During my two week trip which started off in the Loire I headed further south to escape the overcast skies, which had only marred the beginning of my trip. In fact, by the time I got back to the Loire after this diversion, the weather situation had reversed and I returned to Blois where the sun was shining and feeling glad to leave the weather further south - which taken a turn for the worst and left me wondering whether I was somehow influencing it, bringing bad weather wherever I go.
Still, as I first travelled further south on the fast TGV train there gradually appeared a bit more blue in the sky. It was stiill cloudy, but the clouds were white and fluffy rather than grey, and by the time I reached Angouleme I could feel it was a few degrees warmer.
The hostel was at least a 25 minute walk from the station and downhill all the way to the river, as the town is on much higher ground. My first impression of the town was the contrast between the seeming wealth of Tours and the lesser affluence of Angouleme, which was a bit shabby around the station area. It has no international airport (although there are plans for one to open in 2008) and it's not exactly a tourist destination like the towns in the Loire Valley. I had to cross a pedestrian bridge to reach the hostel, which is on an island in the middle of the river Charente. I was looking forward to dumping my heavy suitcase so I could go back uphill into town and get myself a drink outside some cafe.
Still, as I first travelled further south on the fast TGV train there gradually appeared a bit more blue in the sky. It was stiill cloudy, but the clouds were white and fluffy rather than grey, and by the time I reached Angouleme I could feel it was a few degrees warmer.
The hostel was at least a 25 minute walk from the station and downhill all the way to the river, as the town is on much higher ground. My first impression of the town was the contrast between the seeming wealth of Tours and the lesser affluence of Angouleme, which was a bit shabby around the station area. It has no international airport (although there are plans for one to open in 2008) and it's not exactly a tourist destination like the towns in the Loire Valley. I had to cross a pedestrian bridge to reach the hostel, which is on an island in the middle of the river Charente. I was looking forward to dumping my heavy suitcase so I could go back uphill into town and get myself a drink outside some cafe.
The river Charente looked lovely, so calm, clean and serene - I definitely preferred it to the Loire - and it looked an ideal place to have a houseboat. I had a view of the river from my room which had three other bunk beds in it, although I had the room to myself during my stay. I noted the numerology of my room adding up to 5 again - here in Angouleme I was in Room 14, and in Tours I was in Room 401. The hostel only charged 12 euros per night (but no breakfast), which meant I could stay here 4 or 5 times longer than in the cheapest of hotels or guesthouses. As I only go to my room to sleep and don't spend the day there, I have no need of anything other than a clean room and comfortable bed, plus a hot shower.
I got lost on the way back into town, and had a smoothie plus an iced coffee when I finally did arrive. Picked up some maps from the tourist office, and some train timetables from the station. Because of travelling for much of the day there wasn't time to do a lot, so I had dinner ( a mixed grill of duck, chicken, steak and sausage) and couldn't finish it because my appetite suddenly went, and then I started feeling a bit ill. The duck was VERY undercooked, virtually raw in the middle, and I think that was the culprit. In France medium-cooked seems to mean nearly raw.
Angouleme's claim to fame is its status as the world capital for comic strip art. There is a comic strip and cartoon museum, plus an annual comic festival held every January. The town itself has buildings adorned with various murals from comics.
This is the first one I saw, which is not far from the station.
The area around Angouleme is largely agricultural, producing a variety of fine wines. Angoulême is a centre of the paper-making industry, with which the town has been connected since the 14th century until quite recently. This is commemorated in the Musee du Papier, which is in the former premises of "le Nil", a company that specialised in making cigarette papers until its closure in 1970.
The following day I visited the paper mill (now a museum) on the banks of the Charente. I'm not sure if there are any active mills anywhere along the river, but I think I read that paper-making does still go on in a couple of other places along the Charente. The downstairs has what's left of the mill, mainly lots of rushing water and contraptions like wheels and things, with the museum upstairs with displays and photos. Not a lot to see but at least its free. Apart from a class of schoolchildren doing some class project in a side room, there was just me there taking photographs of what the industry used to look like in its heyday.
I got into the habit of going back to the hostel for a brief rest before going out again for dinner, as what with all the walking up and down those steep roads I felt too exhausted not to. It also gave me a chance to check my map and train timetables for deciding my next destination, whether it was a day trip or to move on completely. Considering it was June none of the tourist pleasure boats seemed to be operating, and it wasn't until later on that I realised the tourist season doesn't really get going until July. I wouldn't have minded a trip down the river. So I went to the Comic Art Museum instead for something to do.
It cost about 6 euros to go in, and everything was in French, plus I didn't recognise a lot of the comic strip characters as I grew up with different ones. Some rooms were very dark inside, which made it more atmospheric.
I decided to take a day trip to Saintes on the Saturday to see if its worth staying there a few days, being wary after my disappointment with Chinon, and restricting myself for the time being to towns that had a youth hostel. The hostel in Angouleme was extremely quiet, and I had yet to see another resident. It was starting to feel a bit eerie, like I was the only one there. At night all I could hear was the ducks quacking on the river. And now it appeared that the woman who works in reception at the hostel had disappeared too. Reception was supposed to open at 5pm to 10pm but the office was closed.
