Monday, September 15, 2008

Gee, it's great to be back home again...

Day 17 - Sunday, September 14, 2008

In the wee hours of the morning, we arrived at the Richmond airport--after a 26-hour trip with only in-flight cat naps, four airports, and three countries. We left Nice before dawn (six-hour time difference), landed in Dusseldorf with barely any time to spare to get on the plane, sat in a straight-jacket seat arrangement (against the back wall of the plane) for 8 hours, and eventually arrived in Chicago. Customs was so smooth there, and we were feeling great about the experience. Until we got to our gate, which they changed three times. And then the take-off was postponed 2-1/2 hours. Chicago was very rainy. We finally got on the plane and slowly made our way to the end of the runway when the captain said a red light had come on in the cockpit, and we had to go back and get it fixed. We ended up changing planes. Tod picked us up at the airport in Richmond about 1:35 a.m.

The miracle is that throughout this whole trip, our luggage stayed with us. United and Lufthansa took good care of us.

The first thing I did when I got home was pour a glass of iced tea, which I hadn't had for all this time away. And then I washed my face with a real washcloth. When I woke up this morning, I looked around and wondered which hotel and which city we were in. Robin savored his first non-espresso coffee in weeks in a regular-sized mug instead of a tiny cup.

What a great adventure we enjoyed! However, being home again-- "c'est bon"!

Friday, September 12, 2008

Last Day in France


Day 14, September 12, 2008.

We're winding down here. Today was a whirlwind day. As we left Avignon to head southeast to Nice, Robin, who never heard of a fortress that he didn't love, decided that we couldn't leave the area without seeing the Pont de Gard, which is a 45-minute drive from Avignon going the opposite direction. We did that and saw a triple decker structure across the Gardon that was quite impressive.

We knew we had to get the car to Hertz at La Gare in Nice by 4, so we got on the toll road to the tune of over $20—this makes the Pennsylvania Turnpike look like a real deal! We passed Arles, Aix en Provence, and Cannes and were surprised by all the mountains—tall, impressive mountains on both sides and in front of us. In Cannes there didn't seem to be a spare inch of earth—huge high rises all over and up and down the hills. Nice is breathtaking—sitting right here on the Mediterranean.

Of course, we didn't get here by 4. We intended to find our hotel first, unload our bags, and then take the car to Hertz. Traffic was impossible and we rode around in circles for a while before finding another Mercure Hotel on a little side street. He pulled the car up on the sidewalk (again!) and we quickly unloaded; Robin left me in the lobby with all of our stuff and he headed for La Gare. By the way, Robin asked two female cops where Hertz was located and they laughed at him—they pronounce it “ertz.”

Two hours later he returned—he had to find the place, then deal with the paperwork, then walk back about 20 blocks and he got lost. I'm sure he stopped on the way to take lots of pictures. After all that, we ended up having to pay for another day of rental. Oh, well. I didn't sit in the lobby all that time—eventually I checked in and made two trips to our room with our bags. When Robin returned, he was happy he wouldn't have to deal with looking for parking spots in French cities anymore. Incidentally, he's done a great job of driving on these French roads where people seldom use turn signals and motorcycles twist around cars and people walk out in the street without even thinking. It's not the speed so much as what's accepted driving style.

Tonight we sat in the moonlight at a little bistro right across the street from the Mediterranean Sea and had dinner. It was very pleasant and we didn't have to eat French food!! I had spaghetti bolognese—we're just down the road from Italy. Robin had mussels and his last espresso. Afterwards we roamed around the streets of Nice—shop after shop, brasseries, bistros, street musicians—a very lively scene. We just went out one more time to go to the beach, and people are still out strolling, eating, drinking, etc. The moon on the water is so iridescent. The Mediterranean seems deeper to me—thicker and denser—than the Atlantic or Pacific. This was my first experience here along this coast, and I'm glad we're here.

Tomorrow at 6:30 a.m. someone is picking us up to take us to the airport. We should eventually get in late on Saturday night after a four-hour layover in Chicago. At least I can buy a book to read in English!

One thing we discovered is that the cost of gas wasn't what we expected. We thought we'd spend a thousand dollars on gas; we probably spent about $250—on 2,431 kilometers (1,507 miles). It's about $1.45/liter (a little more than a quart).

This has been quite a trip. We have become so much better acquainted with another place, another way of life. It has fulfilled a dream that I've been carrying around for many years and Robin, too, had the time of his life. Of everything we've seen and done, Mont St. Michel tops the list. I didn't need more than one day there—I just needed to be there, to see and experience it, and to keep it with me forever.

