Pari'

Flew to Paris today, then caught a cab to my hostel.

Was a bit pricey, but the cabbie was AWESOME. Kept pointing out things I had to make sure I saw, and kept explaining the history of the things we were passing. Tried to tip her, and she just waved it away, saying, "No, I've been a student before, living on a student's budget. You go have fun."

And they say the French are mean =)

Monaco

Getting to Monaco from Nice is criminally easy. You hop on the #100 bus, pay the driver a euro, and hop of 45 minutes later. So, we went to visit our third day in Nice. Oh, and Robin came with us, too.

We got in at the foot of the ‘hill’ (it’s a ‘hill’ at the base of the Alps. So…not a hill) that the prince’s palace is on top off, hiked up to the palace and got a GORGEOUS view of the country. We didn’t go in (it’s a palace, and we’ve seen just a few of those since we got here), but it was worth the climb just for the view. The entire country is 0.75 sq miles, and you can walk from one end to the other in about 20 minutes (and later we did).

After that, we wandered to the Oceanographic Institute, which was just a wee bit crazy. Mix equal parts royal history, aquarium, and modern art, and you’re pretty close. The ground floor had several samples of sea life that a former prince (who did oceanography as a hobby) collected, pickled, and brought back, as well as some cool/weird modern art. The next floor had a ton of the equipment the prince used while at sea, as well as a reconstruction of his lab. It also had some of the weirdest modern art I’ve ever seen. Think “Bronze statues of skeletons having sex while the entire pedestal is on fire.”

The roof was supposed to be a great view of Monaco, but the floor and walls were solid white, and the sun was reflecting off of them so much we couldn’t see anything, so we left pretty quickly (but not before seeing some tortoises get into a very, very sloooow fight over their food bowl). The bottom floor was an aquarium, which was so-so. After Atlanta and New Orleans, anything else is underwhelming.

After that, we grabbed a couple of sandwiches and ate on the plateau where the prince stashes his cannons. Then, we started the walk to the casino, which was not difficult, but a little confusing. The Monaco Grand Prix had just been the week or two before, and the stands and barriers were still up, so we had to back-track a couple of times. Once we got on the right path, though, it wasn’t bad, especially since we got to ogle the yachts, some of which just made me shake my head. Why do you need a helipad on your yacht? Are you just too lazy to walk from your mansion to the dock?

Anyway, after passing the yachts, we actually made it to Monte Carlo. To get to the casino from sea level, you have to take an elevator up a ways. We weren’t sure we had the right spot, until we noticed that the tunnel leading to the elevators was lined with marble. Once we made it up the hill and around the opera house, we found the entrance, where the cars out front didn’t disappoint. There was Bentley, two Lamborghinis, and a Ferrari in the spots immediately in front. We drooled a bit. Not too close to the cars, though. The security didn’t look even slightly friendly.

Anyway, cameras aren’t allowed in the casino, so no photos unfortunately. Shame, too. The place is GORGEOUS. The ceilings are covered in crown moldings and paintings, gaming tables and bars are all carved hardwood, and there are huge hunks of semi-precious stones set into the ceiling at regular intervals (we saw hunks turquoise, agate, aquamarine, and some others we didn’t recognize that were as big as our heads).

Anyway, Sean and I went into the private salons (no shorts allowed, so Robin had to stay behind), which were slightly more ornate than the main rooms, but the people were a great deal more…serious…about their gaming. We watched some people play roulette for a while, and were just ever so slightly amazed at the money some people were dropping. One guy was playing with 10 euro chips, and would bet 20-30 of them per game. He had a stack of 500 euro bills with him, and he’d change one out for new chips every 3 or 4 spins.

We decided to try our hands at roulette (the only game there that had a minimum bet we could actually afford), so we each got a few chips. I didn’t really consider it ‘gambling.’ I just assumed I’d get none of the money I put down back. Which wasn’t too far off. We played a few rounds just playing red or black, seeing as the odds on playing any particular number were so low we were basically guaranteed to bottom out before we one. One bet was (literally) stolen from me. A guy walked over, picked up one of my chips on black and flipped it to red. When red one, I reached for it, and he shouted me down. I just let him take it. Not a soul in there was speaking English, and I wasn’t about to start an argument in French.

