A barge trip through France
Try this once in your life: Stand on a boat as it moves slowly down the narrow waterway of a foreign country. The world passes by, close and observable, and you watch it with a sense of elevated station. The clarity, the buoyancy, the cushiness make you feel privileged in a way even the sportiest rental car can’t. You have moved from tourist to grand marshal.
I know, because I did this last June with my wife, Hania, and our friends Donnette and Graham from Chicago and their friends Dan and Barb from Melbourne, Fla. We picked up our boat—the Lully—on a Saturday morning from Rive de France in the little town of Colombiers on the Canal du Midi in the South of France.
We took a quick trial run, and then we were on our way, gliding slowly down an alley of plane trees. A village floated by; a bridge crept up and made us all duck. The movement was as lovely as that of a ship—contemplative and unhurried—but with the added advantage that everything was at eye level. Those first few kilometers were a revelation, and I wondered why everyone didn’t see France in this fashion.
We reached our first stop, Capestang, a little before 7, and pulled in front of a long row of boats. It was a shady spot just beyond an old stone bridge and a waterfront cafe. This is the other nice thing about a boat: You see a fine location and you install your hotel.
Tags: pot, saturday morning, Trip
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Sunday, April 27th, 2008 at 12:23 am under