France: Good, and a little Bad and Ugly

This week, P and I went on our first flight together. We have said hello and goodbye many times at various airports during our long-distance year, but we've never been on a plane together before. We decided to head to the South of France for this momentous occasion to explore the region and to visit our wedding MC, Olive.

We used Marseille as our base as it is easy to fly into and out of from Blundon. I found a great little self-catering loft studio run by a glamourous older French lady. She has turned her property on the outskirts of the city into a profitabe business. Her own home (fabulously French shabby chic, filled with beautiful antiques that made me drool, drool, drool) sits alongside a suite, double bedroom and the studio. The grounds are full of mature trees and a swimming pool. However, it was very cold, so we didn't brave the chilly water!

Although it was a lovely little self-contained flat, we were very tired of climbing down the ladder every time we needed to use the loo in the middle of the night! Let's just say the novelty wore off very quickly.

The studio where we stayed:

Marseille:

P rented a kick-a** Chrysler with sat nav that served us very well. At the beginning of the week, we drove all the way to Monte Carlo in Monaco. Having never been there before, I was blown away by the jaw-dropping sight that greets you as you drive in to the city. Huge, ostentatious buildings perch on the mountainside, falling away dramatically into marinas with multi-million dollar yachts. The very air of Monte Carlo stinks of money.


The women were stylish in white linen, gold jwelery and designer handbags. We were definitely out of place in our faded jeans and cut off shorts, by hey, someone's got to provide the contrast!

On the way back from Monte Carlo, we drove through Nice (shabby without the chic, we didn't bother to stop) and Cannes (not to sound jaded, but just another seaside town).

The next day, we drove to Aix En Provence. The morning flea markets were a delight with vendors selling everything from fur coats to vintage bedding to soaps (the specialty of the region). After lunch, we drove to Uzes, where Olive lives.

Olive has visited us several times in Blundon, where she still has a house a couple of miles from where we live. She also came to our wedding on the Small Island last November. However, this time we were on her turf. It was another jaw-dropping experience when we walked into her 400-year-old house in the town centre. P and I looked at each other and it was like, "Wow!" Set over five floors, her house consists of a cellar, huge living and dining area, quaint walled garden, three bedrooms, several bathrooms, numerous little nooks and crannies and a storage loft on the top floor. We could fit our house in Blundon in it three to four times over! Definitely impressive.

That evening, Olive took us for a delicious three-course meal at one of her regular restaurants. A bottle of local wine accompanied our squid salad (tender and flavoursome), pate (ditto), grilled fish and duck with coffee sauce. My dessert was a smooth creme brulee and P didn't even get a look in!

When we woke up the following day, Olive took us on a whistle-stop tour of the shops (she didn't let me buy anything, not even this adorable enamel ashtray that I really wanted!), the cathedral and the Vichy's house. When I say house, I mean villa. The views overlooking the town remind me of sun-bleached rooftops you see on travel shows.


One of the things I wanted to buy was a nice painting of the area. However, P and I didn't see anything that we liked. Most of it was garish tat for the undiscerning tourist ie, not me! When we were at Olive's house, I saw a painting that one of her friends had done. It was exactly in the style that I wanted, so Olive took us to her studio to see what other paintings she had.

The artist showed us a selection of her watercolour originals and I picked two different but complementary pieces showing the cobblestone streets of Uzes. Olive tried to discourage me from buying both of them (to the silent horror of the artist I'm sure, who was too polite to say anything at the time!), but I had to have them both. One is a more detailed work where the artist experimented with a pencil technique. The other is a simpler and crisper watercolour. Quite different styles but hung one on top of the other, they look perfect together.


Olive is one of my poshest and most cultured friends and she wanted to take us to Pont du Gard, the most visited site in the region. Having not ever done any Roman history, I didn't even know what an aquaduct was. I was reluctant to go as I would have preferred to continue shopping (it's true what they say, you can't take the materialism out of the Small Island girl) but Olive insisted. Now when a striking six-foot tall muscle-bound 'Grace Jones' insists you do something, then you do it if you know what's good for you!

I am so glad that we went to the Pont du Gard as it was my third jaw-dropping moment of the trip. The 2,000 year old monument is huge and the sheer scale of it takes your breath away. Set against vibrant blue skies at one end, and an inviting river at the other, it defies any description that would do it justice.


As we sat having a juice soaking in the ancient and mind-blowing atmosphere, I told Olive, "You were right and I was wrong, this place is amazing!" Gracious person though she is, Olive did allow herself a smug little smile.

Although most of our week in France was wonderful, like any country, there are also aspects of it which are rather unpleasant.

