The adventure has come to an end but my story is far from complete. I left Paris AND...Here's the next chapter...Sept 27th....
Fresh off a five hour train ride, my warm welcome in Cannes was delayed. I found our little apartment empty with no sign of my jet lagged traveler anywhere. "It's a mystery" the woman at the front desk told me, "We know he asked for a change in rooms this morning but we haven't seen him since. Perhaps he's gone in town with the others to find the grocery store."
I attempted to contain my disappointment and returned to the "apartment," to unpack and settle into what would be our "home" for the next month. To say it was tiny would be an understatement. I've had bigger rooms on cruise ships! Anger fueled my intermittent rant with many expletives thrown in for effect. I kept saying, " Calm down, don't complain, give it a couple days, so what if we don't have a view of anything but pine trees, the patio is large, and we'll be close to the lobby, restaurant, and pool area. Maybe it will be quiet, quiet is good!."
To calm my bitchy nerves I put on my bathing suit and headed to the pool. Having just Come from the chill of Paris, the sun and mild humidity felt wonderful. It was the first time in several days I was warm. Little did I realize it would be the last time I'd put on my bathing suit and sit by any pool the rest of the trip! As for the pool, it was very large and pretty with an infinity edge that appeared to flow into the sparkling Cote Azure waters in the distance. There were a couple cruise ships and yachts hanging out near the distant harbor which set a very ritzy kind of atmosphere. I smiled for the first time in hours and tried to relax.
As the sun warmed my skin I tried to justify the minute size of our room with the thought that I'd spend a lot of time outside enjoying this view, swimming in the pool, or on tours. Then I stuck my toe into the water and wondered where the icebergs were hiding. More disappointment, more trepidation, and more longing for the 85+ waters of our community pool at home. Eventually I wandered back to the tiny home away from home and found my wayward partner curled up on the little sofa soaking up the sun that radiated into the room. He was nearly in tears. "I want to go home he whispered." Not quite the welcome I'd expected after being separated for nearly a month!
As the story unfolded, it seems he'd arrived from his long overseas trip sometime after midnight to a very deserted hotel that had only a French speaking night watchman on duty. Expecting no other guests, he had no idea where to put this weary traveler. After a few calls and a lot of wandering the expansive but dimly lit grounds, up and down stairs, and with baggage in tow, Rich was led to a dingy, damp room that smelled of mold. This was offered up as the best option for the night. No amount of pleading from Rich could convince the guy that this was unacceptable. To make matters worse, in the morning, he was told that though another room was available, for now he'd have to wait in the dungeon until someone could be found to help him with his bags. No wonder I found a very tired, unhappy, overwrought partner with one foot out the door. I figured that with sleep, food, and time he'd be singing a different tune. After all he had brought his guitar!
Then the rain began. It started with just a light, chilly shower that sprang forth from heavy grey clouds. Unfortunately, the drizzle continued for the next few days. To be fair, there were a couple of hours break from the rain to walk the two miles of hills into town for groceries, but independent sight seeing was definitely not possible unless you favored mud and puddles. We did have a break in the clouds each evening to gather on a private patio for our cocktail hour where we met the other 40 or so guests from Canada that would be our pals for the next three weeks. Knowing that they'd left their chilly cities behind to come to this place, we would get no sympathy for what we'd left behind. San Marcos was enjoying unseasonably warm temperatures and Rich couldn't believe that he'd left all that for this! Things will improve I cajoled. "We're here in Cannes, we get to see so many cool parts of this area. Think of all the fun we will have!" No amount of trying to brighten his sour outlook would work. He had bad weather, steep hills he couldn't navigate with a bum knee, and fatigue holding him prisoner. I thought things would soon improve, but I was wrong.
Three days into our trip the sun appeared and we all loaded onto a bus for a tour of Nice, the Rothchild Villa, and Kerylos Villa. It was lovely to be off the hill and out exploring the area. Nice is a neighboring city about 45 freeway minutes away from Cannes. It is a very congested seaside town that must be impossible to navigate in the high season. For lunch we had free time to wander away from the group to see the market and old part of town. We found a delightful outdoor restaurant where we had our first special meal and I celebrated with a glass of wine. "Our vacation together has begun" I declared with a smile. I toasted to our first time together in a foreign city, to the wonderful food, and new experiences yet to come!
