Over the Hills and Far Away – 9 – More St. Jean de Luz
The weather continued to be kind, and afforded us many opportunities to get out and explore the town. While Miki sketched, I was on a mission to nick someone’s internet. It’s a game I love to play, picking a location and scanning for wi-fi with my laptop. I discovered one linked to a local Cafe, and from the name that came up on the computer, I managed to to discover it’s location in one of the squares. I went in and ordered the nearest thing to a latte they could provide, after establishing they did indeed have wi-fi here. The latte looked initially promising, festooned as it was with oodles of fresh whipped cream and chocoltae sprinkles, but the delights above merely cast a veil over the engine-oil sludge that lurked beneath. It was a hard choice: drink it, or ask BP to cap it?
The “wi-fi option” similarly flattered to deceive. I accessed their initial log on site, which was complex in the extreme, and somehow managed to create an account and password. It then proceeded to deny me access, telling me it had sent an email to me to verify who I was. This was ludicrous in the extreme. I needed wi-fi access to retrieve my emails. Welcome to the wonderful world of the internet, brought to you this week by the chicken and the egg.
Being something like Miki in these matters, I refused to be beaten. I left the clueless waiters and waitresses and undrinkable coffee behind and set out into the town. Eventually, I found an open signal that allowed me momentary access to another network where I was able to open my mail and click on to the verification link.
Further internet access to the Cafe’s wi-fi was then somewhat easier, but rather than hand over the equivalent of the gross national product of a small African country for a cup of undrinkable coffee, I accessed their network from a bench in the square. Take that, internet gestapo!
While Miki had been finding places around the harbour to sketch, she had seen a boat trip out into the bay, and indeed beyond to a harbour on the Spanish coast advertised, so we booked ourselves in the afternoon sailing and off we went. It was gloriously suny day, with calm, blue waters, and we spent a wonderful two hours sailing down to Hondarribia and back. I always joke to Miki whenever we drive to the coast where we live “I love the sea” in a wistful voice, but it is actually true, I adore it. I loved being on Ocean Village when I was doing my solo show, cruising around the Mediterranean and the Caribbean, and I was loving this, too.
There was a small fly in the ointment of our idyll, however. We had noticed that the Motorhome who had monopolized the lone power point showed no signs of moving, so we developed an irrational dislike of him. He was never there either, and we began to suspect that he in fact lived there on the cheap and was working in the town, a supposition reinforced when several times we observed him being dropped off by someone after work hours. How the mind turns devilish when you have time on your hands! 🙂
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