After that, we cashed out (I lost about 20 euro in half an hour), but kept a few chips for souvenirs. Then, we wandered out to the terrace, where we saw a guy playing Baccarat on his own, surrounded by about 4 casino employees. We didn’t see how much he was betting per hand, but we did see three 10,000 euro chips, two 50,000 euro chips, and a 100,000 euro chip in front of him.

Anyway, afterwards, we got our cameras from the coat check, and decided to go see the Prince’s rare car collection. It wasn’t on our map, though, so Sean ran in to ask someone in the casino. He said he walked up to one of the doormen and asked if he spoke English, and the reaction was as follows:

“He looked at me over his Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses with a ‘How dare you talk to me, you grimy commoner?’ look, and responded, ‘Nyuh. Yes.’ I asked if he knew where the car collection was, and he said, “I don’t know. Go that way, maybe,’ and waved his hand in a random direction”

After that, we decided that if we ever came into money, we’d show up at the casino in hoodies and shorts and break the bank, just to spite the bastard.

Turns out, he was waving us in the general direction of the tourism office, so we went there and got directions, after which Sean and Robin were slightly distracted by an odd voltmeter on the wall. We started wandering back to the palace (the map made it look like it was attached), and passed a few realty offices (who pays 1.5 million euro for a 300 sq. ft. studio?). Turns out, the collection is next to the palace on a map, but is, in reality, at the foot of the cliff the palace is on. So, we climbed to the top, realized our mistake, sighed, and climbed back down. The cars were worth it, though. The prince had everything from a Mercedes-Benz concept car, to one of the first automobiles ever made, to a racing boat, to a polar excursion vehicle. We drooled over those for a long while, then grabbed the bus back to Nice.

Nice

(Apologies for the lack of photos. I literally didn't think WiFi could function if the upload speed was this slow. Oh well, I didn't come to Cinque Terre for the internet. I'll upload some when I get to Florence, hopefully.)

Nice is very much a beach town, so we kinda followed a beachy schedule the entire time we were there.

Day 1, we got in mid-afternoon, and it was surprisingly cool, since it had just finished raining, so we just went and chilled at the beach. We walked down the Riviera, wandered a ways down the Promenade Anglais, found a good-looking bar on the beach, grabbed a beer, and sat looking at the water for a while. An excellent day, even if we had to pay 8 euro a pop for the beers. Was also funny to sit there and watch the police driving the lifeguard boat show off to impress the girls on the beach, almost grounding the blade on the motor in the process.

The next day, we did some more exploring, this time along a guided walk in Rick Steve’s guide to the Riviera. We got started at the Hotel Negresco, which can be summed up quite aptly as “old money.” Big, fancy place, covered in portraits, paintings, marble, mahogany, and crystal. The chandelier, by the way, was actually designed and built for the czar of Russia, but he couldn’t take delivery when it was completed, seeing as he was, you know, dead. So, the hotel bought it at a discount. It was funny going in; we weren’t sure if they’d let tourists go wandering around, so we just tried to look fancy enough that we could conceivably be staying there. We figured they wouldn’t turn people away unless they obviously were tourists, in case they were staying there. Turns out that was a good idea, as they had a guy in a suit in the lobby who looked like he was profiling people as they came in.

When we left, there was a team of people getting two girls ready to go parasailing, so we stopped to see how it worked, since neither of us had actually seen parasailers get up in the air. Turns out, they just hook you up to the boat, start driving, and tell you to run. Was fun to watch, especially since we’d occasionally hear one of the girls squeal when they drivers would take a corner. (Keep in mind, they were NOT driving close to the beach, so they had a set of lungs on them).

The next day, we were in Monaco, which will be its own post, but the next day was just kind of a chore day. We hauled our stuff to the laundromat to get some clean clothes, and I ran to the post office to get rid of some souvenirs. Oh, and ship my mom her (very belated) mother’s day gift. The post office was funny; apparently the French dislike for receipts extends to their shipping philosophy. I expedited two packages to the states, dropped them in the box, and left. About a block away, I had the realization that I’d just handed the French postal system around 200 euro of souvenirs, and didn’t even get a receipt, let alone a tracking number. I ran back, and the guy said it was 5 euro extra per package. C’est la vie.