Then Friday we had to cancel our second excursion due to the rain. Saturday night started out with more of the same, continuous light chilly rain. Then by 10 pm a major storm arrived like a freight train with no destination. The heavens wept and roared with thunder for a couple hours. Buckets of rain poured from the sky and then abruptly stopped. But the quiet interlude was short lived when another even harder storm filled with rain, hail, and thunder claps arrived and stayed. Water filled our patio and began to creep under the sliding glass doors into our tiny living room. I utilized all our available towels to contain the deluge that seemed to have no promise of ending. But within an hour or so the rain abruptly stopped and I was finally able to settle in for a bit of sleep....at midnight.
The morning sun was triumphant and made the walkways sparkle like glass. Noting that the Internet was down I ventured forth from our cubby to the reception area for an explanation. "Cannes, Nice, La Bocca and a few more towns have flooded exclaimed our flustered hostess!" "Thousands are without power and phones and with that so goes the Internet." The news on the TV told the story. Pictures of cars stacked on top of each other like dominoes, homes and businesses ruined by water and mud, lives lost and many missing was the story that repeated as we watched in astonishment.
It was a beautiful day so it was difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The sun was like Mother Nature's "Mea Culpa" for the fit she'd thrown. With little else to do, a few of us, with good knees, put on our walking shoes and began the mile walk to the beach. No words are appropriate to describe what we found. A strange quiet was broken by sounds of rushing water and intermittent sirens. Heavy manhole covers torn from the road were found tossed like poker chips down the hillside. Garbage cans poked out of the open hole to alert drivers to slow down and avoid damage to their car. Rushing water sped along the sides of the road, like a rivers, to the ocean. Mud claimed walkways, filled underpasses, covered cars and flowed out of low lying buildings.
Streets were blocked by several cars and motorcycles mixed together and stacked in a twisted pileup that seemed impossible. However, the mess we saw spoke to the power of rushing water and debris. The sand along the ocean was littered with a mixture of garbage extracted from the sea and twisted pieces of furniture, pieces of cars, and other unrecognizable things. Yet, what surprised me most was that many of the locals carried on about their day as if nothing had happened. Joggers dodged puddles, sunbathers found patches of sand to lie on, and a few ventured into the sea to surf little waves. I hoped they'd give up and get out to avoid things that floated in the wakes. Nearby, I could see one car that had been pushed into the sea and was nearly fully submerged. Little did anyone know then that it contained two of the missing to be recovered a couple days later. I marveled at the resilient, yet risky behavior of the locals. Kids ran barefoot over debris that held who knows what and the bacteria count of the water must have been unusually high and climbing. One surfer walked by with a one inch gash under his eye that he'd just gotten. I stopped him, offered him a clean tissue, and suggested he seek medical attention for stitches and antibiotics!
What happens after the rain and devastation? Train travel ceased, buses took twice as long, and Internet was gone for weeks. Sadly, thirty people lost their lives. We were one week into our month "visit" and other than our local shopping area, with local towns cleaning up from the mess, there was no place to go anyway. What happens after a storm? Mosquitoes hatch and I became their favorite place to dine!
Friday, November 27, 2015
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Traveling Under A Black Cloud
The rain in France, Spain and Portugal stays mainly... where ever we go! To say we've been traveling under a spell would be putting it mildly! When last I wrote I was in Paris having spent a delightful, yet painful day walking the streets and wondering how I might continue seeing this marvelous city with my unpredictable feet. Much has happened since that day that would put me just short of bargaining with the weather Gods for the return of that foot pain for a Sunny day! Floods, power outages, total Internet collapse, and being stranded only begins to describe the story that unfolded once I left Paris behind....But, back to happier times, relief from foot pain, and the exploration of Paris!
Even with the promise of fall and chilly overcast skies greeting us on the second day in Paris, nothing could keep us from another day of exploration. First stop, The Conciergerie. Sounds so pretty doesn't it but this is where, between the years of 1793-1795, over three thousand Parisians were put on trial, given their last meal, (if they were lucky) and in a matter of hours or days, and without any recourse, were beheaded for crimes that were mostly unfounded. In those years, called "The reign of terror," rumors, jealously, and spite, could condemn intellectuals, successful businessmen, and even a princess. Marie Antoinette made the list of famous people who had an untimely final appointment with the guillotine. It is rumored that she met a particularly gruesome death with a dull blade in the hands of a spiteful executioner.
