March 18th : Geneviève Toupin and Danny Boudreau - quelle belle soirée!!!

Apologies for the delay in posting this, and any suspicion that the delay was due to my visit to L'Academie des Bières on Sunday evening would certainly be ill-founded. (….but more of that later).

I have already recounted the happenings of Friday morning, including the conversation with Danny Boudreau and the rehearsal of Alexandra and Jesse – still feel very privileged to have witnessed the rehearsal, since it was to the first time that Jesse would have accompanied Alexandra Hernandez. Normally he is a member of Danny Boudreau's band.

After consuming steak and chips, with a small pichet of red wine at a bar-bistro near the hotel, I went for a further exploration of Valence, trying to get as close to the mighty Rhone as possible. It was quite chilly, as Le Mistral was blowing, but reasonably bright. I walked down to the Champ de Mars with its impressive bandstand and down into Parc Jouvet, where several types of trees were beginning to blossom, but the Rhone remained unreachable, beyond the very busy road along its bank. Leaving the Parc and crossing the Champ de Mars I headed off to the old part of the city, with its narrow streets, market place and cathedral. There are photos to illustrate this perambulation, but it may not be possible to upload them at present, due a limited amount of internet access time at my hotel.

Later I travelled to Le Train Theatre, once again with Catherine, and we arrived in time to see Alexandra Hernandez in apero-concert before the main evening show. She was very good – the rehearsals had clearly been worthwhile. Such was the informality of the situation that I was able to congratulate Danny Boudreau on his birthday at the bar. (The wonders of FaceBook!)

Then it was time for one of my personal highlights of the festival. After 'discovering' Geneviève Toupin on Myspace in 2009, I was lucky enough to see her perform twice in one day during the Coup de Coeur Francophone festival in Montréal in the November of that year. She has the most beautiful and distinctive voice, and her songs are wonderful too. Sadly I missed the opportunity to see her in Montréal last year, first because the Icelandic volcano stopped me going at all, and then I was out of the city seeing Luce Dufault when Geneviève appeared there again last November. So, you can understand that I was really looking forward to this performance, and I wasn't disappointed - she was absolutely wonderful, and was very well received by the audience in Portes-lès-Valence.

After the interval, during which Alain, Catherine, Graham, an Australian ex-pat, and I exchanged superlatives, we went back into the auditorium to see Danny Boudreau. Originally there were to have been three artistes on Friday's bill, with the great Zachary Richard, of Louisiana, topping it. Sadly Zachary was forced to withdraw, following a stroke last September, and a recent realisation that a trip to France was not such a sensible idea. He has made an excellent recovery, but such an exhausting trip may well have been detrimental to his long term progress. So Danny opened by reading a message from Zachary, expressing disappointment at not being there, and a promise to be there on stage in the not too distant future. So then it was up to Danny to counter the disappointment of the festival-goers, and did he do it? He most certainly did. His was one of the most powerful and emotion charged performances of the week, and in particular his 'hommage' to Zachary and his music was absolutely outstanding. Danny's latest album is a tribute to some of the great francophone poets and song-writers of Canada (and Louisiana). One song “Reveille”, delivered acapella, was particularly memorable – inoubliable, in fact. Wow what a show!

And then afterwards I bought M.Boudreau's latest album ”Mes Légendes”, which he kindly signed for me. I was delighted when Geneviève eventually came out into the foyer too, and made a bee-line through the masses to have a swift word with her. She was lovely, and stunned me by remembering my name, including surname – again, the wonders of Facebook. We had a little cht and I left her to the demands of the others queueing up to speak with her, with a G.T. Badge added to my jacket. What made the evening more perfect was that much later Geneviève actually came and sought me out to say bye, and to thank me for coming so far. It was a pleasure, I can tell you, as I told her. Then it was a further handshake and farewell from Danny, before Catherine and I made our way back to Valence. An unbelievable evening. Thank you Luce Dufault! If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been to Montréal three times, and I wouldn't have discovered such wonderful artistes, who also double as amazing people.

17th March: a new hotel, Les Surveillantes, Stéphane Coté and Luc de Larochellière

I'm sitting in the breakfast room of Hotel lyon in Valence... it's 11.35, and I'm listening to music - a beautiful voice, accompanied by guitar and accordion. It's not on the radio..