1. The majority of the Southerners we met were friendly and helpful, in spite of my refusal to even say hello or thank you in French ha ha. However, there was one miserable old geezer to wouldn't take a photo of us in Aix. I don't understand that at all. I come to your country and spend my hard-earned money, and you can't even take 15 seconds out of your day to press a button? He's too ignorant to realize that without tourism, the entire region would not be able to feed itself, and that includes him.

2. The complete lack of public toilets. We had to hunt high and low for them and if you can find one, you have to pay between 0.20 - 0.50 Euro to use them. There was one day where I was so desperate that I went in a public carpark. If you can't provide me with a working toilet, then I'll just have to make one myself! No regrets though, better on the tarmac than on the car seat!

3. The horrendous traffic system and driving. There were many days where P and I were stuck in traffic in the city centre, even if it wasn't rush hour. The streets are narrow and virtually every car has a ding or 10. When a tunnel is shut, there is no signage. Just terrible gridlock where the police stand around and chat while frustrated drivers blare their horns. The French obviously do not have the word 'indicator' in their language and if they do, then they certainly don't know what it means or how to use it.

Would I visit the region again? Yes, if only to see Olive. P and I both agreed that we would skip the coast and drive straight inland next time. I am really glad we went as we have needed the break. And it's always good to visit a place that you have never been before. However, I am very happy to be back in my own home, where I can have rice and stir-fry instead of another bl**dy baguette!

A Woman Needs Her Friends

This has been a particular tough week for me. I have been in this country for almost six months and I realize that I don't like it any more than when I first arrived in mid-March. Besides the inefficiency and bad weather, I also miss my friends like crazy. I have met some nice people through the Small Island social group here, but we all live very far from each other and I don't have the history with them as I do with you guys, friends that I've known for quite some time.

Although the work I do in my job is pretty interesting, my colleagues are not. Unfortunately, most of the others are small town girls who have never lived abroad. They have no idea of what life is like outside of Brrringland. They may have travelled, but then spent their time sheltered in a resort so they have no concept of how other nationalities live. I have nothing in common with them except possibly a love of shopping and champagne, but how much can you talk about that?

On Friday night, our wedding MC came over for dinner with her friend. It was particularly wondertul to see her. She totally understood when I told her that I've noticed that the Ang Mo Brrrringlish (AMB) people prefer to sit on the train with other AMBs. When I first mentioned it to P a few weeks ago, he thought it was my imagination. However, he saw this for himself when he went into work on the train with me one day (normally he cycles to the office). We sat on a long bench for five people and it faces another long bench. On the opposite side were four big AMBs. On our side was a small Indian guy about my size, an empty seat, me, P and another person. At one of the stations, a very tall, well-built AMB entered the carriage. He looked at both benches and predictably, squeezed his very big self into the small space with the other AMBs. I said to P, "See what I mean?!!"

It's sad as people can be so small-minded. The bad thing is that I have to live amongst them and look at their sour faces all day long!

Yesterday, my friend of 11 years, the New Dad came to stay with us with his partner, the New Mum (I've known her for 10 years). I met both of them when they worked on our Small Island all those years ago. I introduced them in 1998 and they have been together ever since. 17 months ago, they had a lovely baby boy. Although the house was noisy and chaotically overrun with baby clothes and paraphernalia, having the three of them around was a balm to my jaded soul. They are very down-to-earth (as my friends need to be), sincere, open and intelligent people. Their baby was happy, easy to be around and kept himself entertained by running around the table and trying on P's shoes!

Today, we all took the train to see another friend, China W's Wife (CWW), whom we've also known for 10 years. She too worked on our the Small Island at the same embassy as the New Mum. CWW and her husband have two beautiful little Eurasian girls. After lunch, we sat in their living room where the three kids played together. I looked at all of them and it was almost surreal to see how life has moved on since we all first met, but in a positive way. They are all parents now (very good ones) and I am married with dog.

I have to say I feel very proud to call these wonderful people my friends. They have shown me real love and understanding over the years. Seeing them as well as the MC drove home one thing to me: that I may not like this country (that is an understatement ha ha), but I can certainly make the best of it. I can try to rise above the detritis and spend as much time as possible with my friends who live in this part of the world. After all, who knows what life will bring next? We don't know how long we will be staying here as my heart does belong to the Small Island.

As the new week begins, I have much more to look forward to. My young cousin arrives on Tuesday on a working holiday visa and will stay with us for a few weeks while she finds her way around the city. Then in a couple of weeks, P and I fly off to France where we will see the MC. So roll on September!