December 14, 2015
It is with pleasure that I can now tell you the verdict. The man who
assaulted us in Arles on Oct. 8, has been sentenced to two years in prison.
Case closed.
Toby
Monday, December 14, 2015
Friday, November 20, 2015
The Untold Story
Oct. 18, 2015-The Untold Story
When we are away we ask our children to only tell us about problems that would require us to return home. We afford them the same courtesy. That is why we delayed in telling this. And so, this is an email about how we were mugged on the evening of Oct. 8, in Arles. The difference between this and other emails you may have gotten about overseas muggings is that it's true, we're not asking for any money :), and we're fine.
I really didn't want to go to France. Political issues for me. Now I know why. We were walking to dinner around 7:30 PM. We wanted to go to Le Criquet, a restaurant recommended by our hotel. It was fully booked so we moved on to look at the menus of three others nearby. We'd decided on one and were about to go in when a youngish man approached us holding a jacket. He had a plaintive look in his eyes and held the jacket out to us. We thought he was a beggar. In an instant, he had the jacket over David's head and had pushed him to the ground. David said the man's hand went into his front jeans pocket where David keeps his wallet. It's hard even for David to get it out, but this man wouldn't give up. His hand was on the wallet in the pocket, but it couldn't be extricated. Thank goodness for slim fit jeans. David kicked and punched, but the robber had the upper hand. I began pulling on the man's T-shirt, but it was stretching. I was about to go for his belt and use that leverage to distract him or move him off David.
When we are away we ask our children to only tell us about problems that would require us to return home. We afford them the same courtesy. That is why we delayed in telling this. And so, this is an email about how we were mugged on the evening of Oct. 8, in Arles. The difference between this and other emails you may have gotten about overseas muggings is that it's true, we're not asking for any money :), and we're fine.
I really didn't want to go to France. Political issues for me. Now I know why. We were walking to dinner around 7:30 PM. We wanted to go to Le Criquet, a restaurant recommended by our hotel. It was fully booked so we moved on to look at the menus of three others nearby. We'd decided on one and were about to go in when a youngish man approached us holding a jacket. He had a plaintive look in his eyes and held the jacket out to us. We thought he was a beggar. In an instant, he had the jacket over David's head and had pushed him to the ground. David said the man's hand went into his front jeans pocket where David keeps his wallet. It's hard even for David to get it out, but this man wouldn't give up. His hand was on the wallet in the pocket, but it couldn't be extricated. Thank goodness for slim fit jeans. David kicked and punched, but the robber had the upper hand. I began pulling on the man's T-shirt, but it was stretching. I was about to go for his belt and use that leverage to distract him or move him off David.
With that, the thief got up and turned to me. He still had the
jacket over his hand and I was afraid he had a knife under it. He did not. He
looked me in the eye and head-butted me. I felt like a mongoose being
hypnotized by a cobra. My nose began to bleed. David had gotten to his feet,
but as I was now distracted, the man turned back to David, tried to kick him in
the groin, and knocked him down again. By now the mugger was really furious,
but getting nowhere. He hadn't realized I had a purse because I was wearing it
under my coat. It's a good practice, but everything else I knew about
self-defense went out the window. What happened to the old days of snatch and
grab, no harm, no foul? I want a re-match.
David was literally roaring with anger throughout the whole ordeal. I called for help in English, although I know the French. Men came running, and the people in the restaurant called the police. But David wasn't finished yet. He had just seen my bloody nose. He went after the thief who was now restrained by the men, and I had to call him off and strongly tell him to sit down in the restaurant. The restaurant staff and a patron were most solicitous, gave me ice, towels, and gave us water.
The police arrived (about four big ones) and asked if we wanted to make a report. Of course we did. I was visibly injured and David said he was fine. The woman at the restaurant who had the best English said of the police, "Go with them. They are good men." And that began our Kafka-esque evening. After taking my blood pressure and heart rate, we were transported to the police station where our escorts didn't speak English nor did anyone else. My French was getting better by the minute. Alors! A man emerged who looked like a derelict and was an English speaker. He was also a detective going on duty. Undercover, I guess.
We told him our situation and he said that if we wanted to press charges I'd have to be seen by a doctor at the hospital ER. Good citizens that we are we said, "Why not?" I'll tell you why. By now it was after 9 PM and we hadn't eaten. You know ERs. OMG.
We got to ride in a "pompier" (ambulance) where an EMT re-checked my vitals as we all rode unrestrained in the back. Actually, the EMT was standing. When the driver put on the siren and lights, our guy laughed and told him to "cool it." Not really an emergency.
I was triaged at the ER and began to wait. Two hours later, David had paced a gouge in the linoleum and scrounged up one tuna sandwich and two candy bars from temperamental vending machines. We were then called to wait in an examining room. You know how it works. The bed in the room was covered in clean cotton (not disposable) sheeting and we didn't know where to sit. We opted for two folding chairs. It took persuasion for me to get David to settle down. One female nurse who had some English asked if I wanted something for pain. My pain level was a "1" and I had more drugs in my hotel room than they did in the ER, so I declined. On we waited with the false hope offered that the doctor would come soon.
Sexist of me, but true, I approached a man in white and asked if he was a doctor. He was a nurse, but he spoke English better than I spoke French. I explained what had happened and that now David was close to needing a special medication for atrial fibrillation that had to be taken at exact times of day. True. This wonderful, compassionate nurse snapped into action. He found the doctor, a woman, and told her about our dilemma. We told them we understood there were more seriously needy people ahead of us, but had to get to David's meds. They offered to give him what he needed, but we were fearful it wouldn't be exactly the same. We didn't want to risk it.
The doctor called radiation and the nurse speed walked me down the hall for an X-ray. It was a big old-fashioned machine, but it did the job. We exchanged pleasantries about Marie Curie being French and ironically dying of radiation poisoning. Not only was my French improving and my college classes (50+) years ago leaching out of my brain and onto my lips, but I was becoming less self-conscious about speaking.
The nose wasn't broken. I learned that if it had been they would have given me antibiotics. I could be on my way. But it wasn't to be that easy. Taxis were no longer running. It was after midnight. Nurse to the rescue! He found a family who was leaving the ER, knew where our hotel was, and had room in the car...just. It's a good thing David has maintained his weight loss with Weight Watchers. We squeezed into the mini-whatever and to the tunes of Frozen we rode to our hotel. David gave the driver twenty Euros for her help and we crept into bed at 1 AM.
We'd agreed to be at the police station the next morning at nine. They'd have English speaking detectives who would take our statements. It must have been casual Friday because these detectives certainly weren't the coat and tie types. Judging by the night before, it must have been casual Thursday as well.
They split us up as I knew they would. They kept asking us if the perpetrator was Arab. We had no way of telling. They told David the man they arrested was named Farid. They kept bringing it up and it was clear they knew they guy. He was in custody and had been there all night. They got the medical report from the hospital (no HIPPA) and asked if we wanted to see if we could identify the man. We agreed to try. They put us in a storage closet with a one-way window that looked out on the hallway. Then one detective thought it might be better if we identified the man separately. It was a line-up of one. David went first. When it was my turn, the detective told me David had said that was the man. So much for objectivity. France still uses Napoleonic Law. I think they don't have that "presumed innocent until proven guilty" thing. I did agree with David and asked if this was the man who was apprehended last night. They said he was and he was very bad. They'd been after him for a long time. I guess they really were building a case. With that a photographer walked in and took pictures of me. By then my nose was a bit puffy and I had discoloration under one eye. I promise you, my Passport photos are much more flattering, although the swelling diminishes my wrinkles. At the time he didn't realize it, but David's aching tush developed into sciatica problems which will be checked by our doctor at home.
Disturbing and sad, but their truth, was the way the detectives returned to the Arab theme. They explained that they had many coming from Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia. They went on welfare and turned to crime. I told them that we have many Arabs in the U.S., but I was more familiar with those who were at universities studying to be doctors, professors, and engineers.
David's detective spoke a lot about visiting New York City where there were so many police officers. He said they were very understaffed in France, and police weren't respected. I told him that if we had been mugged in the U.S., the chances were the robber would have a gun and we might be dead.
Two hours later we had the medical and police reports and a copy of the stunning X-Ray of my nose as unique souvenirs. The score was two old geezers intact though skittish and one thug in jail and probably hurting where David thrashed him. The "gonif" didn't get one cent. And, viva la "medecine socialisee"...we paid nothing.
As for the reputation of the French being rude and not liking Americans, I can't abide by that. We were treated by incredibly caring and professional people. The civilians who came to our aid were kind, considerate, and compassionate.
David was literally roaring with anger throughout the whole ordeal. I called for help in English, although I know the French. Men came running, and the people in the restaurant called the police. But David wasn't finished yet. He had just seen my bloody nose. He went after the thief who was now restrained by the men, and I had to call him off and strongly tell him to sit down in the restaurant. The restaurant staff and a patron were most solicitous, gave me ice, towels, and gave us water.
The police arrived (about four big ones) and asked if we wanted to make a report. Of course we did. I was visibly injured and David said he was fine. The woman at the restaurant who had the best English said of the police, "Go with them. They are good men." And that began our Kafka-esque evening. After taking my blood pressure and heart rate, we were transported to the police station where our escorts didn't speak English nor did anyone else. My French was getting better by the minute. Alors! A man emerged who looked like a derelict and was an English speaker. He was also a detective going on duty. Undercover, I guess.