.... there, just to prove it. The young lady is Alexandra Hernandez, who is appearing in the apero concert this evening at Le Train. So, accompanied blogging. It doesn't get much better!!


Back to Thursday: as mentioned in yesterday's blog, I made a decision to relocate from Portes-lès-Valence to Valence, and the best part of the afternoon was spent in doing so. The Hotel Lyon is just a five minute walk from the railway station, removing a big concern for Sunday morning, when my train leaves at 09.00.

Having got here, I walked around for a while, exploring the city and grabbed something to eat - a 30cm vegetarian sub. (very tasty, and very filling). I'll do some more, exploring that is, this afternoon.

 Then it was back to the Train with Alain. First on were Les Surveillantes, and I was wearing my special T-shirt, which caused some amusement and a little admiration. I think they liked it too, because Danielle took a picture of me after their show, which was delivered to a small audience, which grew steadily as more people arrived for the main concert. Alain took this photo of us, but sadly I had the flash turned off. Hopefully Danielle's picture will come out better.

I wish that they could have been on the main stage - perhaps next year. Luce Dufault sings a song called "Tu me fais du bien", and Les Surveillantes and their music me fais du bien aussi.

I found myself in another brilliant seat for the concert in the auditorium, third row, right in the middle.
First up was Stéphane Coté, whose songs, stories and poems are delivered as a dramatic entity. Sometimes light-hearted, sometimes serious, always whole-hearted. Very enjoyable. The lighting was excellent too.

After the interval came another opportunity to see Luc de Larochelliere. I saw him first in Montréal in November 2009, at Cabaret Juste Pour Rire, and having bought his most recent album then, found this performance even more enjoyable, being able to recognise and appreciate more fully his songs. He had a tremendous band with him including a drummer who doubled on the cello, although not at the same time. He was surprised to receive a call for one encore, but doubly surprised to be called back for a second time. An excellent performance.

Afterwards in the theatre lobby there were more introductions and conversations, including one with a gentleman that I didn't recognise at the time, .... by strange coincidence, he has just spoken to me as I am writing this - Danny Boudreau, who is headlining Friday's performances. That was bizarre!

Then Alain and I headed back to Valence for a pint at le bar Malvern, which was hosting a St.Patrick's night 'party'. Sadly the live band had just finished, and whilst the Rolling Stones, Beach Boys etc were acceptable if a little loud, the trance music which followed was not. So we left. There were a lot of young folk there, some of whom had had rather too  much to drink - just like in the Bigg market on Saturday night, but dressed, if you know what I mean.

Then who should be in the breakfast room this morning, and spoke to me first, was Danny Boudreau, who asked if I would be offended if he spoke English. As if.. And then Jesse and Alexandra rehearsing, but that's where we came in. Later it's Alexandra again, plus Geneviève Toupin and Danny. This really is a good festival!!

16th March: 3 concerts in one day! It's a bit like being in Montréal this!

You may have noticed that most of my blogs start in the afternoon of the given day. That's because the shows at Aah les Déferlantes don't usually start until 8.30, and finish between 11.30 and midnight. Taking into account the chit-chat afterwards, that means that the long walk back to the hotel, through deserted streets, under gloomy railway bridges and into a similarly deserted industrial estate, yours truly hasn't been back in his room until about 1.00 a.m. Writing this blog takes quite a bit of time too, so  nothing much exciting happens in the morning.

Wednesday was a good day. First to the Train Theatre for a 40 minute showcase type concert from the band which, personally, I think should be up on the main stage: Les Surveillantes. This is their first European tour, and as Denis was telling me, the first time in Europe, for him at least. Their set was well received by the small but select audience.

As I waited for L.S. to begin, I found myself conversing with a guy who turned out to be the keyboard player for Damien Robitaille, who was appearing later on the same day. It's nice that most of the musicians are here for more than just their own concert, and are happy to chat with the festival attendees. Francois was telling me that next Monday's appearance by Damien and his band in Paris will have a brass section and two backing singers to add to the normal line-up of Damien, keyboard, bass and drums. Should be good!

