Accidental Tourists

Then: (January 26, 2004)...

S is supposed to get a company car. He ordered his car back in September after having been here in France since July, and was told to expect delivery of said vehicle in January. Meanwhile, MCo. is graciously paying for a rental vehicle for S until his new car comes in. The cost of this rental runs the company about €1200.00 per month or in the current value of the dollar about $1513.00 per month. This afternoon, mind you today is January 26th, S received an e-mail saying ‘Oh by the way, we never ordered your car.’ It seems that due to company layoffs S is to receive the new car belonging to someone who has recently been downsized. This person will be done using this car at the end of April, is that OK?! Who the heck is running this company? By the end of April the company will have shelled out 10 months of rental fees totaling €12,000.00 plus ($15,130.00). Isn’t entirely possible that for that price they could have bought a whole new car 10 months ago? Am I the only one that sees the lunacy?

Now:

Well, see the whole adventure started as a non-adventure. I mean, what we originally planned was to go up to Lyon and pick up S's new van. So on Saturday, we got up early and drove the 5± hours to Lyon. The deal was his van had been dropped off at a hotel near the Bron office where MCo. does a lot of business. The keys were to be left with the front desk. So, we simply go to the hotel, pick up the new van, drive to the airport in Lyon, drop off the rental and be on our way. Seems simple right? Well…Mice and Men and all that… We arrive in Lyon, find the hotel easily enough and see the van in the lot. The van is filthy and by the looks of the cottonwood debris all over, it’s been there for a few days. S goes into the hotel while I gather all the stuff up in the rental that will be transferred to the new van. After about 10 minutes of waiting I get this funny feeling that something has gone wrong. Sure enough, I see S come out of the hotel dialing his cell phone. The hotel clerk, whom I will call ‘Rodney’, cannot locate the envelope that contains, among other things, the keys to the van. S is trying to call someone at MCo. but there is no one in the Bron office on a Saturday and S doesn’t have anyone’s home number. S goes back inside and I accompany him. He informs ‘Rodney’ that he cannot raise anyone at the office and ‘Rodney’ informs S that he has been through everything and still can’t find anything with his name or MCo.’s name on it. “Can you call the person who worked at the desk during the day yesterday, and see if they know where the envelope might be?” I ask Rodney in as nice a way as I can, thinking that Rod is only the weekend clerk and that a ‘weekday regular’ may have taken possession of said envelope during, you know, the week. “Well, if there was something it would be here on the message board or locked in a drawer or they would leave me a note.” answers Rod a bit churlishly. “Yes, I understand, but is it possible they forgot to write a note or didn’t lock it up? Maybe you could call them to see if they know of someplace else it could be?” losing patience quickly now. “Well, if there was something, they would have left a note.” Says Rod, now just being obtuse and standing there with his hand on his skinny little hip and gesturing with the other to indicate the desk area. “Yes, but can you call this person, perhaps they forgot?” getting pissed now. S at this point jumps in and thanks Rodney for his help and guides me out of the hotel as I begin to say to Rod “The van is right out there so it seems that the key would be here somewhere.” “Well it is not here” answers Rod as the automatic doors close behind us. I’m pissed, this just another MCo. screw-up and