Over the last few weeks, the dairy farmers had been making their presence felt during protests regarding the price of milk they receive per litre (€0.21). They certainly made their presence felt this morning.
We were on our way to the beach at La Baule, the traffic was nose to tail not too far from home. We soon learned why. The farmers had positioned their tractors four abreast on a major roundabout, only allowing one car to pass through the middle of their blockade. We navigated our way through the roundabout along with the thousands of other people on their way to who knows where.
Along the freeway was another blockade, again allowing only one car through at a time. As our car approached the blockade, a young guy stared us down, through our bug splattered windscreen, John nudged gently forward until our car kissed his leg, after that we had no choice but to stop. The gap between the tractors closed before us. No one was going anywhere, these farmers meant business. Time for some good old Aussie sweet talkin’. We all got out of the car and began to engage them, slowly they came around. I explained that we had met their mates in the city a few weeks ago and that my sister lived on a dairy farm, we understood their reasons for fighting and sympathised with them. They were lovely guys and after they spoke to the head honcho, they assured us to wait for five minutes and they would let us through. They gave us a few litres of UHT milk for our troubles, opened the gap in the blockade and waved us on our way. “Bon chance” we yelled as we continued on our journey, a little later than expected.
We were on our way to the beach at La Baule, the traffic was nose to tail not too far from home. We soon learned why. The farmers had positioned their tractors four abreast on a major roundabout, only allowing one car to pass through the middle of their blockade. We navigated our way through the roundabout along with the thousands of other people on their way to who knows where.
Along the freeway was another blockade, again allowing only one car through at a time. As our car approached the blockade, a young guy stared us down, through our bug splattered windscreen, John nudged gently forward until our car kissed his leg, after that we had no choice but to stop. The gap between the tractors closed before us. No one was going anywhere, these farmers meant business. Time for some good old Aussie sweet talkin’. We all got out of the car and began to engage them, slowly they came around. I explained that we had met their mates in the city a few weeks ago and that my sister lived on a dairy farm, we understood their reasons for fighting and sympathised with them. They were lovely guys and after they spoke to the head honcho, they assured us to wait for five minutes and they would let us through. They gave us a few litres of UHT milk for our troubles, opened the gap in the blockade and waved us on our way. “Bon chance” we yelled as we continued on our journey, a little later than expected.
The beach at La Baule sparkled under the summer sunshine. We made a car-boot picnic baguette and wandered without a care in the world along the shore. The sand glistened as though it had been sprinkled with gold dust as the waves retreated backwards down the beach. I collected some shells for Grandma to give her in Paris in August when they will visit. I think I found a few ‘raries’ Grandma. Strange brown jellyfish were deposited along the shore line along with tiny crabs.
Tonight we had dinner with friends of our Nantes home-exchange family. Annie and Vincent live about 5 minutes walk from home in a home they have lived in for ten years, they have only recently renovated and the front room was just finished today. It is a lovely home, three stories, the kitchen is at the back and opens up into a small garden via bi-fold doors framed with a grape vine, laden with grapes. Their kids are all lovely, Clemonce (14), Leah (12), and Louis (10), Alex had a great time as the kids speak quite good English after studying it at school.
We all went for a walk to a little park called Parc Potager de la Fournilliere, where the family rent one of 100 vegetable plots to grow vegies. What a great idea. The city of Nantes pays for the water and provides a little garden shed. They love coming to the garden as a family, each of the kids has their own section to look after. They are growing, celery, zucchini, mint, dill, tomatoes of which Annie is very proud, strawberries, raspberries, and salad leaves, the list goes on.
The BBQ was cranked up when we returned to their little garden at home while Alex and Clemonce set the table inside. Vincent cooked skewers of tuna marinated in lemon and herbs and Clemonce had made a couscous dish tasting of lemon, radish and mint, she is quite the little cook. We finished with a platter of aged cheese, ash covered chѐvre, young and old Roublechon, Roquefort and others, followed by fresh peaches, apricots and cherries.
We all had a ball and agreed to meet the following morning at the Fete de L’Ecole for Louis school just around the corner. It sounded like a perfect plan.
Tonight we had dinner with friends of our Nantes home-exchange family. Annie and Vincent live about 5 minutes walk from home in a home they have lived in for ten years, they have only recently renovated and the front room was just finished today. It is a lovely home, three stories, the kitchen is at the back and opens up into a small garden via bi-fold doors framed with a grape vine, laden with grapes. Their kids are all lovely, Clemonce (14), Leah (12), and Louis (10), Alex had a great time as the kids speak quite good English after studying it at school.
We all went for a walk to a little park called Parc Potager de la Fournilliere, where the family rent one of 100 vegetable plots to grow vegies. What a great idea. The city of Nantes pays for the water and provides a little garden shed. They love coming to the garden as a family, each of the kids has their own section to look after. They are growing, celery, zucchini, mint, dill, tomatoes of which Annie is very proud, strawberries, raspberries, and salad leaves, the list goes on.
The BBQ was cranked up when we returned to their little garden at home while Alex and Clemonce set the table inside. Vincent cooked skewers of tuna marinated in lemon and herbs and Clemonce had made a couscous dish tasting of lemon, radish and mint, she is quite the little cook. We finished with a platter of aged cheese, ash covered chѐvre, young and old Roublechon, Roquefort and others, followed by fresh peaches, apricots and cherries.
We all had a ball and agreed to meet the following morning at the Fete de L’Ecole for Louis school just around the corner. It sounded like a perfect plan.
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