4/19/2015: I’d put A Year in Provence & Toujours Provence (Peter Mayle) on my iPad and read them on the flight over.
I’ve been having trouble w/ my back ever since I fell on ice in early March, so bought a pretty purple folding cane, but stupidly put it in an exterior pocket of my carry-on, and it must have dropped out at security.
S had made a reservation w/ Chester Cab, but the taxi to take us to the airport was 20 min late, so we were both sweating bullets. I’d just said, 2 more min and we drive to Wally Park ($16/day, but close to the airport, compared to $6/day at the lots S favors). How do you know there’s room, asked S, so I made a reservation on my smart phone. S had called Chester Cab repeatedly – they kept saying the cab was coming. In fact, they’d called a cab at the last min that had been in Media.
At any rate, we were just piling our bags into S’s car to drive to Wally Park when Chester Cab drove up, so we shifted our bags into the cab, with many reproaches for its being so late.
In fact, we got to the airport in time (w/ one hair-raising moment when a car cut in front of us), bot through check-in and security fast, and had time for me to have a glass of wine before boarding.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Our Week in Provence: 4/20/2015
4/20/2015: Yesterday, when we arrived at the Avignon train station, we felt a little triumphant, but we reckoned w/o the rental car, a smally, very computerized Renault, with an electronic key. We couldn’t figure out how to open the trunk. The GPS gave directions in French. I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the radio w/o also muting the GPS instructions.
We did have a printed manual, but it was full of vocabulary I didn’t know, like pedal d’embrayage (clutch) (and the car was automatic). However, a nice young man from the rental desk came and set the GPS language to British English (and also the computer instr. language). He couldn’t turn off the radio, either, but, at my request, found a classical station (pour les vieux).
Our hotel was built in the 16th century and housed Victor Hugo, Napoleon, and Emperor Maximilian. We got upgraded to a room on the 2nd, which is to say 3rd, floor w/ high ceilings and a huge, very elegant bath. S confounded by the bidet.
We napped & then ate at a restaurant (L’Epicerie) in a little church square. ½ the patrons were American. We split a bottle of wine – I wasn’t sure how I’d make it back to the hotel, but was fine. S had tangine de veaux and I had duck breast & we were happy.
Today was lovely and fair, and not hot. We spent the morning at the Palais des Papes, used 2x; once for the unified Papacy –once when they’d elected a French Pope who didn’t much like Rome, and once when the church split.
The courtyard had huge, stone balls hurled by trebuchet (a 12th century variety of catapult)—I was so excited. Mostly huge, bare, stone rooms, but one (le chambre du cerf) had wonderful frescoes (had been a papal bedchamber). I learned all kinds of useful vocabulary looking up words in my handy pocket French dictionary (Langenscheidt)
a cerf is a stag
etourdeaux are starlings
fastueux is showy, or sumptious
The dictionary also has an emergency conjugation section.
The French placards for the Palais des Papes were pretty good, but the English translations were only partial. A kitchen had an 18m high arrangement of grills & spits to roast meat. Can you imagine?? 54’!!
We did have a printed manual, but it was full of vocabulary I didn’t know, like pedal d’embrayage (clutch) (and the car was automatic). However, a nice young man from the rental desk came and set the GPS language to British English (and also the computer instr. language). He couldn’t turn off the radio, either, but, at my request, found a classical station (pour les vieux).
Our hotel was built in the 16th century and housed Victor Hugo, Napoleon, and Emperor Maximilian. We got upgraded to a room on the 2nd, which is to say 3rd, floor w/ high ceilings and a huge, very elegant bath. S confounded by the bidet.
We napped & then ate at a restaurant (L’Epicerie) in a little church square. ½ the patrons were American. We split a bottle of wine – I wasn’t sure how I’d make it back to the hotel, but was fine. S had tangine de veaux and I had duck breast & we were happy.
Today was lovely and fair, and not hot. We spent the morning at the Palais des Papes, used 2x; once for the unified Papacy –once when they’d elected a French Pope who didn’t much like Rome, and once when the church split.
