Cheryl's Trip to France, 2006
Well, here I sit, finally all settled in for a quiet night in my hotel room in Nantes….
The trip over here went fairly well, as air travel goes. Got up bright and early yesterday morning to finish packing and be ready for the shuttle’s arrival between 5 and 5:20 a.m. I was ready on time, but got a call from the shuttle driver saying he couldn’t find my apartment. I know the building numbering system there is a bit chaotic, but I had noted “the extreme southwest corner” of my apartment complex, which other drivers have said was very helpful. This driver and I just didn’t click from the get-go – he just didn’t demonstrate the efficiency and urgency I expect from somebody who’s trying to get somebody to the airport on time. I kept fighting the urge to suggest he might get in a different lane so he could at least drive the speed limit. I made it on time anyway – JUST on time – but didn’t tip him.
The flight to Atlanta actually arrived early, and wasn’t at all unpleasant. The Atlanta airport itself is very comfortable and relaxed, with smoking areas on every concourse. I stopped into a lounge for a beer before my next flight, where both the staff and clientele all seemed in excellent humor – rather unusual when you’re dealing with a crowd of folks who are often worn-out by their travels. Maybe it’s the fact that you can smoke there, and don’t have to gulp your drink and leave to go find a smoking area somewhere….
I knew before I even left Atlanta that bringing Sage on this trip would have been a big, big mistake. I hadn’t even been thinking of all the escalators and moving sidewalks you encounter in airports. Or the cramped, sardine-packed shuttle buses they use in Paris to move you to and from the airplane due to construction. The need to hustle sometimes, like when I found out at the last minute that my departure gate had been changed. Etc. etc. etc. And the cramped aircraft itself. She just wouldn’t have been a happy puppy dealing with all that, even if she didn’t get airsick or have ear pressure problems.
Our takeoff to Paris was delayed, and we touched down a good hour and a half after our scheduled arrival. I had moved forward to a middle seat just prior to our descent, to be closer to the exit. My new seatmate was going to Turkey on business, and was almost sure to miss his connection, especially since they’ve got this maddening shuttle thingy going on now. I told him that even if he missed his flight, the airline would probably put him up in a hotel for the night, but he said they couldn’t – he doesn’t have a visa, and is only allowed to pass through the airport. Poor guy, I really felt for him!
I originally had about 4 hours for my connection, so I wasn’t worried at all. Four hours is kind of a lot of time to kill in an airport, but I only had to kill about an hour and a half, maybe two, as it turned out.
The only complaint I had about the air travel was that they didn’t receive, or maybe didn’t record, my meal preference. It just so happened that they did offer regular choices that fit my diet, but I didn’t want to take my chances for the future. So when we landed, I collected my bags (all intact) and went to the Air France counter to see if they could secure a vegetarian selection for my return flight. Surprisingly, they couldn’t, even though they’re partners with Delta. They showed my reservation in the system, but couldn’t do anything with it. I then walked to the British Airways counter next door, since my first flight outbound from here is with them, but they couldn’t change it either. They kept saying I needed to call London! Hell with it, I’ll change it myself tomorrow on Delta’s web site… At that moment all I really needed was to find my hotel and get somewhat comfy.
Took a shuttle from the airport to downtown. Just to make sure I had read the map correctly, I asked him if his train station stop was close to the Rue Henri IV. He said yes, and that he’d point it out to me. I thanked him and went to take my seat, almost forgetting to take my ticket and change (I thought it was 6 euros – that’s what he charged everyone else!). By that time, I was actually feeling lightheaded from lack of sleep, poor nutrition, and the general stress of travel!
I am convinced it really helps to speak the language here, and in my case it probably helps even more that I speak it with an accent. They can tell I’m a foreigner, but I obstinately speak to them in French, even if sometimes they answer in English. I think they appreciate not having to make the effort to communicate in a language foreign to them – sure, many French speak English, as I’ve heard so many travelers say, but it’s still more of an effort, any time you’re communicating in a non-native language! The 3 or 4 people who boarded the shuttle ahead of me spoke mostly English, sprinkled with the occasional French word or phrase. The driver didn’t make any special effort to help them. But he called me forward at one point and stopped the vehicle (I don’t think that was even the next stop on his route, the way I read it!), pointing out the exact street I needed to take, cautioning me to be careful crossing on account of the construction, and letting me know that the usual airport shuttle stopped a little ways down the street we were on, although he was letting me out there. Who says these French aren’t hospitable?
So I got out and found my hotel easily thanks to that driver’s very specific directions, although I almost took a nose-dive traversing the very bumpy terrain through the construction zone! I was very surprised to find that what passes for a 3-star hotel in Nantes is little better than a Motel 6 back home (don’t think I’ll even bother checking out those several 1- and 2-stars I saw along the way!), and disappointed to learn that my room wasn’t a smoking room. The proprietor assured me he could give me a smoking room starting tomorrow, but tonight it was impossible. *sigh*
Actually got a chance to get out into the city a bit tonight, scope out a few useful locations like the grocery store (the desk gal suggested the Galérie Lafayette, to which I replied, “Oh no, that’s too expensive!” but she assured me if I went downstairs I would find a very reasonable supermarket, and she was right *grin*) and the Internet café. Funny, the first time I went by that cyber-café, it looked shut down to me, but the gal at the tourism office indicated it on her map, and next time I passed by, it was obviously open and doing a thriving business! Curse this jet lag… I must be hallucinating… LOL
So far I’m having fun here in Nantes. Can’t wait till tomorrow, when I’ve had a good night’s sleep and am firing on all four cylinders! *grin*
Went down to the corner bar to “have a glass,” as we say in French. This one waiter seemed quite taken with me, and kept talking to me in English as I answered him in French. Eventually he ordered another wine for me, on him… LOL
I love this country! *big wide grin*
Overslept a bit this morning – didn’t get down to breakfast till around 7:00 a.m., and missed my yoga session. But I guess that’s understandable when one is as worn-out as I was when I finally hit this town! Decided to forgive myself this little indulgence, and treated myself to a delicious breakfast of plain yogurt, mixed fruit, boiled egg, and crusty bread with butter and strawberry jam. At first, 8 and a half euros seemed a bit steep for a continental breakfast, but a lot of times they don’t have things like eggs and fruit, so to me it was worth it. Besides, I wanted to start my first day on the right foot.
Came upstairs afterward for a much-needed shower, luxuriating in every moment of it. Scoped out my route on the little map I had, and finally set out on foot to really discover the town. One of my principal objectives was to find as many places as possible to withdraw euros with my ATM card – I want to save my travelers checks for emergencies.
It wasn’t on the little list I had printed out from home, of the participating banks here, but I did find a Crédit Agricole and decided to stop in just to see if it would work. Sure enough, my card (which bears a MasterCard logo) worked in their ATM! So throughout the day, I marked every Crédit Agricole I saw – never know when I might suddenly need cash.
Took a stroll up the river, where I discovered a charming little garden park, beautifully landscaped, with a little waterfall and everything – I believe it was called L’Erdre. At least that’s what it was near. Strolled through it a bit, then took off in another direction, where I happened upon an open-air market, so decided to browse through that a while. Found a fabulous pair of glass earrings in a brilliant red, gold and black… The man had let me try a pair of pink ones first, since everyone says pink goes so well on me, but they seemed a bit pale, a bit timid. The others, he assured me, were much more brilliant and luminous. I agreed. He told me the market is only open Friday-Sunday till 1 p.m., so I thought about going back there before they closed for the day to pick up a few souvenirs, but decided to wait till Sunday, Mother’s Day back in the States. I want to honor Mom’s memory by doing something special, and picking up a piece of jewelry that reminds me of her will be the perfect way. She and I had such a good time in France together, some 25 years ago… I know she would be thrilled with such a “gift.”
Stopped by a nearby pharmacy after leaving the market, where I told the woman I didn’t know exactly what I needed, but that something was giving me a blister on my foot. She said I would need a special kind of bandage, to which I nodded – the regular Curad bandage I’d hastily applied (yes, I carry a couple with me, as accident-prone as I can be! LOL) wasn’t doing the job. She showed me a product that supposed to act as a “second skin” and heal the blister while protecting it from contamination for days at a time. It remains to be seen whether these things will really survive a shower for 2-3 days, but that’s okay – tomorrow I’m wearing my walking shoes instead of sandals, so I’ll be fine no matter what. And the special bandages only cost a couple euros.
Leaving there, I passed by a little bar where I saw a lovely dog that reminded me so much of Sage, in color and in mannerisms! I just had to go in and take a picture of the dog in the bar, which is hardly ever seen in my own country. Of course, not to be “just” a tourist, I ordered a glass of wine as well, and began talking to the old man to my right at the bar. He asked if I were English… “No, American… Sorry!” I replied, laughing. He laughed with me, and wound up buying me another glass. That makes two guys who had bought be a drink during my first 24 hours in this city. Gotta love the French! LOL
When it was time for me to leave, I thanked him profusely and bid au revoir to the bartender as well. Came back to the hotel at almost 2:00 on the dot, when the lady had told me to return to change my room. She handed me the key to my new room, and I said I would need the key to the old room as well, but she assured me all my affairs had already been transferred. And they had! So I came upstairs and started pulling out the clothes that had somehow gotten wet inside my suitcase during the trip – I don’t know how, since there was nothing liquid in that bag, only clothes, and I couldn’t detect any excessive moisture on the outside of the suitcase itself. Laid out all my wet clothes on the bed to dry, but then decided to ask on my way out about the hotel’s clothes-washing service. The desk clerk said they do offer that, but not on the weekend, since she’s the one who does it, and she’s off till Sunday night. “Well, here’s the problem,” I replied, and explained the whole situation. Basically I just needed their dryer. Oh, that was a different story, she said, as long as there was no ironing and such to do. She’d be glad to throw my clothes in the dryer, and leave them in my room when they were done! So I ran back up to my room, gathered my wet clothes, and together we put them in the dryer – she even asked if I wanted low heat, which I appreciated (I did).
When I returned to the room this evening, all my laundry was neatly folded on the bed, sorted by type. Most of it was underwear, unfortunately, and I felt a little funny about having a stranger fold my panties – I don’t even fold them at home! But sometimes one must swallow one’s pride and do what must be done, and this was a much better solution than letting them mildew in my suitcase!
Stopped by a different tourism office also, to check my options for tomorrow, when I had planned to visit the Puy-du-Fou. A very pleasant lady there helped me – at first she assured me it’d be no problem to get there by train tomorrow, but I expressed my doubts based on my own research, so she made a couple phone calls to be sure, and as it turned out, I was right! “I guess I need a Plan B,” I said, and asked her what else there was to do and see around here, without a car. She asked what I liked, and I mentioned parks, monuments, cultural sites, festivals and shows, to name a few. She went in the back and came back with a very useful guide to all the quaint little towns around here, and what’s special about them. The booklet was free, but I also bought a couple more, featuring suggested walks around the city and its environs. No matter what happens, I will have an exciting and unique visit to Nantes!