If we could change anything, it would be having to deal with hotels in large towns—I would have chosen to stay in smaller areas where parking and traffic were not such problems. Then, of course, we would have missed so much.

Keeping this blog was a good discipline—it made us remember things and write them down. Natalie, one of my coworkers, gave me a travel journal before we left. That has been so handy for keeping notes and writing down my feelings. We really appreciate that Kerry suggested we do a blog in the first place—something I'd never even considered. She set it up for us and helped us early on with some posting. What a good record we'll have of our trip! Vive la France!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

A backroads tour of northern Provence

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Day 13 – September 11, 2008.
Within the walls at Citie des Papes (where our hotel is located) in Avignon quite a bit of activity takes place. We headed out this morning to visit the little shops on the other side of the vast courtyard. This was a scouting trip. Then we drove out of Avignon and found some country roads (and they weren't like West Virginia!). What we're finding in southern France is a lot of little sycamore-lined villages and small roads leading through olive groves, vineyards, and sunflower farms. Today we got close-up views. In fact, on one road we saw about six “oliviers”--farmers who raise and harvest olives and make virgin olive oil. I've never seen an olive tree before, and we were wondering how they grew.

And the fields of sunflowers that we found today had not yet gone to seed. They were a wonderful sight!

We got back to our place here along the Rhone River before the shops closed, but not before it began to rain. We went from shop to shop dodging rain and got trapped about 1/3 mile from our hotel (but within the fortress) in a downpour with lots of thunder. Because of the rain, we chose the restaurant next to the hotel for dinner—the food was nothing to write home about, but the atmosphere was nice.

Tomorrow we head for Nice. We need to be there before 4 to turn in our car at Hertz, at la gare, of course. I hope our hotel is near the gare. Nice is it—the last day before the journey back.

Sur le pont d'Avignon



Day 12 – September 10, 2008

Avignon has been one of those cities that I've longed to see for years and years—although I was never quite sure what I would see when and if I got there. I knew it had an aqueduct and that it was in Provence. And here we are!

When we arrived, we immediately found “la gare,” and began to look for the hotel. Robin called and told the concierge that we were in front of la gare and asked how to get to the hotel. He told us to look for the “famous bridge,” as if we would know what that meant. We immediately began looking for a “pont” (bridge) sign and found Pont Avignon and also a sign directing us to the Mercure Hotel. We turned as the sign directed and pulled into what appeared to be a dark dungeon that had a “parking” sign above its entrance. We saw a door that read “Mercure” and Robin pulled up on the sidewalk (again) and went in to check it out. When he came out he said the hotel was on the other side of “the square.” We reached our parking destination, parked, pulled out our luggage and headed for the door, only to encounter many very steep steps! Oh, my! We dragged everything up into the light and my first thought was that I was at the Vatican—a vast cobblestone square about the size of two football fields with beautiful, huge stone buildings enclosing it. Robin told me later that, in a way, I was at the Vatican—that this had once been the Palace of the Pope for several hundred years. We had no clear directions for finding our hotel but, eventually, we dragged our belongings over the cobblestones, down a little hill, and, alas, we found a busy, small metropolis within these walls. Cars, motor scooters, restaurants by the dozens, shops, a large bank, etc. Once again, we are tucked inside a fortress. And we're staying for two nights!

For our anniversary we had dinner on the street once again. The atmosphere is so pleasant when we dine that way, and I wish we would think about doing it more at home. In Richmond, we have few outdoor dining opportunities. Robin happily ordered paella (we're close to Spain), one of his favorites. Sitting and watching the people and the energy and culture is one of the best parts of being here.

Yesterday as we approached our destination, I no longer could compare France to the Shenandoah Valley, as I mentioned in earlier blogs. Instead, Southern France reminded me of the El Paso, Texas, area. Only I know—even as I am thinking that—that the Mediterranean is not far beyond what I see.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Off to the South of France...

