Well, Clermont Ferrand was a bit of a wash-out. Instead of the odd bit of trickling rain that had been forecast it rained cats & dogs throughout the journey and my stay. I tripped from paddle to gutter and managed to get myself thoroughly soaked, despite an umbrella and judicious use of taxis.
Nevertheless I managed to get quite a lot done! Firstly, I thoroughly irritated two shop assistants ..... I had sought shelter in a department store and was innocently browsing, when I made the mistake to stop by a particularly impertinently coloured woolen stole to examine it more closely. Two shop assistants immediately pounced on me to extol the virtue of this stole, and when I pretended not to understand them burst into an English that was even more terrible than my French and assured me that the stole in question was "the best stole money could buy". I was wet and irritable and they got on my nerves, and anyway how dared they assume I would have the bad taste to be seen in a shade of yellow like that? So after about ten minutes of their sales patter I opened my bag, whence resided a Johnston cashmere stole, which I pulled out, wrapped around my shoulders, and said to the over-assiduous sales ladies, "That's the best stole money can buy!" and flounced off. I got it cheap off Ebay, but Hey! they didn't know that. And anyway, it's true.
Things got worse. Not content with having ruined the day of those two shop assistants, I wandered into a little boutique that sold lingerie, attracted by a beautiful silkish looking night dress. Again I had hardly started to look around when the owner of the shop marked me down as easy prey and descended upon me. I inquired whether the night gown was made of silk? Of course, she said, everything in her shop was made of silk. A silk night gown for Euro 50? I asked where it had been made. Right here in France, she assured me. Everything in her shop was made in France. If I were a nice lady-like person I would have either taken her patter at face value and bought the gown, or politely declined and left the shop. But I am mean nasty and suspicious, and I looked at the label. Made in China 100% Polyester, I read out loud. Tut tut I said, and left the shop.
By now my mood matched the clouds, and I decided to look for some sort of eatery to soothe my irritated innards. But alas, they either looked unsavoury or were full already. Eventually, with squeaking shoes and dripping umbrella, I spied a superior looking hotel type place that included 'restaurant' in its sign. Excellent, thought I, a haven at long last! In I went and asked for food. They gave me a seat and a menu, and ... and ... and ... Nothing happened. For twenty minutes. By now I didn't even want to fight anymore. I just left.
Feeling miserable and still very very wet I marched towards the Cathedral - perhaps they would offer me sanctuary? Pretty much at the foot of that magnificent church I finally found an equally magnificent restaurant - Bistro Venitien 26 Rue de Gras. Remember the name and address, for people, the food is good and the service excellent. I rarely leave a 25% tip if service is included in the bill, but by golly that waitress deserved it! She single-handedly restored my faith in humanity. Aside from swift service and good food she actually - well almost - managed to do the coffee thing right.
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| My seat in front of the window |
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| And from the outside |
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| Bistro Venitien |
If you order cafe latte/cafe au lait in France, anyway in the Auvergne, they give you a cup filled to the brim with hot strong coffee, and a jug of milk on the side. So you sip a bit of coffee, add some milk, sip some coffee now slightly diluted with milk, add more milk, etc etc until you arrive at your desired 50/50 coffee/milk relationship. I hate hot strong coffee! If I sit outside I sometimes surreptitiously pour half the coffee into the gutter and fill up the space thus gained in the cup with milk ... Anyway, this paragon of a waitress brought a big cup only half full of coffee, and a jug of milk at the side, without my prompting her, entirely on her own initiative! She shyly asked me whether this was right? I told her that she was a genius, and the only person in the land who had ever given me coffee the way I liked it. Then she left beaming, and I poured all the milk into my coffee .... The milk was ice-cold! I would have liked hot coffee, given I was wet and cold and miserable, but the coffee was now just slightly below room temperature .....
Well, she had tried very hard to please me, so I just told her, very gently, out of earshot of everyone else, that next time she might perhaps consider warming the milk up just a tiny bit? She immediately turned bright red and offered to bring me new coffee with hot milk. But I assured her that the coffee had been delicious, and anyway she had gotten the main part right, and this was just a little suggestion for the future to make the coffee even more perfect. Oh dear, I do hope she will be OK, I wish I hadn't said anything now ....
After these culinary adventures I skipped (literally, it was still raining hard) the last few steps up to the cathedral. I have often seen it from a distance, looming blackly amidst the lighter coloured houses, and was keen to see it close up. I didn't try to see the outside, because, did I mention this, it was raining rather heavily. But the inside was rather overwhelming. It is just as black inside as out, it is built of some sort of volcanic rock and comes in that colour - it isn't the result of pollution. There are many beautiful stained glass windows, and I was particularly taken by the unusual light features.
Now, my faithful readers, as well you know one isn't allowed to take photos inside churches, at least not with a flash, so yes I did take pictures, and yes they are all a bit - well you know - like someone had poured oil on my camera lens. But since you are keen for photos, I post them below. Ignore them if you prefer better photos, and just google the cathedral and look at better ones - I would.
After this religious experience I went back to the Place de Jaude, where I had started my visit by torturing the shop assistants. I had originally come to Clermont Ferrand for two reasons: to see the cathedral, and to visit Time Luxe at 2 Rue Marechal Foch, who were rumoured to sell my favourite scarves. I had tried to find the shop when I first arrived, and had wandered up and down the Rue Marechal Foch half a dozen times, but just couldn't find it and had given up.
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| Place de Jaude |
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| dito |
It was still raining, and I had lost all my touristic fervour, so followed the signs that pointed towards the taxi rank, planning to return to the train station and return to la Bourboule early. Well, what do you know, the taxi rank was in the Rue Marechal Foch, and, bless his little cotton socks, just behind the taxi rank was that shop I had been searching for! Ladles and gentlemints, that shop is TINY! I mean, really tiny. Bathroom-size tiny. Easily overlookable tiny. But it is full of nice second hand bags and scarves and whatnots, so I had a very good time in it. The young lady who runs it is very friendly and knowledgeable, and sold me two scarves for a very reasonable price, so I can recommend her to you if you ever need to buy a scarf in Clermont Ferrand.
On the way home I tried to take a few photos from the bus ..