So tomorrow I will be going to Clisson, about half an hour southeast of here by train. There’s a château there, and a vineyard maze in a nearby village called Vallet. The first train leaves here just after noon, and the only return train is around 7 p.m., so that should give me plenty of time to discover what seems like a very pretty little town.
Stopped by the cyber-café to check email – nothing urgent there – and came back to the hotel to get rid of some junk before heading to the little restaurant down the block for dinner. Unfortunately I was about an hour too early – they don’t start serving till 7:00, like so many places in France – so came back to my room to start my journal entry for today. And now, it’s time for dinner!! *smile*
******
Went back to the Taverne Cathédrale for dinner, where, by the way, I had read in the paper during my previous visit about a great system France is adopting, whereby new vehicles sold will be classed in seven color-coded categories of “pollutability,” and the makers of the least-polluting vehicles will receive a tax break, while the most-polluting will incur a tax penalty. What a great system!
Decided to try the salade Nordique tonight, with salmon, shrimp, and herring atop a bed of lettuce and tomatoes. Very tasty! During dinner, a popular contemporary French song came on, and the waiter and bartender started singing to it. “That’s Sinsemilla, isn’t it?” I asked. They were sure it wasn’t, but didn’t know who the group was. I thought about it some more, but was more and more certain that that was the right group, so I asked again. The waiter asked the boss, and he said it was Clio or Trio, something like that. Guess I was mistaken… LOL… Maybe Patrick had put the wrong artist with the song when he sent it to me, because I’ve never heard of this other group.
Speaking of Patrick, there was a message for me when I returned to the hotel after dinner. I was surprised to have received a message, and even more surprised at the name the clerk gave me, which I didn’t recognize at all. But when I got to my room and read it, it was from him. Guess he’s trying very carefully to cover his tracks… hmm… All I can say is I hope he finds a hotel room here Monday, because he won’t be staying in mine! I don’t mess around with married men!
A chaque jour son aventure…. “Every day has its adventure.”
To recap a bit from last night, though, I took the trouble to go back downstairs to investigate a bit further this phone message I had received. It turned out that it wasn’t Patrick himself who had given the receptionist a phony name – he had only given her a first name. Since her boss also shares the same first name, she assumed it was from him, and that’s where all the confusion started. We all had a good laugh about that once it was finally sorted out, and I returned to my room for a quiet evening.
Got up even before my alarm this morning, well-rested, with plenty of time for a nice, leisurely, and sorely-needed yoga session. My body was still a bit stiff from the long flight and all, but if I just keep it up, I should be as limber as ever in no time. Went downstairs for breakfast right at 7:00, when they begin serving – I was the first guest to show up for breakfast today. *smile*
An older couple showed up shortly afterward, and although they knew a few words and phrases in French, spoke to each other in English with an American accent. I just sat there minding my own business, listening to them now and again idly, since there was no newspaper to read. As they prepared to leave, the man asked his wife if she wanted to take something with them for their trip ahead. It was bad enough that they were using the breakfast buffet to stock up for lunch or whatever, but then they also took a spoon! When they left, they bid me au revoir, the spoon in hand with the woman’s yogurt – right there in front of my eyes, as if everybody took the silverware with them when they left! Well, as soon as the proprietor poked his face in the room again, I took him aside and told him quietly what they had done. I want to do everything possible to distance myself from the “ugly American” image we too often have here, not entirely without reason, unfortunately….
After breakfast, I came upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. Today was when I had planned to go to the Puy-du-Fou, but since they made it nearly impossible to get to outside the tourist season without a rental car, I decided to visit Clisson instead. It’s a charming little village not 30 minutes from here by train, and although the forecast this morning called for thunderstorms (yes, I brought my umbrella!), it was actually very nice weather all afternoon.
The first train would be leaving a few minutes after noon, so after hitting the cyber-café I returned to the hotel to refill my water bottle and cigarette case and grab my tourist guide. Arrived at the train station with what seemed like plenty of time to spare. To my consternation, though, the ticket-vending machine wouldn’t take my credit card! I must have tried 2-3 times before giving up to go wait in line for a window. Since the machine will also take cash, in coins, I even turned to the young lady behind me in line, pulled out a 10-euro bill, and asked if she had that amount in coins. She didn’t. So I went to the information desk, but they couldn’t help either. Got back in line, having lost my place, of course, and waited as patiently as possible, glancing anxiously at my watch. Finally my turn came, and I breathlessly asked for a roundtrip to Clisson. My card went through there with no problem, so while the lady was printing my ticket, I said, “I don’t know why, but my card wouldn’t work in the machine.” She replied that it was because it didn’t have a “puce,” an electronic emblem that all the credit cards here have. Ahhh…. okay, so there wasn’t a problem with my card, whew! Started to leave as soon as she handed me my receipt – “Wait, your ticket!” Ah yes, of course… She left the ticket to Clisson out of the little envelope so I wouldn’t have to extract it to punch it before boarding, and handed me the return ticket separately. Apparently she’s used to dealing with harried travelers and confused tourists. LOL
Rushed to the track after stamping my ticket, where I found a young man and a girl, as harried as me -- we all asked each other, “Clisson?” Hastily we boarded the one train, only to find nobody else aboard… Not a good sign… The girl indicated we should be on the train opposite, so we all piled in just before the doors closed. I made sure to ask another passenger, already seated, if this train was going to Clisson. They don’t announce the destination on the train till it’s already moving, the logic of which escapes me – if somebody were to discover they were on the wrong train, best to know before it pulls out of the station!
My arrival in Clisson was interesting. It is such a small village that they basically roll up the sidewalks for their two-hour lunch. Even the tourism office was closed, so I went to a hotel I’d seen and explained that the tourism office was closed, would they by any chance have a map of the village they could give me? They get them free from the tourism office, I know, so I wasn’t asking a lot, but it does pay to be polite and obsequious in this country… *smile*
The man produced three brochures, only two of which I found useful. I thanked him sincerely and proceeded on my way. Hmm, since most places were closed for a long lunch, and I was starting to get hungry, I stopped for a salad at a restaurant with a nice terrasse. The salad they served me was yummy – lettuce, tomatoes, corn, Gruyère cheese, and imitation crab, with a house dressing on the side. They even accepted my credit card, even though it had no puce.
Got to the château right at 2:00, perfect timing since that’s exactly when they reopen after their midday siesta or whatever. So I toured the huge fortress and went on to see all the other sights indicated in the little tourist guide I had. It sure is a pretty little town. Nothing remarkable happened during all that, but I did get a lot of good pics!
One thing I wanted to take away was some good Muscadet from the region, so I bought a couple bottles at the tourism office. At first they put them in a plastic bag, which started to rip the moment I picked it up. They then put them in two bags. Fine… Until I crossed Les Halles, gazing up at the signage on the buildings across the way, and didn’t see the low curb bordering the cobblestone street. Boom! I took a nose-dive, and both my bottles broke, glass and wine covering the pavement. Merde! I had just wasted my money, made an ass of myself in front of a whole bunch of people, and made a big mess in the street! Some lady came up, asking if I were okay, if I were cut or anything, but I brushed her off politely – I wasn’t bleeding, at least not enough to be dripping on the ground or anything, so I’d be okay. A few seconds later, a young man emerged from a shop with a whisk-broom and dustpan, and made quick work of the mess, which relieved me immensely. I thanked and apologized to everyone profusely, beet-red, I’m sure, and went straight back to the tourism office, where I recounted the entire story. I halfway thought they would replace my wine for free (hey, ever thought about a “watch your step” sign for unsuspecting tourists?), but they did sell me another couple bottles and threw in a decorative box with a handle for free.
By that time, I had already seen all there was of the city.
Bruised in body and spirit, all I wanted was to sit quietly in some friendly
place, so I chose the Chez Christine right next to the train station. My train back to Nantes wouldn’t be
arriving for another hour and a half, but I didn’t care – I had had enough
of wandering around this town for the day.
I must have a
knack for picking friendly places to hang out. Chez Christine was indeed
friendly, and everyone there had to greet me personally, even people who arrived
after me. One older man asked me if I were English, and I said no, sorry,
American, but thanks for the compliment! I truly enjoyed the time I spent there
awaiting my train, not only because someone bought me a drink, either. At one
point, a woman next to me started talking about Pres. Bush, and before I could
even reply, the proprietor said, “Shht shht shht!! Discussion of politics is
prohibited here – I’ve banned it!” I chuckled…. Okay, have it your way,
but I do not get
offended by any criticism of my country
or its government – I am often its worst critic myself!
Leaving that
little bar felt like leaving family – there were long goodbyes and many wishes
exchanged before I walked across to catch my train. A couple teenagers were
seated next to the track, and I asked if they were going to Nantes. One was, but
unfortunately, when the train arrived, it came on the other track, so we all had
to hustle up the stairs and across and down to the opposite track. I verified
with the conductor that this was the right train, and within a few minutes, we
were on the way.
When I returned to
the hotel, the receptionist was laughing as she retrieved my key. “Something
funny?” I asked. No, she was just thinking of last night, when they thought
they had a message for me from their boss! “It wasn’t your boss!” I
assured her, laughing with her.
A day without a bruise or two is a day not lived. At least that’s what I say! Came up to my room and finally saw what the mysterious hanger in the bathroom is for – they left a robe hanging on it today! Woo-hoo, good thing, ‘cause I didn’t bring one, and I’m sure people can see me from their back windows. Maybe someone has, in fact…. maybe they called the hotel and…. nawww…. LOL
Overslept and missed my yoga workout this morning… *sigh* But I like to get down to breakfast and get finished before a lot of other people get in there – I do love my peace and quiet!
Decided to explore Nantes with the aid of a little guidebook I’d bought the other day at the tourism office, featuring 10 different walking tours of the city with different themes. It’s very useful, with its interesting little footnotes about the history of the various monuments and sights along the way. Normally I don’t use guidebooks, but this one is very helpful, and I found a few places along the way that I might not have happened upon otherwise. Made sure to mark places I want to return to during the week on my GPS, since most of the town was shut down today, being Sunday.
For today’s first walk, I chose the “gourmand” route, primarily because it would take me right past the Marché Talensac, the open-air market where I had bought my earrings the other day. I wanted to go back there today, being Mother’s Day in the States, and buy something my mom would have liked, in her honor. Alas, I didn’t find the same vendor, but there was another vendor selling off her jewelry at half price, since the market would be closing within an hour till next weekend. So I picked up two interesting, bold necklaces, two bracelets, and a pair of earrings for 20 euros. Yay! Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
Leaving the market, I walked past this little bistro where a group of adults was seated outside. A little girl stood in the doorway, extending a piece of paper, toward the man seated nearest the door, I assumed. She was kind of blocking my way with it, so I took it and tried to hand it to the man, but the lady in the corner said, “No, it’s for you, read it!” For me??? So I did – turned out to be a handwritten advertisement for the bistro, presumably in the girl’s own handwriting. I chuckled a bit and went to give it back to her, but the lady insisted I keep it. Okay…. Before I turned to leave, she said something else to me, but she pursed her lips and “chewed her words” like they do in the south, making her very hard to understand. I had to take a few steps closer to hear her clearly – she was saying I have pretty eyes! Well well, thank you very much, I said blushing. But it put a smile on my face.