The courtyard had huge, stone balls hurled by trebuchet (a 12th century variety of catapult)—I was so excited. Mostly huge, bare, stone rooms, but one (le chambre du cerf) had wonderful frescoes (had been a papal bedchamber). I learned all kinds of useful vocabulary looking up words in my handy pocket French dictionary (Langenscheidt)
a cerf is a stag
etourdeaux are starlings
fastueux is showy, or sumptious
The dictionary also has an emergency conjugation section.
The French placards for the Palais des Papes were pretty good, but the English translations were only partial. A kitchen had an 18m high arrangement of grills & spits to roast meat. Can you imagine?? 54’!!
Our week in Provence: 4/21/2015
4/21/2015: Spent yesterday afternoon at the Musee Calvet in Avignon – mostly 18th & 19th century French paintings that didn’t do much for me. S, of course, found a lot to look at.
Passed a Librairie on the way back, and stopped to see if there were any English books – there were maybe 15, of which 5 were copies of Coriolenus. Bought 2 mysteries (a Reich & a Donna Leon in French.
S found a v. direct route through back streets to our restaurant – le Moutardier du Pape. (the mustard-man? mustard store of the Pope? Googling, I see there’s a French expression “se croire le moutardier du Pape”, that means being v. self involved). At dinner, I broached the idea of being like Linda & Tom & convoquing family vacations. Of course, I should say I’m writing this in the courtyard of the Hotel Europe, sipping Chateauneuf du Pape, surrounded by wisteria & yellow ranunculus blooming, with a fountain surrounded by boxwoods behind me.
Today we went to the Pont du Gard in the AM and Baux de Provence in the PM. Museum at Pont du Gard was vg. It never occurred to me to wonder how the Romans surveyed. The Pont du Gard brought water from Uzzes to Nimes – mostly for baths & fountains & other parts of the Roman version of the Good Life. There was only a 13m difference in altitude to work w. All we saw was a goma – a pole w/ two sticks at right angles, and 5 lead weights hanging. Anyway, the museum had a lot about the organization for constructing the aqueduct ad for maintaining it.
Fortunately, we arrived early. As time went on, there were more and more school groups and (although the kids were well behaved) the museum got noisier and noisier. It was also, I thought, darker than was optimal for reading the interpretive material. Steve really liked the museum, and wanted more and more time to peruse.
I was glad to get back outside, with lovely blue sky and relative quiet. We walked back over the Pont (there’s an 18th century bridge that you walk on). S hiked up to an observation point above the aqueduct and I walked a bit upstream from the Pont to a quieter observation point. The structure was so massive & peaceful.
From there, we went to Baux de Provence. Baux is Provencal for spur. Up on a v steep hill in the Alpilles. The village is all gift shops & cafes for visitors to the castle. Most of the castle is gone, BUT there were seige engines, including France’s largest trebuchet.
At 3:30, they did re-enactments. They chose a team of women to work the bricoleur (because women often operated it), and then a team of men for the trebuchet. The reenactors were v. hammy – I couldn’t catch all the French. But each machine hurled a white beachball down the field, to great applause. The trebuchet, esp, was v. impressive to see in action, but, unfortunately by then, my camera was out of juice.
Passed a Librairie on the way back, and stopped to see if there were any English books – there were maybe 15, of which 5 were copies of Coriolenus. Bought 2 mysteries (a Reich & a Donna Leon in French.
S found a v. direct route through back streets to our restaurant – le Moutardier du Pape. (the mustard-man? mustard store of the Pope? Googling, I see there’s a French expression “se croire le moutardier du Pape”, that means being v. self involved). At dinner, I broached the idea of being like Linda & Tom & convoquing family vacations. Of course, I should say I’m writing this in the courtyard of the Hotel Europe, sipping Chateauneuf du Pape, surrounded by wisteria & yellow ranunculus blooming, with a fountain surrounded by boxwoods behind me.