We told him our situation and he said that if we wanted to press charges I'd have to be seen by a doctor at the hospital ER. Good citizens that we are we said, "Why not?" I'll tell you why. By now it was after 9 PM and we hadn't eaten. You know ERs. OMG.
We got to ride in a "pompier" (ambulance) where an EMT re-checked my vitals as we all rode unrestrained in the back. Actually, the EMT was standing. When the driver put on the siren and lights, our guy laughed and told him to "cool it." Not really an emergency.
I was triaged at the ER and began to wait. Two hours later, David had paced a gouge in the linoleum and scrounged up one tuna sandwich and two candy bars from temperamental vending machines. We were then called to wait in an examining room. You know how it works. The bed in the room was covered in clean cotton (not disposable) sheeting and we didn't know where to sit. We opted for two folding chairs. It took persuasion for me to get David to settle down. One female nurse who had some English asked if I wanted something for pain. My pain level was a "1" and I had more drugs in my hotel room than they did in the ER, so I declined. On we waited with the false hope offered that the doctor would come soon.
Sexist of me, but true, I approached a man in white and asked if he was a doctor. He was a nurse, but he spoke English better than I spoke French. I explained what had happened and that now David was close to needing a special medication for atrial fibrillation that had to be taken at exact times of day. True. This wonderful, compassionate nurse snapped into action. He found the doctor, a woman, and told her about our dilemma. We told them we understood there were more seriously needy people ahead of us, but had to get to David's meds. They offered to give him what he needed, but we were fearful it wouldn't be exactly the same. We didn't want to risk it.
The doctor called radiation and the nurse speed walked me down the hall for an X-ray. It was a big old-fashioned machine, but it did the job. We exchanged pleasantries about Marie Curie being French and ironically dying of radiation poisoning. Not only was my French improving and my college classes (50+) years ago leaching out of my brain and onto my lips, but I was becoming less self-conscious about speaking.
The nose wasn't broken. I learned that if it had been they would have given me antibiotics. I could be on my way. But it wasn't to be that easy. Taxis were no longer running. It was after midnight. Nurse to the rescue! He found a family who was leaving the ER, knew where our hotel was, and had room in the car...just. It's a good thing David has maintained his weight loss with Weight Watchers. We squeezed into the mini-whatever and to the tunes of Frozen we rode to our hotel. David gave the driver twenty Euros for her help and we crept into bed at 1 AM.
We'd agreed to be at the police station the next morning at nine. They'd have English speaking detectives who would take our statements. It must have been casual Friday because these detectives certainly weren't the coat and tie types. Judging by the night before, it must have been casual Thursday as well.
They split us up as I knew they would. They kept asking us if the perpetrator was Arab. We had no way of telling. They told David the man they arrested was named Farid. They kept bringing it up and it was clear they knew they guy. He was in custody and had been there all night. They got the medical report from the hospital (no HIPPA) and asked if we wanted to see if we could identify the man. We agreed to try. They put us in a storage closet with a one-way window that looked out on the hallway. Then one detective thought it might be better if we identified the man separately. It was a line-up of one. David went first. When it was my turn, the detective told me David had said that was the man. So much for objectivity. France still uses Napoleonic Law. I think they don't have that "presumed innocent until proven guilty" thing. I did agree with David and asked if this was the man who was apprehended last night. They said he was and he was very bad. They'd been after him for a long time. I guess they really were building a case. With that a photographer walked in and took pictures of me. By then my nose was a bit puffy and I had discoloration under one eye. I promise you, my Passport photos are much more flattering, although the swelling diminishes my wrinkles. At the time he didn't realize it, but David's aching tush developed into sciatica problems which will be checked by our doctor at home.
Disturbing and sad, but their truth, was the way the detectives returned to the Arab theme. They explained that they had many coming from Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia. They went on welfare and turned to crime. I told them that we have many Arabs in the U.S., but I was more familiar with those who were at universities studying to be doctors, professors, and engineers.
David's detective spoke a lot about visiting New York City where there were so many police officers. He said they were very understaffed in France, and police weren't respected. I told him that if we had been mugged in the U.S., the chances were the robber would have a gun and we might be dead.
Two hours later we had the medical and police reports and a copy of the stunning X-Ray of my nose as unique souvenirs. The score was two old geezers intact though skittish and one thug in jail and probably hurting where David thrashed him. The "gonif" didn't get one cent. And, viva la "medecine socialisee"...we paid nothing.
As for the reputation of the French being rude and not liking Americans, I can't abide by that. We were treated by incredibly caring and professional people. The civilians who came to our aid were kind, considerate, and compassionate.
We're glad to be home and waited to tell our kids about this
before sending this out.
Toby
Toby
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Almost Home-Leaving Milan
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| Morning Greeting |
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| Mont Blanc and Lake |
Oct. 16, 2015- NYC
Almost Home-Leaving Milan
We got a gift from the rain gods this morning. When we opened the curtains in our room and the mountains were covered with new snow. As we took off we skimmed Mont Blanc. Best view ever at 26,000 feet. A bit close for my liking but stunning snow fields and peaks. We could even make out blue-green mountain lakes.
A kind man gave us directions to the car rental return area but took pity and led us there. We must have a way of looking clueless, desperate, and pathetic that convinces people to help. Things went swimmingly at security. The good and bad of it is that those flying to the U.S. and Israel go through special security. A sad commentary, but shorter lines. Kept our shoes on, but had to take the iPad out. David also had to take out his CPAP and all its parts because a worker was being trained. Love being an object lesson.
There was a group of about forty Italian high schoolers in our section of the plane. We flew all the way in daylight so everyone was awake. The teens were in the aisles and visiting, but comported themselves well. Those chaperones will be exhausted.
I watched three movies. Two were kids' films that I'd missed. Inside Out made me cry. Me and Earl and a Dying Girl did too. So well done. Talia kept telling me how she loved the book. Then I watched About Schmidt with Jack Nicholson. I didn't realize I'd seen it until the end when Kathy Bates strips and gets into a hot tub with Nicholson. That was memorable.
We got a gift from the rain gods this morning. When we opened the curtains in our room and the mountains were covered with new snow. As we took off we skimmed Mont Blanc. Best view ever at 26,000 feet. A bit close for my liking but stunning snow fields and peaks. We could even make out blue-green mountain lakes.
A kind man gave us directions to the car rental return area but took pity and led us there. We must have a way of looking clueless, desperate, and pathetic that convinces people to help. Things went swimmingly at security. The good and bad of it is that those flying to the U.S. and Israel go through special security. A sad commentary, but shorter lines. Kept our shoes on, but had to take the iPad out. David also had to take out his CPAP and all its parts because a worker was being trained. Love being an object lesson.
There was a group of about forty Italian high schoolers in our section of the plane. We flew all the way in daylight so everyone was awake. The teens were in the aisles and visiting, but comported themselves well. Those chaperones will be exhausted.
I watched three movies. Two were kids' films that I'd missed. Inside Out made me cry. Me and Earl and a Dying Girl did too. So well done. Talia kept telling me how she loved the book. Then I watched About Schmidt with Jack Nicholson. I didn't realize I'd seen it until the end when Kathy Bates strips and gets into a hot tub with Nicholson. That was memorable.
We had dinner with friends and will turn in soon. Tomorrow we fly to Akron. Home at last. BTW, the reason we stay over in New York is so we don't have to worry about missed connections. They would have been tight going this way.
Toby
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Picture Postcard Day-Lago Maggiore
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| Isola Madre Selfie |
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| Isola Pesartari |
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| Isola Pescatari |
Oct. 14, 2015-Lago Maggiore
Picture Postcard Day-Lago Maggiore
Bright sunshine made our decision of what to do today. The high was to be in the mid-60's and it was time to be on the Lake. The people we dined with last night were at breakfast and were heading to the Alps. We'd had enough of that.
As we waited for our boat we noticed there was snow on the mountain tops in the distance. Because it had rained in Stresa and the general area all night, it took the form of snow on the mountains. I got good pictures before clouds moved in.
We bought a combination trip to three islands. The ride over was glorious. The skies were incredibly blue and we were amazed at the height of the mountain we'd descended just yesterday. David adores being around and on water. With tree-covered, snowcapped, and rock-faced mountains of all sizes and shapes in the mix, it was Eden.
Isola Madre was our first stop. Chateau Borromeo is a 16th century "castle" open to tourists. The furnishings are period and mementos go into the 20th century. Recent photos of the still existing family add to the immediacy of the visit. The chapel was prominent in the lives of the Borremeos as they contributed at least one pope to the church. The gardens are immaculate and there's a breathtaking view from paths that circle the island.
Isola Pescatari has hotels, restaurants, and souvenir shops. We lunched two feet from the lake's edge then walked the perimeter of the island. A neighboring table at lunch had six Aussies who had lived where we did in the Surfer's Paradise area. Good to reminisce. We finished our walk about of the island and came upon a 9th century church that had been restored and was still in use.
We did stop at Isola Bella but didn't tour the chateau as we had done that years ago. The rest of the island is mainly cafes and gift shops so we didn't stay long. As the boat pulled away heading for Stresa, I got a wonderful shot of the terraced gardens of Isola Bella.
