Running on Empty

Following on from my last post about life just after the hurricane hit, everything just about ground to a halt. Living in rural France means nothing gets done and no one goes anywhere without using a car or farm vehicle.

In the aftermath of the storm, petrol stations were out of operation for several days. So when word spread that petrol was finally available at Le Clerc in Ribérac, people arrived from far and wide, and it wasn’t long before queues filled the car park and neighbouring roads.

As I approached Le Clerc, a kindly young gendarme tapped on my car window and asked if I needed gazole. At least I think that’s what he said, my French still being very basic at that time.

“Oui, oui,” I replied and was directed to the shortest queue.

After about 20 minutes an employee of the supermarket, who was assisting the gendarmes to prevent queue jumpers taking an unfair advantage, approached my car and indicated that I should leave this queue to join another, which was much longer. I could understand very little of what he’d said, but I knew my rights, and there was no way I was going to budge.

“Gazole, gazole,” I insisted, trying to make him comprehend my urgent need for petrol. With a Gallic shrug he gave up and went back to his colleagues.

The second employee to approach, sent over to deal with this very difficult foreign woman, spoke fluent English. To my chagrin, he explained that his colleague had realised my car ran on lead-free fuel, but that I was in the queue for diesel.

The poor man had been trying to help, but each time I’d heard the word gazole, thinking it was French for petrol, I’d nodded like an imbecile and said oui, oui.

Hmm, now you know why I wrote about needing to learn the language if you intend to live abroad. The Greatest Moving Abroad Tips in the World.