A Weekend Of Southern France

I was kindly invited to stay at my friend's near Perpignan. Her parents have a house close to the Spanish border where they spend their summers.

I watched the landscape of Perpignan from the plane. There were vineyards, olive groves, cherry farms and snow capped mountains. The houses are white with terracotta roofs and there were swimming pools in the backyards.

The village where we stayed is called Villelongues Del Monts, 40 minutes drive from Perpignan and 2 hours from Barcelona. Some people spoke Catalan, a mixture of French and Spanish. The area is steeped with history and the village looked like it was trapped in time. 

It was 30 degrees and the sun was bright. Swifts glided through the sky. The sunshine lulled us Londonites into more relaxed state. As I'm a country girl at heart, I welcomed the fresh expanse of space around me. 

In my room, I pulled back the curtains to reveal an azure swimming pool, stone walls, lush trees and mountains. Had I found heaven on earth?

All afternoon we lazed by the pool, dipping in to cool off and play water polo. Us Londonites felt like this was a shock to the senses. Then my friend brought out flutes of sparkling wine from the supermarket for 2 EUR a bottle. And it was actually delicious! With the first sip, we were languid.

The family dog Milly. 

By 6pm, I was considerably more tanned than before. The sun was still bright so we went for a walk. It looked like the village was trapped in in time, so peaceful and quaint. There were only two restaurants, a boulangerie, a suprette and a karaoke bar which was rarely open. The streets were narrow and windy.

We had dinner alfreso at home and played scrabble. In bed, I realised I could'nt hear a thing. There was complete silence. Something I had growing up but didn't completely appreciate until I moved to the city.

The next morning we had breakfast and set off to Racou, a beachside village to start a coastal walk to Collioure. It was a beautiful walk with wildflowers along the way. My friend commented on the smell of broom, yellow flowering shrubs and heat rising from the earth. It was sweet and reminded her of childhood walks. 

I had grilled sardines for lunch in Collioure, which were the specialty of the area. Our meals were delicious and fresh. We were still drinking outdoors at 3pm and the owners said we could stay even though they locked up for the afternoon.  

Us gals!

The church tower overlooking one of the town beaches.

An amusing sticker posted outside a store.

Tourists!

We walked back to Racou, stopping for a quick dip in the sea. We returned home and I was so tired I needed a nap. The sun streamed my room and I could faintly hear French chatter from a neighbour's BBQ. It was a very pleasant way to nap!

We had dinner at the Belgium resturant in the village. The owners were friendly and gave us the only unreserved table on the terasse with a view of the mountains. The sun went down with a pink glow at 9.30pm and even at that time, there were young kids riding bikes and the terasse was full of diners.

Crema Catalana, creme brulee made with orange rind. This had an imperfect crust but it was easily forgiveable as it was melt in the mouth dee-licious.

The next morning was the last for my stay. My friend talked about a "good looking breadman" who delivers bread every morning. He toots his horn and the neighbourhood comes out to buy bagettes and pastries from his van. We made a commotion when we heard him and scrambled out to the street. It was like an ice cream truck had arrived! 

Purely for journalistic purposes (of course), I took photos and a lady neighbour was laughing at me...or him or us.

To squeeze in more adventure before going to the airport, my friend's Mum's took me on a tour of the neighourhood. We rambled off-road, onto someone's vineyard and through  tall bushes.

Beyond the grapevines and bushes were the magnificent mountains of the Pyrenees. You wouldn't believe that there would be snow in summer, but here's proof!

Suddenly I thought I got bitten massively by insects because my feet and ankles itched like crazy. When I got back to the house, it looked like I had a hundred angry welts. That's when I realised I had walked through stinging nettles in flip flops!

It was my first and hopefully the last experience with the bastards. It still makes me grimace to this day thinking about the burning, swelling and maddening itch. My friend's Mum immediatly made me a bi-carb soda solution. After an hour of dousing myself, the welts calmed down and disappeared.

Alas my trip to the south of France was over. We arrived at Perpignan airport and there were passengers waiting outside, making most of the sunshine which was no longer to be by London. Farewell Perpignan, my stay was too short!