Around 1:00 p.m. I was getting a little hungry, and it just so happened that the last stop on this “gourmand” tour was a charming little crêperie whose specialty was something called “Pavé Nantais” – figured I just had to try it. Basically the one I got was a variety of veggies and cheese fried between two crêpes with butter drizzled on top – yes, it could resemble a cobblestone, I suppose. I could only eat half, so I took the remainder to the hotel right away, dropped off my purchases, refilled my sport bottle, and set off on another tour, this time to tour various sites honoring Anne de Bretagne, a real star in Nantes. She was queen of France twice, I guess, although my guidebook doesn’t go into much history about her.
Along that route was the cathedral, which was breathtaking in its own right, but all the more interesting when approached with a bit of knowledge of its features and curiosities. The tombs of François II and his wife Marguerite de Foix are there, surrounded by statues of the four cardinal virtues. Armed with at least that much knowledge, I went to take a picture of one of the statues, hoping I wasn’t disturbing the old man seated nearby who I assumed was praying or meditating. When he saw me taking my picture, he remarked that it was a statue of Prudence. Yes, I know, I responded, very beautiful! He asked if I wanted him to explain all the rest of the tomb and its symbolisms, and I started to say I had it all in this book, but then said, “Okay, if you want.” Well, he was an amazing font of knowledge about that tomb and the whole cathedral. Hearing him speak, a Lyonnaise woman and another young couple came up to listen, and before he knew it, he was leading a regular guided tour of the place! But it was interesting, I’ll admit – it pays to let the natives explain their own cultural sites….
Leaving there, I was accosted by a man who asked if I had been photographing some other church this morning. Most likely I was – I photograph a lot of things, and most churches here are very photogenic. He engaged me in conversation, and when I explained that I was following this guidebook, asked if he could accompany me. Sure, I said – maybe he was in need of some company or something…. He too was a very good source of background information on different sites in town, and we had a pleasant time walking until the little tour was finished. He invited me for a drink, and I accepted, so we sat in the sunshine sipping our drinks and talking about a lot of things, notably the differences between the French and the Americans. When we finished, we ambled back to my hotel, where I said, “Well, this is where I stop.” “Are you going to invite me in?” he asked. “To my room??” I responded. He nodded. “Um, no, I don’t invite strangers to my room, sorry. But it was nice meeting you – thank you for the little tour!” He protested that he really wasn’t a stranger anymore, etc. etc., but I maintained my polite but firm resistance. If I had let him in, I’d have to let in everyone who asks, and I don’t want to establish a reputation here for bringing all manner of strange men to my room! I want to stay in these people’s good graces. And besides, why would he want to come to my room? To talk some more? We could talk anywhere… No, it just wasn’t a good idea.
So I came up to my room, downloaded my photos to the laptop, started my journal, then headed to the cyber-café for my daily fix. Usually the folks at the cyber-cafés get to know me pretty well within a short time after my arrival in country. Them and the folks at the nearest bar….
Speaking of which, I stopped in at “La Taverne” just a couple doors down from my hotel to have a salad and a glass – okay, several glasses! LOL – of wine. I ordered their simplest salad, and although I told the young man I preferred to sit in the bar, and that I had already eaten there several times, he said it must have been an exception, and if I wanted food, I really ought to sit in the restaurant. *sigh*
But I still got to talk to people. In fact, as I was leaving, the couple across from me invited me to go dancing with them! I probably would have, but I think Patrick is already going to be here tomorrow morning way before I’m prepared to leave, so the earlier I get up, the better. Still need to catch that yoga workout….
There are several waiters at this particular establishment, and one of them seems to like me…. We tend to hold one another’s gaze just a little longer than normal…. He’s also one of the only ones who hasn’t spoken to me in English, that I can recall. Yes, I know the French are proud of their English fluency, and waste no opportunity to use it, but usually it just confuses me! Like the guy at the table across from me – he said at one point, “Where are you?” He meant to ask where my hotel was, but at first I didn’t realize he was even speaking English, and the way he ran it all together sounded like the French word for “crook.” Pardon????? LOL
So ends my third full day in France. Made sure to toast Mom and all the other mothers I know – Happy Mothers Day!
Well, Patrick was supposed to be showing up around 9:00 a.m. today, to pick me up at my hotel for a day of sightseeing in his new car. In fact, he was running late, which was actually okay, since I was as well, but it kind of peeved me that he didn’t call sooner to let me know. If he’d arrived just a few minutes later, I’d have been gone for the day – I always have a Plan B!
Patrick is a nice enough guy, but some of his habits drive me crazy already. He is very absentminded, head-in-the-clouds, as he himself admits. I prefer to make some sort of plan for the day, to get the most out of my time. As it turned out, today was about half wasted due to Patrick’s insistence on “following the winds.” But more on that in a moment.
Before leaving the hotel this morning, I asked the front
desk about changing my reservation to allow me a visit to Avignon next weekend.
Incredibly, the gal couldn’t authorize the change herself, but directed me to
call a foreign number – the booking agency. Ohh la la…
We wanted to visit Pornic, the port city, and then tour the wine route around Nantes. Patrick had a map, but still couldn’t figure out how to get onto the right route out of the city. Had to stop for gas anyway, and he paid by check – heck, even I use a debit card anymore, and I was one of the last holdouts! When he came back to the car, he said we were going to have to inquire as to the route, so I asked if he hadn’t asked inside. Quelle idée ! He went back inside to ask directions to Pornic….
At Pornic we walked around the town, which was pretty much closed up – many of the smaller French towns roll up their streets on Mondays. I did manage to buy a phone card – Patrick’s phone can’t dial out of country, or so he says. And he works for France Telecom???
So we found a phone booth, and I called this company, which turns out to be based in Italy. Spent I don’t know how many minutes on hold, watching my precious units tick away…. The gal on the other end said she couldn’t help me till the “illuminati” (boss?) got back from lunch, then put me on hold again for I don’t know how long! What kind of flaky business is this, anyway? When she finally came back, I asked if she was Italian. Yes! She wanted to know if I spoke Italian. No, but I speak French…. “Ah, if you want to speak in French, hold on….” and put me on hold again! When she came back she said that if I wanted to speak in French I should call back… “No no no!” I cried. “I don’t want to speak in French, I don’t want to call back, I am calling from a phone booth! I am going to give you a telephone number, do you understand?” She said she understood. “Are you ready to write?” A moment while she fumbled for something to write with… *sigh* Patrick gave me his telephone number in French, which I had to translate digit by digit for this gal. She read it back to me, and it sounded right. Of course, they never called back….
Walked along the riverside in Pornic a bit, although it was but a trickle today – low tide, I guess. At some point I told him I was going to need to use the toilet soon – it had been some three hours since we’d left Nantes, and I had already drunk a liter of water in the car. He seemed to understand, but drove a little way in the other direction and stopped to point out some sort of fishing thing… I nodded, and he asked if I wanted to go see it. “No, I really need to find a toilet right now,” I said, a bit irritated. “But you should have said something!” he replied. “I did tell you!” I retorted.
So then we set out on a quest for a public toilet. I don’t know why he didn’t simply suggest stopping in at one of the many bistros and cafés along the way, but we wound up driving all around town to find a dingy little public WC with no toilet paper, no soap, no paper towels, not even a seat to cover the bowl. Yuck. I came out of there and said, “Let’s go,” walking briskly toward the car. Is this any way to treat a lady?
So we decided to find the wine route. Maybe that would improve my mood, I thought. Entering one small town, Patrick finally asked if I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since 7 a.m., and it was then about 3 p.m., so yes, my tummy was starting to make its voice known…. We stopped in at a little brasserie, where the first thing I did was go inside and wash my hands. When I emerged from the restroom, Patrick told me they had a croque Monsieur available. I told him I didn’t want it, but he started to describe it to me. I interrupted: “It has meat in it, right?” Yes, little pieces of ham. Ah, not possible. But that’s all they had at that hour, because lunchtime had come and gone, and it was not yet dinnertime! And Patrick lives here? Even I know you can’t just go to any old restaurant at any hour and expect to be served!
Leaving there, we got lost, and wound up on a route directly opposite where we wanted to go. Finally, at my insistence, we stopped to ask someone for directions. Turned out we had to come back to Nantes in any case, and decided to grab a bite in the city. The restaurant was officially closed, but I guess they decided to make an exception for these two hapless idiots who had rolled into town, totally clueless.
Patrick needed to go find his hotel and get his key, and I needed to make a few purchases in town and check my email. He asked if we could get together later tonight. I said “We’ll see,” and got out of the car. I purposely stayed away as long as possible this evening, and so far – 9:30 p.m. – he hasn’t called.
No wonder he’s getting divorced – if even one day with him drives me insane, I can’t imagine twenty years or so!
Decided to make up for what I missed yesterday in terms of fresh air and exercise – did a good yoga workout in my hotel room, then set out for what had to be a good 20 km on foot in and around Nantes. Before I left the hotel, I spoke to Nathalie about my desire to skip a few nights of my reservation. She hadn’t heard the story yet, so I told it to her, and she assured me she’d take care of it and let me know in the morning. Why couldn’t they do that in the first place? Very bizarre….
But no time to worry about that – I had some kilometers to put under my feet! Took off for the Ile de Nantes and walked all the way around it. At the eastern tip there was a charming little park where I finally found some solitude dans la nature, just like at Pt. Defiance back home. I soaked it up with pleasure. You just don’t get this luxury with a companion. Yesterday, Patrick kept asking if I always walked so fast – yes, I do, and I walk even faster when I’m irritated! LOL
Stopped in at a little café at lunchtime, where they only served sandwiches and quiches and croques and such. I really wanted a salad, though…. The lady helpfully pointed me to a place down the street where they actually had a French version of a salad bar! She even had their business card on hand. It was mostly prepared salads, lots of fish – but it was good and the price was reasonable. And although everybody was friendly on this island, no one tried to speak to me in English! I have more trouble with their English than their French, and it’s really very awkward when that happens.
The walking route described in the guide didn’t mention the industrial nature of a good portion of that walk, particularly on the western end. People must have thought I was lost, with my water bottle, camera, etc., trudging through this portion of town that featured nothing but factories, construction sites, and other non-touristic attractions. But I needed the walk, after yesterday, and got some good pics of Nantes from across the river.
Got back to my hotel a little after 3:30, just long enough to refill my water bottle, grab some more smokes, ditch my jacket (it was warm this afternoon!) and set off in a completely different direction. My objective this time was La Chézine, featured in my guidebook. I had a lot of trouble finding it, and once I did, I marked it on my GPS, since I didn’t have time to do the entire route tonight. Thank heaven for GPS – I wouldn’t leave home without it!
