So I had all these plans of what I was going to do and achieve while I'm in Europe. I was going to have time for stuff I don't have time for back in Australia. I don't know how I still think that that is the case after coming here every year with too little time to see everyone and do everything. Maybe it's the optimism I've inherited from my mother?
It's just over a week before I go back to Australia. My time here just disappears down the black hole of wanting to do too much. I forget that hole is there every single year. A girl should learn!
Mum and I just got back from a whirlwind tour of channel hopping. I flew to London, spent just over 24 hours with my very dear friend Phizz and another friend Lauren and we had a short but sweet time catching up. Too short! Then it was Provence, then back to the UK, then back to France and then home. In 12 days. Boom.
So after London I flew to Marseille and met my mother at the airport, picked up a rental car (a Fiat Panda...it was...uhm...not sexy or fast) and we made our way to a little town that is in no way really beautiful or exciting but holds a hotel with many happy memories and a very wonderful man called Jerome who works there. My lovely husband and I met Jerome on our honeymoon at this hotel five years ago, and we became good friends. Since then I've been back nearly every year to see him. I have enjoyed every single one of those trips and spent a good amount of time laughing my arse off with Jerome.
We took a little tour together on his day off, in his new cool Polo (not in the Panda, as he wouldn't be seen dead in that!) with the roof open and very awesome music from across the eras playing. I'm not sure how my mother felt about the music as she always drives in silence (I know!) but I for one enjoyed the disco, the 90s pop and the moody tunes of Lana Del Ray.
The weather was glorious, the lavender in early bloom and we had an amazing day visiting small towns and making very inappropriate jokes in my mother's presence. I showed him the Youtube video of the Sound of Music mother superior swearing, and he was rapt. It's right up his alley, the more swearing, the better. Me, I only swear when it's funny or when I'm really angry. This was a lot of funny swearing. In front of my mother. Shame on us!
Our time in the Provence was very wonderful, and very short and also involved a severe test of my driving skills - which I botched but passed. As in, mountain passed. As in, my mother chose a route that involved me driving a very, very narrow road along Les Gorges de La Nesque (also called the mini grand canyon), and it was a drive of fear and anxiety. She made me drive it up hill. In a manual car (I only learned how to drive a manual a few years ago, and that was in Melbourne by just practising). In a rental manual car. On the right (wrong?) side of the road. By the end of the gorge, it goes for 20 ks, I was a sweaty mess of nerves. I don't know how long it took us, and I can't tell you whether it was beautiful (I hear it is). All I know is this: NEVER AGAIN. Maybe with somebody else driving.
There was another incident that same day, which had me feeling the same, only I was more tired after a day of driving, so luckily it didn't last as long. It involved me driving up the narrow road towards La Abbaye de Sénanque, with cars parked on both sides, pedestrians, and tons of cars going both ways just so we could turn around there. Or so I hoped. It's a gorgeous abbey, and looked just like the pictures only with more tourists. Many more tourists. We have visited it before, so we didn't intend to, but a million other people did.
So here's me driving slowly in a massive traffic jam of cars slowly towards the abbey, along the narrow road, cars parked both sides, as well as driving both directions, pedestrians on the road, when we go across a narrow one-way bridge, to find a massive bus coming the other way. I pulled over-ish, hoping he could pass. The driver made the car behind me reverse back up the narrow bridge, with pedestrians strolling along on asif that was a good idea. The car behind me did a terrible job, and I was terrified to have to do the same. Once they were gone, the bus driver looked at me exasperated, and waved his hand dismissively, as if to swat away an annoying fly from a pie, indicating I reverse back up as well.
I had no choice. I reversed back up, much more skilfully than the car behind me, I must say, but snapping at my mother who thought it was a good idea to document the ordeal with her camera. I did not think the stressful situation was something to document. Once I had pulled over on the slightly wider part of the road and the bus had passed, all I wanted to do was go back to the hotel and relax by the pool and get the hell out of that car. Luckily, that happened.
