It was very conveniently located for access to the city, and it seemed quite pretty as it was in an old apple orchard and there were still many gnarled old trees, laden with fruit. Sinister truths were slowly unveiled as our first day there passed, however... while there was a toilet or two with a seat (the rest were squatters), Cachell and I preferred to use the stall that was literally swarming with spiders and their broods than to face the horrors of the others!!! Fortunately, the lights didn't work in the shower stalls so we could just whip in and out and not look too closely! Then there was the internet; we paid a hefty 20 euros for two hours of internet connection, only to discover that it could only be accessed near the front office (again, a substantial hike away)! Nothing daunted, Mitch set out with the computer while I tucked the kids in and then followed him. By this time, it was pitch black, and the old orchard which had a tatty beauty during the day took on a much spookier aspect in the dark! I burst into a run down the last tunnel of trees, and was relieved to stumble into the light of the cluster of buildings at the front of the compound. I couldn't see Mitch anywhere at the picnic tables outside, so I ventured into the only open building... to be greeted by total silence and then a virtual roar of interest from the clusters of men drinking inside (women clearly being in short supply). I fled, all dignity abandoned, as well as all contact with home!


Happily, after our respite with friends in Spain, we found an excellent campground in the South of France. It was right against the Mediterranean. and we could walk through the camp and end up on a beautiful and incredibly long expanse of warm golden sand. 'Les Sablons', as it was called, also boasted two water slides, five heated pools (alas, none of them hot tubs!), tennis courts, archery, and the essential (for a French site) 'bouladrome'. The showers and toilets were nice and clean, if a little chilly (they were open to the sky), and because it was finally the low season, we had lots of space to ourselves and the price was reasonable. The cout d'etat, however, was the fact that the site was sprinkled with various mobile homes (like the one we're in here) and permanent tents, all of which were being packed up for the winter. These provided us with all sorts of treasures in the form of discarded and slightly broken bits; we are now the proud owners of a large umbrella to shade our picnic table from sun and rain, as well as a second little table which makes me almost feel like I have a kitchen (hurrah for duct tape -- it can mend most evils!). Of course, these new acquisitions (as well as a case of wine) mean packing up the car has become an act of great skill -- and like all such artistic endeavours, it is never carried out without a certain amount of cursing and banging! The kids and I have learned to find comfort in being so tightly packed into our seats that we have no wiggle room... fortunately the scenery is distracting!


The downturn in the world economy has forced us to get more and more inventive as we find ways to cut costs even further. This means that I handwash all our clothes and linens rather than spend 18 euros (almost $30) to wash and dry a load in machines. Although this does make my hands ache and is pretty unpleasant when the weather is chilly, I can't help but feel an affinity with the generations of women before me who had to do this onerous work without the benefits of running water or lightweight travel fabrics! Our other big savings is made by cooking the majority of meals ourselves on two little gas burners. Although these are a bit tempermental (so far my eyebrows have not been singed off, so that's positive!), and there is a definite hassle factor in trying to provide balanced meals with no refrigeration, they do have advantages. We may not be Diner's Club members, but we have dined in castles across Europe, on meals whipped up in the ruins of "the butteries"! And shopping for fresh meat and produce every day helps us understand on a much deeper level how the locals live -- deep freezes full of food and 4-litre milk jugs are purely a North American phenomena.

The good thing about life in our tent is that it forces us to interact with all sorts of people and make new friends. We spent an evening with some Dutch families drinking coffee so strong I was trembling all night, and the past week swapping stories about life on the road each night with another Canadian family and several bottles of the local wine. Our Paris site provided great comic relief in the form of the cleaners... I was pretty excited to see them (!!) and I happened to be washing clothes in the "sanitary block" at the time, so I watched them with interest. First they stood outside, smoking their way through several cigarettes and talking non-stop, before finally butting out, sighing, and retreating inside (each went a different way). The woman near me then unlocked a cupboard, sighed, took out a rag, sighed again, and flicked it around the sinks. Overwhelmed by the tedium of her work, she then returned outside for another three cigarettes, before retrieving her rag and setting off for another round. Later that day, with some concern I checked on our toilet stall -- but I needn't have worried, the spiders were still cavorting along the walls, undisturbed by the flick of any rag... .

The more challenging aspect of life in our tent is that as the weather becomes autumn, even the sunny south of France suffers from chilly mornings and short days, which make typing and homeschooling a little tricky! But Paris cleaning ladies stiff or stiff fingers on cold mornings help us appreciate the luxuries of home... or little shacks like the one we're in now. The next time you put a load in your washing machine or dishwasher, think of us... we're thinking of you all with love and affection.

Bon soiree.