Lost in Navigation

After leaving the marshlands and islands of the midwest coast of France we headed south towards Spain - one thing I should point out here is that we almost managed to make it to Spain a few days earlier, when Stuart's GPS took us on a ticky-tour of the villages and fields of the whole of Poitou Charentes... It was a classic comedy moment, when after having spent 20 mintures combing the entire 9 streets of the village, looking for the pub, (which Sarah's sister had told us they were next to), we admitted defeat and stopped to ask the locals. Whilst Ben, Sarah and I sat in the Parisian plated Peugeot, trying not to look like French "townies", Stuart proceeded to explain that we'd arrived here by GPS and didn't have a map to find the village pub, therefore, would they be so kind as to point us in the right direction...

As the characteristic gesticulation began, I sat in the car musing to the others, that "wouldn't it be funny if we were in completely the wrong department and the locals were cursing Stuart for being an "imbécile Parisian", for it was "common knowledge that this village was full of tee-totallers... Sacré Bleu!!!"" We watched as the conversation ended cordially and Stuart walked back to the car. As he shut the door and a nervous grin appeared on his face - "we're in the wrong department, apparently there is no pub in this village."

Well two out of three wasn't bad - I never did find out if they were tee-total. After setting the GPS for the correct location, (in the neighbouring department) which was about 40 minutes drive, Stuart proceeded to explain that he had simply thought that it made sense to set the location for the Charentes Maritime department, since we were going to be near La Rochelle - and La Rochelle as everybody knew... Was in Charentes Maritime.

Leaving the locals behind we waved, like Parisians (however they wave - after all better to be thought a stupid Parisian, than an idiotic Roast Beef!), and headed off into the sunset, with the aid of the once again revered GPS, at least we did until we hit a "deviation" or diversion and the confused navigator collapsed on us after trying to chase it's own tail.

Several circles later and with the tension evapourating, we finally arrived at the BBQ prepared for us in the Vendee village, by Sarah's sister and brother-in-law. No doubt the locals here were thinking, "aha zee Ingleesh, zat explains why zere BBQ is bien cuit!"