even if it’s the hotel’s screw-up I will blame MCo. It seems logical that if the van is there the key must be there too. So either: a) That is not S’s van and the woman at MCo. failed to deliver it; b) That is the van and she forgot to drop the keys a the desk; OR c) The woman did what she said she would and the hotel has now lost the key. Either way we’re screwed as there will be no one in the MCo. office until Monday morning (around 9ish) and we have now driven 5± hours for no apparent reason. This is where S has the first of his terrific ideas. We’ve driven this far, we are a matter of an hour or two from a couple of European borders so let’s go do something. After careful examination of our handy dandy map, we decide to head to Switzerland. We’ll have lunch in Geneva and then shoot for dinner in Italy somewhere and then head home. Cheered a little by our plan we drive north east. (Side note: I must mention that any ‘Autoroute’ in Europe, well in every European country we have so far visited, is a toll road. If you want to have the convenience of highway driving you must pay for it and it’s not cheap. Due to this same principle, as we approach the Alps it becomes slightly more expensive because we are now also paying for tunnels. Very conveniently the toll roads go right through the Alps rather than driving around and up and down.) Upon crossing the border into Switzerland we were required to pay a 28€ highway tax. Apparently it’s an annual tax; they give you a sticker to place on your window that’s good for that calendar year. So we can come back anytime between now and 12/31 and not have to pay that again. The sticker says it’s only valid if it’s actually ‘stuck’ to your windshield, we however, refused to stick it on the rental; we decided to hang on to it and stick it in the van. We managed to get away with it, so now we’re sort of committed to returning to Switzerland before the end of the year, you know, just so we get our money’s worth out of the highway tax. Despite the cost and the drive though, the Alps were beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so huge and at the same time so surreal. It could’ve been a fake movie backdrop; script one bucolic mountain scene. The mountains were snow capped and purple-grey finishing down below with green hills and forests. Just for a few added touches of perfection the sides of the mountains were dotted with little terracotta colored villages. Villages built so high up on the sides of the mountains that they looked tiny and unreal. In the valleys were a few quickly running streams full of snow melt and more picturesque villages with sheep and cattle dotting the hillsides. I kept a sharp eye out for Heidi but no sightings. There were a few places where I wanted to hop out of the car and run over a green hilltop singing “The hills are alive….” But I just stayed in the car and sang instead. Maybe I’m getting a bit jaded or blasé, but Geneva looked like any other city to me. Well, there is the Rhone running through it and there were swans on the river; that was very pretty. We heard every language known to man spoken on the streets. The shops in the downtown area were very exclusive and way too expensive. But since this was just a quick day trip we didn’t really have time to visit any tourist or historical sites. Since we hadn’t planned on being there we hadn’t researched stuff to see and what’s worse we were not dressed appropriately. I was wearing a linen skirt and t-shirt and S was wearing slacks and a cotton shirt, we had brought coats, but it was damn chilly out there. We had lunch at a good little Chinese restaurant (That’s our goal you know, have Chinese food in every country we visit); we wandered the streets a bit and then got back on the road.

