Best of both worlds

The great thing about living right on the border of France and Spain is that, here in the Ariège and Haute Garonne, we get flavours of both cultures - with the emphasis on the best bits of each of course. Thus we have paella in the local markets and lots of Spanish themed festivals but these will generally be accompanied by French wine and croustade or tarte tatin.

Living so close to Spain also means that we are able to just pop over the border into Spain if we fancy the idea of tapas for lunch; which is exactly what we did yesterday, not so much for the food this time – although it was fantastic – as for the sunshine. Very unusually for this part of the world, we have just had a week of almost continuous rain (last seen in 1972, according to our local doctor) and, having lived here for a long time now, we seem to have rather lost that English tolerance to such weather.

Hence we decided that we would take a two hour drive (we are only 20 kilometres from Spain as the crow flies but the car journey is slightly more convoluted) over the mountains to see if we could find some sunshine. Sure enough, as we sat at the traffic lights on the French side of the tunnel leading into Spain, the temperature gauge in the car read 14 degrees; by the time we had travelled three kilometres through the tunnel and down the other side of the mountain, the temperature was already 27 degrees and by the time we were installed on the Spanish restaurant terrace 20 minutes later, it was 30 degrees.

What an amazing spot to live; where it is possible to travel a few kilometres through the mountainside not only from one country to another but from one completely different weather system to another, speak another language and eat completely different food. There can’t be too many places like this, where you really can enjoy the best of both worlds.

The Tour de France – Bon Appétit !

It’s Tour de France time here in the Pyrenees and, as usual, we went up into the mountains to cheer on the riders. What I love about the Tour de France is that it is really just one big picnic with a cycling race attached. And the French certainly know how to picnic - no stale cheese and pickle rolls for them; even on the side of a mountain, out comes the table and chairs, the table cloth, the chilled bottle of wine and the three course meal.

Moreover, on the way home, when we managed to get caught in a ‘bouchon’ of camper vans going nowhere, it wasn’t long before the driver and his passenger in the car in front decided that it was their supper time and, traffic jam or no traffic jam, they were ready to eat. So sure enough, they pulled over onto the verge and once again, out came the table, the chairs, the olives and hors d’oeuvre and they began their repas, seemingly oblivious of their audience in the stationery cars besides them looking on jealously. That was until more and more people decided that they had the right idea and started to join them. What in the UK would have been a fairly miserable or at the very least boring experience, here turned into a street party.

This ability to turn every occasion into an excuse for a good sit-down meal and opportunity to set the world to rights just makes me admire the French even more and reminds me yet again what we are doing here.