Today we went to the Pont du Gard in the AM and Baux de Provence in the PM. Museum at Pont du Gard was vg. It never occurred to me to wonder how the Romans surveyed. The Pont du Gard brought water from Uzzes to Nimes – mostly for baths & fountains & other parts of the Roman version of the Good Life. There was only a 13m difference in altitude to work w. All we saw was a goma – a pole w/ two sticks at right angles, and 5 lead weights hanging. Anyway, the museum had a lot about the organization for constructing the aqueduct ad for maintaining it.
Fortunately, we arrived early. As time went on, there were more and more school groups and (although the kids were well behaved) the museum got noisier and noisier. It was also, I thought, darker than was optimal for reading the interpretive material. Steve really liked the museum, and wanted more and more time to peruse.
I was glad to get back outside, with lovely blue sky and relative quiet. We walked back over the Pont (there’s an 18th century bridge that you walk on). S hiked up to an observation point above the aqueduct and I walked a bit upstream from the Pont to a quieter observation point. The structure was so massive & peaceful.
From there, we went to Baux de Provence. Baux is Provencal for spur. Up on a v steep hill in the Alpilles. The village is all gift shops & cafes for visitors to the castle. Most of the castle is gone, BUT there were seige engines, including France’s largest trebuchet.
At 3:30, they did re-enactments. They chose a team of women to work the bricoleur (because women often operated it), and then a team of men for the trebuchet. The reenactors were v. hammy – I couldn’t catch all the French. But each machine hurled a white beachball down the field, to great applause. The trebuchet, esp, was v. impressive to see in action, but, unfortunately by then, my camera was out of juice.
Our week in Provence: 4/23/2015
4/23/2015: We ate Tues night at La Fourchette – vg food, but S asleep on his feet (or rather, in his seat) – he kept falling silent, closing his eyes and leaning even more right. I keep being afraid he’d keel over sideways.
Back in the room, I tried to register for a tour of Senanque Abbey (“floating above a sea of lavender”). The website was v. definite they wanted 48 hrs notice and “tenue correct” (correct dress), that the tour is given only in French, and that people can’t join the tour late or leave early – sort of nervous-making.
OK, Wed AM we packed up and left our life of luxury and set off for Gordes, a cute little hilltop town – we arrived at the same time as a busload of Korean tourists. Enourmous construction crane looming over a small hotel we passed on the way in. Walked around – there the same gift shop wares you see everywhere, none the cheaper for having to be hauled up the steep hill.
We ate a quiet lunch and set off for Senanque – v. narrow road over the hills, w/ many hairpin turns. The bus of Korean tourists arrived at the gift shop a bit after us – I can’t imagine how the bus made it over the twisty, narrow road, but left before the tour.
The abbey dates from the 12th century, and is made of grey stone – v. plain, which S liked of course. Its use as a Cistercian abbey has been intermittent. We didn’t actually see any monks. Tour was given in French – the leader reminded me a bit of Tr. Jeanine – speaking clearly. Although I could follow her words, I couldn’t remember a lot of the content afterward. I bought some lavendin perfume & oil made by the monks at the very well stocked gift store.
We stayed in a guest house near Rousillon – v. nice. Owner inclined to wax philosophical about how he never knew the deprivations his parents knew. And what would come after? He said “Apres moi, le deluge”, but didn’t know it was Louis XIV that said it (actually, now that I look it up, it’s Louis XV). I started on a rant (in French) about how all the 17th century French classic authors like Racine go on about duty & honor, and there’s Louis XIV installing his mistress(es) at Versailles (with apartments on the same floor as his wife). (Our host was impressed, but of course shouldn’t have been, since I was attributing the quote wrong).
In addition to us, the guest house held 3 ladies from NC (originally from NY, NJ, PA) who had come to NC to buy houses in a 55+ active living community in the center of the Raleigh Durham triangle. One was a retired French teacher from near Altoona, one in telecom mkting, and forget what the third one had done – teaching Soc studies?
S and I had a nice dinner at a converted schoolhouse – S. fascinated by RR maps. I had foie gras (I kept being afraid PETAQ would be on my case) and quail, and sopped up every drop of sauce from both – they were that good.
