Morruz

All in all, the trip was fun. Chris and I had a truly wonderful time together. France did not wow me like any other place I’d been, or leave me with any really potent memories like other trips I’ve taken, and I’d likely not go back, but if I had to do it again, I would wholeheartedly. I loved the time with Chris. I love that we made what we did of it. I love that despite where I am and how I feel, I’m comfortable with him, and we can make the most of any given experience, whatever the expectations are.

Well, Carcassonne was pretty impressive. It’s majesty and beauty was only superceded by my desire to be home, so I truly did not do it justice. The History surrounding its existence is, as Michael can attest to is fascinating, but I didn’t go too deep into it because of how tired I was. Truly, I did not do it justice. Chris’ lessons on medievil warfare and fortification were fascinating while standing between the walls and imagining what it was like.

Notre Dame of wishing she were there 1500 years ago

The town is just newly touristy, since The fortified “La Cite” of Carcassonne has just recently become a UNESCO world heritage site, so the place is still small and rough around the edges, with a strong Accented Langue D’Oc (which is southern France “french”) And a strong Spanish resemblance creeping into the faces of all the men. Well, the women might have been, too, but I never noticed. All of our service was quirky and pleasant, and our hosts were wonderful Brits who spoke very little French. We had the opportunity to meet some new people: since we wre in a guest house, we had breakfast with our “flatmates” which is always a nice way to start a day.

Sur le pont D’Avignon, on y danse, on y danse

Well, Avignon was a place of wonder, beauty and food. Oh God the Food. The City is rich with history, art, and FOOD. Chris and I spent 3 wonderful days cruising, walking, wondering, and laughing. I made it through the Palais de Papes without melting, but not without offending someone ;). We oogled gargoyles, shot each other with corks projected from crossbows, checked out the secret coffers of the Renegade Popes. Every time we passed an alcove whose statue had been taken out, I took the opportunity to insert a statue of Notre Dame de Drama Queens

We took a cruise to Arles, which takes about 2 3/4 hours, so we ate at a wonderfully leisurely pace on the way there, cruised around arles fro a few hours, Made out in a structure almost as old as Jesus Christ (it was finished about 100 years after his death) And was generrally awed at how people still lived and thrived in the modern way in homes that are 1500 years old. It’s the case in Avignon as well, and probably much of Provence, but we had just learned that on our super cheesy tourist train ride

We laughed at how awesome Old guys are, especially when they are competitive

And marvelled at the scenery. Much of Provence is still very religious, so it was a bit of a shame being there on a Sunday and Monday, since that is the weekend, and not in the party sense. They close everything down. Probably good for my pocket book, cause I was in the mood to shop, and good for our bakcs, since we were a bit tight on the back pack space.

Avignon was beautiful and fun and the closest to comfortable I reached in France. Best done again in the future but only if we are renting an appartment. Cooking is a must. Freedom to roam the countryside in a car would have made 3 weeks based out of there seem short.

The concept of a sleeper ferry is an interesting one. It is a place in and of itself, complete with all you need to live for whatever period of time you are there. But also, it is a vessel, bringin you from one place to the next. It’s place in fiction and in history has been romantic, spooky, adventurous, and always dramatic. I’m still hard pressed to describe how I felt about our experience. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t epic or anything, but very interesting.

First, It was primarily a cargo ship, with some space left over for the few customers who are looking for passage through to Marseille, so it had a very industrial feel. At places, it was loud, big, gritty, and exposed, but it still had all amenities, good food, nice staff, was clean and tidy. There were no issues with sea sickness, realistically, the night passed with no feeling of being on water, really, other than that … feeling …. that you know you are on water. Looking back on it, it almost feels like we were on the set of a movie.

Well, I got a lot of pictures at different angles, of this:

I was surprised by the arid climate. If you turned your back on the Med, you could swear you were in Arizona. There were cacti, Brambles, Lizzards, Prickly pears, and it was always dry. We did a lot of beaching, snorkeling, eating, beach walking, souvenier (window) shopping, and close to home type exploring. The Dry climate was really a nice surprise: it meant that we were not suffocating, and at any moment, if we were too hot, we could just tuckin the shade and we were fine. It meant cool nights, too. Refreshing!

The week was spent in mostly relaxation mode, with only one day of bike rental, which resulted in a day at the (different beach). And the week also brought a lot of eating. May wonderful discoveries, (including that I still make better Paella) and, as Chris mentioned before, a creepy, creepy excursion to an old (prison?) (fort?) (watchtower?) It never really became clear exactly what it was other than random and creepy. Beautiful, though.

The only significant thing I can say about Nice, is that it was the first time I set foot in the Mediterranean.