We decided to let you see that we are still shlepping along. The selfie was taken on Isola Madre. The far side of Lago Maggiore is visible in the background.
Dinner was at a pizzeria down the street from our hotel. I had the best gnocchi ever. If gnocchi means "little pillows," these were feather light.
We will be in Milan tomorrow at an airport hotel. We fly out Friday. We won't be seeing di Vinci's The Last Supper. We hadn't planned to and I just checked on line. Tickets are required and they're sold out until Oct. 21.
Toby
Bright sunshine made our decision of what to do today. The high was to be in the mid-60's and it was time to be on the Lake. The people we dined with last night were at breakfast and were heading to the Alps. We'd had enough of that.
As we waited for our boat we noticed there was snow on the mountain tops in the distance. Because it had rained in Stresa and the general area all night, it took the form of snow on the mountains. I got good pictures before clouds moved in.
We bought a combination trip to three islands. The ride over was glorious. The skies were incredibly blue and we were amazed at the height of the mountain we'd descended just yesterday. David adores being around and on water. With tree-covered, snowcapped, and rock-faced mountains of all sizes and shapes in the mix, it was Eden.
Isola Madre was our first stop. Chateau Borromeo is a 16th century "castle" open to tourists. The furnishings are period and mementos go into the 20th century. Recent photos of the still existing family add to the immediacy of the visit. The chapel was prominent in the lives of the Borremeos as they contributed at least one pope to the church. The gardens are immaculate and there's a breathtaking view from paths that circle the island.
Isola Pescatari has hotels, restaurants, and souvenir shops. We lunched two feet from the lake's edge then walked the perimeter of the island. A neighboring table at lunch had six Aussies who had lived where we did in the Surfer's Paradise area. Good to reminisce. We finished our walk about of the island and came upon a 9th century church that had been restored and was still in use.
We did stop at Isola Bella but didn't tour the chateau as we had done that years ago. The rest of the island is mainly cafes and gift shops so we didn't stay long. As the boat pulled away heading for Stresa, I got a wonderful shot of the terraced gardens of Isola Bella.
We decided to let you see that we are still shlepping along. The selfie was taken on Isola Madre. The far side of Lago Maggiore is visible in the background.
Dinner was at a pizzeria down the street from our hotel. I had the best gnocchi ever. If gnocchi means "little pillows," these were feather light.
We will be in Milan tomorrow at an airport hotel. We fly out Friday. We won't be seeing di Vinci's The Last Supper. We hadn't planned to and I just checked on line. Tickets are required and they're sold out until Oct. 21.
Toby
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Fairy Tale Town-Stresa, Italy
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| Cashier at Autotrasse Grill |
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| Stresa |
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Isola Belle |
Oct. 13, 2015-Stresa
Fairy Tale Town-Stresa, Italy
I've always said that travel is better in retrospect. For some of you who can identify, it's like childbirth. Once it's over, you're glad you did it. We tend to attack travel, not luxuriate in it. We get lost, plans go awry, devices don't always work, language is a trial, we can't operate familiar machines like washers, driving patterns and roads are white-knuckle-makers, and on and on. It's stressful. We discussed whether we'd do another independent driving trip. This may be our last. The only places we'd drive are in Europe and we've pretty much done that. It looks like we have Romania and Bulgaria to go and we'll do organized tours there.
Today's drive was uneventful, which is a good thing. The roads were winding along the coast as we headed towards Savona before turning North to Stresa. It was raining, we were driving through clouds or fog (take your choice), and the trucks were so wide they filled an entire lane. There was no way they could take a curve without encroaching on us. But, unlike their reputation, not all Italians are crazy drivers. Not even most.
We found our second choice of hotels first. It's called The Meeting. They were booked for the two days we wanted but had an apartment down the block in the "villa." It was nominally more and included breakfast at the hotel and had a parking lot. I looked at it as David circled the block. It's larger than the apartment we had in Australia.
We wanted to stroll the streets between raindrops and needed to get a few items at a pharmacy and grocery. The pharmacist was most helpful and her English was good even though we paid $10 for twenty-four ibuprofin. The grocery didn't have the quart bags we needed. Both our bags broke. I have other size bags, but no quarts. On the way back to the hotel we stopped at the pharmacy to ask where to buy the bags. The woman gladly gave us two quart bags she wasn't using.
We did get down to the lake and took photos of Isola Bella where we'd been years ago. Stresa is a most charming place. The old part is lovingly cared for and has a fairy tale quality. Flowers are still in bloom and each property has a riot of colors showing off the owner's pride.
There was still time for laundry and a laundromat nearby. We met a man from New Jersey and we chatted while we waited. As he left he told us he and his wife were staying at a lovely apartment at a place called The Meeting. We're neighbors. Small world. Smaller world. They were at the hotel restaurant for dinner and we joined them. Lovely time exchanging travel anecdotes. It's a second marriage, he's Jewish, she's not. They live on a boat in Florida. Who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again.
Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny here. Maybe we'll cruise Lago Maggiore and take in islands we haven't seem.
Toby
Friday, November 13, 2015
Retracing Our Steps-Sanremo
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| Sanremo from our Hotel |
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| Sanremo Selfie |
Oct. 12, 2015- Sanremo
Retracing Our Steps-Sanremo
I bet you didn't know that Sanremo was one word. We've always thought is was San Remo until we tried to enter it into Our Lady. Man oh man. Nothing's easy. Getting out of Carcassone included. Streets were narrow, buildings were close together, and we lost the satellite. We pulled into a parking lot going the wrong way on a one-way street to get clear air space, and we were off. It was the first wrong way this trip, not too bad.
We had a six to seven hour drive ahead of us. We had the name of two hotels and high hopes. We learned a new term for what the French call a Junction when two roads diverge. It's a bifurcation here. I must say the French are law-biding drivers. They signal turns, let drivers merge, and most follow the speed limit. The only moment of terror was when David went for the brake and stepped on the clutch by mistake. We thought we had no brakes. Quick recovery and his error was corrected. After examination, the brake and clutch are very close together and the same shape, size, and level.
I'm in charge of having money ready to pay tolls. I usually don't handle foreign currency when we travel and only use plastic. With travel on the toll roads, we need ready change. Every time we pay with paper bills we get coins back. There aren't postings of upcoming tolls nor are tickets marked with the cost of highway use. I have to produce close to the right amount right after the ticket is inserted and the screen shows the cost. Today I was able to quickly find the correct amount and use up most of our small coins so David's pocket isn't so heavy. We don't mind the tolls even though today added up to $45. Without the toll roads we'd be on local mountain roads. It would be more dangerous and take forever. Even Rick Steves suggests toll roads.
We retraced our route back around Nimes, Arles, Aix, and Nice up, through and over the Maritime Alps following the coastline of the Mediterranean. We were on an elevated road with a bird's eye view. Although we were in and out of rain, it was still majestic. We've had good weather until now. Don't mind rain on a driving day.
We're at the Hotel Modus Vivendi. We traveled several switchbacks to get here. It's not in town, but high enough for a magic view of Sanremo and the Mediterranean below. Our room was quoted as $100 including breakfast, but they lowered it to the on line price of $69 with breakfast and free parking. We didn’t even ask. It's a 4-star hotel, the nicest yet. We're not leaving for dinner. No way are we driving those crazy roads in the dark. The nice man at the desk ordered pizza for sretracingeveral guests and for himself. We're in on it. He's very accommodating and his English seemed good, but when David asked for two hand towels he thought we wanted a room with two bathrooms. That resolved, we have a suite with a bunk-bed room, kitchenette in the main room, and balcony.
Other than a false fire alarm, our evening was boring. Our pizza was two hours late, but so was everyone else's. It was perverse, but we watched a cooking show in Italian while waiting. Food is easy to understand in any language. Our pizza arrived before we learned if the raw meat on a stick in the cooking show demo was going into the Bloody Marys or was to be eaten separately.
Just checked our hoped for destination (Cinque Terre) and rain will continue through Wednesday. The whole point of the area is to walk from town to town along the craggy coast. Not foul weather activity. We may head North to Stresa on Lago Maggiore. Looks like the weather might clear for a bit there.
I bet you didn't know that Sanremo was one word. We've always thought is was San Remo until we tried to enter it into Our Lady. Man oh man. Nothing's easy. Getting out of Carcassone included. Streets were narrow, buildings were close together, and we lost the satellite. We pulled into a parking lot going the wrong way on a one-way street to get clear air space, and we were off. It was the first wrong way this trip, not too bad.
We had a six to seven hour drive ahead of us. We had the name of two hotels and high hopes. We learned a new term for what the French call a Junction when two roads diverge. It's a bifurcation here. I must say the French are law-biding drivers. They signal turns, let drivers merge, and most follow the speed limit. The only moment of terror was when David went for the brake and stepped on the clutch by mistake. We thought we had no brakes. Quick recovery and his error was corrected. After examination, the brake and clutch are very close together and the same shape, size, and level.
I'm in charge of having money ready to pay tolls. I usually don't handle foreign currency when we travel and only use plastic. With travel on the toll roads, we need ready change. Every time we pay with paper bills we get coins back. There aren't postings of upcoming tolls nor are tickets marked with the cost of highway use. I have to produce close to the right amount right after the ticket is inserted and the screen shows the cost. Today I was able to quickly find the correct amount and use up most of our small coins so David's pocket isn't so heavy. We don't mind the tolls even though today added up to $45. Without the toll roads we'd be on local mountain roads. It would be more dangerous and take forever. Even Rick Steves suggests toll roads.