Next day, we got & went to Rousillon (on lovely ochre cliffs), took in views, mostly passed by the mkt. (I got 4 macarons). S looking at the view, encountered a S African couple who made a livelihood buying and selling at mkets – w/ long camping trips through France, elsewhere in Europe, the US.
We went to the Lavender museum, which focused mostly on the difference between lavender (whose oil cures lice, anxiety, sleeplessness, basically whatever ails you) and lavendin (a hybred, with, according to the museum, no medicinal properties). Lavender oil costs about 4 times as much as lavendin, so of course I had to buy some. A busload of Chinese descended on the museum shop, buying huge bags full of soap, lavender oil, shampoo, skin cream.
We had pizza for lunch. S managed to find an unsecured wifi, figured out directions to our hotel in Arles, and then briefed me. As usual, I found his directions cryptic and the last km or so of the way in Arles was through streets where our car barely fit. However, we arrived and didn’t kill anyone on the way.
We tried setting the car’s GPS, but its directions made no sense, and then I couldn’t get it to suspend navigation mode and return to map mode. v. frustrating. However, the navigation map did alert us to one crucial turn, so a net plus in S’s opinion. (I’d tried to download maps to my iPad, but hadn’t checked that they were actually accessible when I turned off the wifi connection).
Hotel D’arletan is downscale from the Hotel Europe, but fine. On a v. narrow street. We’re in an annex.
We went to a tapas place for dinner. I keep meaning to take pictures of our lovely meals, but I keep forgetting.
Back in the room, I tried to register for a tour of Senanque Abbey (“floating above a sea of lavender”). The website was v. definite they wanted 48 hrs notice and “tenue correct” (correct dress), that the tour is given only in French, and that people can’t join the tour late or leave early – sort of nervous-making.
OK, Wed AM we packed up and left our life of luxury and set off for Gordes, a cute little hilltop town – we arrived at the same time as a busload of Korean tourists. Enourmous construction crane looming over a small hotel we passed on the way in. Walked around – there the same gift shop wares you see everywhere, none the cheaper for having to be hauled up the steep hill.
We ate a quiet lunch and set off for Senanque – v. narrow road over the hills, w/ many hairpin turns. The bus of Korean tourists arrived at the gift shop a bit after us – I can’t imagine how the bus made it over the twisty, narrow road, but left before the tour.
The abbey dates from the 12th century, and is made of grey stone – v. plain, which S liked of course. Its use as a Cistercian abbey has been intermittent. We didn’t actually see any monks. Tour was given in French – the leader reminded me a bit of Tr. Jeanine – speaking clearly. Although I could follow her words, I couldn’t remember a lot of the content afterward. I bought some lavendin perfume & oil made by the monks at the very well stocked gift store.
We stayed in a guest house near Rousillon – v. nice. Owner inclined to wax philosophical about how he never knew the deprivations his parents knew. And what would come after? He said “Apres moi, le deluge”, but didn’t know it was Louis XIV that said it (actually, now that I look it up, it’s Louis XV). I started on a rant (in French) about how all the 17th century French classic authors like Racine go on about duty & honor, and there’s Louis XIV installing his mistress(es) at Versailles (with apartments on the same floor as his wife). (Our host was impressed, but of course shouldn’t have been, since I was attributing the quote wrong).
In addition to us, the guest house held 3 ladies from NC (originally from NY, NJ, PA) who had come to NC to buy houses in a 55+ active living community in the center of the Raleigh Durham triangle. One was a retired French teacher from near Altoona, one in telecom mkting, and forget what the third one had done – teaching Soc studies?
S and I had a nice dinner at a converted schoolhouse – S. fascinated by RR maps. I had foie gras (I kept being afraid PETAQ would be on my case) and quail, and sopped up every drop of sauce from both – they were that good.
Next day, we got & went to Rousillon (on lovely ochre cliffs), took in views, mostly passed by the mkt. (I got 4 macarons). S looking at the view, encountered a S African couple who made a livelihood buying and selling at mkets – w/ long camping trips through France, elsewhere in Europe, the US.