Swiss swan in Geneva

Swiss Alps on the road to Geneva

We initially headed south intending to cross back into France and then head into Italy for dinner, but it was at this point that S had his second terrific idea. Since the van would still have to be picked up at some point, and he was not thrilled about making the trip again next weekend, why not get a room at the hotel and stay the weekend. Maybe the Sunday hotel employee would have additional brain cells and be able to find the keys and if not he would call the Bron office first thing Monday to straighten things out. I must mention that we said ‘key’, but Renault cars now have credit card sized keys you slide into the centre console and push a start button to crank the engine. (Actually it doesn't really ‘crank’ since the same button also stops the engine. Kind of like a light switch. Wonder how that will work when the vehicle is a beater with 300 000 Kms. on it and you have to hold the brake, pump the accelerator and depress the clutch while grinding away at the starter...) We had described the ‘key’ to Rodney and told him that it would probably be in an envelope with Monsanto or SW in writing on it. I mention this key clarification and envelope since it eventually is used against us - why take the blame when it can be place on your customer - I do believe that's the Novotel hotel chain motto. I say this after a weekend of dealing with various hotel employees, because we became well known at the hotel. Word must have gotten around about the situation and the fact that we were staying there until Monday when we could find out who the key had been given to. Everyone knew Monsieur et Madame Walters. Oh and by the way, since this was an unplanned ‘vacation’ we had to make a pit stop at the hyper-marche for basics. You know toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo, conditioner, and hairbrush; oh, and clean under things. Never mind that we both have regular medication that we take and that we were now going to do without for at least 2 days. We’re just fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants type people. We arrived back at the hotel at 21h30 and ducked into the restaurant for a 'ne pas bon' meal. I couldn't finish my very oily omelet and S had cold asparagus with hollandaise sauce. The wine was a ‘not too bad’ Beaujolais. Luckily our waiter had a great sense of humor and enjoyed practicing his English while teasing me about not finishing my dinner and ordering dessert anyway. Crème brûle wasn't too bad but I’ve had much better. Next morning up at the crack of 7, eat a fast and rotten breakfast at the hotel. Say good morning to Rodney at the desk, who looks surprised and a bit worried (good) to see us still there. By 8 we're off to lunch on the Italian Riviera via the French Alps. In addition to our tolls for the Italian auto route we had to pay 28.80€ to cross from France into Italy via an 8 mile long tunnel. It was great. Nothing but beautiful countryside and scenery again. Mountains like none I’ve ever seen before. No one was on the road and we made it through Turin and Savona and into Noli by 1:30. The beautiful beach in Noli is lined with restaurant after restaurant after restaurant after….you get the point. We find a place to park and go into the nearest one. At the front door we’re met with the catch of the day on ice: Lobster, shrimp, clams and a variety of fish. As we go out onto the deck we pass a man making pizzas, hand thrown crusts and fresh ingredients all laid out on the counter. The balcony is 10 yards from the edge of the water where sunbathers have each staked out their own postage stamp sized square of sand. (Mind you these are serious sun worshippers as it’s quite breezy and the temps can’t be above 65°, colder when a cloud drifts over the sun) There was even a man lying in the sand wearing a business suite, apparently working on a face tan, or maybe just napping. We look at the menu and each order our own pizza. Mine was the Margherita with fresh tomato sauce and covered in thin medallions of mozzarella cheese. S had a pizza with 4 formaggi. This restaurant also provided us with a good opportunity to brush up on our Italian…wait, we don’t know any Italian, well except for ‘gracia’, ‘bon journo’, ‘ciao’ and ‘pizza’. Well enough to get by on I guess – after a few Italian beers, S, starts ending each word with ‘a’; Italian is so simple... After lunch we headed to Monaco, just for a quick drive through Monte Carlo. We took the coastal road through small villages and tunnels. (I swear we were in tunnels more than we were out, during that drive). This time of year the country side is gorgeous. Adorable little pastel colored villages with flowers blooming everywhere, especially wisteria. Wisteria was in full bloom over doorways and garden arches, covering fences, garden walls and balcony railings. But by far the most wonderful thing was the Mediterranean. I’ve never seen water that color. (Well, having grown up near the Pacific Ocean (sort of) you’d think that I wouldn’t say that but the Pacific is grey or sickly green most often, due to the pollutants being pumped into it on a regular basis.) The water of the Mediterranean is a clear and cheerful bright blue. A color that makes you think of white washed Greek houses with brightly painted shutters basking in warm sunshine. Water so blue, so bright, that it looks cool and soothing and seems to promise calm and smooth sailing; the boats with their white sails looking serene as they cut their way through the water on to peaceful ports. And on the horizon were the hazy outlines of distant Italian mountains. Our drive takes us on roads that hug the mountains, suspended above this wonderfully blue water; snaking and curving around the coastline. In contrast to all of that peace was Monte Carlo. Monte Carlo is a riot of activity; people, shops and traffic choking narrow roads that are towered over by high rise hotels and condos. The peaceful water was still out there but not seeming to affect the residents and guests of this active city. And this wasn’t even the tourist season. Being here during the busy summer with even more cars and people, would be downright claustrophobic.

View of from our table at Ristorant Vittoria in Noli.