After Les Surveillantes, another showcase event was to take place, featuring Alexandra Hernandez, but I wanted to head off to Valence, as Catherine Major was giving a short appetiser type concert (they call them apero-concerts here) in FNAC (French equivalent to er, HMV, Waterstones and Currys rolled into one.) As normal, I got there too early, but not having any food since breakfast time, and having partaken of a swift 25cl glass of Bourgignon dark ale shortly after getting off the bus, I decided that I would have to submit to evil and pop in to McDonald's. After that it was back to FNAC, where I established the location of the concert (there were notices, and guys setting up a grand piano and microphones and things). I bought Catherine's latest album to be released over here (Rose Sang) and also a Jo Nesbo novel called "Le Chasseur des Têtes", which isn't one of the Harry Hole detective series. Should be an interesting challenge! The mini-concert was due to begin at 17.30, and at about 17.15 who should arrive but Alain and Catherine, my new found friends through Facebook. Talk about an intimate setting - there were only ten seats, and I was in the front row, about five feet from the keyboard. I think it was a bit of a first for Catherine too, being so close to the audience. She is a Québecoise singer-songwriter, and a very gifted pianist. It was a privilege to be there, to see her playing from such an amazing viewpoint. Alain is an accredited photographer for the Festival, so he spent time crawling on the floor to get good shots. I just sat there and took a couple, which you can see here.

Afterward we talked to Catherine and Mathieu, her contra-bassist, who was to share the stage with her later the same evening. He had spotted that I was wearing my "PING FLOILLE" T-shirt (bought at Steve Hill's concert last November), and assumed that I was Canadian. We had an interesting chat, and then Alain and I had a swift couple of Martins beers at the Malvern. Then it was time to return to Portes-les-Valence for the evening's entertainment. Catherine kindly offered me a lift, which was gratefully accepted.


Back at Le Train I met up again with Danielle and Denis of Les Surveillantes who were there as part of the audience., I got a cheery wave and Bonsoir from Francois the keyboard player and  then having deposited my coat behind the bar, ( Did I mention there was a bar?) we went in to the auditorium. Catherine Major and Mathieu Désy were first on and they gave a stunning display of virtuosity and creativity. Absolutely brilliant! Both were extremely gifted instrumentalists, and this melded with Catherine's singing voice and creative talents produced an unforgettable experience. very special indeed.


After the interval it was the turn of Damien Robitaille and his band - a total contrast to the premiere partie of the evening. Damien and his band are equally gifted musicians, but to say that their style was different would be a marked understatement.

Damien's lyrics are clever, funny and at times risqué. He is a showman 'extraordinaire' and I'm looking forward to seeing him again next Monday in Paris.


So, another good night, and another walk back to the hotel through pouring rain. It was that walk, plus the possibility of a St. Patrick's night celebration in Valence, coupled with the need to get from Portes-Les-Valence to Valence station which made me take a decision which led to moving from that hotel to one in the centre of Valence, just five minutes from the station, and from the venue for the St. Patrick's night do. So instead of being in an isolated building in the middle of an industrial estate, tonight I will rest my weary head in the middle of a very attractive city, with things happening, and food available within three minutes instead of a 15 minute walk each way.

15th March: New Faces, Familiar Faces and une soirée musicale extraordinaire!

The walk from Hotel Balladins to the centre of Portes-lès-Valence takes about 10 - 15 minutes. It is not the most picturesque of routes, since the hotel is situated on an industrial estate sited between the autoroute and a major railway line. In fact it is necessary to pass under three of the rail-tracks, a fact I discovered on Google maps street-view, and filed away in the 'that looks a bit dodgy for late night walks back to the hotel' mental file. Recent and continuing heavy rain added to the hazards en route, with large puddles covering half of the road under the bridges, and lapping up onto the very narrow foot-path. It was amazing how useful Google maps street-view was in identifying a footpath to be taken which avoided walking on a narrow but very busy road.

My plans for the day involved:

• a brief exploration of the town, identifying potential eating and watering venues
• purchase of mineral water at more reasonable prices than the €1.70 for a very small bottle
• lunch
• collect tickets from Le Train Théatre
• return to hotel for siesta (an excellent habit, practised not only in Spain, but anywhere that I happen to be and where I can get away with it.)
• Back to the town for the evening's entertainment.

Having survived the puddles without a drenching from passing vehicles, I found myself within the centre of town and quickly identified a Casino supermarket - it isn't a Casino doubling as a supermarket, it's just a supermarket, called Casino.


Thank you for the detailed and slightly boring explanation.

