Three tourists rossing the canal of the Bassa (the river is called Têt but the part flowing through central Perpignan is called canal de Basse in French, Bassa in Catalan). Three chimney outlets on a typical south of France chimney. Thursday Trios
Three tourists rossing the canal of the Bassa (the river is called Têt but the part flowing through central Perpignan is called canal de Basse in French, Bassa in Catalan). Three chimney outlets on a typical south of France chimney. Thursday Trios
Sometimes you hit a wall and you conclude that there is no way this way. Double-dipping for Ragtag Daily Prompt: Wall and FOWC with Fandango: Conclude
from France. Argelès-sur-mer, near Perpignan, to be precise. Monday Window
I know that gulls have not the best reputation yet I have no bad experience with them. I watched out for them at the French Mediterranean coast. They just watched. Didn’t even watch me, just watched in general. Then I tried to remember my encounters … Continue reading I’m a Fan of Gulls
Three intrepid cave explorers at the bay de Paulilles, probably not smugglers as of old. Three swimmers enjoying the surf in Cyprus. Three people walking away from the lighthouse at the port of Collioure. Thursday Trios
On our way to almost Spain we stopped in Bourg-en-Bresse. Monday Window
The children of Bourg-en-Bresse enjoy the water feature in the middle of the town. And when it’s really hot … Water, Water Everywhere
This incident deserves a few words more than six, sorry about that. It happened in the south of France a couple of weeks ago. While my lazy family were rolling over in their hotels beds I went on a hike to an old watch tower up on a hill. I followed the road, verified on google maps and komoot. Half way up the hill the road was blocked for cars due to the fire hazard because of the hot, dry weather. Fair enough but this added about an hour to my originally planned hike and I started to accept the idea that I might not go all the way. I parked the car and started.
I soon came across signs that said “private road” and “no access” but I trusted the maps and went on. There was a house nestled amongst the trees. And then a pack of dogs came running towards me. Admittedly, two of them were old, slow and overweight but the three others came pounding at me at high speed, barking loudly. One nipped my hip and I needed no more convincing.
I turned around. It took me half an hour to reach my car, closely guarded by the black dog who had made contact. He wasn’t threatening, not really, but he was there and accompanied me to the parking area.
I never reached the Tour de la Massane.
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