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.
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| Harvey in the Bernis family kitchen. |
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| Our front courtyard |
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.”
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.
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| Arbor covered entrance to the apartment |
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.
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.
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| Living room to the kitchen/dining room |
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| 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.
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| 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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