We retraced our route back around Nimes, Arles, Aix, and Nice up, through and over the Maritime Alps following the coastline of the Mediterranean. We were on an elevated road with a bird's eye view. Although we were in and out of rain, it was still majestic. We've had good weather until now. Don't mind rain on a driving day.
We're at the Hotel Modus Vivendi. We traveled several switchbacks to get here. It's not in town, but high enough for a magic view of Sanremo and the Mediterranean below. Our room was quoted as $100 including breakfast, but they lowered it to the on line price of $69 with breakfast and free parking. We didn’t even ask. It's a 4-star hotel, the nicest yet. We're not leaving for dinner. No way are we driving those crazy roads in the dark. The nice man at the desk ordered pizza for sretracingeveral guests and for himself. We're in on it. He's very accommodating and his English seemed good, but when David asked for two hand towels he thought we wanted a room with two bathrooms. That resolved, we have a suite with a bunk-bed room, kitchenette in the main room, and balcony.
Other than a false fire alarm, our evening was boring. Our pizza was two hours late, but so was everyone else's. It was perverse, but we watched a cooking show in Italian while waiting. Food is easy to understand in any language. Our pizza arrived before we learned if the raw meat on a stick in the cooking show demo was going into the Bloody Marys or was to be eaten separately.
Just checked our hoped for destination (Cinque Terre) and rain will continue through Wednesday. The whole point of the area is to walk from town to town along the craggy coast. Not foul weather activity. We may head North to Stresa on Lago Maggiore. Looks like the weather might clear for a bit there.
Toby
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Frustrating Carcassone
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| Relaxing |
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| After A Frustrating Day |
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| Carcassone |
Oct. 11, 2015-Carcassone
Frustrating Carcassone
Carcassone is only two hours from Arles. It's toll road most of the way. It took us five hours to get to the walled city and Medieval Chateau (castle). Here's why.
The terrain was changing. It was more parched with the appearance of red clay soil. Vineyards were still in abundance as well as the typical white horses of the Camargue region we were leaving. We were entering the honey capital of France. Every town had a castle. Dozens of modern windmills dotted the hills.
The road was smooth and relatively new. We chose to stop at a rest area for gas, etc. It was new, clean, and beautifully appointed. There was a patio with bright umbrellas for picnics. The ladies room stall doors were decorated with laminate in a riot of floral bouquets. David pulled up to a pump and tried to use his VISA, but it was rejected. We went inside and used the card to make a purchase. It worked. American cards require signatures. In some places where that's not possible they're rejected. We explained to the cashier about our problem and he said to pay later. I remembered how to say "pump 14" in French. We left the card with him. David tried again and failed. I went in to be sure the pump was on. It wasn't. Eventually gas got pumped. We were on our way. At least a twenty minute delay.
At last we arrived at the Tourist Info Bureau in Carcassonne. Where to park. The main underground lot was closed. It was Sunday. After parking in two lots we finally figured out that parking was free today. We settled on the second open street level lot. We found the Info place and were given maps of the town, the surrounding area, and a hotel booklet. Of course, we hadn't pre-booked. We were winging it in France. We felt rushed then realized they were closing. Lights were being turned off and we were escorted to the door and out.
Lunch was in order. Not a lot was open, but we found a cafe offering double cheeseburgers and fries. What we got were single burgers with cheese on the top and bottom of the burger. It was double cheese, not double burger. No matter. I tried calling hotels to see about booking. I didn't know which numbers to dial of those given. For example, our hotel, the Ibis, is 33 (0)4 68 72 37 37. The waitress tried to help but had trouble too. I'd tried variations, but she got a ringtone leaving off the 33. For some reason this is a very busy week end here. We finally found a room and reserved it by phone.
We walked to the hotel and arranged to park the car for $10 in their garage. We walked to the car, found the hotel again, and pulled down a narrow chute into a dead end facing a garage door. We had a code to enter but didn't see a keypad. Miraculously, the door rose. A car was exiting. We did a back and forth dance and were inside. Our space, #4, was easy to find but was encroached on by the car in slot #5. I went up to the lobby through a maze of doors and buzzers to explain our plight. I hadn't realized that the garage was monitored by cameras so the clerk knew the problem. She said we should exit the garage using the keypad and pointed to a free street spot we could have until the car in #5 checked out this evening. Down I went, but not far. The door to the lot said to push then pull. I did and nothing happened. The door was stuck. Up to the lobby I went. The clerk ran down the steps with me and pointed out that "push" meant to push a button near the door then pull the door. Who knew? By the time David and I emerged from the garage the street space was taken. The solution was now that we'd use the hotel code to park in the underground lot (costing $8) across the street that was posted as closed. We did, it did, and we checked in.
Carcassone is only two hours from Arles. It's toll road most of the way. It took us five hours to get to the walled city and Medieval Chateau (castle). Here's why.
The terrain was changing. It was more parched with the appearance of red clay soil. Vineyards were still in abundance as well as the typical white horses of the Camargue region we were leaving. We were entering the honey capital of France. Every town had a castle. Dozens of modern windmills dotted the hills.
The road was smooth and relatively new. We chose to stop at a rest area for gas, etc. It was new, clean, and beautifully appointed. There was a patio with bright umbrellas for picnics. The ladies room stall doors were decorated with laminate in a riot of floral bouquets. David pulled up to a pump and tried to use his VISA, but it was rejected. We went inside and used the card to make a purchase. It worked. American cards require signatures. In some places where that's not possible they're rejected. We explained to the cashier about our problem and he said to pay later. I remembered how to say "pump 14" in French. We left the card with him. David tried again and failed. I went in to be sure the pump was on. It wasn't. Eventually gas got pumped. We were on our way. At least a twenty minute delay.
At last we arrived at the Tourist Info Bureau in Carcassonne. Where to park. The main underground lot was closed. It was Sunday. After parking in two lots we finally figured out that parking was free today. We settled on the second open street level lot. We found the Info place and were given maps of the town, the surrounding area, and a hotel booklet. Of course, we hadn't pre-booked. We were winging it in France. We felt rushed then realized they were closing. Lights were being turned off and we were escorted to the door and out.
Lunch was in order. Not a lot was open, but we found a cafe offering double cheeseburgers and fries. What we got were single burgers with cheese on the top and bottom of the burger. It was double cheese, not double burger. No matter. I tried calling hotels to see about booking. I didn't know which numbers to dial of those given. For example, our hotel, the Ibis, is 33 (0)4 68 72 37 37. The waitress tried to help but had trouble too. I'd tried variations, but she got a ringtone leaving off the 33. For some reason this is a very busy week end here. We finally found a room and reserved it by phone.
We walked to the hotel and arranged to park the car for $10 in their garage. We walked to the car, found the hotel again, and pulled down a narrow chute into a dead end facing a garage door. We had a code to enter but didn't see a keypad. Miraculously, the door rose. A car was exiting. We did a back and forth dance and were inside. Our space, #4, was easy to find but was encroached on by the car in slot #5. I went up to the lobby through a maze of doors and buzzers to explain our plight. I hadn't realized that the garage was monitored by cameras so the clerk knew the problem. She said we should exit the garage using the keypad and pointed to a free street spot we could have until the car in #5 checked out this evening. Down I went, but not far. The door to the lot said to push then pull. I did and nothing happened. The door was stuck. Up to the lobby I went. The clerk ran down the steps with me and pointed out that "push" meant to push a button near the door then pull the door. Who knew? By the time David and I emerged from the garage the street space was taken. The solution was now that we'd use the hotel code to park in the underground lot (costing $8) across the street that was posted as closed. We did, it did, and we checked in.
Our room is a tad bigger than a Microtel, but newly appointed and clean. There is only one outlet in the room. It's on the wall under the TV. Can't watch TV and have anything plugged in. Our iPad, phone, and most importantly David's CPAP machine have to be plugged into the extension cord we brought.
By now it was 3 PM and we were just starting across the ancient bridge over the River Aude to the UNESCO old city, castle, and ramparts. Uphill we went. We enjoyed an ice-cream cone and pushed through crowds of tired families with crying kids all making their way to the next souvenir shop or cafe. We lined up for tickets and audio for the castle by 3:30 PM. It was in the high 70's, the sun was blazing, and we were getting cranky. The castle visitation ended at 5 PM. We got to the ticket booth at 4:10 PM and were told they were starting to ask people to leave the castle by 4:30 and closing at 5, but we could still pay full admission for a twenty-minute walkthrough. We declined. Wasn't going well.
We groused to each other as we walked around the old town and up on the rampart walls. David wanted to see the basilica and it was a good place to rest. It surprised us by being one of the loveliest we've seen. The stained glass was delicate and the primary colors caught the sun giving a kaleidoscope effect. As we tried to deal with our disappointment, four men appeared at the base of the steps to the altar. They lined up in a row as for a picture. One had a strange otherworldly look on his face. Then they began to sing a cappella. The acoustics and their clear, strong, soulful sound helped center us. It was good we didn't understand the words they sang. Words would have detracted and distracted. The tone alone was soothing. They sang two songs then offered to sell their CD to benefit the church. A bit tacky, but understandable.