We went to the Lavender museum, which focused mostly on the difference between lavender (whose oil cures lice, anxiety, sleeplessness, basically whatever ails you) and lavendin (a hybred, with, according to the museum, no medicinal properties). Lavender oil costs about 4 times as much as lavendin, so of course I had to buy some. A busload of Chinese descended on the museum shop, buying huge bags full of soap, lavender oil, shampoo, skin cream.
We had pizza for lunch. S managed to find an unsecured wifi, figured out directions to our hotel in Arles, and then briefed me. As usual, I found his directions cryptic and the last km or so of the way in Arles was through streets where our car barely fit. However, we arrived and didn’t kill anyone on the way.
We tried setting the car’s GPS, but its directions made no sense, and then I couldn’t get it to suspend navigation mode and return to map mode. v. frustrating. However, the navigation map did alert us to one crucial turn, so a net plus in S’s opinion. (I’d tried to download maps to my iPad, but hadn’t checked that they were actually accessible when I turned off the wifi connection).
Hotel D’arletan is downscale from the Hotel Europe, but fine. On a v. narrow street. We’re in an annex.
We went to a tapas place for dinner. I keep meaning to take pictures of our lovely meals, but I keep forgetting.
Our week in Provence: 4/24/2015
4/24/2015: Oh dear, Blackberry charger broke. Ridiculous that every single device should have its own unique charger. So the bb will die in a couple days.
S got up early and went off to do laundry. He tried to call, but my Estonian phone tells me it’s unable to connect, and the blackberry I don’t think calls non US numbers.
Fortunately, message not urgent. S tried to demonstrate how to pick up messages on the Estonian phone, but it involved too many steps for me to remember.
It does take him longer to do things – locating the ancient clip-on sun shades and putting them over his glasses. Putting on the boy scout backpack from 2001 that always carries is a production (it was meant for kids; the arm-loops end to high). At mid-day, when he changes from jacket to vest-with-pockets, it’s a production to transfer everything from pockets of one to pockets of the other. But, of course, I guess I’m slowing down, too.
The Van Gogh Foundation’s Van Gogh collection was travelling – There was one picture of a stack of French novels by Van Gogh, there were exhibits by Yan Pei-Ming and Bertrand Lavier, w/ lots of (I thought) pretentious verbiage in the brochure we were given.
Then we went to see the famous portails of St. Trophime, but the chuch was closed 12-2 so we had lunch and went off to the Amphitheatre & Arena. During the Middle Ages, building were built inside both, and stone was also taken for churches, then they were reconstructed during the 19th century.
After 2 PM we went back to the church and also saw the cloister—being restored—hard to know what was reconstruction and what was original. By then we were both tired, and went back to the hotel & napped. Aren’t we slow old people?
I keep texting L & A. Alex got a job working for a trade economist at the Hoover Inst. Genia bought a Prius—but insurance is expensive because she’s only had a license for a year.
My email is mostly Swarthmore Nextdoor. Ginny Scott (A’s 9th grade English teacher, now retired) is v. active in the Swarthmore Horticultural Soc. Whole parallel world of Women at Home. I guess I’ll be joining it in a couple years, won’t I? I guess I’ll volunteer somewhere in Chester & caregive, won’t I. Who knows? Maybe I’ll lie around & read mysteries. Or I guess there’ll be time for both.
S got up early and went off to do laundry. He tried to call, but my Estonian phone tells me it’s unable to connect, and the blackberry I don’t think calls non US numbers.
Fortunately, message not urgent. S tried to demonstrate how to pick up messages on the Estonian phone, but it involved too many steps for me to remember.
It does take him longer to do things – locating the ancient clip-on sun shades and putting them over his glasses. Putting on the boy scout backpack from 2001 that always carries is a production (it was meant for kids; the arm-loops end to high). At mid-day, when he changes from jacket to vest-with-pockets, it’s a production to transfer everything from pockets of one to pockets of the other. But, of course, I guess I’m slowing down, too.
