From Avignon we took a train southeast to Nice on the Mediterranean and stayed there in a virtual apartment in the Hotel Constadt a block from the water. Spent most of the two days basking in the sun…with a few topless sun-worshippers…people watching on the Promenade…peaceful at this time of year…the sky filled with colorful kites.
Took the train from Barcelona to Avignon in the Provence area in the south of France. Stayed at Hotel Mignon on rue Joseph-Vernet. Cute little French hotel room but the smallest loo yet! Sitting on the stool, you find your knees sticking out the door!
We tried to eat at Christian Etienne’s famous restaurant so I could report to Josh but they were full up. They referred us to another restaurant with a respected chef, the Piedoie where we had a wonderful dinner at half the price.
At another fine restaurant a woman had her dog sitting on her lap during the meal. Must be acceptable in France.
Avignon is an old Roman city with narrow winding streets and is entirely enclosed by ancient Roman walls. The highlight is the Palace of the Popes-so called because the Vatican moved it’s center from Rome to Avignon for a time. Attached to the Palace is the Church of Notre Dame. Bob went to Easter mass there the morning we left. Capturing some of the incredible music on the camcorder, he reported that the chief celebrant was a cardinal…if a big red hat means anything.
In the 14th century, this city in the South of France was the seat of the papacy. The Palais des Papes, an austere-looking fortress lavishly decorated by Simone Martini and Matteo Giovanetti, dominates the city, the surrounding ramparts and the remains of a 12th-century bridge over the Rhone. Beneath this outstanding example of Gothic architecture, the Petit Palais and the Romanesque Cathedral of Notre-Dame-des-Doms complete an exceptional group of monuments that testify to the leading role played by Avignon in 14th-century Christian Europe. Avignon is an UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Most days in Europe you would see at least once a wonderful display of affection between two young people-playful and sensuous-mostly kissing-but never offensive. And then they walk on as if nothing had happened. Bob finds it uncomfortable…but no one else on the street seems to pay any attention to it at all. Portugal is a bit more restrained…the play, Vagina Monologues, advertised all over Britain and France but is no where to be seen in Spain and Portugal.
Fashions
In the urban centers you see beautiful people with beautiful clothes (and in Paris the women smelled wonderful as they passed you by on the street) so I caved in and made my first purchase-some perfume not exported by France. Women love sweaters. Fully 2-3 out of all people under 40 wear black leather jackets and often the women are in full length ones. Clothing is very expensive so you know these folks have a little money. In Salamanca, especially on the weekend, early evenings reveal mostly older couples strolling through the streets and in the town square dressed as if they were going to the opera-women in very expensive cloth coats and men in perfectly pressed slacks and jackets with tie-often pushing a stroller with what apparently is the grandchild. They eat dinner between 8pm and 11pm. Then the older folks disappear and the streets become filled with the young. I marveled at what appeared on the surface to be an ideal small village society focused around the family and at the center a cultural center (plaza) where everyone could go and socialize.
Many young women who have good figures seem to get up in the morning and pour themselves into their jeans (a la mons pubis) before they go out-the younger ones in faded ones with the hem rolled up six inches-jeans I mean. Levi Jeans are very popular as well as levi jackets. On the way from Paris to Bayonne we had a three hour layover in Bordeaux so we ate lunch at an outdoor cafe-four people had on levi jackets. Btw, levi material was invented by the Levi Strauss company in a small city nearby. American companies in San Francisco imported the strong material in the 1800’s to sell to workers in the gold mines and on the docks…and the material came to be associated with America.
The Proletariat
After a few days in the city centers, we go looking for the working class. In Paris, the Belleville section was the most colorful and interesting. There are also Muslim and African neighborhoods. In Paris there are no green men with green brooms in these neighborhoods. The subways are full of piss and the streets full of litter. Guess they dn’t expect the tourists to go to these
neighborhoods.
Lisbon reputedly is the gay-lesbian capital of Europe but don’t know why it would be Lisbon. People are generally very kind in Spain and Portugal. Lots of people of African extract in Portugal and they often flash big wonderful smiles!
Continuing saga of the internet: went searching for the internet in Lisbon. An Austrian woman was waiting her turn to pay a $12 deposit which gets returned to you when you are finished. I told her about my internet saga in France and she laughed and laughed. I mentioned that I thought that the French “attitude” was a big act because it was so exagerated. Surprisingly she agreed and said that the French were known all over Europe for it and that no one takes it seriously. So I guess I won’t either.
Spain and Portugal play movies with original language and add their own subtitles. Hilarious, is to see an American made movie in France with George Clooney speaking French!
United Colors of Benneton everywhere. Starbucks on every corner in London but not a one in France, Spain and Portugal-god love them! Actually it would devestate hundreds of local cafes that really are at the heart of the culture of these countries.
Even though most of the little shops and banks and restaurants close down in the afternoon 1-4 in Spain and 1-3 in Portugal, the modern shopping mall businesses stay open. Whole countries of people disappear off the streets during these hours!