This is only a tiny snippet of our trip, and I will leave it at that for now. Just writing about it again was slightly uncomfortable.
It's just over a week before I go back to Australia. My time here just disappears down the black hole of wanting to do too much. I forget that hole is there every single year. A girl should learn!
Mum and I just got back from a whirlwind tour of channel hopping. I flew to London, spent just over 24 hours with my very dear friend Phizz and another friend Lauren and we had a short but sweet time catching up. Too short! Then it was Provence, then back to the UK, then back to France and then home. In 12 days. Boom.
So after London I flew to Marseille and met my mother at the airport, picked up a rental car (a Fiat Panda...it was...uhm...not sexy or fast) and we made our way to a little town that is in no way really beautiful or exciting but holds a hotel with many happy memories and a very wonderful man called Jerome who works there. My lovely husband and I met Jerome on our honeymoon at this hotel five years ago, and we became good friends. Since then I've been back nearly every year to see him. I have enjoyed every single one of those trips and spent a good amount of time laughing my arse off with Jerome.
We took a little tour together on his day off, in his new cool Polo (not in the Panda, as he wouldn't be seen dead in that!) with the roof open and very awesome music from across the eras playing. I'm not sure how my mother felt about the music as she always drives in silence (I know!) but I for one enjoyed the disco, the 90s pop and the moody tunes of Lana Del Ray.
The weather was glorious, the lavender in early bloom and we had an amazing day visiting small towns and making very inappropriate jokes in my mother's presence. I showed him the Youtube video of the Sound of Music mother superior swearing, and he was rapt. It's right up his alley, the more swearing, the better. Me, I only swear when it's funny or when I'm really angry. This was a lot of funny swearing. In front of my mother. Shame on us!
Our time in the Provence was very wonderful, and very short and also involved a severe test of my driving skills - which I botched but passed. As in, mountain passed. As in, my mother chose a route that involved me driving a very, very narrow road along Les Gorges de La Nesque (also called the mini grand canyon), and it was a drive of fear and anxiety. She made me drive it up hill. In a manual car (I only learned how to drive a manual a few years ago, and that was in Melbourne by just practising). In a rental manual car. On the right (wrong?) side of the road. By the end of the gorge, it goes for 20 ks, I was a sweaty mess of nerves. I don't know how long it took us, and I can't tell you whether it was beautiful (I hear it is). All I know is this: NEVER AGAIN. Maybe with somebody else driving.
There was another incident that same day, which had me feeling the same, only I was more tired after a day of driving, so luckily it didn't last as long. It involved me driving up the narrow road towards La Abbaye de Sénanque, with cars parked on both sides, pedestrians, and tons of cars going both ways just so we could turn around there. Or so I hoped. It's a gorgeous abbey, and looked just like the pictures only with more tourists. Many more tourists. We have visited it before, so we didn't intend to, but a million other people did.
So here's me driving slowly in a massive traffic jam of cars slowly towards the abbey, along the narrow road, cars parked both sides, as well as driving both directions, pedestrians on the road, when we go across a narrow one-way bridge, to find a massive bus coming the other way. I pulled over-ish, hoping he could pass. The driver made the car behind me reverse back up the narrow bridge, with pedestrians strolling along on asif that was a good idea. The car behind me did a terrible job, and I was terrified to have to do the same. Once they were gone, the bus driver looked at me exasperated, and waved his hand dismissively, as if to swat away an annoying fly from a pie, indicating I reverse back up as well.
I had no choice. I reversed back up, much more skilfully than the car behind me, I must say, but snapping at my mother who thought it was a good idea to document the ordeal with her camera. I did not think the stressful situation was something to document. Once I had pulled over on the slightly wider part of the road and the bus had passed, all I wanted to do was go back to the hotel and relax by the pool and get the hell out of that car. Luckily, that happened.
This is only a tiny snippet of our trip, and I will leave it at that for now. Just writing about it again was slightly uncomfortable.
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