As I was about to leave to go out to dinner a man knocked on the glass door of the hostel. It is kept constantly locked and we have to key in a number to get back in. He was there with his wife and two elderly people, and said in French that he had been all round the building looking for a way in as the place is meant to be open at this hour.
I told him there was nobody in the office, so unfortunately the potential guests had to depart. Although I enjoy peace and quiet there was something unsettling about feeling I was the only one on the island, and seeing no boat trips going down the river. No wonder the place didn't attract more tourists, if tourist attractions weren't functioning, no bike hire shops were to be found and a youth hostel closed when it was supposed to be open.
The river was very much the central focus of my stay here. I took this photo in the evening, from the bridge to the hostel.
As you can see, it's a fair walk uphill to get to the town to have my first coffee of the morning. I'd given up with the vending machine as, apart from never having a 50 centime piece which is all it would take, the coffee tasted foul and tea was not even listed as an option.
I will say more about Saintes in the next post, but on the day trip I did there was a heatwave, which seemed to be the case also in Angouleme.
After I came back from Saintes, Angouleme seemed particularly lively that Saturday night, with even a festive atmosphere. Violin players were outside the restaurants, a general feeling of revelry pervaded the air, and due to the heatwave it was still feeling hot well into the night.
Sunday was to be a relaxing day as I'd exhausted myself walking so much in the heatwave. I still hadn't seen a supermarket in Angouleme yet, but there was an indoor market that sold produce that could be open on Sundays. As usual I preferred the old quarter of town, where most of the cafes and restaurants were. Here is another mural on a house not far from the old quarter of town.
Sunday it rained, and felt like the longest day ever. I went downstairs to see the new girl in the office to pay for my room. I went to give her my youth hostel membership card, but she told me she didn't need it as she knew who I was as I'm the only one staying here, she said laughing.
Sunday in France is dead and a bit dreary, although luckily I could get coffee and some food places were open mornings only. I had no desire to cycle in the rain either.
I'd wanted to take the train to Perigueux some time, which is not that far south-east of Angouleme according to the map and which also has a youth hostel, but according to the train timetable I'd have to go all the way south to Bordeaux to get the connecting train to come all the way up again. Apart from the time factor and expense, I was not getting a good feeling about venturing too far south away from where I needed to get my return flight to London. Plus there wasn't a youth hostel actually in Bordeaux itself. The rail network is very good for going from north to south and vice versa, but less convenient from west to east, especially if you need the fast TGV trains. Nothing connects up the way you want it to, and buses are so infrequent that they are not worth bothering with.
After walking around town and finally finding a supermarket some way out in the modern part of town, I went back to the hostel to have a rest and a nap as I felt too tired to do any more walking. I woke up after a very strange dream. Time felt very strange too, and although my clock said 7.00 I had absolutely no idea whether it was 7.00am or 7.00pm, I was so disoriented. Considering I'd taken an early evening nap it was more likely to be the latter, only it didn't help to hear a cock crowing outside - although I read somewhere that they can crow at any time and sometimes do so all through the night. Because the sky was very cloudy and overcast, I couldn't tell if it was getting darker or lighter, and such light changes happen slowly here anyway. It is also not unusual for the weather to brighten up in the later part of the day, so sounds and light and clocks were not helping much while I was outside of linear time. I'm happy to be outside of my usual experience of time but when having to catch a train it does help to know what day it is.
There's no way I'm asking the new girl in reception what day it is, I thought to myself. She must have a 24 hour clock in the office. I went downstairs and asked the time. Nine o'clock she told me. "Er....is that Sunday?" I asked feeling a fool. Yes Sunday, she confirmed. Phew! The sky had more blue in it at 9.00pm than it had all day.
Walked into town and had a terrific lasagne plus the coffee was perfect. Don't know why I find the best places to eat when it's time to move on.
I got lost on the way back into town, and had a smoothie plus an iced coffee when I finally did arrive. Picked up some maps from the tourist office, and some train timetables from the station. Because of travelling for much of the day there wasn't time to do a lot, so I had dinner ( a mixed grill of duck, chicken, steak and sausage) and couldn't finish it because my appetite suddenly went, and then I started feeling a bit ill. The duck was VERY undercooked, virtually raw in the middle, and I think that was the culprit. In France medium-cooked seems to mean nearly raw.
Angouleme's claim to fame is its status as the world capital for comic strip art. There is a comic strip and cartoon museum, plus an annual comic festival held every January. The town itself has buildings adorned with various murals from comics.
This is the first one I saw, which is not far from the station.
The area around Angouleme is largely agricultural, producing a variety of fine wines. Angoulême is a centre of the paper-making industry, with which the town has been connected since the 14th century until quite recently. This is commemorated in the Musee du Papier, which is in the former premises of "le Nil", a company that specialised in making cigarette papers until its closure in 1970.
The following day I visited the paper mill (now a museum) on the banks of the Charente. I'm not sure if there are any active mills anywhere along the river, but I think I read that paper-making does still go on in a couple of other places along the Charente. The downstairs has what's left of the mill, mainly lots of rushing water and contraptions like wheels and things, with the museum upstairs with displays and photos. Not a lot to see but at least its free. Apart from a class of schoolchildren doing some class project in a side room, there was just me there taking photographs of what the industry used to look like in its heyday.