Anyway, after that, I pretty much just wandered Nice on my own for a bit. Wandered around a few shops, through the touristy old city, through the actual old city, and back up the Riviera. Actually saw something in one of the shops that even I wouldn’t eat (yes, Ponnie, it does exist). They took a suckling pig, stuffed it full of scrapple (ears, snouts, tails, etc.), roasted it, then chilled it so the scrapple would recongeal. They sold it by the slice. Also passed a store that sold different kinds of salt, which was actually pretty cool. They had black volcanic salt from Hawaii, blue salt from the Mediterranean, red salt from the atlantic, and a few others.

Pebble beaches

So, Nice is famous for its beaches, but they're not beaches like we think of them. Instead of sand, they're smooth pebbles. It's a lot of fun to look at, but not much fun to walk on or lay on. You pretty much have to buy special shoes and mats if you want to be at the beach.

But! They do have one cool thing about them: the sound.

When a wave hits the beach, it splashes just like it would normally, but when it goes out again, you hear this loud 'woosh' as the water goes through all the little spaces between pebbles. Then you can hear the smaller pebbles rolling and clattering around, which is surprisingly entertaining to listen to.

Last days in Provence

So, for our last two days in Avignon, we booked a daytrip around Roman Provence (the baths, arena, and monument to Austus in Nimes, the Pont du Gard, and Uzes thrown in for good measure) and tickets to Arles for a day trip.

The tour was a lot of fun. The company was called Provence Panorama and had several tours based on the things provence is famous for (wine, truffles, flowers, roman ruins, etc). They picked us up in a van outside our hotel and drove us to all the sites.

Nimes has some amazin roman architecture (it's hard to call them 'ruins' when they're still standing and in pretty good shape), and their arena is excellent. The commentary was very un-provencal in that it was actually fun to listen to. They did a great job of explaining what life and the games were like back then, and even walked through a day of particularly interesting games.

Nimes itself was pretty interesting, too, or at least the description our guide gave us was. The city was a huge textile and industrial center for decades, so he city was (and to some extent, still is) swimming in money. As a result, they didn't really want or need tourism, so the city flat out refused to allow a hotel to be built there until the middle of the 20th century. It's still not exactly a tourist-friendly town, apparently.

Next, we headed to Uzes, the definition of a sleepy little French town. The guide walked us through the city, showing us all the little alleys and the gorgeous main square that make the city a lot of fun to walk around. She pointed out a mulberry tree which had some ripe berries on it (tasted like a very sweet, seedless blackberry), and explained how the Protestant nature of the city shaped its architecture.

The guide also told us how a descendant of a ducal family still lives in the palace at Uzes. He's apparently a crafty little bugger, as he has found a way to sneak around the tax laws in France. Apparently, anyone livin in a historic palace or castle in France has to pay a tax to live there, unless they allow public access. So, this guy basically roped off 3 or 4 rooms of his castle, sells 12 euro tickets to whoever's stupid enough to pay for them, and basically thumbs his nose at the government.

We then headed up to Pont du Gard, the roman bridge that supported the aqueduct from the spring at Uzes to the baths at Nimes. The bridge is a marvel of engineering, and it's amazing that it's still standing. What's even cooler is that the river it spans is still used as a beach area for people in Provence. How is that fair? When I go to the beach, I have to look at condos and high-rises. They get to look at 2000-year-old aqueducts. Not. Fair. At all.

After that, we crammed in the van (after chewing on some local rosemary bushes) and headed back to town.

The next day, I woke up and just had no desire at ALL to do anything, let alone go to Arles. No idea why, but I just decided to take a lazy day in Avignon. Sean still wanted to go, but came back really quick, thanks to alternating rain and bug storms. I wandered around Avignon for the day, where is was just slightly misting, and pretty much just people-watched. That turned out to be a little interesting, as the kebab shop I was eating in was visited by some Ren-faire folk, which was a little...unexpected. But, after that, I headed home to blog and upload photos.

