Monday, May 21, 2018

2018-05-13 Avignon to Nimes


This is a trip without cars, except for one tour day. If one can’t travel Europe on their most excellent public transport, then one should just crawl up under a rock and admit defeat.
Harvey in the Bernis family kitchen.
Add to the mix a national rail strike and adventures abound. 2 of our travel days have fallen on the rolling rail strike days. I love that the union announces the schedule of events, if you will.  Buses are still running, so Harvey booked us a Oui-Bus for the hour ride to Nimes. It was also the first bus of the morning (leaving at 0630), because we were afraid that all the buses would be full due to the strike.
Our front courtyard
The weather forecast for the morning of the ride was ominous. Rainy and cold.  We would have to schlep thru town, in the dark, in the rain, without the proper rain gear. Those who know my sweet monkey, knows he can be a tad bit obsessive and absolutely hates to be uncomfortable – to the extreme often. I have found to take away some of the anxiety to make light hearted, absurd suggestion in regards of how worse things could get, It goes a little like this:

Harvey “we’ll have to walk in the rain and our suitcases will get wet”
Marte “lets just arrange for a cab”
Harvey “what if they don’t show up”
Marte “we walk in the rain and we will accidentally step in dog poop in the dark”
Harvey “What about the wind”
Marte “It could be a tornado from the weather front, sweeping us away”
H “That’s just silly”
M ‘ We might have to fight Orc’s at the city gate”
H “There are no Orc’s here. This is not middle earth”
M “Well then the tornado might throw glass in your eye, and blood will be everywhere. Hopefully the tornado will run away the Orc’s at the gate
H ‘Now you’re really being silly”
M “The Rhone may rise and there will be flooding at the bus stop. We will drown in the river.”
Arbor covered entrance to the apartment
As we go along patter along like this, the fear of the prospect of catching a bus on a cold and rainy morning decreases. The number of fucks given lessen.

The rain did not arrive as expected, but the taxi did. It was quite cold at the bus stop (for Floridians that is) but the Oui-bus was on time, so we spent less than 15 minutes waiting. Half way to Nimes, we reached the weather front and the rain began in earnest. Our plan was to sit in the train/bus station, having lovely coffees and Ubering to our next apartment. Imagine our surprise when we were let off at the outskirts of town, without a train/bus station in sight, in the rain, in the cold.

HAHAHAHAHAHA – but no Orc’s in sight.

Living room to the kitchen/dining room
We have not studied the bus route and don’t’ have enough French to ask anyone what to do-where to go. Everyone who has gotten off the bus has walked away or had rides waiting. We check Uber – none available on a cold, rainy Sunday morning. Checking our google map, we are a 30-minute walk to the city center. Nothing left to do but walk. Luckily, 10 minutes into our walk we spy Passion de Pan, a lovely boulangerie open and welcoming. A café au late and quiche Lorraine later, Harvey begs the sweet woman behind the counter to please, please, please call us a cab. I don’t think she wanted to but probably realized if she didn’t, we would become semi-permanent guests.

Back courtyard from the bedroom
We can’t get in to our apartment this early. Harvey has found another boulangerie which is open, Maison Villeret,  about a block away from the apartment in the old part of town. No cars allowed here!  At least we will be within an easy walk and be in a dry space to wait. The poor taxi driver just shakes his head when we ask him to take us to another boulangerie. He doesn’t think he is hearing Harvey correctly. He just shakes his head and drives us to the pedestrian alley where the shop is located, in the heart of the old city. Silly tourists.

We contact our hostess who will be able to take us within an hour. We arrive to Hotel des Bernis
and take our reward. (Hotel, in this usage, refers to a large family dwelling.) The reward being the most French villa I have ever had the pleasure of staying in. Our hostess Emma’s family has owned the villa for 300 years, having been given to them by the king. She takes us upstairs to the family kitchen for tea, while the apartment is being cleaned. It is the most French kitchen I have ever been in. This is not a house, this is a villa. Several family members have apartments in this large and sprawling villa. Not little apartments, big apartments. There are series of courtyards within.

Kitchen
We both ask her how much to stay a year and if there is a young man for Pickle to marry, so we can become part of the family. (Sorry Jim-Bob) I never want to leave.

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