In the hotel in Paris at breakfast one morning. I struck up a conversation with a woman that wasn’t speaking French to the waiter and she had avoided talking to me. I guessed that she might be English or Scandinavian and most Sacandinavians speak English. It turned out she was from Poland but knew English very well. She had avoided talking to me because she thought I was French. When I started talking to her and finally told her I was from the states, she said “no wonder your English accent is so good-I thought you were French!”
She was on her way to a business meeting in Lancaster PA. In her slender 30’s she had short cropped blond hair and was wearing a yellow sweater and tan slacks. She said that on a trip to NY several years ago, she was struck by how “big” many American were and she made clear that she meant fat. She guessed that it was because they didn’t get enough “motion.” It is interesting to see ourselves through other’s eyes. I tried to explain “jet lag” the lag part being the most difficult.
Later, an English woman in the hotel in Bayonne said that when she had visited NY several years ago she was shocked at how people, who were dressed up in suits and other nice clothing, were wearing ugly sneakers and walking so fast down the street. We tried to tell her we didn’t find “sneakers” ugly and that when I worked I wore nice shoes to work and carried my tennis shoes in a bag that I then used when walking to/from the car. But she said there were “nice” comfortable shoes you could wear out on the street and she held up her foot whereupon there was a nice black walking shoe.
Bayonne is a beautiful Basque town in the south of France. I would not be surprised if the movie “Chocolat” was made here. We were told that Bayonne had almost a hundred chocolate shops; when the Jews were trying to avoid the Pogroms they made a living by making chocolate candy.
Upon inquiring about accessing the internet in my room, the young girl at the front desk in my hotel said vehemently “I __ate the internet!” I asked why and she said because it was difficult and besides that it was new! I told her about my troubles finding the internet in Paris. She laughed; she understood perfectly, she said! Later, I walked into a computer education store that was run by a man whose first language was Senegalese but who had married and had been living in France 20 years. I told him all about all my internet experiences and he laughed. “Yes, France is a little slow with the internet” he says.
Biarritz, on the Pacific coast, is the surfing capital of Europe…young kids with surf boards and kayaks covering the beaches.
From the Louvre to the Eiffel Tower, from the Place de la Concorde to the Grand and Petit Palais, the evolution of Paris and its history can be seen from the River Seine. The Cathedral of Notre-Dame and the Sainte Chapelle are architectural masterpieces while Haussmann’s wide squares and boulevards influenced late 19th- and 20th-century town planning the world over. The banks of the Seine is designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The outstanding handling of new architectural techniques in the 13th century, and the harmonious marriage of sculptural decoration with architecture, has made Notre-Dame in Reims one of the masterpieces of Gothic art. The former abbey still has its beautiful 9th-century nave, in which lie the remains of Archbishop St Rémi (440–533), who instituted the Holy Anointing of the kings of France. The former archiepiscopal palace known as the Tau Palace, which played an important role in religious ceremonies, was almost entirely rebuilt in the 17th century. Notre Dame is an UNESCO World Heritage Site.
We have been in Paris less than 24 hours and have had many adventures already!
We found a cute little Basque restaurant last night-Bob had squid in its own ink and I had cassoulet. Soon many French men started arriving-all of them gorgeous and interesting looking-place was dripping with testosterone and Bob laughed at what he called “my flushed face.”
We sat next to two young girls from Boston who were going to the Univ of Paris. When I asked them if they were going to marry a Frenchman they pulled faces and said-No, they definitely were not! They were going to go home and marry an American! I told them I had read that in the 60’s the feminist movement was strong but that it had virtually died out. They agreed and said that the men won the feminist war in France!
This morning we set out to find an internet cafe. I walked into a book store and asked for internet. The guy pulled a face and kind of spit-more like a big “poof” out of the side of his mouth and held up both hands flat out toward me. So we walked down the street and asked a younger guy at a news stand. He did the same thing!!! “Poof” out of the side of his mouth. I laughed and pointed at the face he was making-he laughed back-he had a little English-he said the internet was for the “young.” Don’t know what he considered himself-he looked to be late 20’s. Then he said France was small and didn’t need the internet and that the post was better. I think he was pulling my leg so to speak. So we laughed and walked away, eventually finding our treasure.
Bob is amazed at all the little green maintenance men with green brooms riding in green little trucks and on green motorcycles!
We had asked the manager at the hotel we were in in London what advice he had for us in France since he had worked here for 2 years and was going to Nice to work soon. He said that in rural France to try to pronounce French with a sarcastic tone and “they will like you better!” He said that people in rural France regard Parisian French as “snooty.” What do we know. We still have to find out how to get on the train!
It’s a Good Thing to take along a tour guide and in this group that will be Bob-most probably because he has the greatest need to know where he is located at all times. On the train yesterday leaving Paris he is standing looking out the window for an interminably long time. Fnally he turned around to sit down and said “I guess they know where they are going!”
High speed (TVG) trains travel over 200,mph. In 1965 when a college friend and I traveled through Europe; it took all night to get from Dover to Ostergard on a roller coaster boat! But then in 1965 the Captain invited us up to the steerage! In 1965 we also hitchhiked…which I wouldn’t recommend doing now either. Can you imagine just having to get from one city to the next in the rain having to stick your head in the window of a stopped car or truck to get a “hit” about how safe it was!