Food in Avignon

Day 1 in Avignon was short, so we only had dinner there. Our first night we did NOT go to the place our hotel recommended (30+ a plate), and instead went to a little creperie. I was still a little veggie-starved from Spain, so I got the Legumes a la Provencal, which was basically grilled veggies served with oil and garlic, a stuffed tomato, and potatoes au gratin. Also got a ginormous sundae, but I have no idea what was on it (asked the waiter what he liked, and he knew enouh english to answer but not say what it was). 'Twas delicious, though!

The next day, we were in a hurry, so I grabbed a basic sandwich made with ham, provolone cheese, and some French butter. Sounds kind of "meh," but the butter made it taste great. For dinner, we went to a Provencal restaurant, where I got the honey roasted duck (which actually tasted like honey, and not just generally sweet, like most honey roasted things in the States), which came with fried gnocchi and sautéed mushrooms. That was excellent, but dessert (a biscuit topped with slices of grapefruit and thyme) was so-so.

Lunch the next day was another ham sandwich and coffee near the market in Avignon. Went to a little pub that had one poor waitress running the entire place (waiting tables, making food, and taking deliveries). To save some money, for dinner that night, we just grabbed some bread, sausage, jam, and cheese at the grocery, and ate that. French bread and cheese continued to be delicious, particularly with jam made from melons from provence. We also split a bottle of wine from Chateuneuf-du-Papes, a wine-making region that used to serve the pope. We had grabbed that earlier at the papal palace.

The next day, we grabbed a weird burger-type thing with a fried egg on top on the way to catch the bus to St. Remy. Not exactly gourmet, but it was cheap and filling. Dinner that night was bread, super super runny cheese, and tapenade (Wasn't really hungry. It's amazing how filling a slab of meat topped with a fried egg can be).

Lunch on day 5 was actually swankier than dinner. We went to a place called Newground while we waited for our tour to start, where we got the daily special, which was salad, saffron rice, prociutto and melon with a few drops of really sweet wine, baked chicken in mushroom and pear sauce, and mango tart. Dinner was way more low-brow, but just as tasty. We went to a place called Tartine, which served everything on toast. So, we got some with pate, some with goat cheese and honey, and some with gorgonzola and prune compote, which was actually our favorite. I also got a glass of pastis, which is an anise flavored liquer you drink mixed with water and ice. Tasted like a glass of licorice flavored lemonade, but in a good way.

 

Our last day, I just grabbed a kebab and a coke for lunch, but we splurged for dinner and went to a really high brow French place, where the husband cooked and the wife waited tables. I got a salad topped with balsamic vinegar and goat cheese in pastry for the first course, and a tuna steak and sautéed veggies after that. I actually like the veggies better than the tuna (though that was still quite tasty); they were basically a ratatouille without the tomato sauce. Anyway, the next day we headed to Nice, and I didn't eat a bite until dinner, where I may or may not have pigged out a bit. But that's another post.

Folks in Nice and Avignon

Combining these two into one, as Avignon's would be too short on its own, but we met a ton of cool people in Nice.

So, Avignon first. Since we stayed in a hotel, not a hostel, we didn't meet anybody new like we have been through sharing rooms or hanging out in common areas. But, we could only get WiFi in the lobby, and we met an older Japanese couple there when we were uploading photos. The wife was...entertaining. She kept very subtly bragging about how successful she was, and was very careful to note that she was only staying at our budget hotel for a night, because the Hotel Grand Avignon was booked that night. She also said she didn't consider herself a success, but that she owned a few businesses. Sean asked how many, and she said 11 or 12, she couldn't remember -_- Oh, and she flew into Avignon just to see an opera.

Also met a couple on the tour we took of Nimes and Uzes that were funny. Nice folks, but they were just a touch of your typically clueless Americans. When we were in Uzes, they asked if it was supported by tourism, and the guide said no. They were shocked that it could support itself then. 

Wife: "But what does it do! How does it get money?"
Guide: "Umm...normal town things?"

Now: Nice. Our hostel was a small place near Place Massena that was awesome for meeting people. The common area was the manager's office, and every night folks would pile in to talk, swap stories, drink wine, and occasionally head out to a nearby bar (We stayed in. Not my type of place). It was a lot of fun to hear where everyone was going and what brought them to Europe, and we met a bunch of cool folks.

