Yes it is really winter here: but at 16°C it was such a beautiful day. 

Yesterday we caught our €1 bus, with people we have now seen often, to Perpignan where we then caught a train southwards towards Spain. Actually, you may remember a previous post where I mentioned a fellow at the bar in Caudiès who thought Mick was Spanish, well he was trying to hitchhike to the next village of St Paul so we shouted him the €1 for the bus instead. He was happy. 

We were planning to spend a few hours in Port-Vendres with its natural deep water port.   When we got off the train our initial thoughts were of disappointment with the station – so tired and old!

But, as we got closer to the port things improved. 

To those of you who read these posts regularly,  I am grateful for there being no mention of my ‘same clothes in every photo’ or questions about only having one outfit. This is not too far from the truth. This is my cathair-free outfit which is never worn at home. 🐱 🐱 

Port-Vendres is a major fishing port and each afternoon the fishermen open their stalls to sell their catch. We were too early for them unfortunately but we enjoyed a stroll along the port trying to work out where to stop for lunch.

We had a drink in one bar which became too hot, and settled on another nearby that had a rugby match being screened. Mick was happy with that, and I was happy soaking up the views and eavesdropping on French conversations. 

On our walk back to the Gare we spotted a few more impressive monuments and sculptures. 

As we were early, we thought we’d find a cafe close to the station for a coffee but we did better than that. 

Mick spotted this trail of trophies lined up near a small shed-like structure. It turned out there was a working bee at the local pétanque club. We were able to buy a beer and a wine here for €2.50 and were offered more Iberian ham. 

Mick so wants to have a game of pétanque and he has even come up with the idea of building a pétanque ground in our street at home on his return. 

We made the train and the bus home just as it was getting dark. I’d just started the car to get us the 5.5 km up the hill to our home when a woman and her two children asked were we going to the village. We somehow made ourselves understood and found out they were visiting parents and grandparents for Christmas. The real clue for Mick was when the mother started to making buzzing noises like a bee. We knew there was a honey man only about 300m from our house, you couldn’t NOT know as there are signs up every walking track around here. So, I drove them home and was instructed to wait before receiving a gift. 

It’s yummy. 🐝 🐝 🐝