The bus that never came.

Day 8, Lundi, Amiens, 9^th May.

The Bus that never came.

We waited at the bus stop in Bertangles for the number 50 at 9.45am for the bus that was due at 10am, not 9.50 as I had previously thought, I was looking on the wrong side of the road you see, the bus comes to Bertangles at 9.50am from Amiens, then leaves from over the road at 10am.We waited, waited and waited some more. A man stopped and said something in French about the bus and pointed to the Cafe Tabac (now open) over the road and made a drinking gesture. We were tempted by his suggestion but eager to get to Amiens, resisted. We continued to wait, at 11.15am it became clear that the 10am number 50 was the bus that never came.

We decided to walk back in the beating sun and get the car, I felt disappointed, I love trying out new and foreign transport and having a break from being behind the wheel would have felt amazing. But we had to get to Amiens somehow and our only other option seemed to be hitching a lift on a tractor.

Amiens is Tres Belle! The town almost hugged by Notre Dame, its a mixture of traditional and modern, easily recognisable shops surrounded by gothic architecture and typical French rickety street, all lined with shutters and huge door knobs.

 Notre Dame stands amazingly right in the centre ville, humongous and gorgeous and serene. It is said that you can fit the Notre Dame de Paris inside over twice and still have room to spare. Although full of stone carved columns, stained glass windows, candles and the pouring light rain bowed through the glass it is hard to imagine as there is so much to see and admire.

There is a glowing organ floating up miles into the spires which Bob was very keen to see close up, up high, but unfortunately this could not happen due to security reasons. He wanted to joke that he was a very trustworthy person but his language would not stretch that far.

There are many more architectural desires in Amiens, maybe too many for one day. I sat under a tree while Bob visited Le Maison de Jules Verne, a writers’ house who he admires. He wrote A Hitch Hikers guide to the galaxy. There is a library, theatre and many more monuments and chapels scattered around and all a pleasure to have a peek at.

On the way back to the car Bob realised he had lost the parking ticket. Oh no! Worrying about a hefty fine and completely blowing the budget we made our way back to the car. It was quite hard to be stressed when the multi storey car park was playing classical music at you, so I wasn’t really. A nice touch. Bobs charms must have worked well in the ticket office and they made us pay just 3 euro which we would have with the ticket. Pretty cheap for a days parking.

Another trip to Aldi to stock up on wine. Seven bottles later and a few beers (not all drank) we are back in Bertangles at the caravan. Bob met a dutch man who gave us some great tips for when travelling in Holland, about where to go to look for work, what books to get for camping information and also mentioned that men with long hair were the best shooters in the war?

Over a litre of vin de rouge later we cycled out for a look at the water tower. It was closer than I had remembered so we went further and followed a road to a neighbouring village where we found another water tower, this one looking more like a light house than the one in Bertangles. All of the village’s around here are sleepy, you only see the odd person walking a dog or posting a letter. It is mainly farm land, all flat and slowly growing. After a wobble home and a chat with some cows we are tres fatigue (tired), yawn, time for bed,

Bon nuit from Bertangles, x.