First, Valerio (or Val). His dad owns the hostel, and Val pretty much runs it. Funny guy, knew Nice pretty well, and could play the guitar. I got a kick out of one of the girls attempting to teach him "Sexual Healing." That just became even funnier when I found out the girl was studying vocal performance at Berklee School of Music. Favorite story with Val was when he asked me to check someone in when he got to the hostel, so he could get everyone to the bar. Left me the keys and told me how to buzz him in. So, I think I can officially add "hostelier" to my resume.  Even if the guy didn't show up.

Next, roommates. The first two nights, we roomed with Joanna and Michelle from Alberta in Canada. They were studying in Italy, and decided to pay France and Spain a visit while over here. They also gave Val a bottle of homemade limoncello as a gift, which he then doled out to the rest of us. Again, Val's a cool dude (and probably reading this. Hi Val!). They left after two days to be replaced by a pair of Australians who we didn't get to know well, thanks to one of them getting food poisoning from what sounded like a sketchy kebab. 

Robin was the source of that quote I posted earlier about Scottish rednecks. Nice guy, and smart too. He's going into his last year of Mechanical engineering in Aberdeen, Scotland, and is going to work at BP soon. He came with us to Monaco and put me to shame in terms of shutterbugness. He and Sean also nerded out momentarily at the tourist office in Monte Carlo, where they spent a few minutes trying to read a cool voltmeter. I, of course, didn't tease them at all.

Next up, Adam, from Australia. HYSTERICAL guy, who hopped from hostel to hostel to the floor of a hostel while he was in Nice, based on who was where and where the cheap beer was. Fell asleep on the beach, and woke up with a sunburn in the shape of his necklace (you could actually see the individual links on the chain). He also apparently woke up half the hostel one night (I slept through it) when he was...umm..."fraternizing" with someone else. I'll let you be the judge of what that means.

Next up, some people from the States, finally! (So. Many. Canadians.) Alex and Steven both just finished off med school, and are starting residencies the week they get back. Nice guys, who had a few entertaining stories to share, including a few ways to NOT set an A-line IV, how they remove drugs from drug smugglers' bowels (I'll give you a hint: it involves laxatives and a bucket), and some stories from the ER. And a few medically-backed hangover cures that really got some of the girls' attention. Apparently a Compozene or a Finargin when taken with an IV bag of normal saline clears it right up. And there's apparently a guy in Las Vegas who goes around doling this cure out to tourists. Pay him extra, and he'll actually come to your hotel room. I don't know whether to be disusted or impressed by his entrepreneurism.

Next, Eva and Julia, two girls from Berklee School of Music, studying Vocal performance and music business, respectively. Julia was the girl who tried to teach Val "Sexual Healing," which apparently wants played at her wedding. Eva also played the Piano, even though she's not majoring in it, and has been playing since she was 5.

Isabel showed up on our third night, and came to dinner with Sean, Robin, and me. She's originally from Vancouver (hey, my neck of the woods!) though she's been studying business in Pamplona in Spain for a while. She also spoke way better French than pretty much anyone there, and shared my enthusiasm for photographing dinner.

Finally, there's Stacy and her sister Jennifer (I think. Only talked to her briefly). They only stayed at the hostel for a few hours, as they accidentally booked a bus for 4 am instead of 4 pm. Val called them a taxi and they headed out after a short nap.

Oh! And I'm not sure if you can count them as "people" per se, but we met some guys from UGA there, too. Nice guys, but they apparently got in an argument with some Canadians over whether basketball was better than hockey, and woke up most of the hostel. They did give us instructions on how to play at the Casino Royale, though, so I owe them that!

Anyway, long story short: if you want to meet new people, small hostels >> small hotels.

Updates!

First off; typing this from a French keyboard, which has just a few random characters moved, so apologies for any typos.

(Typed normally: First off; typing this fro, q French keyboqrd; zhich hqs just q fez rqndo, chqrqcters ,oved; so qpologies for qny typos:)

Anyway; I ordered a new chord to be delivered to our hotel in Milan; BUT, amazon.it doesnt have expedited shipping, so there is only a 50% it will arrive while Im there. Im going to book my venice hostel tomorrow; and order a second one shipped to there:

Nice and Monaco are awesome and sunny and gorgeous and way more fashionable than I am. Met a ton of awesome nice people here (special shoutouts to Robin, Isabel, Valerio, Steve, Stacy, and Alex), the scenery is gorgeous, and the sun is warm.