From that most sobering,"delightful" place we visited Notre Dame, a very impressive gargoyle adorned church made even more famous by Victor Hugo's story. It took no stretch of the imagination to conjure up scenes from 1492 due to the very impressive Gothic exterior and the current foreboding darkness of the afternoon sky. Apparently Hugo wrote the story in an attempt to showcase the beautiful Gothic buildings of Paris that were often torn down in favor of more modern ones.
Feeling quite chilled, and seeking shelter from the sunless brisk windy day, we found a Trip Advised restaurant where for about 12€ one could have a delicious three course lunch that included a glass of wine. This delightful cafe had all the trappings of what any yank would imagine a Parisian cafe would look like. Warmed by the charm of our waitress, the tea, white wine, and delicious meal, we listened to conversations in French, observed the local fashions, and talked about our prospects for the afternoon sight seeing adventures.
Fully sated, we skirted around the wind blown leaves and a bit of trash to hop on the metro for the Palais Garnier Opera house. As luck would have it, due to the opening of La Traviata, the place was closed to tourist. But noting the upscale area, we decided to do just a bit of window shopping. It is hard not to drool over windows adorned with Cartier jewels or Versace clothes, both places very heavily guarded from within. Nothing says "pedestrians" are not welcome like a couple of well dressed unsmiling thugs.
However, we were drawn into the Benetton shop to try on the warm, feather weight, down infused coats on sale. Unable to pass up a bargain and the promise of warmth, we wore our new purchases into the street and jumped on the metro in search of Montemarte and the Sacre Coeur. But, of course, no sooner did we begin the 100+ stair climb to reach the hilltop than the clouds parted and the heat of the sun returned making us laugh in light of our recent purchase. Montemarte was worth the trek with lovely views, beautiful church, and interesting characters mingling around the steps. I tried to imagine the steps and lawns being frequented by the likes of Dali, Monet, Picasso, or Van Gogh. Unfortunately, we couldn't linger long with the return of clouds and promise of rain. It was time to put our coats back on, find another meal, and make our way back to the warmth of our apartment.
Our third full day in Paris involved the two biggest tourist sights. The warm sun improved our spirits and made for a delightful tour that included having lunch at the Eiffel Tower, tour of the city by bus, where we finally toured the opera house, and a late afternoon, sunset cruise of the Seine which ended with a beautiful light show from the Eiffel set off by the purple-pink cloud painted backdrop. It was a fresh canvas inspiration that would have delighted any of the great masters of Monet's time.
Our Fourth and final day began with a visit to Versailles, a place I have longed to see for many years. It did not disappoint with the magnificent gardens that go on for miles. One could not miss the sound of gun fire in the nearby wooded area where dove hunters are allowed to bag their limit. Then there's the enormous palace ornately adorned with gold leaf. In every room there were numerous larger than life painted scenes. The "piece de resistance" was one enourmous room with floor to ceiling mirrors and numerous gigantic, sparkely chandeliers. This is where king Louis the 14th and 15th could greet their guests and where the elite could see and be seen, from every angle! This one time weekend palatial hunting retreat would have even made Donald Trump blush due the overly appointed opulence.
After a few hours we broke free from the crowds, that jostled and pushed their way through the rooms of the Palace. We walked into the tiny town for lunch at a quiet Indian restaurant. Then ended the day with one last attempt to visit Muse d' Orange only to be disappointed by the long lines and quickly approaching closing time.
All good things do come to an end. It was time to pack and head off in different directions, Carol to the sanity of home in San Marcos with the promise of her own very comfortable bed, and me to a fast train that would take me to the Cote Azur in the south of France. I was excited to explore Cannes, Monaco, and other fancy towns I'd always heard about or viewed in the movies. I was also anxious to step into the welcoming arms of my gentleman friend that was joining me for the next two months of adventures. Little did I expect, from the amazing comfort of my first class train car, the difficulties that would greet us and challenge our resolve to remain on European soil.