The Van Gogh Foundation’s Van Gogh collection was travelling – There was one picture of a stack of French novels by Van Gogh, there were exhibits by Yan Pei-Ming and Bertrand Lavier, w/ lots of (I thought) pretentious verbiage in the brochure we were given.
Then we went to see the famous portails of St. Trophime, but the chuch was closed 12-2 so we had lunch and went off to the Amphitheatre & Arena. During the Middle Ages, building were built inside both, and stone was also taken for churches, then they were reconstructed during the 19th century.
After 2 PM we went back to the church and also saw the cloister—being restored—hard to know what was reconstruction and what was original. By then we were both tired, and went back to the hotel & napped. Aren’t we slow old people?
I keep texting L & A. Alex got a job working for a trade economist at the Hoover Inst. Genia bought a Prius—but insurance is expensive because she’s only had a license for a year.
My email is mostly Swarthmore Nextdoor. Ginny Scott (A’s 9th grade English teacher, now retired) is v. active in the Swarthmore Horticultural Soc. Whole parallel world of Women at Home. I guess I’ll be joining it in a couple years, won’t I? I guess I’ll volunteer somewhere in Chester & caregive, won’t I. Who knows? Maybe I’ll lie around & read mysteries. Or I guess there’ll be time for both.
Our week in Provence: 4/25/2015
4/25/2015: Cooler, grey day. Rain in the early AM. The hotel has foundations that go back to maybe the 4th century. It was remodeled in the 16th. The narrow streets of Arles – the houses & the shutters—look kind of Utrillo (I had to ask S who was the artist who did cityscapes).
I just looked Utrillo up on Wikipedia; mother was Suzane Valadon– I hadn’t known that his mother was 18 when he was born, a model who slept with Degas & Renoir and eventually became an artist in her own right.
S commented that Utrillo pictures had wider streets. I guess he’s right.
When we have the hotel room windows open, there’s a funny sound that must be the doves cooing. We walked to the Antiquities museum this AM. V. well done – nice bust of Caesar & a boat from Roman times recovered from the Rhone. Also amphorae that the ancient purveyors labelled as preserved mackeral (2 years old) and tuna (aged 4 years). Can you imagine??
V nice early Christian sarcophagi – I took a lot of pictures. Seeing them alongside (so to speak) the Portail of St. Trophime makes me realize how Roman Romanesque carving is (well, duh, I guess, hence the name). S, of course, took 2x as long as me to go through the exhibits.
Had a nice lunch at a cafe by the Espace Van Gogh (once a hospital where Van Gogh stayed), where I bought a couple of picture postcards and a magnet (not that any of the 200 paintings VG did in Arles are on exhibit here). Went to Musee Reattu, in a house once owned by the knights of Malta. Not that great a collection, but did include some nice Picasso sketches / ink drawings.
Reattu was the illegitimate son of Chateaufort and Catherine Raspal (sister of the painter Respal). I liked the Raspal pictures best – they seemed naive and happy.
Then we came back to the room and I glommed onto S’s shoulder and fell fast asleep. And now I’m having my obligatory wine in the courtyard and writing this. What a lovely life. Of course, tomorrow we head back.
Nimes has better Roman ruins than Arles. Originally, we planned to go today, but I wanted to go to the Antiquities Mus, and we didn’t get to the Reattu yesterday. So we’ll see Nimes in the ½ day before driving back to Avignon, returning the car, and taking the TGV back to Paris. Had to happen sometime.
I just looked Utrillo up on Wikipedia; mother was Suzane Valadon– I hadn’t known that his mother was 18 when he was born, a model who slept with Degas & Renoir and eventually became an artist in her own right.
S commented that Utrillo pictures had wider streets. I guess he’s right.
When we have the hotel room windows open, there’s a funny sound that must be the doves cooing. We walked to the Antiquities museum this AM. V. well done – nice bust of Caesar & a boat from Roman times recovered from the Rhone. Also amphorae that the ancient purveyors labelled as preserved mackeral (2 years old) and tuna (aged 4 years). Can you imagine??