Have a ton of stories (including royal car collections, snooty casinos, and a bunch of new friends), but Ill wait until I have a normal keyboard (one where I can actually find the apostraphe key) to post them!

St. Remy-de-Provence

Day trip numero uno from Avignon was to St. Remy-de-Provence, a sleepy little French town about 10 miles south of Avignon. It has the perfect mix of “things for tourists to do” and “being an actual town,” since all the main attractions in town are actually a 20 minute walk south of town. So, we got to see some cool sights, but didn’t have to walk through hordes of folks trying to sell us cheap stuff.

First, though, we had to get there. Despite only being 10 miles south of town, it’s about a 40 euro cab ride, so we nixed that pretty quick (at that price, we could almost get a guided tour of the city that would pick us up at our hotel). Instead, we found out a bus leaves Avignon for St. Remy every 2 hours, and only costs 3.50 euros. Much better. Only catch to this was that the bus station in Avignon is…less than clean. It’s funny, the people aren’t sketchy at all (plenty of grandmas, school kids, and commuters were on the bus), and the station isn’t in a sketchy part of town, but it’s…kinda awful. The ticket office reeked of urine, and the entrance was right off a big highway, so we were a little put off at first. But then again, it’s kind of hard to feel sketched out when you’re standing next to a 13-year-old boy headed home from school for lunch and a group of chattering teenage girls with bags of shopping.

Once we got there, we tried to head to the tourism office, but they were closed for lunch. Since we only had a few hours, we couldn’t wait for them to reopen, so we just headed straight for the main sights south of town.

First: the St. Paul Monastery and Sanitarium, where Van Gogh was kept for a year after he cut his ear off. He was here for only a year, but in that time, he painted almost 200 paintings, and about that many drawings. It was really cool seeing all this, especially since they would put prints of his paintings next to scenes he had painted. For example, next to the olive tree grove were two prints of paintings he had done of the grove. They also had the room where he slept, which was amazing, as you could look out his window and see the wheat fields he painted. They’ve since converted them to flower fields, but it’s still cool, especially since little bits of wheat still grow as weeds around the flowers.

Another cool thing is that the monastery still acts as a psychiatric hospital, and they specialize in art therapy to help patients recover. The gift shop (in addition to the typical Van Gogh-themed mouse pads, mugs, and calendars) sold the patients artwork, which was pretty amazing.

After that, we wandered the fields for a while, looking at the trees, flowers, and mountains, then headed further south to the ruins of the Roman city of Glanum. Glanum was a totally NOTHING roman town, which is part of its charm. When you go to Rome, you see grand basilicas, arenas, and monuments, but no ordinary buildings; the modern city was just built on top of those. At Glanum, though, you can just see what a blacksmith’s house was like, or how a Roman village’s roads were laid out. There was also a tour group of little schoolchildren, who were all dressed in togas and traditional Roman clothing. It was just ever so slightly adorable.

Afterwards, we started to head back, but took a wrong turn on the way, so we got kind of turned around. The map from the guidebook we had only had the main roads, so we couldn’t figure out where to go at first. In a city like Paris or Barcelona, this could be a bit of a problem, but St. Remy is about half the size of my neighborhood at home (i.e. really frickin’ tiny) so it took us all of five minutes to find the bus stop again. Once we found it, we killed time in a truly American way: snacks! Mint chocolate chip is apparently just as tasty on this side of the Atlantic, too.

Once we got back, we pretty much just bummed around for the rest of the day, then grabbed dinner from the super market.

St. Remy photos are up!

Photos of St. Remy-de-Provence are up!

Set is here.

Avignon

Day 1 in Avignon was pretty straightforward: catch train, check in, grab food, sleep. Had a rather amusing moment where we pulled out cash to pay and the hotelier looked at us like we were nuts and said, “Non, monsier. You pay at checkout.” We thought this was sketchy as all hell (budget travellers always have to be on the lookout for places that try and squeeze extra fees onto checks), til we realized that’s how it works in the real world (i.e. the non-hostel part of the world). We ended up paying the next day, anyway, though. After that, we grabbed dinner at a creperie (and not the 30-euro-a-plate restaurant the front desk sent us to), which was plenty tasty. After that, Facebook, blogpost, and bed.