I collected a wheelie-basket and headed for the water, a short journey which involved passing along the alcohol aisle - aah, Jenlain Ambrée. Two cans were placed in the basket, just in case there was a mineral water shortage. There wasn't, so a further supply of Evian and Badoit was added to the basket, along with some TUC crackers, LU caramelised biscuits and a fork and spoon. The latter items just in case at some point during the week I needed to eat a 'meal' back in my hotel room. I was on the point of making more food purchases, but then thought about the weight involved, and the walk back to the hotel.

Since there wasn't a shortage of mineral water, I don't suppose you replaced the Jenalin Ambrée on the shelf?

 No.

Then it was back out into the rain, and further exploration to identify the location of the Theatre. It wasn't far, but the ticket office wasn't scheduled to open until 13.30, and it was only 11.15. So the exploration on foot continued, until the foot, or feet were getting a little tired. Time for something to eat. was it to be Boeuf Bourgignon at Le Café de la Place, a pizza at Jo's, a kebab at the Antiochan, or an oriental menu at the Lam. Having observed a small group of  people entering the last of these town centre eateries, I decided to follow their example.

Having been shown to a table, and perused the menu, I decided upon the €15.50 menu, since this was likely to be my main meal of the day. My selection was a salade saigonaise to start, a poulet gingembre with riz cantonnaise, with a beer as dessert. The service was excellent, the food very palatable and the beer OK (a small bottle of Heiniken). I tasted the best prawn crackers I have ever eaten - really thick and flavoursome. As I finished and stood to put on my coat, the owner of the restaurant, who had been outside the front door for a moment,  entered and moved towards me, signalling with his hand. Initially I didn't understand the sign, which could be interpreted as either an insult to the size of my manhood or as an invitation to have a short drink. I had already turned down the offer of coffee, so it wasn't until he approached more closely and asked if I didn't have time for a complimentary sake that I felt reassured that I wasn't being insulted. He then brought a tiny china bowl and a bottle of sake, and proceeded to fill the bowl to the brim. Mmmm. Or Miammiam as they say in Montréal.

I left the restaurant with an inner glow, and walked up to the Train Theatre, arriving about ten minutes early. I looked again at the posters advertising this week's concerts, and walked around in ever-decreasing circles until, at last, a young lady came and unlocked the door. Asking if I was there for the billeterie, and taking heedance of my positive reply, she led me to the said ticket-office. Once ther she seemed to know all about me.

All about you? I hope not, for her sake. (Awkward that word 'sake' isn't it? Could be rice wine, or not, as in this case.)

No not all about me, but my name, and that I might have made the journey to Portes-les-Valence in my motor-caravan. Ah, so this was the young lady with whom I had spoken by telephone. But no, she had been present when I had called, but hadn't actually spoken to me. We spoke about the various artistes appearing during the week, and the withdrawal of Zachary Richard from the programme. She commented positively on my self-produced T-shirt, and then I left with tickets and festival programme safely tucked in one of the 18 pockets available to me. Clutching umbrella and shopping in one had and the other positioned to stop my back-pack sliding off my shoulder, I made my way back to the hotel, for what was a much needed siesta.

I arrived back at Le Train at about 19.20, the concert due to begin at 20.30. I had caught a bus which brought me to the town centre by a very circuitous route. ( I could probably have got there quicker on foot, but at least my feet weren't made to suffer.) On the way to Le Train I stopped off in a bar for a couple of Pelforth Printemps, a light but flavoursome beer. Light in colour, flavoursome and seemingly strong. There were a few people in the theatre foyer when I arrived, and not long afterwards I recognised the face of a gentleman who was walking purposely towards me. Alain Ji - a recent Facebook friend and resident of Valence, who had provided me with very useful information about the Festival during preceding weeks. After a period of conversation (not a word of English passed between us) Alain was called off to do something, and I was then approached by a lady who who, it transpired, had also been in Facebook contact with Alain, and had recognised me from the photo on my profile. Catherine Gislain had driven up from her home in Montpelier for the festival, and it was wonderful to have Catherine and Alain to talk to before the show, during the interval and afterwards, rather than standing about like a wally. As the foyer filled, I noticed another familiar face, that of Damien Robitaille, whose concert I attended last November in Québec City, and who is performing here tonight (Wednesday). Alain and I had a swift word with him, and then I noticed another familiar visage - Nicolas Jules, who had supported Damien at Le Theatre du Petit-Champlain that night.