Day 11—September 9, 2008.
Today we decided to get on the peage (toll road) and go directly from Toulouse to Montpellier so we would get here before dark. And we did.
Getting to our hotel was supposed to be simple – it's daylight, after all, but suddenly turned into another adventure in becoming stronger human beings! We always look for “la gare” first (the train station) because historically that's where our hotels have been. In this case, we found it almost immediately, but did not see the sign—a big red circle with a horizontal white line across it—and the next thing we knew, we were going the wrong way down a one-way street with pedestrians looking on in horror as we proceeded into in the middle of the electronic trolley tracks, at rush hour, with mobs of people on their way to the gare surrounding us! I think Robin ended up pulling up on a wide sidewalk until he saw a car that looked as if it knew what it was doing, and we followed it. That was scary! I could see all these modern-day trolleys coming down the hill toward us. Eventually, we found Hotel Holiday Inn Metropole after many traffic jams and wrong turns. While on this exploration, we also saw an aqueduct, a palais, a big crucifix, a faux Arc de Triomphe, and mobs of under-21 year olds running out on the street or pulling out on motor scooters in front of or beside us. The hotel is on a tiny, one-way street with no parking, of course. Once again, Robin pulled right up on the sidewalk and went inside to find out where we needed to be. A nice Canadian concierge directed him to an underground garage. I haven't forgotten that being hard is what makes it great!
Montpellier at last! This is where I intended to spend my junior year of college—only my dad had other ideas and they did not include his only child going off to France for a year. It is an old town and a very large, busy one with a great university.
I just sat down and looked at the menu for the restaurant here at the hotel. It's in both French and English. I'm going to write below what's in English so you'll know what we're dealing with here:
______
Gaspacho of watermelon and Provencal tart with duck, sorbet of cucumber flavoured with olive oil
St. Pierre in salad, small cream of beetroot
Thick piece of roasted bull served with crushed potatoes, olive oil and a red wine sauce
Fried sea bass fillets—a la plancha (?)
Partilda of gambas, seafoods and scallops
_____
And this is all in English!!
As we drove south today, we noticed the vast difference in the terrain and such between northern and southern France. In the north the fields were full of corn, cows, and sheep. In southern France, the fields are full of grapevines. The roofs have changed to pink tiles. It's an entirely different world. Most of the way we saw the Pyrenees in the distance and knew we weren't far from Spain. We also got a glimpse of the Mediterranean—we'll do more of that tomorrow on our way to Avignon.
We also had what the French call a “pique-nique” and shared—what else?--a jambon and egg salad sandwich on wheat bread and a pasta salad that we bought at a rest area. Also, a Coke Light—that's their Diet Coke.
Another discovery today—something I never before thought of when I mindlessly eat sunflower nuts or buy sunflower seeds for the goldfinches—was field after field of sunflowers going to seed. Now I know where they all come from! I have never seen so many sunflowers!
We stopped near Carcassonne and observed another fortress from the 11th century. It was unbelievable—to withstand centuries of weather and war. And to think of how these massive structures were created without machines or technology. They were built to last.

We have just returned from dinner in the hotel here and they had more items on the menu there than above. We had the very first salad and vegetables since we left Paris. I had to laugh when mine was served—three forkfuls of salad, one cherry tomato slit in quarters with four long, skinny, cold green beans arranged artistically from the tomato's center, four tiny carrot sticks and four small zucchini sticks, each arranged on the plate like a tic-tac-toe game. They had been cooked but were cold. It didn't matter—they were all delicious and very welcome. The French are so artistic when it comes to presentation that it's funny. I ended up with a cod dish, which was fine. Robin had some quail as an appetizer and the bull as his “plat.” The dining room reminded me so much of the dining hall when I was in college in a beautiful old building at IUP with the filigree on the ceiling and the wonderful molding—like an old ballroom. I felt so at home there. This hotel has a lot of charm—a sanctuary amidst the craziness outside.

Still on the road with Joyce and Robin

Day 10, September 8, 2008– Today was a great day! After a quick tour of Limoges, we headed off the beaten path along country roads in the hills of France. Our destination was the Lascaux Cave area, a prehistoric site where people lived over 25,000 years ago. This route took us through more little villages, each with a church and stone shops, houses, and other structures. At one point we ended up at a chateau with a swing set in the yard—it looked like a small castle.


We passed a farm with acres of geese--the biggest gaggle of geese we ever saw—they do a lot of pate de foie gras here (goose liver paste)!

We were wanting a drink and a lunch snack when we encountered what looked like a Mexican restaurant and the name sounded Spanish. (We were only about 150 miles from Spain at the time—now we're much closer.) We are really tiring of this French food—Mexican sounded like a treat! Once we got inside, we discovered that this little restaurant was so very French—a buffet of appetizers that I didn't recognize except hard-boiled eggs and then we would have had to choose a “plat” (main dish) all for 11 euros (roughly $18 each)--we just didn't want that much to eat. We sat down to have a Coke and Robin saw a sign that said “sandwiches,” so he asked for a “jambon” sandwich. He got a narrow baguette (about 18 inches long) stuffed with ham—nothing else on it--for only 2.8 euros (under $5).