We went on to visit a schoolhouse from the 1800's where posters cautioning against alcoholism caught my fancy. They said too much drink led to smaller children, muscle weakness, epilepsy, and idiocy. Not far off.
Minds at ease, we decided to continue our rampart walk admiring the countryside from a sovereign's eye view. The light playing on the fields and red tile rooftops cast shadows hinting at dinnertime. We chose a place at random and enjoyed the plate du jour. Along with soup or salad we had chicken with ratatouille and fries. It was peasant food, somewhat akin to paprikas, but perfect for the setting. David enjoyed his first glass of French wine on this trip, and we finished with poached pear covered in chocolate sauce.
As we crossed the bridge back to our hotel, I couldn't resist looking back at the castle.
Tomorrow we head East back to Italy. I don't know how far we'll get. It's over seven hours to where we want to go, CinqueTerres, so we'll break it into two driving days.
Toby
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
City of Fountains-Aix
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| One of A Hundred |
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| 18th Century Luxury |
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| Legal Parking |
Oct. 10, 2015- Aix-en-Provence
City of Fountains-Aix
Our granddaughter, Rylee, when asked if her seat belt was fastened said,
"Yes, and I'm ready to follow the highlighted route." And that's what
we did today. We followed that shocking pink line all the way to
Aix-en-Provence. The guidebooks I read said it was a university town, a mecca
for art, and haven for the wealthy. True on all counts. They didn't mention
hoards of people in town on Saturday.
Parking is always a problem in old towns and this was no exception. We've been using underground garages, but had trouble locating one in Aix. By the time we realized it was under several city blocks, we'd passed entrances without recognizing them as such. David had an idea. Our Lady of Parking was called on. In an instant we'd located an entrance and were fighting for one of over 450 spaces that were posted as available. Lines of cars descended as electronic signs recorded 425 spaces left, 417, etc. By the time we got to level -5, there were under 200 open spaces. We were there six hours and cars were entering for the evening with one driver following us to our car.
Always in need of a toilet, we got to use one of those automated round kiosks on the street. I've seen them on TV. For 50 cents (not $2 as in Switzerland), I used it. When I finished, it locked itself. David waited for the self-cleaning function then he paid 50 cents. The interior is large enough for wheel chair access and stainless steel. Impressive.
Aix is known as a city of 100 fountains, and that it is. There's not a roundabout or square without one. We were able to take a tram ride for the first time on this trip and it was worth it. The stucco facades of buildings are decorated with carvings, elaborately massive doors, and wrought iron balconies. The Avenues (notably Mirabeau) are lined with plane trees and reflect some of the best promenades of Europe. This was a monied city and still is. Mansions lined Rue Mazarine and were either well maintained or being restored. This was the home of Emil Zola and Paul Cezanne. They were school mates and friends. This is where Hemingway strolled and dreamed.
We visited Hotel du Caumont, formerly a mansion, now a museum. The restoration and furnishing were 18th century when it was built and occupied by a family. Unfortunately for them, the French Revolution of 1789 disrupted their lives and the house changed hands many times. In 1964, the Isenbart family sold the place to the city and it became a conservatory.
An informative and professionally done film about Paul Cezanne was presented. He came from a comfortable family and didn't have to worry about funds. But his father wanted him to be a lawyer and there was much conflict. There were many dramatizations of Cezanne and his model working. Then the screen morphed into the final work of art that was produced.
We negotiated lunch, I mean really negotiated. We walked into a cafe and a woman who was at what looked like a toaster oven started speaking in rapid French. We didn't understand, but a man at the bar began to translate. We learned that we were to order inside, sit outside, and wait to be served. We had to go outside to read the menu on a blackboard, go back in, order, go out, find a table, sit. Accomplished. We'd ordered panini. Mine was salmon and goat cheese. Usually salmon overseas is what we call lox. This time it was grilled salmon. Bon! David had a chicken one, but the best part was the bread. It was long French bread that had been greased with something delicious then panninified (heated) in that toaster oven. So yum!
We trekked on to see the Cathedral where a wedding was in process. Huge crowd. No photos. The Hotel de Ville (City Hall) was busy with brides everywhere waiting to be officially wed. I love the European system where marriage is a legal function of the "state" and the "church" can only bless what the "state" has already registered.
Trivia time. Why are streets here named Rue de Lice? That's lice to us. The Plague (bubonic, black, whatever you want to call it) made a huge impression on these folks. Over 100,000 died in Aix en Provence alone. Those lousy buggers are commemorated for the havoc they caused.
Basic dinner back in Arles. Lamb for David, Nicoise for me.
Tonight's photo is of our car beautifully parked on a sidewalk. It's a legal parking space and the first time David has had to jump a curb to park.
We sadly leave Hotel Acacias tomorrow. It has been a comfortable home the last five nights. On to Carcassonne.
Toby
Parking is always a problem in old towns and this was no exception. We've been using underground garages, but had trouble locating one in Aix. By the time we realized it was under several city blocks, we'd passed entrances without recognizing them as such. David had an idea. Our Lady of Parking was called on. In an instant we'd located an entrance and were fighting for one of over 450 spaces that were posted as available. Lines of cars descended as electronic signs recorded 425 spaces left, 417, etc. By the time we got to level -5, there were under 200 open spaces. We were there six hours and cars were entering for the evening with one driver following us to our car.
Always in need of a toilet, we got to use one of those automated round kiosks on the street. I've seen them on TV. For 50 cents (not $2 as in Switzerland), I used it. When I finished, it locked itself. David waited for the self-cleaning function then he paid 50 cents. The interior is large enough for wheel chair access and stainless steel. Impressive.
Aix is known as a city of 100 fountains, and that it is. There's not a roundabout or square without one. We were able to take a tram ride for the first time on this trip and it was worth it. The stucco facades of buildings are decorated with carvings, elaborately massive doors, and wrought iron balconies. The Avenues (notably Mirabeau) are lined with plane trees and reflect some of the best promenades of Europe. This was a monied city and still is. Mansions lined Rue Mazarine and were either well maintained or being restored. This was the home of Emil Zola and Paul Cezanne. They were school mates and friends. This is where Hemingway strolled and dreamed.
We visited Hotel du Caumont, formerly a mansion, now a museum. The restoration and furnishing were 18th century when it was built and occupied by a family. Unfortunately for them, the French Revolution of 1789 disrupted their lives and the house changed hands many times. In 1964, the Isenbart family sold the place to the city and it became a conservatory.
An informative and professionally done film about Paul Cezanne was presented. He came from a comfortable family and didn't have to worry about funds. But his father wanted him to be a lawyer and there was much conflict. There were many dramatizations of Cezanne and his model working. Then the screen morphed into the final work of art that was produced.
We negotiated lunch, I mean really negotiated. We walked into a cafe and a woman who was at what looked like a toaster oven started speaking in rapid French. We didn't understand, but a man at the bar began to translate. We learned that we were to order inside, sit outside, and wait to be served. We had to go outside to read the menu on a blackboard, go back in, order, go out, find a table, sit. Accomplished. We'd ordered panini. Mine was salmon and goat cheese. Usually salmon overseas is what we call lox. This time it was grilled salmon. Bon! David had a chicken one, but the best part was the bread. It was long French bread that had been greased with something delicious then panninified (heated) in that toaster oven. So yum!
We trekked on to see the Cathedral where a wedding was in process. Huge crowd. No photos. The Hotel de Ville (City Hall) was busy with brides everywhere waiting to be officially wed. I love the European system where marriage is a legal function of the "state" and the "church" can only bless what the "state" has already registered.
Trivia time. Why are streets here named Rue de Lice? That's lice to us. The Plague (bubonic, black, whatever you want to call it) made a huge impression on these folks. Over 100,000 died in Aix en Provence alone. Those lousy buggers are commemorated for the havoc they caused.
Basic dinner back in Arles. Lamb for David, Nicoise for me.
Tonight's photo is of our car beautifully parked on a sidewalk. It's a legal parking space and the first time David has had to jump a curb to park.
We sadly leave Hotel Acacias tomorrow. It has been a comfortable home the last five nights. On to Carcassonne.
Toby
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Another Ruin and Pont-Nimes and Pont Du Gard
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| French Gardem |
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| Pont Du Gard |
Oct. 9, 2015- Nimes and Pont Du Gard
Another Ruin and Pont-Nimes and Pont Du Gard
We got a late start to Nimes this morning. It wasn't far. It had been on a major Roman route thus has a few well preserved ruins. Our first stop was at the Maison Carre, a temple to Augustus Caesar, built in the early 1st century. It sits in the center of where the Forum was. There we saw a well done movie dramatizing the history of Nimes from the Gauls through today. The Temple has been in continuous use since it's inception including stints as a stable, arsenal, and a fort containing shops and homes.
We grabbed a lunch of what we thought was going to be a Maxi Burger, but turned out to be a chicken sandwich on a burger bun. Could have been worse. Then we trudged on to yet another amphitheater. It claimed to be the most intact in all of Europe. It certainly looked complete and since we're now amphitheater mavens, I'd agree. The audioguide told us how gladiators were well paid and well trained athletes. As the Roman Empire weakened and Barbarians invaded in the 4th century, the cities contracted. With less demand for blood sports, gladiatorial careers weren't sought after and quality fell off. Today, bull fights fill the arena, bloodless, of course.