I got into the habit of going back to the hostel for a brief rest before going out again for dinner, as what with all the walking up and down those steep roads I felt too exhausted not to. It also gave me a chance to check my map and train timetables for deciding my next destination, whether it was a day trip or to move on completely. Considering it was June none of the tourist pleasure boats seemed to be operating, and it wasn't until later on that I realised the tourist season doesn't really get going until July. I wouldn't have minded a trip down the river. So I went to the Comic Art Museum instead for something to do.It cost about 6 euros to go in, and everything was in French, plus I didn't recognise a lot of the comic strip characters as I grew up with different ones. Some rooms were very dark inside, which made it more atmospheric.
I decided to take a day trip to Saintes on the Saturday to see if its worth staying there a few days, being wary after my disappointment with Chinon, and restricting myself for the time being to towns that had a youth hostel. The hostel in Angouleme was extremely quiet, and I had yet to see another resident. It was starting to feel a bit eerie, like I was the only one there. At night all I could hear was the ducks quacking on the river. And now it appeared that the woman who works in reception at the hostel had disappeared too. Reception was supposed to open at 5pm to 10pm but the office was closed.
As I was about to leave to go out to dinner a man knocked on the glass door of the hostel. It is kept constantly locked and we have to key in a number to get back in. He was there with his wife and two elderly people, and said in French that he had been all round the building looking for a way in as the place is meant to be open at this hour.
I told him there was nobody in the office, so unfortunately the potential guests had to depart. Although I enjoy peace and quiet there was something unsettling about feeling I was the only one on the island, and seeing no boat trips going down the river. No wonder the place didn't attract more tourists, if tourist attractions weren't functioning, no bike hire shops were to be found and a youth hostel closed when it was supposed to be open.
The river was very much the central focus of my stay here. I took this photo in the evening, from the bridge to the hostel.
As you can see, it's a fair walk uphill to get to the town to have my first coffee of the morning. I'd given up with the vending machine as, apart from never having a 50 centime piece which is all it would take, the coffee tasted foul and tea was not even listed as an option.
I will say more about Saintes in the next post, but on the day trip I did there was a heatwave, which seemed to be the case also in Angouleme.
After I came back from Saintes, Angouleme seemed particularly lively that Saturday night, with even a festive atmosphere. Violin players were outside the restaurants, a general feeling of revelry pervaded the air, and due to the heatwave it was still feeling hot well into the night.
Sunday was to be a relaxing day as I'd exhausted myself walking so much in the heatwave. I still hadn't seen a supermarket in Angouleme yet, but there was an indoor market that sold produce that could be open on Sundays. As usual I preferred the old quarter of town, where most of the cafes and restaurants were. Here is another mural on a house not far from the old quarter of town.
Sunday it rained, and felt like the longest day ever. I went downstairs to see the new girl in the office to pay for my room. I went to give her my youth hostel membership card, but she told me she didn't need it as she knew who I was as I'm the only one staying here, she said laughing.
Sunday in France is dead and a bit dreary, although luckily I could get coffee and some food places were open mornings only. I had no desire to cycle in the rain either.I'd wanted to take the train to Perigueux some time, which is not that far south-east of Angouleme according to the map and which also has a youth hostel, but according to the train timetable I'd have to go all the way south to Bordeaux to get the connecting train to come all the way up again. Apart from the time factor and expense, I was not getting a good feeling about venturing too far south away from where I needed to get my return flight to London. Plus there wasn't a youth hostel actually in Bordeaux itself. The rail network is very good for going from north to south and vice versa, but less convenient from west to east, especially if you need the fast TGV trains. Nothing connects up the way you want it to, and buses are so infrequent that they are not worth bothering with.
After walking around town and finally finding a supermarket some way out in the modern part of town, I went back to the hostel to have a rest and a nap as I felt too tired to do any more walking. I woke up after a very strange dream. Time felt very strange too, and although my clock said 7.00 I had absolutely no idea whether it was 7.00am or 7.00pm, I was so disoriented. Considering I'd taken an early evening nap it was more likely to be the latter, only it didn't help to hear a cock crowing outside - although I read somewhere that they can crow at any time and sometimes do so all through the night. Because the sky was very cloudy and overcast, I couldn't tell if it was getting darker or lighter, and such light changes happen slowly here anyway. It is also not unusual for the weather to brighten up in the later part of the day, so sounds and light and clocks were not helping much while I was outside of linear time. I'm happy to be outside of my usual experience of time but when having to catch a train it does help to know what day it is.
There's no way I'm asking the new girl in reception what day it is, I thought to myself. She must have a 24 hour clock in the office. I went downstairs and asked the time. Nine o'clock she told me. "Er....is that Sunday?" I asked feeling a fool. Yes Sunday, she confirmed. Phew! The sky had more blue in it at 9.00pm than it had all day.
Walked into town and had a terrific lasagne plus the coffee was perfect. Don't know why I find the best places to eat when it's time to move on.
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