I’ll go back to that place tomorrow. But tonight, on the way back, I happened to stop in at a little bar called “Le Live.” I like the little bars, ‘cause you can talk to people a lot more easily. This bar was perfect – I was the only customer when I arrived, and I got to ask a lot of questions, such as what’s this big “Clearstream” scandal I’ve been reading about in the paper? The bartender did speak a little English, but defaulted to French when he realized I communicate a lot better that way. He complained that many Americans come here to visit without knowing even basic words and phrases like, ”Bonjour,” “Au revoir,” “Merci,” etc. I know, I said… at the very least, one can pick up a phrase book…. I told him I knew Americans who, when traveling, don’t concern themselves with knowing the language “because everybody speaks English.” He said that’s why tourists are sometimes shunned here – it’s a matter of courtesy. If you visit a foreign country, at least take the trouble to learn a few phrases of the language!
For dinner I went to my usual place, La Taverne. My favorite waiter wasn’t there, but the rest of the staff – at least three people, as I recall – came up to shake my hand and wish me a good dinner. I had a salad, as usual – just the veggies tonight, since I’d had my quota of fish at lunch.
Okay, so I need to revise my opinion of the French – here, they’re friendly when they get to know you, but in the streets, they tend to avert their gaze and don’t greet you, even when greeted. Perhaps the ugly tourists have given them a poor impression. I’m hoping my visit will help change that, at least a little.
Felt lazy this morning, so saved my yoga workout till after breakfast, and did it at double-speed, holding each pose only half as long as usual. Figured it was better than no yoga at all!
On my way out for the day, the receptionist assured me that my change in reservation was all taken care of. So tomorrow I need to buy my ticket for Avignon… it’s going to cost 130 euros or somewhere around that, but it’ll be worth it. I’m sure I’ll be eating most meals at Marie’s place, so that’s an expense I won’t have – plus I’ll get to do my laundry, and it won’t cost me anything or take any precious time out of my vacation.
Went back to La Chézine today, to finish the walk to its end. Indeed I did just that, although I didn’t bother to tour the château at the end – didn’t think I’d have time to do that and get back into the city at a reasonable time, and besides, I needed to use a restroom. It was a long walk, and my feet were starting to ache….
The walk was very peaceful, though, bordering a charming little creek. It was rather warm and humid today, and I couldn’t understand why so many of the locals were wearing coats and sweaters – I was perspiring in my short-sleeved pullover and shorts! Took a different route back, thanks to my GPS – as long as I can aim it toward a known point, like my hotel, I can take any route I want and not get lost. Stopped at a little bar on the way for a nice refreshing beer, since my water bottle was empty by then, and water costs more than beer here! What a country… LOL
I like the small bars, ‘cause you can usually mingle more easily with the locals. But this one had a horse race showing on the TV, and there was apparently a lot of betting going on of various sorts. Folks were intent on winning their money, so I sat there sipping my beer and studying my map, still trying to orient myself to the city’s surroundings for future walks.
Left there and headed toward the hotel, but found I was going to have more time available than expected, and it was WAY too early to go back to the room just yet, so decided to knock out a couple errands on the way. Reoriented my GPS to the shoe store I’d seen, specializing in comfortable shoes. Figured now was a prime time to try on shoes, as my feet were already swollen and achy from the 8 or 10 miles I’d just put on them. It was a very cramped little store, with shoes stacked to the ceiling, and as I browsed, a gentleman approached to help me. I was very specific in what I wanted: a sandal with plenty of cushion, ‘cause I walk a LOT. And I have very wide feet. And the color had to go with a light blue skirt. I couldn’t quite recall my European size either, but 38 sounded right. I’m a 38 in most things here, I think. We’ll see when I go dress-shopping…. *grin*
Well, the man actually found me a very comfortable pair of sandals in an eggshell color that seemed to work – its straps don’t even touch the widest part of my feet, where I’m most apt to blister. Yay! From there I decided to stop by the Fnac to see what kind of music and books I could find – two of the other principal missions for my trip. Found a live CD by Jenifer, which I’m listening to right now, and one by Lääm, who sings “Petite Soeur,” one of my favorite songs. The nice thing about Fnac is you can pre-listen to your CD just by going to a station and swiping the barcode! I’m going to have to suggest that to Borders….
Also found a very funny book there with photos of current and past American presidents, each with a hilarious caption. Like one showing George W. flipping a pancake at the New Hampshire pancake contest… “Heads, I’ll attack North Korea – tails, I’ll attack Syria.” Or one showing Colin Powell walking behind him, scratching his nose – in the photo, it looks like he could be blocking his nostrils. The caption reads, “Secretary of State Colin Powell realizes there are certain drawbacks to being 100% behind the president.” ROTFL
Stopped by the cyber-café to check email – none from home, or from Marie yet. But there was one from Norm Dicks informing me of the amendment he’s introduced to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. I excitedly wrote back, describing the new French system of identifying and rewarding the least-polluting vehicles while penalizing the most-polluting. Our country should really adopt something like this!
Had to stop by the “Live” again today, to show the bartender my new book. I knew he’d get a few laughs out of it. He’s very passionately against the Iraq war, though, and certain jokes he didn’t laugh at, like the one where George W. is saying, “How many Iraqis does it take to change a light bulb? Who cares, they don’t have any electricity anymore!” Very true, sadly enough (but is that our fault? It’s not the Americans blowing up the power plants! Why is Kurdistan prospering while the rest of Iraq flounders? The only difference is that they’ve decided to make the best of the situation, and they don’t tolerate terrorists!)
Came back to the hotel to drop off my purchases and headed to the Galéries Lafayette to pick up dinner – decided to have a leisurely repast in my hotel room tonight rather than go to the restaurant. Was a good opportunity to try out my new sandals, too, and they ARE really comfortable! If they stay that way, they’ll be worth the 45 euros I paid for them!
So I dined on tabouli with shrimp, lentils with salmon, and a light mixed vegetable salad with tuna tonight, accompanied by a nice Bordeaux. Hey, who says fish HAS to go with white wine? *smile*
Got a
good yoga workout this morning before heading toward the Promenade de Loire, a
walking trail that follows the right bank. I had misjudged the distance a bit,
but figured I could at least make St. Luce before having to head back. The trail
was very desolate, truly out in the middle of nowhere – I didn’t even see
any boats on the river!
Passed
by what appeared to be a gypsy camp on the way – funny, their makeshift
accommodations reminded me of our own in Iraq! Just kept walking, though,
feeling very vulnerable, as if I had “tourist” written all over me, with my
camera dangling from one shoulder and my water bottle from the other. I was all
alone in the wilderness, miles from anywhere, and if anything were to happen, I
didn’t even have pepper spray or a cell phone….
At one
point I began to pass a vast uncultivated field, and was very surprised to see a
group of perhaps six people smack in the middle of it. They didn’t appear to
be working or anything, and I couldn’t imagine what they might have been doing
out there. I positioned myself behind a tree to observe their direction of
travel. It seemed to parallel my own, so I kept walking, keeping a careful eye
on them. When it seemed they’d turned toward the trail I was following, I
decided to do a rear march and quick-time back toward the beginning of the
trail. Maybe they were nice, I don’t know, but I didn’t want to wait till I
met them to find out. St. Luce would just have to do without me this time.
Was very
glad to get back to “civilization” at last – no more need to check behind
me every few meters to see if a band of gypsies might be following me! Needed to
use the toilet, though, so stopped in at a little bar that seemed to serve
mostly Arabs. There is a LARGE Arab community in France, and they seem to have
their own little corners – apparently I had stumbled upon one. Had a small
draft beer, used the restroom, and continued on my way toward the train station.
Needed to get lunch before everything closed for the afternoon, though, so stopped in at a little café just before the station, where I got a salad bar and a small carafe of wine for less than 7 euros. What a deal! Their salad bars here are most prepared salads with various cuts of meat, but I told the lady I am vegetarian, and she helpfully explained the contents of some of the salad bar fare, and offered me a hard-boiled egg to go with my meal.
At the train station, I picked up a schedule to peruse while waiting in line to buy my ticket to Avignon tomorrow. Uh-oh, I didn’t see the train I’d counted on taking, in the schedule! When I got up to the window, I explained to the man that I’d consulted the Internet site for their schedules, but didn’t see that train in their printed schedule. He told me it was on account of having to change train stations in Paris, but that I could indeed take the train I wanted to take. Even gave me a reduction on the return trip, for what reason I don’t know – I don’t qualify for a student or senior or any other kind of discount that I’m aware of, but decided not to ask too many questions, since he was trying to save me money! The return trip will be easy, a straight shot from Avignon, but the trip there demands a Métro expedition between train stations, which itself has a change somewhere in the middle, so I’ll have to be on my toes for that, watching for where I need to get off and change!
I was very grateful for the man’s help, though – he even gave me a preprinted Métro guide and highlighted the line I need to take. Good thing – I’d probably get hopelessly lost without his advice!
Went to the botanical garden just across from the train station, since it is quite the tourist attraction. Couldn’t come to Nantes without visiting the Jardin des Plantes! It is a very pretty place…. Saw a guy with a little Pomeranian there – both he and the dog seemed friendly, and as soon as I said “Bonjour” to the little pup, he came barreling toward me, jumping up on me like he’d just won the Lotto or something! I laughed and laughed, picking him up a couple times before he threatened to wriggle out of my arms. Two years old, he was, but still very much a puppy! *grin*
Happened to see a little enclosure nearby with some deer, one almost entirely white. Just had to get a picture, but unfortunately the bars would have marred my photo. “Don’t say anything,” I said to my new companion, and climbed over the low barricade to take my pic. The deer were very tame, and a couple came right up to me to be petted. I was in seventh heaven….
Marc, the owner of the lively Pom named “Virgule” (“Comma”…. LOL) asked if we could go have a drink sometime. I explained that I was going to Avignon tomorrow, but would be back Tuesday. Maybe he’ll call my hotel then – I told him which hotel it is, but couldn’t give him a room number, because it will no doubt change between now and then. All he has to do is ask for Cheryl the American – they all know me very well here! *smile*
Stopped by the hotel to refill my water bottle and change into my sandals – they are really very comfortable! – and set out to dicover a bit more of the city. Took a route that was advertised as 2 hours, but it only took me an hour and half, and that was with all the wrong turns I took, the photo ops, etc. Bought a book to read on the train tomorrow and a couple packs of cookies, regional specialties, to offer Marie and her kids.
Wow, it’s really pouring down rain right now, as I write this! I’m glad I didn’t get caught in that – even with my umbrella it would have been nasty!
Dined at La Taverne again tonight – they are so friendly there! One of the waiters arrived in street dress, very casual – he came up and shook my hand and wished me a good evening, and I said, “You’re going to work dressed like that?” He said, “Yes, you like it?” “Oh yes, it looks good!” LOL
I had ordered a pichet of red wine to go with my salad. The 50 cl would have been too much, but after the 25 cl, I wanted just one more glass, and when the waiter (a different one) brought it, he tried to tell me in English that it was on the house. He had to repeat himself before I understood what he meant. What a country!!!