We walked to the formal gardens which weren't so amazing. I don't love French style gardens with all that gravel and few plantings. The Italian garden on the hill was lush with trees and winding paths. My preference. Ice-cream called once more and then it was off to le Pont.
This was in Pont Du Gard, 20 miles away. This Roman aqueduct (the best preserved) was the most complete we've seen and towered over us. The still perfectly placed stones gleamed golden in the sun as we tried to get the full length of it in one camera shot. Admission was free but parking was $20 per car. A bargain if you have a van full.
We drove back to Arles, which has been a perfect place for our touring base, past endless vineyards with grape leaves turning red and bronze as the air cooled. Stunning.
Just a bit of Nimes trivia should you ever be on Jeopardy. Levi Strauss bought cloth from traders in New York. It was from Nimes, thus called de Nime in French, and, voila, we have denim.
We had a quick dinner of pho at the Vietnamese place next to our hotel and will turn in early.
Tomorrow Aix-en-Provence.
Toby
Monday, November 9, 2015
Passionate Avignon
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| Papal Palace |
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| Le Pont d'Avignon |
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| Synagogue |
Oct. 8, 2015- Avignon
Passionate Avignon
We conquered Avignon! So did several popes. Between 1309-1377, Avignon became the seat of the papacy after a disagreement between Rome and the king of France. More strife caused the Western schism in 1378, returning the Papacy to Avignon with what are called illegitimate popes or anti-popes. It blew up again, and in 1417, Rome resumed control.
But getting to Avignon was half the fun. We drove past fields that were probably drawn by Van Gogh with gnarled farmhouses likely standing from his day. Greenhouses dotted the landscape bringing in modern elements. Every few kilometers there was another roundabout requiring us to count exits out loud. We echoed Lily Tomlin's "one ringy dingy, two ringy dingies,..."
As the home of Christianity in the 14th and part of the 15th century, Avignon needed a presence. The Papacy had to set down roots and prove its dominance. It had to face off with the Kings of France and show who was boss. In building the Palais des Papes in just twenty years, the Church created its seat of power and competed in the "my palace is bigger than yours" contest. Theirs won.
Massive might be too insignificant a word. Gargantuan might be more accurate. The Palais is a tribute to architects and masons of the day. Its vaulted ceilings, arches, and walls are all stone. Humans are dwarfed. Today, the visitor has to imagine the frescoes covering the walls and rely on the audio-guide and videos. The narrative is filled with stories of this miracle and that leaving me reeling as to the complexity of the tales. The rooms began to look alike and the mythos blended into a blur. After traipsing the flights of steps involved in getting anywhere, I admire the stamina of the popes who lived there. Alas, in the French Revolution of the 1800's, the structure was used as a prison.
We bought a Passion Pass at the Tourist Info Bureau that gave us discounts at many venues. Our next quest was the infamous Pont. Arching over the Rhone, it ends abruptly where it collapsed. Again the audio-guide told of more miracles and pointed out more chapels. This time St. Benezet was said to have levitated rocks to get it all started, but eventually townsfolk pitched in. Built in the 13th century, it became famous when a popular song was written in the mid-1800's, telling about children dancing on the bridge. Actually, dancing took place under the bridge. Their bad.
We spent too much time and had an unsatisfactory lunch at a cafe that ran out of whatever we ordered and had snail-paced service. We found the 13th century synagogue on whose steps rested several drunks. Not surprisingly, it was closed. We rang the bell under a sign indicating it should be open, but to no avail. David had emailed them a few times asking for an appointment, but had no response.
Late night. Tired. Tomorrow likely going to Nimes.
Toby
We conquered Avignon! So did several popes. Between 1309-1377, Avignon became the seat of the papacy after a disagreement between Rome and the king of France. More strife caused the Western schism in 1378, returning the Papacy to Avignon with what are called illegitimate popes or anti-popes. It blew up again, and in 1417, Rome resumed control.
But getting to Avignon was half the fun. We drove past fields that were probably drawn by Van Gogh with gnarled farmhouses likely standing from his day. Greenhouses dotted the landscape bringing in modern elements. Every few kilometers there was another roundabout requiring us to count exits out loud. We echoed Lily Tomlin's "one ringy dingy, two ringy dingies,..."
As the home of Christianity in the 14th and part of the 15th century, Avignon needed a presence. The Papacy had to set down roots and prove its dominance. It had to face off with the Kings of France and show who was boss. In building the Palais des Papes in just twenty years, the Church created its seat of power and competed in the "my palace is bigger than yours" contest. Theirs won.
Massive might be too insignificant a word. Gargantuan might be more accurate. The Palais is a tribute to architects and masons of the day. Its vaulted ceilings, arches, and walls are all stone. Humans are dwarfed. Today, the visitor has to imagine the frescoes covering the walls and rely on the audio-guide and videos. The narrative is filled with stories of this miracle and that leaving me reeling as to the complexity of the tales. The rooms began to look alike and the mythos blended into a blur. After traipsing the flights of steps involved in getting anywhere, I admire the stamina of the popes who lived there. Alas, in the French Revolution of the 1800's, the structure was used as a prison.
We bought a Passion Pass at the Tourist Info Bureau that gave us discounts at many venues. Our next quest was the infamous Pont. Arching over the Rhone, it ends abruptly where it collapsed. Again the audio-guide told of more miracles and pointed out more chapels. This time St. Benezet was said to have levitated rocks to get it all started, but eventually townsfolk pitched in. Built in the 13th century, it became famous when a popular song was written in the mid-1800's, telling about children dancing on the bridge. Actually, dancing took place under the bridge. Their bad.
We spent too much time and had an unsatisfactory lunch at a cafe that ran out of whatever we ordered and had snail-paced service. We found the 13th century synagogue on whose steps rested several drunks. Not surprisingly, it was closed. We rang the bell under a sign indicating it should be open, but to no avail. David had emailed them a few times asking for an appointment, but had no response.
Late night. Tired. Tomorrow likely going to Nimes.
Toby
Walks Through Time-Touring Arles
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| Roman Theater |
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| Roman Amphitheater |
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| Van Gogh's "Cafe Terrace At Night" |
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| Actual Cafe Van Gogh Painted |
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| Sanitarium Van Gogh Painted |
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| Correct Allee of Plane Trees |
Oct. 7, 2015- Touring Arles
Walks Through Time
Boy, do they know how to set up a market here! The stalls circumnavigated the walls of the old city on the outside. I bet it was a mile, even more. We dutifully began our jaunt around eating our breakfast of croissant and bread whose name I forgot. David bought olives :), and we gawked at the array of "departments" and variety within. It was the first time we'd seen mattresses being displayed in an outdoor market.
We found the Tourist Info Bureau and a singularly unhelpful woman with a very bad cold gave us a map and was going to send us off. I asked about the Pass Advantage, and she sold us one. Arles has the largest old town with the most to see of any place on this trip. It was bombed during WWII; it's dirty, it's shabby; it's wonderful.
We walked all day bouncing from one ruin to another. The Greeks were first, but the Roman presence prevails. We started at the Roman Theater, which is still in use. That's a good thing except for the metal bleachers built over the old stone seats. The Amphitheater, built in the first century AD, is also being used. It's a bull-fighting arena. They're humane and don't kill the bulls, but restaurants here offer bull stew and bull steak. Hmm.
Lunch was steak hache with frites. The lone server managed to keep her cool even with a massive crowd. When asked about how busy she was she said she loved her job.
We then descended into the Roman crypts (circa 46 BC). It was a damp, cavernous, dark, arched puzzle of corridors steps, puddles, and dead ends. As I took pictures, I was struck by the juxtaposition of my smart phone taking photos of an ancient labyrinth built by Julius Caesar. Eerie. Daylight welcomed us as we climbed into what was the 2nd century Roman Forum, now a plaza busy with tourists.
Our last site was the Baths of Constantine, dated at 4th century AD. Yes, that guy. We've seen baths before, but it's always fun to imagine the engineering that went into them.
As an aside, before we came here I knew I wanted to see the places where Vincent Van Gogh painted. I have an affinity for him since I'm named for his brother, Theodore. My mother was reading Lust For Life when she was pregnant with me, thus my legal name, Theodora. The Foundation of Van Gogh was closed today, but we came upon a suspiciously familiar cafe. When I went inside, they had a copy of Van Gogh's "Cafe Terrace at Night." The original bar was still in use and the exterior was identical to the painting. I was on a quest. We saw a postcard stand featuring his works, and the shopkeeper was helpful in mapping out places with scenes Van Gogh painted. We found the sanitarium where he was a patient, the public gardens where I took a picture of the wrong trees, and the Rhone where he did "Starry Night Over the Rhone." Sad to say, the "Yellow House" is no more as it was destroyed in the war.
We met a lovely couple from Toronto as we were looking for a restaurant tonight. They're Jewish and have a gay son. Go figure. They're here for a river cruise that leaves tomorrow. It made dinnertime very enjoyable. I took my phone out to show them pictures and had a missed call. It was an Akron number so I dialed. It was our exterminating company trying to set up our next treatment. I told them I'd call when we got back. I don't think she really got it that we were in France.
Tomorrow we go to Avignon... sur le pont.
