20 August - Trip to La Jonquera

Don't ever, unless you have absolutely no choice, take a trip from Ceret to La Jonquera or vice-versa over the French summer holiday period. We had forgotten just how bad it can be when we chose to go to La Jonquera for haircuts, lunch and a shopping expedition for shoes, cheeses, beer and some other bits and pieces. We left about 10:15, another mistake. I think it would be better either earlier or later - earlier and you are ahead of the French flood who have left at 9am or earlier from points north, later and the flood has passed through. As it was, we crawled from before Les Cluses right through to the centre of La Jonquera. At least we had time to admire the Roman-era fortifications. We've never seen so many cars or people in Le Perthus and La Jonquera - they were packed solid.

When we finally arrived at La Jonquera, our favourite hairdresser was closed up for the day or week or month! One opposite was booked out for days, but on heading back to the car with our tails between our legs we found another who could fit Karen in after lunch. Relief! We had time to kill, and owing to the slow trip over it was already lunchtime, so we went to Cafe d'Avall where we have dined well in the past. This time it was OK, but not special. We missed the chef who used to come out with a huge lump of red tuna on a plate telling us how fresh and delicious it was, and he was always right. My entree of spaghuetti al diabolo was excellent, but was the highlight of the meal.

We had imagined we might have time between lunch and the 2pm hair appointment for a quick shop, but the meal was delivered at a very gracious pace, which was in fact most agreeable. Next to Karen's hairdresser was a barber's shop run by one Said, who turned out to be a Moroccan Muslim who could speak reasonable French. On learning I was from New Zealand, he was delighted. "New Zealand is so nice". It turned out he knew all about the Christchurch mosque killings, and Jacinda's gesture of wearing a hijab. How utterly surreal - to be living in France, but sitting in a barber's shop in a Spanish border town, having my hair cut by a Moroccan while conversing in French about the mosque murders on the other side of the world in New Zealand. Also that Jacinda Ardern's gesture has reached so far, and has made someone so distant think well of New Zealanders. I managed to remember enough Arabic to say "salaam alaikum" to him on leaving, which floored him for a moment. Altogether one of those experiences that make travelling so special.

After our respective haircuts off we went to the big Mercadona shopping mall. It was packed, seriously packed. It took three loops of the enormous carpark to even find a space. Inside was bedlam. Karen was intending to go to the Nike outlet shop where she gets a pair of runners each year, but there was a 30 metre queue to get in, so we gave that idea away. Down the other end of the mall at the supermarket, security was only letting people in as others left. There were probably 1000 people in the supermarket, mostly French, and mostly with oceans of booze in their trolleys. We had a short but important list to fill, including our own drink requirements (it is much cheaper than France), got through that in short order and queued up at the till to get out. The small group ahead of us had 54 litres of hard alcohol in their trolley - whisky, pastis and vodka. There were also half a dozen huge bottles of body wash - perhaps it was an alcohol-based type?

A good load of booze, by no means the most we saw

Back via the autoroute rather than the national road, but we were still at a standstill at times. What should have been a morning and lunch outing turned into a complete day's visit. Fun and interesting, but spread over rather more hours than would have been ideal.