Got a nice yoga workout this morning before breakfast, then came back up to my room to get ready and pack my bags for the trip to Avignon. Checkout went smoothly, and before I knew it I was at the train station, even allowing for slow going as I rolled my luggage behind me over the curbs and cobblestones, avoiding deep puddles, etc. Had time to withdraw some cash before the train arrived, smoked a last cigarette (there’s no more smoking on the trains here, alas), and voilà! I was Paris-bound….
As the train pulled out of the station, there was a reminder over the loudspeaker to make sure all bags were “ticketed.” This was a new requirement to me, so when the conductor came around to check tickets, I told him I didn’t quite understand what they meant by tagging all bags. He said all bags had to be tagged with the first and last name of the owner, and indicated my purse while handing me a paper tag. “Excuse me, I need two, please” – another for my backpack at my feet. My two larger bags were already tagged with a sturdy plastic tag bearing not only my name, but my address and phone number, and inside the upper outside pocket, my entire itinerary, just in case they got lost somewhere along the way and had to be returned to me.
The ride was completely uneventful – didn’t even talk to my seat companion, just sat there quietly listening to music on my MP3 player and reading a book I’d brought along. Didn’t mean to be antisocial, but the man seated next to me seemed heavily absorbed in the daily paper, so I simply amused myself.
In Paris is where things really got interesting. Definitely a place I wouldn’t have wanted to be dragging Sage along, with all the escalators, the narrow turnstiles, the impatient crowds, the lines…. Once off the train, I had to make my way toward the Métro station, where I decided to wait in line to get the right ticket rather than take my chances buying out of the machine. Some old lady up front was having a helluva time deciding or comprehending something, and I briefly considered getting out of line to take my chances after all, but kept telling myself it would be worth the wait to get the right ticket.
Finally, ticket in hand, I followed the signs to line 13 toward St. Denis – that little printed leaflet the man had given me at the station in Nantes proved indispensable, because I would have been literally lost without it! Found the track easily enough, and just before I rounded the final corner I heard a mechanical sound and saw the people in front of me break into a sprint. So I did the same, and managed to board the train just before the doors closed.
I had to change trains at Champs-Elysées, so I studied the overhead map of the stops and carefully watched the next few stops, praying I was going in the right direction! I was, and at Champs-Elysées I got off and went straight to the train heading toward the Gare de Lyon. Again, I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the very helpful little guide that ticket-seller had given me, because this would NOT have been possible otherwise – I would surely have boarded the wrong Métro or missed a connection or something. Nothing was intuitive – there was nothing at Montparnasse indicating how to get to the Gare de Lyon. At that moment, that little guide was worth more to me than anything else I was carrying.
One thing I like about the French is that they’ll help you without being asked. I was carrying a large backpack and lugging two large-ish bags, along with my purse and water bottle. I was laden like a pack-mule, and even though my suitcases have wheels, they don’t help much when you’re trying to step up into or down out of a train! But invariably the person behind me would offer to help, and at one point as I stepped onto one or the other of the several trains I had to take today, I marveled at how light my bags suddenly felt. Glancing behind me, I noticed that next person had simply lifted the bags onto the train for me. Perhaps there’s a bit of a selfish element in this – the longer it takes me to get on the train, the longer everybody else has to wait – but I still maintain that the French are among the most hospitable and friendly people in the world.
Getting on this last train, I failed to notice that my ticket specified that my seat was in the lower half of the car, and painfully dragged my heavy luggage up the narrow stairs, depositing it in the baggage compartment before going to what I thought was my seat. There was somebody sitting there, and I said, “Excuse me, but I think this is my seat” – but when I pulled out my ticket to double-check, I realized my error and apologized. Whew… the train was getting ready to pull out any moment, and I didn’t fancy being on those stairs with my luggage when it finally lurched out of the station, so I sat down for a moment in a little seat next to the luggage compartment, pondering what to do next. Wait for the train to get underway, then go find my correct seat? There was a man there next to the stairs, not a railway employee as far as I could tell, but he seemed to be helping other people find their seats, so I finally said to him, “Excuse me, but I seem to have mistaken my seat.” He said that indeed my seat was below, and helped me bring my bags downstairs and put them in the baggage compartment there before the train took off.
My actual seat was next to an attractive young man who also didn’t seem interested in conversing. That was okay, though – I actually wanted to get up and stretch my legs a bit and go get a glass of wine to settle my tummy, which was starting to feel crampy. I already wanted a cigarette, and figured a trip to the bar car might take my mind off that. So after a few minutes, I excused myself and went to stand in the LONG line in the bar car. Why people prefer to spend 9 euros on a cheese sandwich rather than bringing their own food, I cannot understand – personally I snacked on a couple of energy bars I’d brought with me from the States. They really needed to be eaten…. LOL
Since the line was so long, I took a cue from a guy up ahead, who ordered two beers and put them in his backpack. When it came my turn, I ordered two wines (tiny bottles) and put one in my purse for later or whenever, then took my place at the counter to enjoy the other, gazing at the scenery and enjoying the motion of the train, stretching my tight muscles a bit while I was at it. The guy next to me had a sandwich and a tiny bottle of red wine along with it, and when he couldn’t finish his, he offered me the rest. There was maybe half a plastic cup left, and I thanked him, finished it, and went back to my seat to have another energy bar – I was just a little hungry by then!
My seatmate was asleep, and I timidly tapped him on the shoulder to get back to my window seat. He was reading a book with an English title, but by a French publisher, and by the time I’d finished my energy bar, I was consumed with curiosity, so when his eyes seemed closed, I snuck a quick peek inside just to see which language his book was written in. He saw me, and I apologized, but explained my curiosity – wouldn’t it be ironic for a Frenchman to be reading a book in English, when my own was in French! That sparked a lively conversation – he was from Tours, and had no perceptible accent – and about half an hour before the train was to arrive at Avignon, he invited me to the bar car. How could I refuse? *smile*
We arrived about 15 minutes late to Avignon, and I was a bit concerned, because I didn’t think Marie knew my train would be arriving from Paris rather than Nantes. But first things first – I needed a smoke! So I went outside, lit up, and stood next to the big window to see if I could see her inside…. All of a sudden, there she was, outside with her son Benjamin – “There you are,” she said, “smoking a cigarette!” “Marie!” I exclaimed. “And Benjamin – look how you’ve grown!” And he really had, not only in stature, but he was no longer a whiny, obnoxious enfant terrible. He picked up my luggage without question and put it in the trunk of their car. On the way, we saw a couple of gals who had blown a gasket or something, and were stopped in the road. “Benjamin, get out and help them,” said Marie, and with the aid of a man on a bicycle, they managed to push the car to a safe place. While waiting for him to return, I said to Marie, “You must be very proud of him.” She couldn’t hide her smile – “I am,” she replied. And to think that just two years ago he was nothing but a big pain in the hiney!
We stopped at the hotel to check in and drop off my bags, then went straight to Marie and Didier’s place to hang out a bit before a very healthy dinner of salad, homemade whole-grain bread, cheese, and plain yogurt for dessert. Benjamin was having trouble with a game he had installed on their computer, and asked for my help with that. I figured it must be a driver or something, and tried searching for updated DVD and video drivers, but didn’t find anything before dinner was served. Apparently he found whatever was needed before I’d finished my yogurt, though, because he seemed to have got it working. “Give a man a fish and he eats for a day – teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime.” All he needed was a pointer in the right direction to resolve the issue himself. Bravo, Benjamin!
Tomorrow we’ll spend the evening with Brigitte and Patrick, a very lively and enjoyable couple – should be fun!
Overslept a little this morning, so missed my yoga workout, but I guess that’s not too surprising when one is in a new hotel. Got breakfast: bread, butter, jam, yogurt, and coffee, and had a chance to read the paper a bit before my shower. Had a little over half an hour before Marie was to pick me up, and the hotel receptionist told me there was a store maybe 5-10 minutes from her on foot, so off I went to get some wine and water. It actually took longer than expected, and Marie was here waiting with her daughter Gwendoline when I got back. Took a lonnnngggg drink of water and refilled my sport bottle before we set out.
Stopped by a friend of Marie’s on the way, where I tried
in vain to make her Lexmark all-in-one work with her version of Windows XP. The
computer wasn’t connected to the Internet, so it was impossible to search for
updated drivers. Tant pis…
Had lunch with Marie and Didier and their son Benjamin – my, how he has grown! – before setting out for Nîmes, and the Pont du Gard, a huge stone bridge built by the Romans during the time of Jesus Christ. It’s a big tourist attraction now, but I managed to get some great pics, including one of an olive tree that had been “born” in the year 908 (that’s not a typo – it’s the year nine-zero-eight), and even bought an eau de toilette in vanilla-cinnamon – the longer I wear it, the more I like it!
We had stopped on the way to the Pont du Gard to buy some cherries from a roadside stand – it’s the prime season right now for these cherries, and there are roadside stands all over the place, selling them. Mmm, but they are delicious!
Went to have dinner at Brigitte and Patrick’s place tonight. Marie had noticed their dog in the doorway of a bar on the way, so assumed they were there, but it was only Patrick. Had a coupla drinks there amidst the general noise and commotion typical of bars, which frankly set me a bit on edge tonight. By the time we got to their place and looked at all my pics, it was past time for dinner – I generally like to eat earlier than most of the français.
So we had our late dinner of salad, bread, cheese, and fish, and I had Marie take me back to the hotel before 10:00. I need my time to relax before I go to bed, especially after an enervating evening like tonight….
Got a nice yoga workout in this morning before getting ready for another day in the company of Marie and Didier. This morning it was Marie who overslept, and I actually had to leave the room and go sit in the sunny courtyard to wait for her, so the maids could get to work on my room. Having been a motel maid once upon a time, I know how irritating it can be to try to clean a room while the occupant’s inside, even if they try to stay out of the way. No problem – the weather was beautiful, and I simply put on my headphones and enjoyed some music on my MP3 player while I waited.
We went straight to Marie’s place for lunch, and put my first load of laundry in the washer while we were at it. Marie even started hanging everything out to dry before I realized what she was doing, but once I noticed, I jumped up to go help. I had asked if I could do my laundry at their place, not if SHE would do it for me! LOL
It was too hot for a long drive today (aren’t I lucky – it’s been raining cats and dogs in Nantes all weekend!), so we went to the charming little village of Villeneuve, just ten minutes from Avignon proper, and toured the immense château there, dating back to the 13th century, which was very interesting in its own right, but offered a magnificent view of the countryside as well. In the “Twin Towers” at the entrance, we had to ascend and descend some very long and not well-illuminated winding stone staircases. I was being very careful, and apparently Marie mistook my hesitation for fatigue. But I confessed that ever since childhood, I’ve had a fear of winding staircases, because my grandmother had one in her home, and she was always telling me to be very careful on it because it was very, VERY dangerous. Whenever I’m on one, I feel like something’s about to give way under my feet or something! Didier apparently found that rather amusing, and teased me goodnaturedly a bit for several minutes afterward.