And, that Chris has a great ass.

So, in the Champagne district, we visited both Reims and Epernay. Epernay is the closest to the birthplace of champagne by Dom Perignon, who, once he discovered his masterpiece, apparently (probably quite drunkenly) ran up the streets yelling: Quick my brothers, come! I’m drinking the stars! Now, that described it well, me thinks.

We learned a wonderful amount about champagne, about its creation, and how truly different every house is in taste, and in technique, to their ability of course, since the process is so meticulously controlled. And, most importantly, drank a respectable amount of champagne. Mom, if you are reading this: No silly flip flops for me.

i figured I’d go through and do a highlight reel, since all you got was random mumblings of tired folk, likely just at the internet shop to kill time in waiting for something else

Paris:
We started at the Eiffle tower, Wow. Big steel thing. This is a quote from my personal travel log:

“While in the historical part of the Musee des Egouts, {sewer museum} there was a mural pained of Jean Valjean carrying Marius, like in the book, so I made Chris take a picture of me in front of it. There was a couple checking us out, since we were making silly faces, animated commentary, and getting the settings on the camera just right. Since we were paying so much attention to it, they went over, and read the plaque describing the scene. The look on their faces and the shrug they both gave each other made it clear that they just didn’t get it. I got a good chuckle out of that. I know how it feels to check something out because peole around you are making a big deal out of it only to just not get it. See: Eiffle tower. Is it litterally just a tall monument whose only signigicance is it’s status as a tourist attraction ?!?”

She is quite pretty, though

The next day, of course, we checked out the sewer museum, from which the last quote came. It is arguably the only reason I’d ever gotten to step foot in Paris, so it’s likely the reason that this trip was made. It was worth it. I enjoyed it, saw the first rat of my life. I’d felt one run over my foot in Prague, and saw it’s tail, but that was barely the whole animal. If you squint, you can see it in this picture:

To continue on our underground theme, Chris and I visited the Catacombs. It was at one time I rock quarry, which they took too much rock out of, and the city started sinking in some parts, so they stopped mining, and since at the same time, they were having problems with the cemetaries being over full and starting to smell, they turned it into a giant undergroung ossuary. It was damp, winding, earthy, creepy and just plain wonderful.

Now, we’ve seen where Napolean was born, and entombed:

And where Christophe Colombe was born and entombed. (Both born in Corsica, and Nap entombed at The church of Les Invalides, and Chris entombed in Dominican Republic) Neet, I guess

As I write this, Fritz is enthusiastically groping my wrist, indicating to me in no uncertain terms that I should not be allowed to leave him ever again.

I didn’t plan to do another post, but today (yesterday) bears comment.

So, it turns out that our flight from Paris to Calgary was moved up three hours.

I’ll let that one sink in…

There we are, about to check in our bags, and we’re told that our plane is literally taking off right now. Notable absences on this plane include… US. Both Char and I just about drop to the ground right there, but since we’re persons of resource and grace, we instead make our way to the airline ticket counter, in the hopes of rearranging our travel. Did you know that Air Transat only makes one flight per week to Calgary from Paris? You do now!

We are informed that, if we pay a 40 euro fee each, we might be fortunate enough to catch their 15:10 flight to Toronto, but other than that we’re on our own, so long, see ya, read the fine print next time… So, we do this, ending up as standby passengers numbers three and four on the flight. And now, two hours of nerve-wracking waiting, hoping that the flight doesn’t fill up. Char, in the interim, checks up on the cost of the next Air Canada or Air France flights, and determines that — if we don’t make this standby flight — we will be on the hook for $4100 to get home. When she tells me this (about 40 minutes before the standby cutoff) I actually felt faint. I don’t generally do that.

Long story short(er), with 5 slots left on the flight, and 5 minutes til cutoff, a lady and her daughter come up to the checkin and get on our plane. At this point, I have given up on getting home, having decided to send Char if there’s only one seat. Our fellow sufferers, two franco-edmontonians with whom we got along famously, are checked in as standbys one and two… and then Char and I are called up to check in. At which point I concealed tears of relief behind my otherwise unnecessary sunglasses… and we ran to the plane.

The rest of the trip was routine, other than spending two extra hours on a plane, two extra hours in an airport, and arriving home about an hour and a half ago, hoping to pass right out… and failing. So, this coda is brought to you by my insomnia.

I popped down to the internet cafe in Paris whilst Char sleeps in a bit to do this last bit of postery. We’re heading off to the airport in two hours, starting the last, longest, and least pleasant leg of the vacation — the ten-hour flight and 3.5-hour drive home.

We’ll see you all over the next little while, probably in small doses because we’re gonna be wiped right out