Let me start out this post by saying that if you suffer from a physical handicap, don’t ever go to Paris.
December 26th brought with it the part of the trip that we were all looking forward to – heading to Provence. I have wanted to see this part of the country ever since I read the fantastically hilarious “A Year In Provence” as part of a high school French assignment. Written by Peter Mayle, a British citizen who decides to up and move to Provence with his wife and their dog, it’s part travelogue, and part social commentary. If you haven’t read it, you are truly missing out. Luckily, the rest of our traveling party was totally on board with spending some time in Provence, especially after Katie found a house for rent in Boulbon that looked idyllic.
Instead of driving the 8+ hour journey from Paris, we decided to experience another French masterpiece, the TGV. The TGV is a high speed train line that operates throughout France. The train is able to take an 8 hour car journey and turn it into less than 3 hours by running at maximum speeds of 320 kph. I love trains, especially efficient European trains, and Kevin loves Engineering Marvels, so it seemed like the perfect way to get to Provence. The train to Avignon leaves from Gare de Lyon and unfortunatly, the Metro closest to our hotel did not go directly there, but we could get there in one stop. No big deal, right? WRONG! Apparently, the French don’t believe in escalators or elevators. Which makes it very difficult when you have suitcases with 10 days worth of clothes as they have to be carried up and down the stairs. When your suitcase is half your size (Katie!), its even hard just to get into the Metro station as the barriers aren’t quite big enough to allow you to drag your suitcase through and you have to lift it up and over. It also stinks when you go all the way down the stairs only to realize that the train line you need leaves from another location and you have to walk all the way up again. To anyone who plans on travelling around France – PACK LIGHT. Preferably something with straps so that you can just throw it on your back.
Even with all the stairs and transferring of train lines, we arrived at the train station with an hour to spare (the joys of traveling with John and myself – we like to get places VERY early). However, our train was for some reason delayed. We finally were allowed to board around 15 minutes after we were supposed to have left and it was insane. Parisians running and pushing to get on the train, as if they thought there was only 1 minute to board. We finally got to the entrance of our car and we realized we were on the upper floor. MORE STAIRS! Bollocks! However, at this point, Kevin had taken over carrying both of our suitcases (probably because it pained him to see my weak arms try and lift the thing).
Help! Macarooners! There’s a macaroon under attack!
Macarooners to the rescue!
Our trip started out uneventful, but it seemed like we were moving slower than we should. Come to find out, the tracks were icy from the snow and there had been a derailment so we were forced to reduce our speed. No big deal except for the company we had in our car – loud children playing some card game that looked like Uno but involved them yelling “UN, DEUX, TROIS!!!!!” , slamming a wooden stamper down and then “AAAHHHH”. Annoying at first, horrifying after a few hours. Good thing we had a box of Macaroons to eat to occupy our time. (If you are confused as to why Macaroons are so entertaining, watch the below video)
We finally got to Avignon 2 hours late. However, it was still way faster than driving. Plus, TGV refunds half the ticket price if you are over 2 hours late. Score!
Right away, we experienced the famous Mistral I read so much about in “A Year in Provence” as it blew us across the parking lot and broke John’s wheely bag. The wind didn’t let up all day and we arrived in Boulbon to howling winds and howling bellies. Alas, Sunday in Provence is a day that all stores are closed. Seriously. However, the excitement of seeing our house took away some of the hunger. This house was seriously awesome. Built into the walls of a 13th century fort, it was amazing! Plus it was located on Rue de Fort, which set off a week of Swedish Chef jokes as we thought it sounded like something he would say.
Rue de Fort, BORK BORK BORK!
To fend off the hunger pangs, we decided to explore the town a bit. The poor Boulbonians were probably frightened out of their minds and the crazy Americans running through town, laughing and yelling.
The fort right behind our house
View over Boulbon
Kevin found an almond on our walk and ate it. He was shocked that it tasted fermented…
Dinner time came, and since there were no stores open (or any restaurants in town), John and Kevin went to see if the local bar served food. Really, they just went to get a few beers… We managed to find two bags of egg noodles that the owners of the house had left. However, there was no butter or sauce of any kind that we could put on the noodles. Katie and Kevin made the smart decision to eat theirs plain. John and I found a bottle of hot sauce that we decided to put on the noodles. I am a big fan of spicy food, as Kevin can attest to. My specialty is Fire Chili – so hot it burns off the top layer of skin in your mouth. However, this hot sauce was even too much for me. After the fact, we realized that it had probably been sitting their for 10 years evaporating until it was reduced to pure liquid fire. Maybe we were just trying to channel our hero…
No comments:
Post a Comment