We took a different route back to the car, through the city, where I spied a telephone booth. I had told Marie that I’d like to try to call Rick this afternoon to ask how Sage was doing, but unfortunately, at just before 9:00 this Sunday morning his time, he was already gone somewhere. Left a message on his machine saying I would try to call tomorrow around 6:00 a.m., just before he leaves for work.
Came back to Marie and Didier’s place, where I helped with dinner, checked email, finished my laundry, and found a Microsoft knowledge base article to help Marie troubleshoot Didier’s user account, which I believe has been corrupted. His settings have defaulted to the original settings, and either can’t be changed at all, or don’t stay that way. Marie’s the sole administrator on that computer, and only she and the two boys even have passwords. Ever since Didier’s nervous breakdown, he seems to be on a very “short leash,” for lack of a better expression.
Didier loves to bake, and just this evening he made four cakes, two of which he sent back with me, as well as a loaf of his bread, of which he’s extremely proud. So proud, in fact, that he couldn’t help offering me enough flour, yeast, rock salt, sesame seeds, and even mountain spring water to make several loaves at home! All this food weighs quite a bit, and takes up an entire shelf in my hotel room. I felt it would be ungracious to refuse, but on the way back to the hotel, Marie, ever-practical like me, asked if I would have enough room in my bags for all that extra stuff. I told her I had actually mentioned that to Didier – but he just laughed and said I might need another bag. I don’t get the impression he knows what it’s like to navigate train stations and airports laden like a pack mule, or that he’s aware that airlines have weight limitations. No, I didn’t say all that to Marie, just that I had my doubts that it would all fit. She told me to be sure to let her know tomorrow, and if necessary, she could send it by post from her work, which she’s done before – I don’t believe it costs her anything. I’ll check on U.S. postal regulations regarding food items, but there shouldn’t be any problem as long as everything is in its original packaging, unopened, and securely packed. After all, you can order all kinds of delicacies from over here on the Internet – why couldn’t a private citizen mail the same things?
I’m going to have to bring the flour and stuff back to their place tomorrow… It is obvious to me now, having repacked my laundry, that I will not have room for all that after all. I’ll be lucky to have room for the three already-made loaves that Didier gave me – those I can take to Nantes with me to share with Marie’s niece, who just happens to live maybe 15 minutes from my hotel, on foot. Marie had called her to arrange a visit, and so far it appears I’m expected at her niece’s place Wednesday evening around 6:30. I always make new friends when I come to France! Something to look forward to Wednesday evening, then….
Tomorrow I’ll get to tour Avignon on foot, as Marie and Didier will be working. But we picked up a discount pass at the château today, which I can use to visit a couple interesting places at a deep discount, and Marie and Didier can use over the long weekend coming up. Thursday is the feast of Ascension, and Friday will be a holiday as well, making it a four-day weekend. The French don’t mind taking whatever holidays they can get, even if they’re not Catholic. They’re a little amused, in fact, that such a holiday in the States would probably cause riots and protests! Crazy Americans…. LOL
Marie and Didier both had to work today, which left me on my own for the day. In a way it was a welcome respite, even though I love both of them like sister and brother. Perhaps I’m just too independent – I like to do what I want to do when I want to do it, at my own pace. I enjoy their company immensely, but when we’re walking around sightseeing, I feel like my emergency brake is always halfway engaged – they don’t walk, they stroll, whereas I lope. Didier even remarked one time, “Do you always walk so fast?” Actually, I do…. LOL…. My objective is to cover ground, ‘cause time is precious! Oh sure, I’ll stop to check out something interesting, take a photo, pet a dog, whatever, but when I’m on the move, I’m on the move!
So I slept in a little this morning and did a full but rapid yoga workout right after breakfast. There were about half a dozen firefighters in the breakfast room this morning, and I was almost disappointed that I’ll have to leave tomorrow morning! As they were leaving, one of them paused near my table to light a cigarette, and I said, “Is there a firemen’s festival today?” He kind of chuckled and said they were here for 3 weeks’ training, part of a national firefighting academy. We chatted for just a moment, but they had to leave a few minutes later for their training. Ahhh, well…. I’m always a little too early or a little too late, story of my life…. LOL
I had just gotten out of the shower when there was a knock on my door. I threw a towel around me and answered – the reception-lady was visibly flustered to have obviously caught me in the shower, and said she’d come back. “Don’t worry, it’s no big deal, is there a message for me?” I replied. Yes, there was a message, she said, but nothing urgent…. Hmmmm…. Even if it were Rick calling, somehow, to tell me how Sage was doing, that would be urgent to me! So I set about briskly finishing my morning toilette, and just as I was about to get dressed, the phone rang. It was the other reception-lady, who I believe is part-owner of the hotel. She wanted to know if it would inconvenience me too much to move to a different room, with two twin beds, because there was a couple who wanted a 2-person bed. I had only two questions: is it a smoking room, and is it the same price? She assured me it was both, so I said no problem, I would pack my bags and drop off the key on my way out.
I don’t know if this lady has a southern accent that she knows how to suppress when she’s talking to foreigners, or what, but I can understand her perfectly, and I understand what they’re saying on TV, on the radio, and in the shops and public places, when they’re talking to me. No problem. But when Didier talks, I have the worst trouble sometimes understanding him – he not only talks very fast, but he kind of rolls all his words together, so it comes out sounding like, “Ralorlalarorlaror…” Hein? Interestingly, he has his own troubles comprehending what’s said on TV sometimes, and sometimes mispronounces words that even I don’t mispronounce. Last night, the news was on TV while we ate, and the announcer said that “two are dead.” Didier said, “Two hundred dead?” Marie said no, not “deux cent morts,” but “deux sont morts.” She had to explain it a couple different ways before he understood what they were saying.
So I guess I don’t feel too bad that I don’t always understand him, and some of the other people of the region, especially those who were born here and haven’t traveled much or had much contact with foreigners. Those who deal a lot with the public speak very correctly, and I have no problem with their French.
Set out on foot for the city center, the “old town,” where most of the tourist attractions reside. There was only one I really wanted to see, a museum of the “Mount Piety,” but it had apparently been converted to a city archive, and peering inside, I didn’t notice anything I really wanted to check out. Oh well. At least I’d had a good long walk today, at MY pace, and got a chance to see a bit of the city while I was at it. Also had a nice salade Niçoise (tuna) at a little open-air café, a refreshing pause in the day.
By 2:00, I had pretty much seen the whole city – none of the storefronts tempted me much, so I decided to go have a beer in a little bar just next to a telephone booth, where I was hoping to call Rick a few minutes before 3:00. An old man at the bar kept looking at me, and when there was just a couple sips left in my glass, gestured an offer of another. “I have to leave in ten minutes,” I said, glancing at my watch, “but if there’s a smaller one, okay!” He said there was, and ordered me one, so I moved over to sit near him at the bar. I just think it’s a matter of courtesy to do that, rather than sit all by myself and drink the beer he’d bought me. I explained that I had to make a telephone call back to the States at a certain time to check on my dog, and the person who was watching her would be leaving for work at 3:00 our time. (No need to explain that she’s not really my dog and all that – for all he needed to know, she is, and I wouldn’t have had time to go into the whole story of how I came to be Sage’s daily caretaker.)
So I finished my beer, used the restroom, thanked the man again, and left to use the phone. Rick must have been waiting for my call, and while I only had a few minutes on my card, and he only had a few minutes before he had to leave, I at least hung up reassured that Sage is getting her exercise and play-time in my absence. Rick says she’s forgotten me, but I know he’s just teasing – she is going to be SO happy to see me when I get back!!! And I will be too – France is marvelous, but I miss my little angel, and Pt. Defiance, and our walks together! So duly reassured, I wished him a good day at work and said I might call again before I leave France.
Came back to the hotel just long enough to drop off a few things, refresh my water bottle, and study the bus schedule for tomorrow’s trip to the TGV station. I had about an hour before I was supposed to be at Marie and Didier’s for a final dinner together before I left. Thinking ahead, I stopped at the supermarket and picked up a small pasta-calamari salad from their refrigerator section – the French eat very late for my metabolism, and I didn’t want to start getting cranky or edgy or anything, waiting for dinner to be served.
Sure enough, when I got there, Marie was just starting to peel a big bag of potatoes, so I jumped in to help. I never knew anybody who owned two vegetable peelers! Also got her started on her Windows XP Service Pack 2 download – she had already repaired Didier’s user profile using the information I had researched for her on Microsoft’s French site, and she announced that it was now working perfectly! Yayyy – I’m proud of her!
We had a nice dinner of steamed potatoes and peas with olive oil, garlic, and aromatic herbs, with bread and an assortment of cheeses on the side. They eat very simply, which suits me just fine, and it didn’t take much to fill me up. I helped clear the table, and accidentally dropped a spoon in the trash, which I had to fish out. That sparked a childhood story, so as Marie and I went out to sit on the porch awhile, I told her about the first time in my life I had done dishes – I must have been 4-5 years old, all alone in the house with my mother, who was very ill that day and couldn’t even get out of bed. So I decided to do her a favor by doing the dishes, and wound up breaking a plate in the process. Mom got up and tried to console me, but I just cried and cried, thinking I was in trouble, feeling bad that I had caused her even more work, etc. I remember that like it was yesterday. Marie had a few stories of her own, and somehow we got off on the subject of premonitions. Quite an interesting little conversation, actually! I firmly believe in extra-sensory perception – after all, why should we be limited to the five generally accepted senses? There are many things happening all around us all the time that we never perceive, but we take for granted – radio waves washing all around us that we never hear if we don’t happen to have a tuner handy, colors off the visible spectrum that are nonetheless very real, etc. Perhaps even other dimensions that we cannot perceive, the same way that a two-dimensional creature could not grasp the concept of a sphere. It makes perfect sense to me, and not to be able to occasionally breach the accepted limits would seem extremely incongruent to my mind.
But I digress. When it came time for me to come back to the hotel finally, everybody went crazy. Benjamin, who was talking on his cell phone, had me say Bonjour to whomever he was talking to, then went into the bathroom to take his shower, talking on his cell the whole time…. LOL…. Gwendolyne made me put her birthday in my PDA, and asked if I would call her on the 29th this year to wish her happy birthday. I told her I would be on the plane, unfortunately, but I would wish her a happy birthday from the skies. She then insisted on giving me a going-away present, and ran up to her room, returning with a partially used lip gloss. Hee hee…. I’m sure it was a treasure to her, and it would have hurt her feelings to refuse it, but of course it went straight into the trash at the hotel – it’s the thought that counts, after all! Didier launched into one of his famous discourses on faith, love, service, etc., which is usually interesting for about the first minute and a half, but every time I’ve ever seen him, he just keeps repeating the same things over and over. Marie, who has heard it hundreds of times already, was discreetly moving toward the gate, knowing that if we didn’t start physically moving in that direction, we’d never leave! LOL…. At the hotel, I gave her all the flour, water, and other bread fixings Didier had given me last night – I could never carry all that in my bags! So she’s going to send them to me by post, from work.
