We had been warned about Vitry le Francois.
If it had a listing in the Hitchiker's guide to the Galaxy, according to what we had heard it would be something like; "Noisy, unsafe, and generally unfriendly."
After trying to find the perfect photograph of a heron all these years, not once in all that time had one remained in position long enough to pass, until today a few kilometres from our destination. It remained arrogantly still until we were abreast of it, when it pointed it's derriere squarely in our direction and simultaneously deposited it's breakfast in the canal. If the wildlife was this welcoming, what, we wondered would the people be like?
It was therefore with some trepidation we found the drainage ditch that serves as the entrance to the small pleasure boat basin, and cautiously poked our way in to its innermost sanctum. It's just a tiny pond adjoining a park, between a school and a shipyard and is conveniently quite invisible from the main navigation channel. There is room for just eight and once inside we have no choice but to get along with those who have preceded us.
I'm sure at this stage if it's possible to leave, nor after our first impression whether we want to. Certainly no one else, having found there way in, is in a hurry to get out again.
We were welcomed by many hands rushing out to assist us berth, and by the Capitaine herself, a remarkable young lady who, in the absence of a common language communicates by twinkling eye and knows every ship-board dog by name. She arrived laden with brochures, maps and descriptions of how to find all the important bits of the town and its transport system and reminded us that she wasn't there for lunch of course.
It's early days, but I suspect that the "Guide" will need to be amended in short order.
If it had a listing in the Hitchiker's guide to the Galaxy, according to what we had heard it would be something like; "Noisy, unsafe, and generally unfriendly."
After trying to find the perfect photograph of a heron all these years, not once in all that time had one remained in position long enough to pass, until today a few kilometres from our destination. It remained arrogantly still until we were abreast of it, when it pointed it's derriere squarely in our direction and simultaneously deposited it's breakfast in the canal. If the wildlife was this welcoming, what, we wondered would the people be like?
It was therefore with some trepidation we found the drainage ditch that serves as the entrance to the small pleasure boat basin, and cautiously poked our way in to its innermost sanctum. It's just a tiny pond adjoining a park, between a school and a shipyard and is conveniently quite invisible from the main navigation channel. There is room for just eight and once inside we have no choice but to get along with those who have preceded us.
I'm sure at this stage if it's possible to leave, nor after our first impression whether we want to. Certainly no one else, having found there way in, is in a hurry to get out again.
We were welcomed by many hands rushing out to assist us berth, and by the Capitaine herself, a remarkable young lady who, in the absence of a common language communicates by twinkling eye and knows every ship-board dog by name. She arrived laden with brochures, maps and descriptions of how to find all the important bits of the town and its transport system and reminded us that she wasn't there for lunch of course.
It's early days, but I suspect that the "Guide" will need to be amended in short order.
2 comments
a terrific shot of the heron nevertheless.
True Annie, true! Well done Midge
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