Day 2 was a planning day. Since we were spending 6 days in Provence, a general schedule was necessary, so we spent about an hour checking train schedules, calling tour companies (…okay, our hotelier did that for us), and asking the front desk about the bus schedule. After that, we got tickets sorted out (which actually took less time than the planning did, walks to and from the station included) and set off to actually see the city we were staying in.

First stop, something horribly, horribly touristy: the tourist train. Most European cities have them: a train on wheels that tourists are shoved into and then driven around the city in. Conductor in full-on engineer attire and decorative front car optional. We’d been snickering at them pretty much everywhere we went, but this train was only 7 euro, so we figured it would be a good way to get oriented to the city. While we weren’t wrong, it wasn’t a mind-boggling experience, either. The train went in front of the palace, up to and through the botanical gardens, down to the River, and past the bridge before coming back to its starting point. Not a waste of 7 euro, but we didn’t really see anything amazing or learn anything new aside from a general orientation.

Anyway, we headed up to the botanical gardens, where we got a great view of the city and saw a few rather adorable families of ducklings in the pond. We grabbed a snack and watched the ducks for a while, then headed down to the Rhone and up to the bridge.

I’d actually never heard of the Bridge of St. Benezet until Anna told me about it right before my trip, but it’s apparently pretty well known, thanks to a nursery rhyme I’d never heard. Basically, it’s a bridge that used to cross all the way over the Rhone, but over years, the current in the river kept knocking down arches, until the town stopped trying to maintain it. Now, just 3 of the original arches remain. Afterwards, we wandered a bit, then came back to the river to see it at night.

Day 3, we got an earlier start than usual (out the door around 10:30, I think) so we could go to the market, which is only open before 1pm. Was pretty cool to see, though we didn’t buy anything (wasn’t there as a sight for tourists, so we didn’t think they’d speak much English). Afterwards, we grabbed coffee and sammiches in Plaza Pie (pronounced pee-yay, though there was a ‘café 3.14’ to make fun of the double pronunciation).

Afterwards, we went to the papal palace. The story behind this is that in the 14^th century, Italy was undergoing a series of civil wars, which made the country a dangerous place to be for foreigners. So, when a French cardinal was named Pope, the king of France persuaded him to move the papacy to Avignon until things settled. The Italians, obviously, were outraged by this, but the papal seat stayed in Avignon until 1377.

The palace was enormous and obviously very grand, but it was hard to picture what it was like when the pope lived there. Avignon and Provencal cities in general have a bare-bones attitude towards preserving historic sites, in that they tend to only maintain the materials that are there, and nothing more. That’s fine, but it meant that the palace is BARE. Most of the frescoes were incredibly faded, there aren’t any tapestries or reproductions on the walls or ceiling, and there wasn’t any furniture. So, while it was cool and obviously amazing, we never really got a sense that it was a palace fit for the pope.

Oh, and Provencal tours are…amusingly literal and factual. They don’t really give you any juicy rumors or stories or tidbits, like most tourist sites; more just straight facts, like, “The ceiling is supported by 6 stone arches,” and “The hall has three windows, which you can see to the left.” I can see and count the arches and windows quite clearly, thank you. The tourist train had been the same way, telling us how long streets were or how tall buildings were, without really saying why they were important or interesting.

After dinner that night, Sean and I split up to wander on our own. Avignon is an incredibly safe city (there are very few foreign tourists around, so pickpockets and the like aren’t a problem), so it was cool to see what the city was like after dark. I wandered down to the river around sunset to grab some shots of the river, then pretty much just wandered the city trying to get lost. I ended up wandering through a residential area, which was fun, as I could hear French families finishing up dinner through open windows. There’s also apparently a lot of cats in these parts, all of whom are crazy skittish. I’d be twenty feet away, and they’d tear off down an alley.

That was our “last” day in Avignon, even though we stayed there for four more nights, as we did day trips every other day. I’ll post those as separate posts later.

Barcelona's done, Avignon photos are up

Read the title, yo!

Directions

Being mistaken for a local in a country where you don't even speak the language twice in one day is rather amusing.

As is giving people directions in a city you've only been in for 5 days.