In Bayonne France; having breakfast in a small hotel built in the 1700’s we talked to an English woman at the next table who is now living in Spain and who also traveled through Europe and South America by hitching rides-but she quickly added that it was no longer safe for anyone to hitch (or “autostop” as it was called in Europe.
Incidentally, in the summer of 1965 John Kennedy called up the first group of “advisors” to go to Viet Nam: The rumor spread like wildfire that there was going to be a draft call up before the summer was over! Young hitchhiking American males were abandoning their travel and enrolling in any summer school program they could find in Europe by the hundreds to avoid the draft. That summer that I turned 21 jerked me into one of my most early formative experiences.
The summer of 1965, the summer I turned 21, a friend and former roommate, Barbara Stamper and I arranged to meet in London in June. She, a teacher, found an economical route to New York going by train across Canada while I flew from Oregon. She had broken her ankle a couple weeks before but that was not to stop us.
We took separate planes to London. However, when we compared arrival times one of us was using European time and the other one of us U.S. time. So thinking her arrival time was one hour behind mine hers was actually seven hours behind. After waiting in the terminal…checking passenger manifests again and again, I finally took a taxi into London and found a lovely guesthouse…and a bed! This was in the days before Lonely Planet mind you.
The next morning I called every place I could think of in the hopes that Barbara would also be looking for me….American Express, U.S. Consolate, British Consolate, flight desk at the airport…and stayed put. In the meantime I began thinking about what I would do if we didn’t connect and decided that I was all the way here and that I would just take off on my own. But finally, in the afternoon the hotel clerk came to my room…I had received a call! First lesson in traveling…have a plan B!
Before leaving the U.S. I had ordered, through AAA, a shiny bright new red Triumph Spitfire…$2000…from the British factory in London. So the first thing we did was make our way to pick up the car…then to learn to navigate driving on the left side of the road…nearly killing ourselves and possibly someone else until we got used to it.
Cheese & Wine…Barbara still in her ankle cast
After getting the car and ourselves across the English channel to the Continent, we took off across Europe.
However, when we stopped for the 500 mile check in Milan Italy, the mechanic didn’t screw the oil cap on tight enough…leaving us stranded on a lonely road late at night in southern France near Leon. We spent the night curled up under the tonneau cover. The next morning we locked up the car, hitched a ride the 60 km into Leon, had a good strong expresso, looked at each other and realized there was nothing we could do about the car here! So back we hitched to the car. I looked in the driver manual and discovered there was a Triumph garage in Grenoble.
Finally a smallish funny-looking French truck stopped and we animatedly agreed that after he ran some errands, the driver would tow the car to Grenoble. He did return…to our surprise…and he did tow our car to Grenoble…after first taking us on a tour through several tiny dirt-road French towns with small dirt-floor houses huddled together in small French valleys. This was less than 20 years after the end of World War II and the Marshall Plan had yet to dribble down to the local level. The villagers, who had never seen Americans before, crowded around us…touching…laughing…asking questions we didn’t understand. Our driver, proudly, had provided the day’s entertainment!
We had been watching all the American and European kids hitch-hiking around Europe so once we deposited the car at the garage, (it would take 18 days, the mechanic informed us) we hiked to a nearby market, collected two orange sacks, stuffed some clothes in them, left the rest of the stuff in the trunk, and stuck our thumbs out.
In the end, betting the car wouldn’t be ready in 18 days, we left the car there until the end of the summer when we drove it to Le Havre to put it on the boat for the U.S.
In the meantime we had incredible hitch-hiking adventures in Europe…meeting wonderful people and some not so wonderful.
We tried to stick with the long-haul trucks that had to maintain a schedule…Barbara and I often lying together in the sleep compartment above the driver. One funny driver in France had recorded the conversation of a pair of Americans on a previous trip…describing how they had to sleep in a park one night. The driver didn’t understand a word of it but was amused by our facial reactions listening to the tape.
First the running of the bulls in Pamplona Spain where we spent the night in a local home, eating fried green tomatoes for the first time, while thousands of others spent nights sleeping in the fields. There were no night clubs or fancy hotels in Pamplona in those days!
Madrid, Barcelona, through the French Riviera…seeing Michelangelo’s beautiful David in Florence…Red light district in Amsterdam (Why are all these ladies standing around?”) Copenhagen, Belgium…Switzerland, sitting at the foot of the Matterhorn drinking beer while watching other young travelers sunbathing on the ice and snow on the side of the mountain.
After picking up the car in New York I drove to Omaha Nebraska where Bob, the summer before we were married, had jealously spent a dreary summer studying for his medical boards…and piled out of the car in a near state of physical, mental and emotional exhaustion.
This was to be the biggest life-changing experience of my life (and I think for Barbara)…seeing how other people in the world (at least Europe) lived and it put my own life in the States in a precarious perspective. I am still peeling the layers of that experience today…in July 2006…even after spending five years traveling twice around the world.
Laughingnomad 