Toby
Boy, do they know how to set up a market here! The stalls circumnavigated the walls of the old city on the outside. I bet it was a mile, even more. We dutifully began our jaunt around eating our breakfast of croissant and bread whose name I forgot. David bought olives :), and we gawked at the array of "departments" and variety within. It was the first time we'd seen mattresses being displayed in an outdoor market.
We found the Tourist Info Bureau and a singularly unhelpful woman with a very bad cold gave us a map and was going to send us off. I asked about the Pass Advantage, and she sold us one. Arles has the largest old town with the most to see of any place on this trip. It was bombed during WWII; it's dirty, it's shabby; it's wonderful.
We walked all day bouncing from one ruin to another. The Greeks were first, but the Roman presence prevails. We started at the Roman Theater, which is still in use. That's a good thing except for the metal bleachers built over the old stone seats. The Amphitheater, built in the first century AD, is also being used. It's a bull-fighting arena. They're humane and don't kill the bulls, but restaurants here offer bull stew and bull steak. Hmm.
Lunch was steak hache with frites. The lone server managed to keep her cool even with a massive crowd. When asked about how busy she was she said she loved her job.
We then descended into the Roman crypts (circa 46 BC). It was a damp, cavernous, dark, arched puzzle of corridors steps, puddles, and dead ends. As I took pictures, I was struck by the juxtaposition of my smart phone taking photos of an ancient labyrinth built by Julius Caesar. Eerie. Daylight welcomed us as we climbed into what was the 2nd century Roman Forum, now a plaza busy with tourists.
Our last site was the Baths of Constantine, dated at 4th century AD. Yes, that guy. We've seen baths before, but it's always fun to imagine the engineering that went into them.
As an aside, before we came here I knew I wanted to see the places where Vincent Van Gogh painted. I have an affinity for him since I'm named for his brother, Theodore. My mother was reading Lust For Life when she was pregnant with me, thus my legal name, Theodora. The Foundation of Van Gogh was closed today, but we came upon a suspiciously familiar cafe. When I went inside, they had a copy of Van Gogh's "Cafe Terrace at Night." The original bar was still in use and the exterior was identical to the painting. I was on a quest. We saw a postcard stand featuring his works, and the shopkeeper was helpful in mapping out places with scenes Van Gogh painted. We found the sanitarium where he was a patient, the public gardens where I took a picture of the wrong trees, and the Rhone where he did "Starry Night Over the Rhone." Sad to say, the "Yellow House" is no more as it was destroyed in the war.
We met a lovely couple from Toronto as we were looking for a restaurant tonight. They're Jewish and have a gay son. Go figure. They're here for a river cruise that leaves tomorrow. It made dinnertime very enjoyable. I took my phone out to show them pictures and had a missed call. It was an Akron number so I dialed. It was our exterminating company trying to set up our next treatment. I told them I'd call when we got back. I don't think she really got it that we were in France.
Tomorrow we go to Avignon... sur le pont.
Toby
Friday, November 6, 2015
Rocks and Hard Place-Nice to Arles
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| Ouchy Beach |
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| Hill Unclimbed |
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| View From Acacias Hotel |
Oct. 6, 2015-Arles
Rocks and Hard Place-Nice to Arles
Laundry accomplished! We walked our laundry bag to a self-service laundromat a few blocks from our hotel. Luckily, Bill from Philadelphia was there. He'd already figured out how to work the machines, pay station, and detergent dispenser. It was a maze of machine numbers, cost based on machine size, time needed, and on and on. We chatted while we ate our McDonald McBreakfasts and shared travel stories. When he left, we became the resident experts. In walked a tourist from Hungary who greatly appreciated our tutorial and went to get her wash.
That done, we walked about a dozen blocks to the promenade along the Mediterranean. It was vintage Cote d'Azur: sparkling blue glinting on pastel buildings lining the shore. Sort of like Miami. but, viva la difference, not in a good way. The beach was rocky. We knew it would be, but it wasn't pebbly. The rocks were the size of my fist. The temperature was heading for the mid to high 70's and people were sunbathing. Ouch!
The flower, produce, and crafts market was up and running in the old city. We strolled and inhaled the overpowering aroma of lavender sachet and soap. That was a hugely popular item. We resisted. I couldn't imagine traveling two more weeks with that odor in my luggage.
There was a hilltop garden we just didn't climb up to. It was 90 meters up several flights and the heat had gotten to us. As it turned out, museums close on Tuesdays, and the one we wanted to see, the Chagall, was under renovation. It was time for lunch.
We stayed with the French food theme of last night and had savory crepes. David ordered a meal that came with a chocolate and banana dessert crepe as big as a tennis racket. They come unfolded. They also featured gluten free crepes. I've noticed a lot of gluten free offerings on menus.
So that was Nice. I didn't love it. David adored the promenade. It was the first time we saw homeless sleeping on the street on this trip. It was also the first time we were warned about pick- pockets.
We decided to go to Arles for several days and use it as a base to day trip the area. It was a two hour forty-five minute drive including a hold up when our credit card wouldn't work at a toll-booth. Shades of the same problem in Italy, but this time a person who spoke English came to our lane and we paid cash. We went over very large mountains made easier to traverse by the toll-way. Well worth it.
Despite Our Lady's use of the term "slip road" which means highway ramp unless she actually says highway ramp, we were able to interpret her British English. We observed what might be a universal signal for speed trap; flashing headlights.
Laundry accomplished! We walked our laundry bag to a self-service laundromat a few blocks from our hotel. Luckily, Bill from Philadelphia was there. He'd already figured out how to work the machines, pay station, and detergent dispenser. It was a maze of machine numbers, cost based on machine size, time needed, and on and on. We chatted while we ate our McDonald McBreakfasts and shared travel stories. When he left, we became the resident experts. In walked a tourist from Hungary who greatly appreciated our tutorial and went to get her wash.
That done, we walked about a dozen blocks to the promenade along the Mediterranean. It was vintage Cote d'Azur: sparkling blue glinting on pastel buildings lining the shore. Sort of like Miami. but, viva la difference, not in a good way. The beach was rocky. We knew it would be, but it wasn't pebbly. The rocks were the size of my fist. The temperature was heading for the mid to high 70's and people were sunbathing. Ouch!
The flower, produce, and crafts market was up and running in the old city. We strolled and inhaled the overpowering aroma of lavender sachet and soap. That was a hugely popular item. We resisted. I couldn't imagine traveling two more weeks with that odor in my luggage.
There was a hilltop garden we just didn't climb up to. It was 90 meters up several flights and the heat had gotten to us. As it turned out, museums close on Tuesdays, and the one we wanted to see, the Chagall, was under renovation. It was time for lunch.
We stayed with the French food theme of last night and had savory crepes. David ordered a meal that came with a chocolate and banana dessert crepe as big as a tennis racket. They come unfolded. They also featured gluten free crepes. I've noticed a lot of gluten free offerings on menus.
So that was Nice. I didn't love it. David adored the promenade. It was the first time we saw homeless sleeping on the street on this trip. It was also the first time we were warned about pick- pockets.
We decided to go to Arles for several days and use it as a base to day trip the area. It was a two hour forty-five minute drive including a hold up when our credit card wouldn't work at a toll-booth. Shades of the same problem in Italy, but this time a person who spoke English came to our lane and we paid cash. We went over very large mountains made easier to traverse by the toll-way. Well worth it.
Despite Our Lady's use of the term "slip road" which means highway ramp unless she actually says highway ramp, we were able to interpret her British English. We observed what might be a universal signal for speed trap; flashing headlights.
The
Lady made a valiant effort getting us to the first hotel we put into the GPS, a
Best Western. We chose it because we've had good experiences with them abroad.
They're usually unique and pleasant. This was neither. It was filthy and
decrepit. We went in search of our second choice, recommended by Frommer's or
Rick Steves. It was in the old city. The Lady tried her best, but we ended up at
a dead end. A friendly woman with a little English knew where the hotel
was, directed David to back up into a parking lot, and told me how to walk to
the hotel. It wasn't far, but the only room they had was on the third floor (no
lift) and we'd consolidated into one now very heavy carry-on size bag. The bed
was small and they only had one night free. We hope to stay in Arles four or
five nights.
But before she turned me loose, the Frenchwoman who'd directed us to this hotel told me she thought there was a hotel around the corner from the parking lot on the street next to the Rhone River. That's where I headed. We are now checked into the Acacias. We have a sitting room plus bedroom with king bed. We have A/C, WiFi, and free parking on the street if we get lucky. We did. The clerk apologized for the rate because it won't go down until Oct. 31, end of season. We're paying $75 a night. And it has a GoJo soap dispenser in the shower. Home sweet home.
We walked all around town looking for a restaurant. Most were closed by 8 PM. Odd. We ended up at the Vietnamese place next to our hotel. It's a good thing we did. There was a downpour as we were eating al fresco and we had to run inside. We didn't have pho but noted that it was only $8. Another day.
Another fashion blast! Short tapered jackets reaching only a bit below the waist is the rage here. Ladies, time to get rid of all those tunics.
I think we'll hang around Arles tomorrow.
Toby
But before she turned me loose, the Frenchwoman who'd directed us to this hotel told me she thought there was a hotel around the corner from the parking lot on the street next to the Rhone River. That's where I headed. We are now checked into the Acacias. We have a sitting room plus bedroom with king bed. We have A/C, WiFi, and free parking on the street if we get lucky. We did. The clerk apologized for the rate because it won't go down until Oct. 31, end of season. We're paying $75 a night. And it has a GoJo soap dispenser in the shower. Home sweet home.