Back to the hotel. Arriving back at the hotel around 9:30 pm we grab a quick burger at McD’s; not willing to face bad hotel restaurant food and needing just a quick meal so we can get to bed. After all tomorrow is another day. Well, tomorrow is the day we’ll solve the mystery of the missing keys and HEADS WILL ROLL, if I have any say in the matter. Up bright and early on Monday morning we get showered and dressed and go back to the McD’s down the street for breakfast. The hotel breakfast at 11€ each is definitely not worth it. For less than 11€ we both had egg McMuffins and some really good coffee. We’re trying to kill some time as no one will be in the office until at least 9:00 or later. The French are very casual about when they actually arrive at and begin work. Closing times however are strictly observed and you will be hard pressed to find anyone who works late. Anyway, at 9:30 we clear out of the hotel room and take things out to the rental. From there S calls Lydia at MCo. and explains the happenings of the weekend. She is truly apologetic that we had to ‘waste’ an entire weekend and make such a long drive to have this happen. She says she’ll get on the phone to the hotel right away and find out what happened as she did leave the keys there on TUESDAY when she dropped the van off. S hangs up with Lydia and we slowly stroll back into the main lobby of the hotel where we find one woman on the phone – presumably with Lydia – and two other people scurrying around. The woman on the phone is speaking irritatedly to Lydia and throwing things around on the counter. She eyes us as we come through the front doors and tones down her throwing. We stand near the counter watching the activity like two second grade tattle tales smugly watching the rest of the class catch hell. At last the woman on the phone goes into a back office and comes out a few moments later with a large brown envelope that says both MCo. and SW on it. She snippily says something to Lydia on the phone and hangs up, turns to us and in that same snippy tone says “I thought we were looking for a lost set of keys, I didn’t know that this is what you were asking for.” Oooohh!! Snappy retorts and comebacks start to whirl in my mind. I’m about to let loose a tirade when S takes my hand and says ‘C’est pas grave.’ Not a problem. NOT A PROBLEM! Taking deep breaths I stand there mutely glaring at ‘Irritated phone lady’ as another clerk checks us out. ‘Irritated phone lady’ is glaring at us from the other end of the desk where she is giving another guest directions to the mall and pretending to ignore us. The least they could do is give us one night free at the hotel since it was their screw up that kept us there. This I’d like to say along with several other things, but I don’t because S is keeping an eye on me to be sure I don’t misbehave. Well since Monday was pretty much shot as a workday for S, and since we did still have a 5 hour drive home ahead of us, we decide to drive south to Marseille for lunch and then head home. After dropping the rental off at the airport we headed south. I spent the drive reading the owners manual for the van and translating bits of it for S. The first problem we had was that the van has an automatic parking brake. So as soon as you park the van the parking brake is automatically set. In theory when you put it into gear and give it a little gas the brake automatically disengages. Of course this doesn’t work if you’re going in reverse and it took us five minutes of reading and translating to figure out how to manually disengage the brake. All gages and instrumentation are on a central console, including the radio information. Of course we couldn’t find the actual radio. We supposedly have a CD player in the van but couldn’t locate that either. I eventually found a remote control unit tucked into one of 5 ‘glove boxes’ in the front of the van. It controls the radio and CD changer. That was fun, but we couldn’t find the CD changer to put CD’s into. (Eventually located it in a rear wheel well two days later) The van has back up sensors which we figured out, cruise control which we still have not figured out and it even has sensors in the tires to tell you when they are low on air. The darned thing does everything but drive itself.

Renault Espace 2.2 l. diesel

Marseille is a huge city. It has to be the second largest city in France. It seemed even larger I suppose because the first glimpse we got of it was at the crest of a hill coming toward the coast. The entire city laid out before us in a giant bowl shaped valley. Terracotta tiled roofs spreading all the way to the edge of the water. The harbors alone are massive. Train yards, at least 3 cruise ships berthed nearby and in another area 5 giant ferries loading up to cross to Italy, Algeria, Corsica, Egypt and Turkey. Then there were the harbors filled with private sailing vessels of every size and description. We had lunch at a sidewalk restaurant near one of the small docks. I had an incredible lunch of this penne pasta with slices of grilled duck breast and this incredible creamy, black olive and red wine sauce that was to die for! It was so incredibly delicious I practically licked the bowl. I don’t know what S ate, heck I don’t think I heard anything he may have said during the meal, I was so enraptured with my little bowl of heaven. Dessert was a real let down, worst crème brûle I have ever had I had two bites and was done. But really nothing could over shadow that great lunch. After that we drove around the town, up and down hills and winding streets. S saw a church at the top of a tall hill and made a beeline for it. It was the Notre Dame de la Garde Basilica and it was gorgeous. The basilica dates back to 1214 and has a gigantic statue of the Blessed Mother carrying her Son who is blessing the city and its harbors, as well as all those who come to Marseilles. From the ramparts of the Basilica you can see all of Marseilles and the circling mountains. From there you can also see the many little islands in the harbor including the Château d’If. Yes folks the Château d’If! Significant to all of us Count of Monti Cristo fans. How cool is that! Well home again, home again. It was a long and boring drive back after that. We hit the main highway that led away from the coast and through land that seemed exceedingly flat after our mountain adventures. We got home Monday night tired and in desperate need of a change of clothes and considerably poorer from our 3 day unplanned vacation, but still in a way exhilarated from our adventures.

S from the ramparts of Notre Dame de la Garde with the port of Marseilles behind him.

Interior of Notre Dame de la Garde

That little island out in the middle of the bay is the Château d’If.