I am not a big one for planning. And neither is David. Some may view it as a failure to think ahead. I prefer to think of it as ‘keeping spontaneity alive’! In life, but especially on a trip like this, it has its advantages and disadvantages. We often miss things, because we didn’t know they were on. On the other hand, we stumble across things, and how sweet it is to suddenly find yourself part of something totally unexpected. Like the Jazz Festival of Racou.

Les Amandiers. It had been lashing with rain all day and we were going slightly stir crazy in the campervan. Books had been read. Blogs had been written. Board games had even been played. Now it was almost 5 pm and the rain had slowed. David suggested we put on our raincoats and go for what my grandfather called a ‘constitutional’. A wander down to the beach at L’Ouille wasn’t enough, so we opted to take an unpromising path with no sign post, heading East of the campsite.  We soon found ourselves wandering round an uninhabited stretch of coastline, looking down from a cliff to a series of small coves. A longer stretch of beach with some sailing dinghies pulled up on the sand came into view and, since the rain had now stopped,  we decided to go and take a look – it might be nice to hire a boat on a better day. As we approached, a street decked in flags came into view. We saw some tarpaulins being pulled off to reveal a small outdoor stage and stopped to have a drink at a conveniently placed open air bar. Which is when we realised we had stumbled across the Jazz Festival of Racou.

And what a great time we had.

Racou, or ‘Le commune Libre de Racou’ as it proclaimed itself on the glasses at the bar, is a pretty little enclave of huts and cottages, the front line of which open right onto the beach. Behind the houses is a small street lined with restaurants and bars. And that was where the festival was.  There were three stages dotted along the street, and people were eating in the restaurants, or drinking in the temporary bars, or wandering along the street taking it all in.  A few minutes after we arrived, a motley crew of musicians suddenly started to play ‘Oh when the Saints’ and as they set off up the street, the crowd was showered with confetti. The Jazz Festival had begun! The carnival atmosphere continued as musicians came and went throughout the evening, joining in with the various acts on the stage, supplementing the main performers with improvised riffs and solos. That waiter who just served you in the bar suddenly appears on the stage, brandishing a trumpet. There was a woman from Cote D’Ivoire with a voice like Nina Simone. There was an all-female band making the audience laugh with their novelty songs, the ukulele player heavily pregnant. Fleeting impressions of an evening which felt somewhat unreal because it was so unexpected.

Sadly we had to leave before the end as we wanted to leave plenty of time to find our way back across the cliff tops in the dark – but back in the van I opened the curtain and caught a glimpse of the closing fireworks.