V nice early Christian sarcophagi – I took a lot of pictures. Seeing them alongside (so to speak) the Portail of St. Trophime makes me realize how Roman Romanesque carving is (well, duh, I guess, hence the name). S, of course, took 2x as long as me to go through the exhibits.
Had a nice lunch at a cafe by the Espace Van Gogh (once a hospital where Van Gogh stayed), where I bought a couple of picture postcards and a magnet (not that any of the 200 paintings VG did in Arles are on exhibit here). Went to Musee Reattu, in a house once owned by the knights of Malta. Not that great a collection, but did include some nice Picasso sketches / ink drawings.
Reattu was the illegitimate son of Chateaufort and Catherine Raspal (sister of the painter Respal). I liked the Raspal pictures best – they seemed naive and happy.
Then we came back to the room and I glommed onto S’s shoulder and fell fast asleep. And now I’m having my obligatory wine in the courtyard and writing this. What a lovely life. Of course, tomorrow we head back.
Nimes has better Roman ruins than Arles. Originally, we planned to go today, but I wanted to go to the Antiquities Mus, and we didn’t get to the Reattu yesterday. So we’ll see Nimes in the ½ day before driving back to Avignon, returning the car, and taking the TGV back to Paris. Had to happen sometime.
Our week in Provence: 4/27/2015
4/27/2015: CDG airport. Nimes’ arena was better preserved than Arles’; the exterior stone hadn’t been carted off for reuse.
I got spooked at the steeps steps and slanting ramps and no handrails, and didn’t go up into the structure. S did and liked it v. much, including climbing up huge stone steps w/o railings to get views of Nimes. The audioguide was pretty bloodthirsty – gladiators fighting lions, wild animals fighting each other, Christians being fed to the lions.
So I stood and waited a long time, and watched others climb up the steps w/o a qualm.
The Maison Carree had 15 (steep) steps and no handrails. there was also no railing around the covered patio – maybe 20’ up—just signs between the columns to watch children. Clearly, I’m too timid a soul.
S drove us from Nimes to Avignon TGV station w/o incident, we turned the car in unscathed, took the TGV (a double-decker, this time) to CDG airport, shuttle to the Marriott, which seemed like a little American island. Everyone was talking English to us; Starbucks in the lobby.
Food v. expensive – breakfast (fortunately included in the room price) would have been 39 euros. Our dinner was 100 euros (no dessert), so about 1/3 more than we’d been paying. Don’t I sound like S? I went to the fitness center this AM, but no TV and my iPod wasn’t charged.
Yesterday was L’s bd – he was on a hike, but talked a little w/ us.
S didn’t remember it was L’s bd – maybe because he ws preoccupied with getting us back to Paris.
I got spooked at the steeps steps and slanting ramps and no handrails, and didn’t go up into the structure. S did and liked it v. much, including climbing up huge stone steps w/o railings to get views of Nimes. The audioguide was pretty bloodthirsty – gladiators fighting lions, wild animals fighting each other, Christians being fed to the lions.
So I stood and waited a long time, and watched others climb up the steps w/o a qualm.
The Maison Carree had 15 (steep) steps and no handrails. there was also no railing around the covered patio – maybe 20’ up—just signs between the columns to watch children. Clearly, I’m too timid a soul.
S drove us from Nimes to Avignon TGV station w/o incident, we turned the car in unscathed, took the TGV (a double-decker, this time) to CDG airport, shuttle to the Marriott, which seemed like a little American island. Everyone was talking English to us; Starbucks in the lobby.
Food v. expensive – breakfast (fortunately included in the room price) would have been 39 euros. Our dinner was 100 euros (no dessert), so about 1/3 more than we’d been paying. Don’t I sound like S? I went to the fitness center this AM, but no TV and my iPod wasn’t charged.
Yesterday was L’s bd – he was on a hike, but talked a little w/ us.
S didn’t remember it was L’s bd – maybe because he ws preoccupied with getting us back to Paris.
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