We walked all around town looking for a restaurant. Most were closed by 8 PM. Odd. We ended up at the Vietnamese place next to our hotel. It's a good thing we did. There was a downpour as we were eating al fresco and we had to run inside. We didn't have pho but noted that it was only $8. Another day.
Another fashion blast! Short tapered jackets reaching only a bit below the waist is the rage here. Ladies, time to get rid of all those tunics.
I think we'll hang around Arles tomorrow.
Toby
Nicely Done-Monaco to Nice
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| Monte Carlo, Monaco |
 |
| Grimaldi Palace Renovation |
Oct. 5, 2015-Nice
Nicely Done-Monaco to Nice
We made it out of Savona before noon. My phone wouldn't call the tech help number of AutoEurope for Garmin assistance, so I asked the hotel owner's daughter to dial it on their phone. We connected and some poor guy had to deal with our problem at 3 AM U.S. time. He and his supervisor went back and forth with suggestions and even tried a Garmin in their office. They said it had to work with the lighter adaptor and only charge with the USB if we wanted to use it when we were on foot. They said to take the car to a Euro Car office and have them put a fuse in the lighter and re-enable it. There was such a place near our Hotel San Marco.
The Euro Car folks said they couldn't fix the fuse then tested the lighter adaptor in another car. It worked. I asked for a new car and they said YES. We had to top off the gas in the old car before they'd hand us keys to the new one. We filled it up and returned to the office. It was locked!! I let out a yelp and the clerk came running from next door. She was only having a coffee break. We now have a larger, newer, Fiat with no dents.
There was a laundry near our hotel and we thought we'd have clean clothes, but it wasn't self-serve and with siesta in the mix, our laundry wouldn't be ready until 3 PM. We decided to head for Monaco. We used the Autostrada since there was flooding yesterday and these highways have wonderful Auto Grills with brimming cafeterias and restaurants. That's where we lunched. Now we're in price-shock in reverse. Lunch was two sandwiches, a liter and a half bottle of water, two half liters of water, and a box of cough drops for $16.
David got used to manual shifting immediately; the cruise control, however, was another thing. Evidently the cruise and speed governor are on the same control. He mistakenly set the governor and we couldn't figure out why he couldn't accelerate. Problem solved.
We've stepped back in time. It's summer again, temp is in the mid-70's, and flowers are in bloom. There are so many tunnels crawling under the Maritime Alps that we felt a part of a subterranean species by the time we emerged. But when we did, there was the sea and the pink and tan buildings rising up on the Cote d'Azure.
Our Lady of Perpetual Help, as we called a former Garmin, has lived up to her name. We put Monte Carlo, Monaco into the search parameters and she managed to find us when we lost our way and not scold. We went on a circuitous descent through alleys and switchback lanes where every street changed names at will. The traffic was zany and the motorcycles, I don't even have to tell you. Tourist season is not over yet.
A policeman directed us to Parking Palais-Musee and we ended up on level -5 exactly where we wanted to be. And there was a public toilet! But, oy, the Grimaldi's should be ashamed of themselves. It was a disgrace. Considering they're going through a vast home improvement project of their own, they should blush at treating their guests, the tourists, so shabbily.
We took an audio tour of their home, the palace (built in 1191 as a Genoese fortress), enjoying the splendor of gilt, tapestries, art, and majesty. Many rooms, including the throne room, were grand, but on a small scale. Everything seemed to be shrunk from the usual European royal abodes. One painting of Princess Grace, Prince Rainier, and their children was striking. It was done in 1981, a year before her death. In it the Prince and three children are touching each other either on the shoulder or hand. Princess Grace is standing alone in their midst.
We tripped through the barriers and construction site surrounding their home and took an ice-cream break. I've never had such deliciously strong flavors. There were chunks of chocolate, coconut, and cafe in our scoops. Which brings me to an issue I'm having. Several times I've spoken in broken French and been answered in English. It's obvious they understood me. I want to practice. What happened to the snobbish French who only spoke their native tongue?
We walked through gardens overlooking the sea, paused for pictures, looked at the church then actually figured out how to pay for parking and found our car. When we headed for Nice we couldn't tell if we were in a tunnel or entering another parking lot. We surfaced facing a lovely green sign to Autostrada Nice. Despite the fact Our Lady says "nice" instead of the French pronunciation of Nice, and with many more missteps, we arrived at The Best Western New York Hotel, Nice. I know, it's a chain, but we needed nicer (pardon the pun) than last night and may want to stay two days if they have an opening. David managed to maneuver the car into the last free parking spot on the street and there it will stay until hell freezes over.
Dinner was around the corner at Cenac "snack" where we had photo worthy duck confit and salad Nicoise.
Tomorrow we'll tour the old town and leave for Aix-en-Provence. We're aware of the tragic rains they had Saturday but are told the highways should be open. We didn't realize the extent of the disaster. All rail lines, airports, and roadways were affected. Missed it by a day.
Toby
We made it out of Savona before noon. My phone wouldn't call the tech help number of AutoEurope for Garmin assistance, so I asked the hotel owner's daughter to dial it on their phone. We connected and some poor guy had to deal with our problem at 3 AM U.S. time. He and his supervisor went back and forth with suggestions and even tried a Garmin in their office. They said it had to work with the lighter adaptor and only charge with the USB if we wanted to use it when we were on foot. They said to take the car to a Euro Car office and have them put a fuse in the lighter and re-enable it. There was such a place near our Hotel San Marco.
The Euro Car folks said they couldn't fix the fuse then tested the lighter adaptor in another car. It worked. I asked for a new car and they said YES. We had to top off the gas in the old car before they'd hand us keys to the new one. We filled it up and returned to the office. It was locked!! I let out a yelp and the clerk came running from next door. She was only having a coffee break. We now have a larger, newer, Fiat with no dents.
There was a laundry near our hotel and we thought we'd have clean clothes, but it wasn't self-serve and with siesta in the mix, our laundry wouldn't be ready until 3 PM. We decided to head for Monaco. We used the Autostrada since there was flooding yesterday and these highways have wonderful Auto Grills with brimming cafeterias and restaurants. That's where we lunched. Now we're in price-shock in reverse. Lunch was two sandwiches, a liter and a half bottle of water, two half liters of water, and a box of cough drops for $16.
David got used to manual shifting immediately; the cruise control, however, was another thing. Evidently the cruise and speed governor are on the same control. He mistakenly set the governor and we couldn't figure out why he couldn't accelerate. Problem solved.
We've stepped back in time. It's summer again, temp is in the mid-70's, and flowers are in bloom. There are so many tunnels crawling under the Maritime Alps that we felt a part of a subterranean species by the time we emerged. But when we did, there was the sea and the pink and tan buildings rising up on the Cote d'Azure.
Our Lady of Perpetual Help, as we called a former Garmin, has lived up to her name. We put Monte Carlo, Monaco into the search parameters and she managed to find us when we lost our way and not scold. We went on a circuitous descent through alleys and switchback lanes where every street changed names at will. The traffic was zany and the motorcycles, I don't even have to tell you. Tourist season is not over yet.
A policeman directed us to Parking Palais-Musee and we ended up on level -5 exactly where we wanted to be. And there was a public toilet! But, oy, the Grimaldi's should be ashamed of themselves. It was a disgrace. Considering they're going through a vast home improvement project of their own, they should blush at treating their guests, the tourists, so shabbily.
We took an audio tour of their home, the palace (built in 1191 as a Genoese fortress), enjoying the splendor of gilt, tapestries, art, and majesty. Many rooms, including the throne room, were grand, but on a small scale. Everything seemed to be shrunk from the usual European royal abodes. One painting of Princess Grace, Prince Rainier, and their children was striking. It was done in 1981, a year before her death. In it the Prince and three children are touching each other either on the shoulder or hand. Princess Grace is standing alone in their midst.
We tripped through the barriers and construction site surrounding their home and took an ice-cream break. I've never had such deliciously strong flavors. There were chunks of chocolate, coconut, and cafe in our scoops. Which brings me to an issue I'm having. Several times I've spoken in broken French and been answered in English. It's obvious they understood me. I want to practice. What happened to the snobbish French who only spoke their native tongue?
We walked through gardens overlooking the sea, paused for pictures, looked at the church then actually figured out how to pay for parking and found our car. When we headed for Nice we couldn't tell if we were in a tunnel or entering another parking lot. We surfaced facing a lovely green sign to Autostrada Nice. Despite the fact Our Lady says "nice" instead of the French pronunciation of Nice, and with many more missteps, we arrived at The Best Western New York Hotel, Nice. I know, it's a chain, but we needed nicer (pardon the pun) than last night and may want to stay two days if they have an opening. David managed to maneuver the car into the last free parking spot on the street and there it will stay until hell freezes over.
Dinner was around the corner at Cenac "snack" where we had photo worthy duck confit and salad Nicoise.
Tomorrow we'll tour the old town and leave for Aix-en-Provence. We're aware of the tragic rains they had Saturday but are told the highways should be open. We didn't realize the extent of the disaster. All rail lines, airports, and roadways were affected. Missed it by a day.
Toby
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