France election: The mood of a nation as it goes to the polls

An hour inland from the Mediterranean, just north of Marseille, Provence is this country at its most beautiful.

Chateaux, ancient villages, rolling hills.

But even here among the vineyards, France's malaise isn't hard to find.

The village of Bonnieux is the beginning of my journey to feel the mood of this nation as it heads to the polls in its most crucial election in decades.

On the face of it, perched on a hillside, this place seems to be about as good as it gets.

But lift the lid, talk to those who live and work here, and it's all a little less varnished.

Lionel Gannet is the local mechanic. His garage looks out over the valley to the north.

He's had the business for 10 years, and every year it's got harder. He hardly sees the point in voting.

"I think that politicians behave like badly raised children in a playground; blaming one another - they should think about the people of France instead of sitting back and watching businesses leaving the country," he tells me.

"Why should us little people be squeezed like a sponge and they can get away with anything - they should help us."

Taxes, he says, have crippled him. He hasn't been able to employ trained mechanics and has young apprentices instead.

Down the road, the village store is run by Ludo Roux. Business, for him, is good. He has weathered the seemingly never-ending struggle of France's economy.

His worry is broader; it's about the division he thinks this election has sown across society - the polarisation of politics; moderates losing out to those with more forthright views.

"If it's the two extremes (who enter the second round), maybe I will leave the country. It's going to be crazy," he says.

By train it's a few hours from Provence to Paris.

St Denis is in the northeast of France's capital. It's a tough and downtrodden place.

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Unemployment here among those under 25 is at a staggering 40%. Nationwide, nearly a quarter of young people are out of work.

France has never really pulled itself out of the 2008 recession.

On the steps outside the old theatre I meet bus driver Joel Halley. He drives the 254. His route takes him through many of Paris' most troubled neighbourhoods.

"I personally don't think we need a president... we feel robbed financially and also by all of their broken promises," he says.

We chat a few streets away from the police raid in November 2015 which killed Abdulhamid Abaaoud, the IS terrorist who planned the Paris attacks.

"People are scared of it (terrorism). They are so preoccupied when they go out; looking out for their children and their families. That's the most important thing we need to eliminate," he says.

From St Denis, head northeast on the A1 for a couple of hours and you reach the country's once-proud industrial heartland.

The landscape around Henin Beaumont is dominated by slag heaps. Coal and textiles once kept people afloat here.

Now the industry has gone; the place is struggling.

Nassera Meskine once worked for the clothing firm Lacoste but the factory moved and she lost her job.

She's now a volunteer, distributing food and clothes for those even worse off than her.

"We see lots of poverty around," she tells me.

"Young people, old people, unemployed, even those who owned and lost businesses. What these people need is hope and a new start."

Plastered on a wall, the posters of the front-running candidates have all been defaced.

It reflect perfectly what I've seen on my journey: a country ill at ease with itself.

Apathy and division in an election which will define the direction not just of the country but of Europe too.

:: Watch Sky News' French presidential elections special programme with Adam Boulton from 7pm tonight.