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| Bird's nest at the Gare de Bercy |
Well, I made it safely to my holiday destination! As usual, there were a few adversities to overcome, but all in all I had a good journey.
I had to get up earlier than ususal, having booked an earlier train (totally forgot!), so 4am saw me alight from my bed half asleep and prepare for lift off. And would you believe it, there was someone ahead of me at the bus stop! Luckily he didn't sit in my favourate seat ....
Having made the trip to London safely, I hailed a cab - my suitcase was rather too heavy for the underground stairs, what with three books on microbes and a legal studies textbook inside, not to mention my special cooling pillow which weighs a ton but has already proved invaluable.
At the Eurostar Terminal I foolishly decided to buy a few bits and pieces for the journey, and was confronted with a talking - but not dancing - electronic sales device, which expected me to scan my own purchases and bag them according to a complicated system that remained a mystery to me. It took ages, and every ten seconds or so a human attendant had to intervene; it would have been faster if she had just served me the ususal way! I now understand why shoppers feel legitimised to steal some of the items they are trying to buy - I felt tempted myself. If I have to do all the work, surely I am entitled to a bonus? I mean, what's in it for me?
Next time I shall buy whatever I need beforehand; cheaper, too, the Eurostar shop cost at least a quarter more than my local supermarket.
The journey to Paris was, as usual, uneventful. I was almost first in line for a taxi, and soon winged my way to the Gare de Bercy. I had an excellent discussion with the driver, who told me that my French was excellent, and immediately lapsed into English.
The Gare de Bercy is a singularly boring trainstation, especially considering it is in Paris and used by quite a few people, including foreigners. I did spot the above and below pictured bird nest, which was full of chirping young!
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| the same from a distance |
After three and a half hours on the train to Clermont Ferrand, which I spent absorbed in a book about microbial parasites, we arrived in a significantly hotter local capital than the one I left. 34C, no less!
I waited for my bus, which for some unknown reason did not go to la Bourboule, as per usual, but decanted us at Laqueuille, a lifeless nest of a place with 350 inhabitants who were all in hiding. I had gotten off the bus first, and nabbed the best bench going, immediately in front of the train station where the buses stop, but was sooned joined by a woman with an addiction to shouting into her mobile telephone. I fled across the parking lot, but the distance - quite considerable as you can see - did nothing to mute her voice, which dominated the entire area for the whole hour we had to wait for the second bus which finally brought us to la Bourboule, which took ten minutes. Ah well.
I had been a bit worried that the loud woman would also stay at la Bourboule, even - horror of horrors! take the cure alongside me or stay in my hotel - but she remained on the bus to go on to Le Mont-Dore. Good riddance!
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| Laqueuille, as far as possible from the noisy one |
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| That foot on the table is mine! |
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| A fellow traveller who took a nap while waiting |
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| There she is, booming away |
Safely in la Bourboule I mysteriously remembered the combination for the front door of my hotel, let myself in, and unpacked my bits and pieces. On the way from the train station I had bought some milk, and luckily my milk kefir, which I had secreted in my suitcase and imported into the country, was in good shape. Having settled my kefir, I made a pot of tea and unpacked my suitcase. I was back!
Today I made the usual start up purchases, toilet paper, food, washing up liquid, that sort of thing, that are needed when one lives in a self catering apartment for a while.
While meandering around town I noticed - to my consternation - that the town had changed. This is a serious matter, since the main attraction of la Bourboule is its unchanging, 1970s nature. The misguided modernisers had chopped down the trees that surround the fountain, replaced the admittedly uncomfortable concrete benches with wood and metal ones, and planted some wanna-be mediteranian plant troughs with lavender and such like. They also destroyed a large number of parking spaces, which had resulted in a drop of customers, as Pascal at Au Regal Auvergnat has assured me.
They tried to further enhance the appeal of the fountain by re-programming it into splashing its waters about in some ambitiously abstract fashion, which caught some old age pensioners unaware and moistened them somewhat while they were taking their post lunch constitutional today.
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| Abstract waterworks at the la Bourboule fountain |
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| All the trees removed! |
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| See the faux mediteranian air? |
As seems to become a habit, whenever I arrive at la Bourboule there is a fair going on. You can see probably some of the fun rides in the background of the photos above. While I was dodging the various amusement stalls I noticed that the vegetation in the public plant areas had changed - this year they abound with wild flowers! A very pleasing effect, and probably cheap, too - it seems the city gardeners just scattered some wild flower seed packets about, and lo and behold! plants appeared.
One can never quite tell in la Bourboule whether a plant is supposed to be in a public planting or has arrived of its own accord. For example, I saw some thistles growing in a flowerbed that gardeners anywhere else would denounce as weeds, but in la Bourboule you just never know.
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| I am rather fascinated by these ducks floating on water! Maybe one day I shall try to play whatever game this constitutes |
Today was marked by a brass band and street festival, featuring large figures made of flowers ...
This evening I went to see my doctor, at 19:15! Where else could you see your doctor at 19:15 on a Sunday? Tomorrow starts the cure. The Therme now opens at 7am, which is tricky for me. My alarm clock has a default setting of 7am, and the instructions are in French, so I am not sure I can set the alarm for 6. The cure used to start at 8, which dovetailed nicely with my alarm clock setting.
I really don't know what things are coming to in la Bourboule, nothing but endless changes!
