‘This is Europe wrapped into one country’

Anthony Peregrine takes a journey through the map of France, from Ain to Yonne – and everywhere in between

We are schizophrenic about the French. We have been for centuries. They are cheating arrogant blighters who deceive stout-hearted Britons with regularity. Their morals are dubious, their hygiene unspeakable and their attitudes defined by Joan of Arc, Napoleon and Charles de Gaulle. If they are fishermen or farmers, they’ll be spoiling for a fight. Talk about neighbours from hell.

And yet… we can’t keep out of their country. With 89.4 million foreign tourists last year, France was, as usual, the most visited of all countries – and, at 13 million, Britons were her most numerous visitors. This, may I remind you, is post-referendum, when we are

supposed to be preparing to cast les Français adrift. We continue, though, to venture to all parts of their land. Why? Because there are two Frances: France in general, which has annoyed us no end since the dawn of time (and which is also, let us admit, jolly handy to blame for all our ills) and France in particular, where we go on holiday.

This latter, the one we visit, is a country of particular villages, lakes and rivers, mountains of all heights, forests and an unbeatable coastline (much of it sun-roasted). France has a greater variety of landscapes than any other European country, and has known how to preserve them. It’s not just the landscapes. In truth, France is much of Europe wrapped into one country, from the Flemish in the north, via Germanic-tinged Alsace-Lorraine, the Celts of Brittany, the purest French speakers of the Loire Valley, Savoyard and Italian elements in the south-east, Spanish and Basque in the south-west.

Everyone is there with the consequently vast, and brilliant, diversity of food, wine and histories. Whence our urge to survey all the French départements, or counties. They’re all here and all peopled by particular French whom you will find no more morally dubious than we are. They are also remarkably clean these days. All 96 départements (or counties) of France are numbered alphabetically, until we get to No 90, the Territoire de Belfort – which is out of order. (Watch out, though, for 2A and 2B, which pop up where No 20 should be and apply to Corsica’s two départements.) No 91-95 are found around Paris and, because they are newer creations, have been tacked on the end, regardless of the alphabet. (There are, of course, five more overseas départements, with their own numbering: 971 Guadeloupe; 972 Martinique; 973 Guyane; 974 La Réunion and 976 Mayotte). The département numbers are vital identifying factors, featuring on car registration plates, in postcodes and much else besides. We have arranged them into 10 categories: Animals, War, Mountains, Art, Unsung, Spirits, Wine & food, Coast, Hero/ine, and History. My personal 20 favourites come with a fetching blue background.

FRENCH FANCY Fort National, main; Ile de Ré, right; Ardèche art, below