Now, being creatures of habit we just had to move south down the Atlantic Coast to the Pine Trees and long deserted beaches of Aquitane.
3 weeks in a self-catering wood cabin beckoned. Actually it was a semi-detached cabin. Our neighbours, from North Germany had the bulk of the property. We were the poor relations next door living in one room with a sink whereas they had three rooms and a full kitchen with a Dishwasher. They threw us the occasional sausage so we did OK. Their terrace always looked terribly tidy and pristine. They even brought a table decoration for their patio. Ours, on the other hand, was a scene of disarray with beach umbrellas, kites, bikes, sea shells, tennis rackets and a few empties.
Apart from that we believe we were decent neighbours although, because we had no oven, we took an electric wok and used it on the terrace. Happily the smoke really wasn’t too bad and the fish was fresh and only just cremated. Fortunately they were fit enough to gather their gear quickly and move inside so there was no damage to international relations.
Anyway we got on alright and they lent me their body board although, apparently, I was not very good at it and missed a few waves.
They were also masters of checking out. They obviously got everything ready the day before, put the bikes on the car ready for a timely departure. For Les GeeBees next door it was a bit different. We just made the midday deadline with all detritus being thrown in the back of the car at the last minute. Still haven’t found the iPod charger.
We played quite a bit of Petanque in the evenings. A very serious game, especially if you are Belgian. For some reason they took it ever so seriously. No such thing as a ‘gimme‘ for them so wouldn’t want to play them at golf. The object is to get your boules as close to the cochenet (little pig) as possible. The Belgians came equipped with tape measures to verify the distance whereas the French would just shrug and say theirs was closest anyway. Unfortunately I could never tell which boule was mine so was unable to dispute ‘le mesure’. All boules look the same to me! They don’t have different colours like beach boule. Could never remember the score either, or even when it was my throw. Must be something in the wine? Nevertheless it was fun. ‘oh well played sir’ bien jouez monsieur (or madame). TW was ace as a roller. We were always given the rolling role in the team where you try to get your boule as close as possible to the piglet. The natives took the fun role doing the ‘tirez’ where they cast the boule into the air in the hope that it will land on the opponents spherical and send it into oblivion. They invariably missed but it looked impressive, difficult and dangerous so local honour was satisfied.
I learned to swim here last year so it was nice to get back in the same pool and find I could do plenty of lengths instead of a gasping to fall short of doing even one.
This is one of the local bands entertaining the locals and tourists. Quite a jolly event with the usual steady flow of beer. Only 11am so before the 'beering hour' for us. 
Back home for lunch and then a cycle North, down the valley on acycle path, to the village of Dorfgastein. We could not avoid a detour and stop at Schmaranz for a bio beer on the way back to Bad Hofgastein. Mr T hired his bike, it cost 12 Euros for 24 hours. He bore the pain of saddle soreness manfully, in other words, he complained endlessly. Anyway, he had recovered sufficiently to wander into town in the evening for some 'oompah' music and dancing.
Anyway, duly refreshed, we wandered on across the stream finding plenty of shade on the way down. Yours truly took a wrong turn and we missed the steeper, more scenic route but Mr T didn't mind. As we dropped to the valley bottom the temperature rose so we headed for the Berglift Restaurant for a dust buster and and a good lunch. On the way home, there was an outdoor concert playing at the Alpine Arena in town given by an English school from Stoke Mandeville. They struggled with some difficult music, playing baroque outside on a sweltering afternoon can't be easy! Their singing and jazz music was good though. We opted to retire to a nearby cafe at half-time for a necessary coffee. It's a tough life in the mountains.