I’m going to have to start writing her more often, without even waiting for her to write me back. She’s got a lot on her plate, with her own life and family issues, and on top of that she’s always doing something nice for somebody, whether it be friends, neighbors, whomever. Last night she went around the neighborhood distributing cherries, because Yohann had come home with a whole pallet full. Anyone who has had the pleasure to meet her is blessed. I only wish Didier realized what a gem he has in her!
Had a pretty good yoga workout this morning, even though the room was a bit smaller than my previous room, and I had to do most of it on the bed, except for the balancing poses, of course. I had noticed a big tourist bus in the parking lot the evening before, so made up my mind to be in the breakfast room at 7:00 sharp, but alas, the tour group had been let in a couple minutes before, so I had to wait while all the old folks figured out how to use the coffee machine, decided what they wanted to eat, etc. I noticed that the hotel had put out some meat and cheese this morning, no doubt in deference to this large German tour group.
I sat outside, wanting nothing more than to sip my coffee in peace and read the paper. It had rained the evening before, so the harried hostess had to bring out a rag and start drying tables and chairs. I told her it’s not a big deal on the table, but if she could just wipe off the chair, please…. Alas, they didn’t have today’s paper yet, which I really wanted to read, because the news on television was talking about a railway strike that was to commence at noon today, and my train was leaving Avignon at a quarter after!
Nobody else seemed to have heard about the strike, but I guess unless you were taking the train today, or expecting someone on the train, it might not register. I personally was very concerned, and checked out of the hotel even earlier than planned, just managing to catch the 10:15 bus to downtown, where I would catch the shuttle to the TGV station.
You’d think two hours would be plenty of time to get from any part of Avignon to any other. I could have walked to the TGV station in that amount of time, I figure. But life in France has its “inconvénients,” and every day is an adventure….
Everything seemed to be going smoothly on the ride to downtown, when we stopped at the Place Pie and for some reason didn’t get moving again right away. Okay, there are some bus stops where they sit for a few minutes to get back on schedule or whatever, but I noticed that the buses were piling up, jockeying for position, nobody was moving, drivers were getting out and talking amongst themselves, passengers were getting off, etc. Something told me the situation wasn’t normal…. So I went to the front of the bus and said to the driver, “Excuse me, please forgive my curiosity, but what is going on?” He harrumphed and said, “What’s going on? That yellow truck there – it’s blocking the route!” “Oh,” I said, rather concerned at this point. “Is it broken down?” “That, or mis-parked,” he replied. Well, since this situation was blocking ALL bus traffic in town by now, I was sure they would be working on the problem using whatever means at their disposal – personally, I would have cheerfully searched out the driver myself and upbraided him sharply for his inconsideration!
I returned to my spot and turned to a lady nearby, who had also perceived that a truck was blocking the road. “They ought to call the police or something!” I said, to which she could do nothing but nod sympathetically. Here I had thought to be early to the TGV station, in order to avoid the strike, and now we were stuck here in the middle of town!
Finally the truck began to move, and our driver, ever courteous, let all the other buses pass before us. *sigh* I was glancing at my watch every few seconds, wondering how long it would be before we’d be at the Gare SNCF. As it turned out, we arrived there maybe 5 minutes before the navette was to depart for the TGV station. The driver helpfully called back to me that this was my stop. “Merci beaucoup, Monsieur!” I called back, lugging my heavy bags off the bus. Once off, I glanced this way and that, mouthing, “La Poste, La Poste,” which is where I needed to catch the navette. Catching sight of the nice lady on the bus to whom I had talked earlier, I noticed she was motioning that I needed to go around the block. “MERCI BEAUCOUP!” I mouthed, scurrying in that direction.
Rounding the corner, I saw a sign pointing to the stop. Then another, saying that due to construction, the stop had moved 100 meters further. Rushed up to about that distance, and saw a driver standing on the sidewalk, conversing with a couple gals, apparently on break. I approached him and he asked if he could help me. “Yes please, I’m looking for the shuttle to the TGV station!” I replied breathlessly. “It’s right across the street, waiting,” he said. I thanked him and hefted my bags down from the curb. “Careful,” he admonished, “there might be traffic coming!” I thanked him, chuckling…. No matter how big a hurry I’m in, I’m not going to step into a French street without looking both ways, even if it’s a one-way street! LOL
Finally arrived at the TGV station on schedule, where I took the time to smoke a nice leisurely cigarette and use the toilet at the bargain price of half a euro before heading to the bar for a cold drink – all this rushing around had overheated me! I asked the bartender if she had heard anything about a railway strike, but she hadn’t, and said all the trains were on time so far. Bon…. finished my drink, grabbed a salade Niçoise to go from the stand next door, and headed to the track.
There was one lady standing outside on the track, smoking, which is what I wanted to do as well. I greeted her and said, “Is this the train for Nantes?” She said yes, and I said, “You’ve always got to double-check!” We chatted for a while about how France has changed in regard to smoking, and compared notes on how it is in America versus France. She also confessed that it’s even difficult for her to understand the southern accent here, and oftentimes she has no idea what they’re saying…. So I don’t feel so bad… LOL. And in a few minutes, the train arrived.
I had braced myself for six hours on the train without a smoke, but found that it was possible to get off at each stop, even if for a couple minutes, to smoke what you could while other passengers were boarding. We smokers formed a kind of “clique,” to which belonged even the conductors. They would shoo us back onto the train before taking their own last puffs…. LOL
Spent most of my time in the bar car this trip, preferring to stand rather than sit, which tends to be hard on my back for long periods. My designated seat was a window seat, and after a couple times getting in and out of it, I asked the gal on the aisle if she’d like to trade. She seemed noncommittal, but I assured her it made no difference to me, so we did, and she thanked me.
The bartender was quite a character, very jovial. “You’re in a very good mood today!” I remarked as he served my beer. “Always, always!” he replied. He was a former smoker himself, but was sympathetic to those of us still in the grip of this compulsion, and watched my drink at the counter as I would rush to the doors at each stop to have a few puffs. Even at that, it’s still way better than the plane – no stops there! I also asked the bartender about that threatened strike, and he said it would only affect the TER, not the TGV – nothing would ever stop the TGV. Hmm…. well, I was sure I saw right there on the TV screen that the TGV would be affected, because I had been looking for that! But no matter, I was on the train, and it was moving, so the question was moot. *smile*
Arrived at the hotel at exactly 6:30 p.m., when I had told them I’d be here. They gave me the same room as before, and even helped me upstairs with my bags, since the elevator only goes up one floor, and my room is on the fourth. Quickly unpacked my bags, powdered my nose, and headed to the restaurant a couple doors down for my salad and red wine. My favorite waiter was there at the door when I entered, holding the cutest little Pomeranian in his arms – but as I approached, enchanted, the little thing started barking ferociously…. “Oh, what’s wrong, little one, be nice,” I cooed, finally managing to pet her. “See, it’s easy!” I said….
All the waiters had to come greet me – guess I’ve become one of their most loyal customers. Heck, at just a few paces from my hotel, and reasonable prices, and superb service, why wouldn’t I be? I even got a glass of regional wine on the house tonight…. *smile*
Returning to the hotel, I was greeted by two different staff members, where, when picking up my key, I remembered to ask whether there wasn’t supposed to be a bathrobe in my room. “There’s no bathrobe in your room?” they asked. No, I said (would I have asked the question if there were?) “I’ll bring one right up,” said the lady. And she did – all I wanted tonight was to get comfy, and there’s nothing like a fluffy bathrobe to make you feel oh so snuggly and cozy!
Felt lazy this morning – woke up on time, but just didn’t feel like getting out of bed, so skipped my yoga workout and substituted some good stretches instead. I would be putting some miles under my feet anyway, to make up for yesterday, a travel day, so I didn’t worry about it much.
My plan today was to walk up the L’Erdre for a couple hours, then cross over and walk back. My walk up was lovely – nice scenery, pretty parks, several sweet puppies to pet. I was missing Sage tremendously, and figured if all went well, I’d be able to find a tabac and buy a new phone card, and call before Rick left for work. But alas, a map can’t tell you everything, and mine didn’t indicate that the bridge I wanted to cross wasn’t accessible to pedestrians!
So I made a plan B, and headed into town for the walk back, hoping to find a tabac and a phone booth within the next 20 minutes or so, to make my call. I was pretty far out into the wilderness, and it was 10-15 minutes before I even got to a real road…. Needless to say, I didn’t get to make my call. But I did buy a card, and there’s a phone booth just across the street from my hotel, so I’ve decided to call from there tomorrow morning before or after breakfast, which will be 9-10 p.m. there – perfect.
Came back to the hotel to get rid of my water bottle and jacket – it was fairly warm this afternoon – and pick up my tote bag to run to the store. Tomorrow is Ascension Day, a national holiday here, and I’ve learned that you can’t count on anything being open on these holidays! Bought enough to eat and drink for the next couple days and returned to the hotel. Unfortunately, I was unable to find shoelaces anywhere – I asked one lady in the Galéries Lafayette where to find shoelaces, and she sent me downstairs. Downstairs, I asked another lady, who sent me toward the grocery section. I had my doubts, but needed stuff from there anyway, so went and did my shopping. At the checkout, I asked the cashier, who said they’d be on the second floor. On the second floor, I asked a lady who pointed me toward the shoe department. At the shoe department, I didn’t see any laces, and there was no store employee in sight, so, impatient as I am, I decided to leave. There’s always tomorrow… or the next day.
Showed up at Marielle’s niece’s place just five minutes late – not bad for estimating the distance in a strange part of town! Her husband is military, and was very interested in my Army stories. But the evening was oddly strained – they kept addressing me in the formal manner, in spite of my 2-3 attempts to tutoyer, as they say. There seemed to be no preparations for dinner in the making, so just before 8:00, I left – I just felt like I was in their way or something. We parted cordially, and will probably not get together again before I leave town. But I did leave them the bread and cakes Didier had baked. *smile*
Walked back to the hotel – they didn’t offer me a ride or anything – and turning onto the street to the hotel, I came across a street beggar with a dog. As I rounded the corner, he started yelling something not very polite – all I caught was putain, which means “bloody” or “whore” or something equivalent. I pretended not to understand (there are certain advantages to having a foreign accent! LOL), and turned to him, saying, “Bonsoir Monsieur!” Then I said the same to his dog, who came up to me for some lovin’. I petted the dog, cooing softly for a while, before telling the man, “I miss mine terribly – I have a dog at home.”
Wished them both a good evening as I headed back “home” for the night – tomorrow’s another day!
Slept in a little today – this hotel bed is so nice and comfy! Did a few stretches before heading out this morning, but not a full yoga workout.
Stepped across the street on the way down to breakfast to call Rick and ask about Sage. It was rainy and gloomy, but I didn’t care – I would only be on the phone for a few minutes. Rick said Sage had been bitten on the butt by a bull mastiff at day-care! Oh, my poor baby…. I’ll see her Tuesday, and we’ll go to the park, and Auntie Cheryl won’t let anything bad happen to her!
