This weekend turned out to be a very busy one in Arçais. The sun, which had been shining for the last few days, continued unabated and our campsite all but filled up. It began to feel as though we were back travelling in high season but the human hordes were most probably weekenders enjoying the clement weather. And why not, indeed?
Wherever Frenchmen, and sometimes French ladies, meet and there is a piece of roughish gravelled ground, an occasionally vociferous game of pétanque tends to ensue. As in the English game of bowls, the idea is to place one’s own boules (bowls) closest to the target butt (jack). The French boules, however, are not biased woods but are heavy metal balls which are more frequently thrown than bowled. A skilful game is a sight to behold. Highly manicured and, therefore, expensively maintained grass is not required for the French game. The piece of rough ground outside our campsite became filled with games of pétanque.
As something of a late-developing nomad, one develops a certain feeling when it is time to move on. We’d had a great time in the Marais, once the sun decided to banish the initially unsettled weather, visiting Mike and Linda and studying the local flora and fauna of the region but now we were ready for a change of scenery. Fear not, fortune willing we will be back but, for now, we are moving a mere 60 miles down the west coast to see if we can get some local oysters. 🙂
Here are a few parting shots of the gentle lifestyle of the Marais Poitevin.