Bottom...

Calais. Hmm. After taking the ferry as foot passengers we had an interesting and eye opening day. It was a grey day too.

First we had a poor and overpriced Croque Monsieur and then chilled, watching some pétanque in a local park. To my surprise, everywhere there were African and Asian migrants sleeping on benches, hiding in bushes, thronging in shelters. I had no idea the problem for Calais town was that bad. We felt very uncomfortable a lot of the time but most of all we felt very sorry for these people. How desperate must one be to live on the streets of Calais for months in the hope of getting to England. We saw many near the fences to the port and then heard a few news reports of deaths in the following days of immigrants under coaches and lorries. It is too sad.

After the strangeness of the park and streets, we spent a more normal and uplifting afternoon in the Musee Beaux Arts, which redeemed Calais to an extent in my eyes. For €2 we saw a great number of Rodins, some cool modern art, a great video installation that surprised me how much I liked it and some (less appealing) photography. My blip photo is of a cheeky sculpture based, naturally, on my own pert backside!

After a coffee on the main drag, we got a cab back to the port where we met a woman who'd been mugged and lost all her cash and passport and was then befriended by someone who turned out to be less than savoury. She said the worst had happened. She'd had to run for her life and had spent a week in hospital. She was returning to the uk in tatters with nothing. Not a great ad for Calais. Neither was the drug deal we saw take place in the park. I won't be hurrying back.

When we got back we had a bite to eat in the White Cliff Hotel in the village and had an early night.