The doors of the auditorium opened and everyone filed in. My seat number was C3, so I presumed I would be at the extremity of row C. No, it wasn't at the left extremity..... no, it wasn't at the right extremity. Someday I may understand how the seats are numbered in French venues, but upto now no, so it took me a while to find the single seat right in the centre of row C. One of the best seats in the house, I would say. Thank you, ladies of the billeterie!

First on was Gaele, born in France, but now a quebecoise resident. She is as Alain exclaimed before the show, 'plein d'energie' - full of energy. Her songs ranged from a beautiful melancholy to manic. It was a wonderful and well-received performance from the packed theatre (about 400 people, I think).

Photo by Alain Ji.

More conversation during the interval, and then back in to the auditorium for the headlining act - Richard Desjardins, a quebecoix institution, Poet and song-writer, he has been compared to fellow Canadian Leonard Cohen, and commands tremendous respect in his homeland and beyond. His quebecoix accent proved to be quite a theme for the evening, it proving difficult in some cases for the French audience to understand him, much to his and their delight. Songs, poems, stories filled out a solo performance which began at 22.00. Very powerful, thought-provoking, amusing and entertaining, even though my personal level of language/accent understanding did not allow me to appreciate everything fully.

Photo by Alain Ji.

And afterwards, talking again with Catherine and Alain, I glanced up to the top of the stairs which lead to the upper rows, and saw two more familiar faces: the Gosselin brothers, Jeremie and Erik, two of the amazing Manitoban group "Les Surveillantes." I caught their eye and raised my glass of sparkling wine, provided free of charge, and was delighted to see their smiling response. Shortly afterwards they joined us, along with Denis and Danielle, and we had a good chat. They think I would enjoy the Winnipeg Folk Festival. So do I, but ......! Then they were greeted by Damien Robitaille.

 Photo by Alain Ji.

Photos were taken and it was time to walk back to the hotel. I hope to see 'Les Surveillantes' again today, tomorrow, both at Le train, and then again on Saturday, in Valence. You can't get too much of a good thing. Tomorrow I'll wear my Les Surveillantes T-shirt, and hopefully, as Danielle suggested, have a photograph taken with them.

It was raining heavily on the way back to the hotel. Thank goodness for the umbrella! The TUC crackers were consumed, along with one can of Jenlain - at 01.30, that might not have been such a good idea, at 7.5%.

March 14th 2011 - Trains, Foreign Secretary and a Ham and Mustard sandwich

Coffee and croissant consumed. The efficiency of double-glazing confirmed. The smallest bath towel known to man used by man. These are the headlines so far for Tuesday 15^th March 2011.

It was quite late when I arrived at my hotel in Portes-lès-Valence last night, after an interesting journey by train from the north-east of England to the Drôme region of France. Having taken Lucy to school, I picked up my baggage from home and caught the bus to the metro station, catching the metro train up to Newcastle, where I had a 45 minute wait for the train to London. Those metal seats they have in the station are surprisingly comfortable, but astonishingly cold!

The journey to London was uneventful, which I suppose is another word for 'good' these days. The London terminal at Kings Cross is undergoing renovation, with the whole interior seemingly clad in plywood and shrouded in cloth. Notices proudly announced the arrival of a new platform – platform 0. Now this is something new to me, being from up north. It must be quite exciting, travelling by platform. Just think, arrive on the platform, depart on the platform, arrive on the platform. If they enclosed it, and put wheels on it, and added a few seats, it would be almost as good as a train.

I'm not normally so facetious so early in the journey, but then hey, I have just had my breakfast (continental) and I'm ready for the world.

Don't listen to him, he's facetious most of the time!

As I feared, the inner voice is back again. Ah well, it wouldn't be a show without Punch.

OK, but be ready for the odd uppercut now and then – see what I did then, playing on words, 'Punch' – 'uppercut'?

Anyway, back to the journey south. The next stage involved the transfer from Kings Cross to the Eurostar Terminal at St.Pancras, which is quite easily achieved, since they are only about 100m apart. I checked in and made my way into the queue for the security check. I had moved all my metallic objects into my jacket so that I wouldn't set off any alarms, but was till asked to remove my Rohan adventurer's jungle explorer waistcoat ( you know the kind of thing – so many pockets that you can never remember where you put anything).

You mean that you can never remember where you put anything!

