И вот тот самый день, когда мы наконец...

And that very day when we finally got to the ocean. the road to it was of incredible beauty. Although there were expectations that here it is, the ocean and palm trees should grow on the right and left roads, fly macaws such as macaws, sell corned beef and other marine reptiles. But in fact, the greenery around was like in Russia, except that without birches and locally coniferous needles of 5-10 cm. After the last town, the highway ended and the usual country road began, which with its smooth canvas, but nevertheless with smooth irregularities made the car wobble barely, as if we had a real juggernaut, not a four-wheeled pterodactyl. And here he is - the ocean. Actually fucking over there. Everything is very similar to the Curonian Spit near Kaliningrad - to see the ocean you need to climb a sand dune and only from it you can see this miracle of nature. It is so big that you can’t even see how big, big it is a big miracle. There was a faint breeze, but in the air nifiga did not feel the salt that you feel near our black or Azov sea. But what sand there is. Although it was 12 days old, he was not red-hot, but only slightly warmed his paws. Well, the ocean. It is wildly salty. Probably idiots say that you should not drink sea water. It is impossible to drink it at all, how much salt is there. It was a pity that bathing was limited to 10 minutes, but these were the same 10 minutes, for the sake of which it would be worth 3500 km to Bordeaux and then the same amount back. And when on the way back it becomes sad that he’s nearby, this ocean, and you yourself, all salty and hair in the sand, are carried away with your slipper at a speed of 140 from this place, then just touch your elbow with your tongue and again you will feel that salty taste the ocean. To scratch your knee or head, and under the nails again begin to creak the grains of sand of the velvety sand that so unobtrusively warmed the slippers on it walking half an hour ago. On the ring road (yes, French cities also have cadas) we stopped at Auchan, refresh ourselves for the last time in a local cafe and buy pink wine in the hope that there will be a special wine here (unlike white or red wines, pink wine is long is not stored. 3-4 years maximum. If there is something ancient, then it costs mind-blowing money and finding it is also not easy). After Auchan moved back to the city of Milhouse. On the way we stopped at the gas station, which we barely reached the last time. The queue is incredible, here it is, the rarity of gas stations. There are so many people at the gas station that it does not appear to try the French bun and drink it with muck, which must first be shaken (the devil knows why, at first it seemed to warm the drink, but shaking it does not warm). Alas, we are leaving incomplete somehow from France. Yes, the main goal has been achieved - Bordeaux and the ocean. But not a single magnet will be brought from France. Just like a well-fed French cuisine stomach. And that means it was not possible to take away a piece of France either. Only, fucking, 5 liters of wine and sticking peppermint candies, like our chill.