Even with the promise of fall and chilly overcast skies greeting us on the second day in Paris, nothing could keep us from another day of exploration. First stop, The Conciergerie. Sounds so pretty doesn't it but this is where, between the years of 1793-1795, over three thousand Parisians were put on trial, given their last meal, (if they were lucky) and in a matter of hours or days, and without any recourse, were beheaded for crimes that were mostly unfounded. In those years, called "The reign of terror," rumors, jealously, and spite, could condemn intellectuals, successful businessmen, and even a princess. Marie Antoinette made the list of famous people who had an untimely final appointment with the guillotine. It is rumored that she met a particularly gruesome death with a dull blade in the hands of a spiteful executioner.
From that most sobering,"delightful" place we visited Notre Dame, a very impressive gargoyle adorned church made even more famous by Victor Hugo's story. It took no stretch of the imagination to conjure up scenes from 1492 due to the very impressive Gothic exterior and the current foreboding darkness of the afternoon sky. Apparently Hugo wrote the story in an attempt to showcase the beautiful Gothic buildings of Paris that were often torn down in favor of more modern ones.
Feeling quite chilled, and seeking shelter from the sunless brisk windy day, we found a Trip Advised restaurant where for about 12€ one could have a delicious three course lunch that included a glass of wine. This delightful cafe had all the trappings of what any yank would imagine a Parisian cafe would look like. Warmed by the charm of our waitress, the tea, white wine, and delicious meal, we listened to conversations in French, observed the local fashions, and talked about our prospects for the afternoon sight seeing adventures.
Fully sated, we skirted around the wind blown leaves and a bit of trash to hop on the metro for the Palais Garnier Opera house. As luck would have it, due to the opening of La Traviata, the place was closed to tourist. But noting the upscale area, we decided to do just a bit of window shopping. It is hard not to drool over windows adorned with Cartier jewels or Versace clothes, both places very heavily guarded from within. Nothing says "pedestrians" are not welcome like a couple of well dressed unsmiling thugs.
However, we were drawn into the Benetton shop to try on the warm, feather weight, down infused coats on sale. Unable to pass up a bargain and the promise of warmth, we wore our new purchases into the street and jumped on the metro in search of Montemarte and the Sacre Coeur. But, of course, no sooner did we begin the 100+ stair climb to reach the hilltop than the clouds parted and the heat of the sun returned making us laugh in light of our recent purchase. Montemarte was worth the trek with lovely views, beautiful church, and interesting characters mingling around the steps. I tried to imagine the steps and lawns being frequented by the likes of Dali, Monet, Picasso, or Van Gogh. Unfortunately, we couldn't linger long with the return of clouds and promise of rain. It was time to put our coats back on, find another meal, and make our way back to the warmth of our apartment.
Our third full day in Paris involved the two biggest tourist sights. The warm sun improved our spirits and made for a delightful tour that included having lunch at the Eiffel Tower, tour of the city by bus, where we finally toured the opera house, and a late afternoon, sunset cruise of the Seine which ended with a beautiful light show from the Eiffel set off by the purple-pink cloud painted backdrop. It was a fresh canvas inspiration that would have delighted any of the great masters of Monet's time.
Our Fourth and final day began with a visit to Versailles, a place I have longed to see for many years. It did not disappoint with the magnificent gardens that go on for miles. One could not miss the sound of gun fire in the nearby wooded area where dove hunters are allowed to bag their limit. Then there's the enormous palace ornately adorned with gold leaf. In every room there were numerous larger than life painted scenes. The "piece de resistance" was one enourmous room with floor to ceiling mirrors and numerous gigantic, sparkely chandeliers. This is where king Louis the 14th and 15th could greet their guests and where the elite could see and be seen, from every angle! This one time weekend palatial hunting retreat would have even made Donald Trump blush due the overly appointed opulence.
After a few hours we broke free from the crowds, that jostled and pushed their way through the rooms of the Palace. We walked into the tiny town for lunch at a quiet Indian restaurant. Then ended the day with one last attempt to visit Muse d' Orange only to be disappointed by the long lines and quickly approaching closing time.
All good things do come to an end. It was time to pack and head off in different directions, Carol to the sanity of home in San Marcos with the promise of her own very comfortable bed, and me to a fast train that would take me to the Cote Azur in the south of France. I was excited to explore Cannes, Monaco, and other fancy towns I'd always heard about or viewed in the movies. I was also anxious to step into the welcoming arms of my gentleman friend that was joining me for the next two months of adventures. Little did I expect, from the amazing comfort of my first class train car, the difficulties that would greet us and challenge our resolve to remain on European soil.
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