Perhaps, but in this case it was completely empty, apart from my passport. All other 9 pockets devoid of content, hanging limply on my person, clearly cleared out for the occasion. But no, “Please remove your body warmer, sir, and place it in a tray.”

Body warmer? Body warmer!!

“This is no body warmer, sir, but a multi-pocketed adventurer's waistcoat. The only way this would keep my body warm is if I packed all ten pockets with goose down, and as you can plainly see I haven't,” I almost said, removing the garment and placing it in the tray. I confidently moved through the security metal-detector portal type thing and strode confidently forward to pick up my suitcase and back-pack. But, … .. they must not have liked what I almost said, since the next security operative asked, “Is this your back-pack sir?”

“You've got me, yes it is.”

“Everything in it is yours, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind opening it sir?”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

“No sir, you open it.”

“OK”

“No sir, you open it, I will take everything out.”

“OK”

And so it was that the entire contents of my pack were laid out for all to see: various electronic devices, medical supplies, crocs, travel documents, tesco bag containing food items, and last but not least, my carefully bagged ham, grated 4 cheese and Dijon mustard sandwiches which I had prepared earlier – he even opened the bag! Having checked everything for traces of explosive chemicals, he smiled up at me and said:

“Everything in your bag is fine sir.”

To which I almost replied:

“Fine? Everything in my bag is fine? I know it's fine, I packed the ostie thing myself. Tabernac!! (I throw that in for any québecoix readers.)

“Would you like me to pack the items back into your bag for you sir?”

I should have said, “Yes.”, but I didn't. It would have been interesting to see how he would have packed the bag, Would he have replaced everything exactly as it was, or would everything just have been rammed in anywhere.

Hang on, wasn't that how you packed it in the first place?

Not now, I'm in full flow!

Isn't that that why you've got the medical supplies?

Shut up!!

There's only so much excitement one person can take, so, having repacked my bag, I moved off towards the lounge, only to be frozen to the spot by an “Excuse me sir” accompanied by a hand placed on my arm. Damn, they must have worked out that my sandwiches contained a plan for flooding the Rhône with Dijon mustard, causing untold environmental damage for decades to come, whilst at the same time providing free sandwich enhancing materials for all entrepreneurs south of Valence. In his other hand, the one that wasn't on my arm, that is, the security chap had a piece of paper. “Is this yours, sir?”

“Ah, yes, thank you very much, my Eurostar print-at-home ticket. Very kind of you.”

Having gone through passport control without incident, I decided that the evidence must be destroyed, and sat down in the lounge to consume my sandwiches, a chocolate wafer bar (which doubles as a homing device) and a magnum of champagne, carefully disguised as a 50cl bottle of Evian. Boarding Eurostar trains usually commences 20 minutes before departure time, so I had moved a little closer to the gate about 25 minutes before departure time. But there was some kind of problem – walkie-talkies were walkie-talkieing, whispered replies to unheard messages. Something was afoot! The gaze of the young lady at the gate was focussed upon the security gates at the other end of the lounge. Was someone else trying to smuggle through a ham and mustard sandwich?

It was some four minutes later that a group of people strode through the security check-in, and across the lounge, in single file, with a Eurostar official at their head, in turn followed by non other than Her Majesty's Foreign Secretary, the Rt. Hon. William Hague M.P. His entourage endeavoured to keep up with him, (don't we all?), and even the police escort seemed to be struggling to sustain the pace of this leader among men.

Do I detect a slightly sarcastic tone in the last paragraph, as though you are not really an admirer of the said Right Honourable gentleman?

Yes.

Fair enough.

The gates the opened for the rest of us plebs, and up the travelator we went. More police, this time with sniffer dogs moved along the outside of the very long train. At each open door a dog would jump up into the train, sniff, (as they do), and jump down again. Amazingly the train left exactly on time, just as I was preparing a letter to The Times about missing a connection in Paris due to the tardiness and incompetence of the Foreign Secretary.

Never mind, I'm sure there will be plenty more opportunities to complain about the Foreign Secretary.

I'm certain of it. Once again the journey from London to Paris was uneventful, but very fast – two hours and ten minutes. On alighting from the train, I found my self moving down the platform as an unofficial rearguard to the William Hague entourage, walking alongside the police escort. I even walked past the police escort, and was within a few feet of the Rt Hon gentleman. “Yon William has a pale and hungry look”. Well, not so much hungry, but definitely pale. A pale, shiny head in fact. He must wear a lot of make-up on TV. He's very small too.

