On France from Germany
I am now several days behind in my blogging, so I am typing these lines as I ride the train to Thuringen from Berlin. I am going biking for about 5 days, so I probably will only upload this message around September 7, when I return.
Although the detour to France from Andorra was quite short, it deserves a few more lines. The French towns along the way could not have been more different from the Spanish ones on the other side of the mountain range. They appeared more ancient, dark, secluded and unfriendly. The buildings were mostly of heavy grey stone, and often stood so tightly next to the road that they created the feeling you were driving through a tunnel. The sidewalks were no wider than a couple of feet and sometimes disappeared entirely, crowded out by some of the most aggressive buildings.
The people in the towns silently watched my every move as I wandered one particularly spooky town called Olette. The shopkeepers were used to tourists and even eked out a semi-plausible smile when speaking with you, but it was rather obvious they would prefer you to make your leave quickly. Even in the larger towns like Prada, it was impossible to find a shop or even a restaurant open at nine pm. This mignt not be a great contrast to some parts of the US, but it was a stark contrast to Spain, where even the small towns were full of street life well past midnight on weekdays.
All this is not to say I regretted doing the detour to France, even though the Spanish lifestyle was much more my style. The beauty of landscape in France was absolutely stunning, but far more stark, inacessible and private.
The last comment I make about France is political. The town I failed to reach on the first day was, as I found out from next morning's paper, beseiged by farmers protesting the low price at which they have to sell their produce to the distriburors, who mark up the goods several-fold before they reach the consumer. The farmers dumped tons of peaches onto the freeway, making it completely impassable. In a characreristic gesture of French courtesy, however, the farmers also walked around with baskets among the stopped traffic and offered free fruits to the hapless motorists. In the US, this would have probably provoked some commuters to even more anger, but it seemed to go over without much incident in Perpignan.
Although the detour to France from Andorra was quite short, it deserves a few more lines. The French towns along the way could not have been more different from the Spanish ones on the other side of the mountain range. They appeared more ancient, dark, secluded and unfriendly. The buildings were mostly of heavy grey stone, and often stood so tightly next to the road that they created the feeling you were driving through a tunnel. The sidewalks were no wider than a couple of feet and sometimes disappeared entirely, crowded out by some of the most aggressive buildings.
The people in the towns silently watched my every move as I wandered one particularly spooky town called Olette. The shopkeepers were used to tourists and even eked out a semi-plausible smile when speaking with you, but it was rather obvious they would prefer you to make your leave quickly. Even in the larger towns like Prada, it was impossible to find a shop or even a restaurant open at nine pm. This mignt not be a great contrast to some parts of the US, but it was a stark contrast to Spain, where even the small towns were full of street life well past midnight on weekdays.
All this is not to say I regretted doing the detour to France, even though the Spanish lifestyle was much more my style. The beauty of landscape in France was absolutely stunning, but far more stark, inacessible and private.
The last comment I make about France is political. The town I failed to reach on the first day was, as I found out from next morning's paper, beseiged by farmers protesting the low price at which they have to sell their produce to the distriburors, who mark up the goods several-fold before they reach the consumer. The farmers dumped tons of peaches onto the freeway, making it completely impassable. In a characreristic gesture of French courtesy, however, the farmers also walked around with baskets among the stopped traffic and offered free fruits to the hapless motorists. In the US, this would have probably provoked some commuters to even more anger, but it seemed to go over without much incident in Perpignan.
posted by Dmitri Evseev at 9:12 PM
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