Today is Ascension Day, a national holiday in France. I had stocked up on all my essentials yesterday just in case nothing was open, but in fact I managed to pick up a couple cute outfits AND those elusive shoelaces I’ve been looking for!
Decided to stick close to the city today and see a few things I hadn’t yet seen. The weather was a bit unstable, according to the forecast, so I didn’t want to get caught in a downpour or anything, miles from town! Slipped into the cathedral just before noon to listen in on a bit of the midday mass, faintly annoyed by the commotion of a tourist group that came in just behind me – all their shuffling and whispering was making it hard for me to hear what the speaker was saying!
Stopped at the little bar I’d been to my first full day here for lunch, because 1) it was right on the way to the cemetery I wanted to visit, and 2) it was open! Salad all by itself wasn’t on the menu, but the lady made me a nice Greek salad with cheese, tuna, mushrooms, white asparagus, tomatoes, olives, etc. I shared it with the sweet little doggie who sat quietly at my feet the whole time – I’m convinced that dogs beg not because they’re hungry, or that they like our food necessarily, but they just crave the attention. The lady admonished her puppy at first, but when she saw how I enjoyed feeding her, she stopped. *smile*
Toured the cemetery after that, where I saw all the graves of the bigwigs of Nantes, thanks to the little guidebook I carried. One grave was a bit hard to find, even though it was the “most-visited” in the whole cemetery: that of Frère Camille, to whom some miracles are unofficially attributed, according to the booklet. Once I did find it, though, it was unmistakable, covered in flowers and plaques bearing the single word, “Merci.”
Needed to use the restroom by then, but those in the cemetery were closed today, presumably for the holiday. Of all the places you’d expect to be fully functioning on a religious holiday…! Finally found a brasserie that was open, and ordered a wine, just to be able to use the bathroom. Expensive potty-break – this place was way more elegant than the little bar where I’d had lunch.
Leaving there, I was surprised to find that a number of places were now open, including the EuroDif, where I found two totally cute outfits, and a pair of funky earrings to match (last item scratched off my to-buy list, which always consists of books, music, and clothes). Across the street, at the Monoprix, I also found shoelaces, since mine had broken.
Just outside the Monoprix there was a young couple with two cute dogs – street beggars. They use dogs here just like they do at home. As usual, my heart went out to the two puppies, and I ducked into a little patisserie just next door. When my turn came, I asked if he had something very small, for the dogs, and motioned outside. He pointed out some kind of olive thingy, and I shook my head, pointing at a loaf of good hearty bread. “Something like this, just a slice or two – it’s for the dogs outside,” I repeated. Sorry, he said, he couldn’t sell me just a slice of bread, and served another customer. I waited patiently, and when he was done, he picked up a loaf of bread from a low shelf. “I could give you a couple slices of this,” he said, “but it fell on the floor.” “That’s fine!” I said. “It’s for the dogs!” Maybe he didn’t believe me or something. After all, how many tourists come in to buy bread for street dogs? I could have been his first, for all I know… LOL
When I emerged, the young woman asked if I could spare a few centimes. “No,” I replied, “but I do have some bread for your dogs.” I held out a piece to the puppy, who devoured it ravenously. “No, no,” she protested, “he’ll swell up!” But before either of us knew it, he lunged at me and grabbed the rest of the bread I held in my hands. Poor thing… I know bread isn’t the best food for dogs, and if it had been a boucherie next doors instead, I would have gotten him some meat and bones. But I have no sympathy for a woman who sits in the street drinking from a bottle of wine while her puppy starves. Not even one centime’s worth.
Came back to the hotel, dropped off my purchases, and headed off to discover “l’Ile Feydeau,” which was nice but nothing spectacular. At least it was a refreshing, leisurely walk.
Just after 7:00 I stopped at La Taverne for my usual salad, but for some reason (the holiday?) it was jam-packed, and I didn’t even have a book with me to read. After the waitress had passed by me several times without taking my order, I picked up my things and came to my hotel room, where I had enough tinned salad and wine to make a nice dinner in peace and quiet.
I
don’t know why I’ve been so tired lately, but I languished in bed till
breakfast-time today, skipping my yoga workout once again. Am I coming down with
something? I’ve felt a bit warm lately, and am perfectly comfortable in shorts
and a light pullover while others are wearing long pants, scarves, and jackets.
Is it the weather, which has been overcast and cool, or is it the fact that
I’ll be leaving soon? I’m missing Sage a lot, too – every puppy I see, I
pet, but it’s not the same as romping in the woods with Sage!
Ah well…. went by the cathedral to take some more pics this morning, then checked email at the cyber-café, then headed off to the Parc du Grand Blottereau a few kilometers away. My route took me right through the Jardin des Plantes, where I paused to say hello to the deer in their little enclosure there. A couple of them were squeezing their snouts delicately between the iron bars to try to get to the green grass just beyond – the grass was pretty much eaten away the few inches just surrounding the enclosure. So I bent down and pulled out a few blades – oh, but that caught their interest! Deer are NOT stupid. Soon I had the whole herd clamoring around me for a bite, to where I was having trouble keeping track of whose turn it was next!
Stopped on the way for lunch at a nice little restaurant where, when I mentioned I am vegetarian, they offered to make me a vegetable plate for 6 euros. Très bien! It was nothing more than tomatoes and lettuce for the entrée, and cooked carrots and potatoes for the main course, but it was very tasty and healthy! *smile*
By the time I got to the park, it was about 2:30, and I needed to start looking for a phone booth. I still had a phone card to use up, and I really wanted to call and ask about Sage and her owie. Rick assured me she was just fine, and after a couple minutes, I let him go to finish getting ready for work. I can’t wait to see her Tuesday – for once I have a reason to look forward to going home!
The park was lovely, and after strolling around a bit, I left. Took a different route out, but got caught in a labyrinth of streets that led nowhere – apparently my route in was my best route out as well! Stopped into a little bar, needing the restroom, and before I’d finished my beer, was joined by a Nantais who claimed to be of German origin. Had a LOT of trouble understanding his accent, perhaps because of the German influence. He bought me a drink, which I accepted, and offered to drive me back into the city, but I declined – how would I stay so young and pretty without my daily walks? *smile*
Finally went to tour the Lieu Unique not 5 minutes from my hotel. Went up into the tower for 2 euros, so now I can say I’ve been there, I guess. LOL…. Had a glass of Australian wine in the bar there, and went to the supermarket across the street to get dinner.
There was a dog outside the supermarket, apparently alone. I don’t know why people don’t bring their dogs inside…. I started petting it, and an old man came over, explaining that it belonged to his friend who was inside. His friend lived on the street, he added. I tried to hide my tristesse at yet another street dog who was probably hungry…. For people, it’s a choice they make, but dogs don’t have that choice! I was still petting the dog when its owner emerged, and it joyously embraced him before pasting itself to my side for a couple minutes. “You want me to put you in my suitcase?” I asked playfully. “No, he can’t go in your suitcase,” responded the owner, “he belongs to me!” *smile*
I can’t wait to see Sage Tuesday. No matter how many puppy-fixes I get here, they’re no substitute for my baby!
Woke up this morning bright and early, everything went well except the cigarettes I made with my machine – the tobacco I bought from the tabac is too fine and too moist! I can get it to work, but the cigarettes come out very unevenly packed, with an inconsistent draw. I guess it’ll get me through the next couple days, though, and in a pinch I can always buy a pack of ready-made smokes….
Took off on a long walk today, to the sleepy little suburb of Chantenay, for which the guidebook wasn’t always correct. It’s always an adventure, following this guide-book – you have to keep looking at the map to know where you’re going, because the printed directions contain a number of important errors, I’ve found. Sometimes it says left when it means right, or neglects to say that you have to walk half a mile to find the next landmark, or gives the wrong street number for an item of interest, etc. But I managed to finish the recommended course, even though it took me off the little tourist map they give you at all the hotels and the tourism office. Got some nice pics and saw some interesting landmarks I wouldn’t have otherwise discovered!
Stopped at a bakery around noon and asked for a salmon sandwich, which was listed on the menu on display. The girl told me regretfully that they don’t usually serve sandwiches on the weekend, but she could make me one if I could wait a few minutes… Sure I could! There was nothing else open in this obscure little corner of the world, not even the tiny train station, which could have been abandoned for all I could tell. It was the Saturday of Ascension weekend, which started Thursday, and in some places, they take their holidays that seriously! Somehow I always seem to find myself in these little out-of-the way burbs just when I really need something to eat, and to use the restroom. LOL… That was sure nice of the bakery girl, to help out a hapless tourist who didn’t realize that this Saturday afternoon would be like a Sunday morning in the pretty little village of Chantenay.
Took my sandwich to a nearby bar, also open, thankfully, to get a beer to go with my sandwich and to take advantage of their restroom, not knowing when I’d find another one.
Finally finished my tour and decided to make a few purchases on the way back to the hotel. Wanted to get something for Sage, so stopped at a pet store, but the proprietor got on the phone as soon as I entered, so without asking, I opened the glass to pet the puppies inside. They were so cute, and so starved for affection, just glomming onto my arm and licking me, lick lick lick… *sniff* Doesn’t anybody ever pet those puppies, I wondered?
Stopped at a few places to get souvenirs and such, also. More than one person remarked on my t-shirt, which says on the front, “I’m not going to be naughty anymore,” and on the back, “Tomorrow.” LOL
One of the shops I visited was Le Comptoir du Château, right across from the huge château currently under renovation. This shop specializes in paraphernalia from the age of the Grands Ducs, so even though I didn’t get to the Puy-du-Fou this trip, I did get to pick up a couple medallions, one featuring my Celtic astrology sign, “Muin,” symbolized by the grapevine and the swan. The other is a talisman of the planet Mercury, supposed to stimulate intelligence and memory, and favor success in studies, tests, and competitions. I don’t know about all that, but Mercury is my ruling planet in traditional astrology, and it is a very pretty medallion. Also picked up a deck of Celtic tarot cards to complete my little collection of souvenirs. I prefer small, easy-to-pack souvenirs, ideally things I can use at home.
Not really in a mood to write tonight, but I always get moody before leaving France. I could just cry right now….
Didn’t plan much for today, no great hikes or anything. Just hung around town, kind of saying my goodbyes to everyone and everything. Did a reconnaissance of the airport shuttle, timing my arrival. If necessary, I will have a “plan B” – got enough euros in my wallet to take a taxi if needed.
Went to the Internet café to send Marie a mother’s day card, and called her afterward to let her know I’d sent something. She was real happy to hear that, and we hung up affectionately.
Had lunch at Augustine’s grandmother’s place – a mushroom omelette with salad on the side. Omelettes are not for breakfast here – they’re for lunch!
Came back to the hotel to change clothes, replenish my water and smokes, etc. Was the only day I’ve been in my room when the maid came by. I exchanged my towels and wished her a good day. Just wasn’t worth the trouble today, to make the room.
Nantes was really a ghost town today, more than I’ve ever seen it. Didn’t even get the chance to buy snacks for the plane tomorrow. Oh well, I’ll either starve or pay out the nose for their “meals.”