Leaving Oor Wullie to head off to his police escorted cavalcade of black limousines, I moved towards the RER, pausing at the top of a flight of stairs to reposition my backpack and suitcase.

“Do you need a little 'elp, monsieur?”

This from a young lady about 1.50m small, but very caring, and who could clearly detect my nationality, before I opened my mouth. How do they do that?

“No, thank you. That was very kind of you.!”

I found my way to a ticket-machine – €1.70 for the trip from Gare du Nord to Gare de Lyon, and squashed on to the train for the 10 minute journey. I got to know some people very well during the journey, since we were packed together very closely. Then it was off the RER train, and following the signs for Les Grandes Lignes, I found my way into the station proper. I composted my ticket, bought another bottle of water and a sandwich mixte (ham and cheese) for later.

Just a moment. When you say you composted your ticket, do you mean you composted your ticket?

No, I composted my ticket in the French sense of the word. I didn't put it into a bin with some form of bio-active agent. I put it in to a little yellow machine which validated the ticket. You have to do that before you get on the train.

Eventually I boarded the train, which was amazingly long. There were about twenty coaches and two locomotives. Part of the train was going to Grenoble, and the other part to Avignon, the split taking part at Lyons. It seems that I boarded the right part, because at 10.12 CET the train pulled into the Gare de Valence Ville. After a lengthy wait for a taxi ( they were all busy in the town centre apparently) eventually I arrived at my Hotel in Portes-lès-Valence. The Hotel is situated about 100m from the autoroute, and so the double glazing proved its effectiveness.

The room is basic. The towels are tiny. The coffee was good.

I'm now about to explore. It seems that the Train Theatre is about a 15 minute walk from here. We'll see. It was raining earlier, but seems to have … no it hasn't, it's still raining.

Aah les Défèrlantes - 4 days and counting

I was so wrapped up in getting things ready for next week (storing up music on the iPod and printing one or two T-shirts) that I wasn't aware of today's major world event until talking with fellow dog-walkers on our daily perambulation along the rain and windswept coastal meadows. The earthquake and subsequent tsunami, with their devastating impact upon Japan put my intended journey next week into perspective. 

I was intending in this posting to tell you about the singers and musicians taking part in the Festival of North American Music, but a combination of watching TV news broadcasts and BBC Channel 4's blues night has restricted time available for blogging. In fact I am undertaking a little of what we males are supposed to be incapable of - multitasking. As I write this I am watching Taj Mahal singing Hoochi Coochi Coo! Well, they can't touch you for it! 

So, here's a bit of homework, if you are interested. Follow this link to find a description of those appearing (in French), but then Youtube videos of them all. Sadly, Zachary Richard, from Louisiana, has had to cancel his appearance, since his recovery from a serious illness suffered late last year has not been as speedy as he would have wished.


lhttp://www.francomag.com/Aah--Les-Deferlantes--Ca-va-decoiffer-a-Portes-Les-Valence-du-14-au-19-mars_a357.html


More tomorrow. It's Ruby Turner singing St.Louis Blues at the moment.

By train to The Train (Par train au Train)

On Monday 14th March 2011 I'm off on another 'musical adventure', and it would be nice if you could join me, in spirit if not in person, by reading the postings which I hope to create on a regular basis during the trip. Peut-être j'écrirai un peu en francais aussi, pour mes amies/amis quebecoises et russes. (Может быть, несколько слов на русском языке тоже!).


As you may have deduced from the title of this posting, my journey will involve travel by train, .... several trains in fact. At journey's end another train - Le Train Theatre in Portes-lès-Valence, the venue for "Aah Les Déferlantes", a festival of North American (mainly québecoix) music. I've never been to this part of France before, apart from flashing through on a TGV en route to Marseille, so it's going to be a bit of an adventure really. So, it's six nights in the Rhone Valley, with eight concerts in five days, and then two nights in Paris, with one further concert (or two if I can find something appealing on Sunday 20th).Tomorrow I'll give you more details about the artistes I hope to be seeing.  

Travelling alone in "foreign parts" is always a bit of a challenge, particularly linguistically, but it's a challenge which, for the most part, I quite enjoy. 

Just as well, I suppose!


Ah, he's back.

See you tomorrow, hopefully .....