Piece du l'Rennaisance

So apparently they have Renaissance fairs in France.

Was eating at a kebab shop, and a dude in full-on period medieval garb walk in and says, "Monsieur! Directions, s'il vous plait?" The kebab shop owner just kind of stared for a second, then said, "Uhh, oh, oui, monsieur," and helped him find where he was going.

I took the chance to look outside, and saw a guy dressed in a beggar costume and a woman in an aristocrat's gown.

It would appear the French are just as capable of geekery as Americans.

War of the French Artists

So apparently artists in Provence and Paris dislike each other. Walked past a woman selling some very nice, surprisingly cheap watercolors today and asked if they were originals or prints.

She got a little huffy and said, "Monsieur, these are ALL originals. We are NOT like those "artists" in Montmartre."

(Imagine it in a thick French accent to get the full effect)

Provence Schedule

So, schedule of Provence:

Yesterday (5/29): Train to Avignon

Today (5/30): Planned and booked tours, trains, and buses, went on a cheesy tour, saw the Bridge, walked along the river, got dinner

Tomorrow (5/31): More of Avignon; papal palace and wandering

Friday (6/1): Buses to and from St. Remy in Provence

Saturday (6/2): Taking a guided tour of Nimes, Uzes, and Pont du Gard all day

Sunday (6/3): Train to and from Arles 

Monday (6/4): Leaving Avignon for Nice/Monaco

Trip to Avignon

So, the trip to Avignon was…interesting.

Not bad interesting. Actually quite dull. But a little different.

Basically, there’s no direct line to Avignon from Barcelona. This is mostly due to the fact that Spanish rail lines use a different gauge (distance between rails) on their track than just about everybody else. So, anyone going into or out of Spain by rail has to change to a different line near the border. Most people going from Barcelona to Avignon change at either Montpellier (on the French side) or Figueres (on the Spanish side). These are the ‘official’ Eurail routes.

Not so with Sean and I. When we went to the train station in Barcelona, we realized two things. 1) Eurail’s official routes are not at all comprehensive and 2) People in Barcelona reaaaallly don’t like speaking English. We talked with 4 different train officials, two of whom knew a bit of English, but didn’t speak it to us, one of whom actually spoke to us in English, and one who didn’t speak English, but was a master of Spanglish. 

Anyway, long story short, after about 2 hours at the train station, we figured out what we were doing.

Interestingly enough, though, the officials had pointed us to an unofficial route. Instead of one of the other two towns, this route took us through Cerbere, France. We were happy, ‘cause it took only local train routes, which meant that we didn’t have to pay a reservation fee (which eurailers have to do when riding long distance or high speed trains).

The wait at the station the day of was fun. We got there plenty early, and were drinking coffee in the waiting area when an Asian woman runs up to us, drops two suitcases and a backpack, asks us to watch it, then scurries off with two other bags.

Enter Ellen, another of those characters you only meet once in a long while.

Ellen came back a few minutes later, and we realized the two other bags were (occupied) cat carriers. She plopped down, thanked us, and struck up a conversation. Turns out, she had just finished a year-long stint at Google, and was moving back to France. She was…vague, at best, with what she did. She did tell us that, before her initial move to France, she worked on “UI design in Silicon Valley for 1

When we got to Cerbere, though, it was a ghost town. Our train was there, but there were maybe a dozen people at the train station, of which maybe a half-dozen were actually on our train. The rest were ticket salespeople, janitors, and border agents (Who were a little befuddled by my passport. The border agent in Lisbon was running low on ink, so the visa stamp is kinda faint. The poor agent here looked at my passport which seemed to say I magically materialized on a train in his country. He was fine when I pointed the stamp out to him, though).

Anyway, aside from that, the trip was fairly vanilla. I read a book on Provence, Sean read a book on his iPad, and we arrived. Got a nice view of the countryside, too, but it was mostly on or near the border, not before. The Spanish like to build their trains a bit below ground level, so aside from a bit of Figeueres, we didn’t see much. Once we got to Portbou, though, it was gorgeous. We drove through a few marshes, across a river, and spent a hefty amount of time on the coast, which was nice.

Anyway, we arrived in one piece, got checked in, and got dinner. Check another country off my list!