Another thing is that all over France, it is almost impossible to get ice. Even if you order a drink at McDonald's, it comes with little or no ice. If you ask for water in a restaurant, you get cold water but first they try to upgrade to sparkling water or Evian.

When we reached the area of the caves, we discovered huge limestone cliffs with overhangings into which the French have built houses so that the rock serves as the roof of the house or, in many cases, the back wall. They probably inherited the property from their caveman ancestors.

As we drive all over France, I find myself comparing the terrain to that of the Shenandoah Valley, West Virginia (the mountains aren't that high here), western Maryland, and southwestern PA. Today we even saw a tobacco farm and in some of the villages there were crape myrtles and mimosa trees. One thing I've learned since arriving here is that the landowners often enclose their property with hedgerows. They are tall and very dense. Robin tells me that the Americans had a hard time chasing the Germans out of France because they had trouble getting through the hedgerows during WWII.

We reluctantly left our meandering and hit the toll road for Toulouse. The French have wonderful roads, as I've said before; however, they should for what they charge. To go 150 km (about 90 miles), we paid over $18. Every ten miles or so they have rest areas. Some have restaurants and playgrounds and picnic areas; others just have facilities and a parking area. We have learned that when you go to the latter—just the facilities—you must have your own tissues.

Of course, we arrived in Toulouse after dark and could not find a train station or our hotel. It was very frustrating. We called the hotel and the clerk patiently directed us—he in very basic English, we in less basic French! The highlight of Toulouse so far has been the pizza we shared sitting at a sidewalk cafe across from the hotel. Another discovery here—I used the computer in the lobby to check e-mail messages. I had never thought about French keyboards or any other keyboards for that matter. I sat down and typed in my name and password and hit enter without thinking, and I got a message in French saying my password was wrong. You bet it was! The keys were not in the same place. How enlightening—we take so much of the way we do things for granted!

Robin and I have begun talking “pidgin French” to each other now. We'll find a McDonald's tomorrow and post this blog. We do not have access on our computer tonight. Tomorrow we're on our way to the Mediterranean and Montpellier!

Monday, September 8, 2008

The Loire River Valley

September 7, 2008, the ninth day—This morning we left Tours for Limoges by way of the Loire River Valley, which is really not on the way. What a surprise! I always imagined the Loire to be mighty; however, today we drove along a shallow, serene river that is reminiscent of the Shenandoah River in VA. The road took us through farmland and little villages. We didn't stop at any of the chateaus—we just enjoyed the scenic ride. At one bend in the road, we happened upon an aqueduct that stretched across the fields as far as we could see. This was exciting—I remember building an aqueduct in Latin class in 9th grade and had only seen pictures of them. Once we got to Orleans, we headed south. We stopped at a little village “faire” and walked around for a few minutes. It was basically a big yard sale—lots of old dishes and bicycles and such; however, every little booth was decorated with cut flowers and greenery hanging from the canopies.

Today as we moved out of the lovely farmlands, we moved into the central mountains in France and got up into spruce forests. What a treat!

What's interesting is that in every city we have been booked in hotels across from or very near the train stations--”la gare”--which means we have to find our way around in the center of large towns on mostly unmarked roads and sometimes at night. We had no idea that these were major cities when we planned this road trip—I guess we thought because they are ancient that they would be small. Not true.

We've made a few more observations. I can't remember if I wrote that since we left Paris we have not had washcloths to use. Also, in every hotel, when you step out of the elevator or into your room, there are no lights. In the hallways, there are motion lights that go on as we go down the hall. Every step we take, a new light comes on. We feel very regal. Robin says it's more like Maxwell Smart! In our rooms, we must put the key card into a slot and that allows minimal lights to come on. We have yet to have a light good enough for reading!

What I enjoy most, I think, is getting reacquainted with the language. I can still hear and see my French professor—many years ago—saying specific phrases and the language is beginning to come back. Tonight we had our first rude server. He approached us speaking speed French. I told him in French that we only spoke French “un peu” (a little), and he threw his arms up in the air and said in French that he didn't speak English. He was also impatient. We have books to help us translate menus; however, these French restaurants make up fancy words on the menus that are not in the book and are probably not even French. I chose my trusty “saumon” (salmon), which I've had four times since we arrived! Good Omega-3. I ordered mint tea and ice cream after dinner and got mint ice cream and regular tea. That wasn't so bad.

Tomorrow it's on to Toulouse—our longest drive.

More pictures later - couldn't get online last night.