2 Aussie Nomads

Have you ever heard the saying that you have “something hanging over you head”?

Mickael’s apartment in Lyon is like that. The bathroom specifically. A dirty big hot water system hanging from the ceiling over the toilet.

And it bubbles, and gurgles, and makes other noises.

It really creeped me out, and it makes it very difficult to concentrate. Or relax.

So we stayed at Mickael’s last night for the second and final night in Lyon.

I have a view that some AirBNB hosts go to a great deal of effort and trouble to ensure that their apartment is in tip top condition, with everything new, clean, and coordinated.

And some don’t. Some seem to use their AirBNB as an opportunity to offload all of their second-hand, broken stuff and get new stuff for themselves.

Ingrid’s place in Annecy was one of the former. Beautiful, clean, new, everything working and our expectations were exceeded.

Mickael’s was the latter. Missing plates, a dirty kettle, scratchy towels.

C’est la vie.

I may have mentioned previously that it is quite hard to get fresh milk here in France. They sell UHT milk by the cow-load, but not fresh.

On our first night in Lyon we found a little supermarket just down the street, and they had fresh milk. Fresh, cold milk.

This morning we threw it out. While it was still in date by a few days, it tasted funny and made the bad coffee at Mickael’s taste even worst.

While it may not be scientifically proven, I have a theory that milk that tastes funny will inevitably lead to tummy problems, and tummy problems is something we don’t want.

Particularly if that means I have to spend time sitting on a toilet under a hot water system.

Nope. Not happening. I’d rather drink black coffee.

And so it was that our breakfast options this morning were limited.

And when I say “limited”, I mean “virtually non-existent”.

Bad coffee, and 2 day old baguettes that weren’t fresh any longer.

So we headed out, relatively unfortified.

We got all of our stuff down to B2 in one trip, and found Claude where we’d left him. B2 is a very dark and dank carport. Really quite unpleasant.

All of the rat baits down there did little to comfort me, either.

But there was a locked door in the basement that had me intrigued. It had a sign on it that read “Lingerie”. Hmmm

We got Claude out of his space and loaded up. All of his horses were straining to get going, so we tackled the ramp. Another unpleasant experience.

Claude has all manner of alarms and warnings to advise the driver of all kinds of impending disasters, and I have to say that Claude’s alarm system was going into meltdown coming up that ramp. Binging, bonging, flashing lights.

Argh! Give me a break.

But we made it out to the street unscratched and unscathed, with just a few minor mental health issues that may require therapy.

Getting out of Lyon was pretty much the mirror image of getting into Lyon including – but not limited to – wrong turns, unexpected (and unwanted) trips on the wrong motorway, crazy drivers, and a few near misses.

We battled the morning commuter traffic, found a petrol station and gave Claude a big drink. Once his tank was full, the dash said we had 680km until empty.

Remember that number.

Remember when we were coming into Lyon I commented that it seemed to be a major hub for distribution centres? Distribution centres means trucks, and there were just so many trucks on the road this morning that it wasn’t funny.

French drivers are a bit of a contradiction. On one hand they are the most obedient drivers I have ever seen – on the motorway the swing out to the far left lane (fast lane) to overtake slower traffic, then immediately swing all the way back to the far right lane (slowest lane) to stay out of the traffic flow.

But then they play chicken with you. We were heading out of Lyon this morning (admittedly on the wrong motorway, so it wasn’t a brilliant start anyway) and this driver in a work van was in the far left (fast) lane but wanted to exit, and he wanted to exit NOW.

Blinker on, and – before I’d realised what was happening – he squeezed between the front of Claude and the back of the car in front with perhaps 1 metre space at either end, and cut across 3 lanes to the exit.

Nearly scared the cr*p out of me. Claude and his early warning system wasn’t impressed either.

Then a bit later, I was puddling along happily in the slow lane (where “slow” means about 120km/h) and a B-Double wanted to move across, so it was blinker on and too bad for anyone in the way.

Take your own evasive action!

Anyway, as I said yesterday, today was a toll road day because we wanted to get to Nîmes and solve the dirty underwear crisis.

We told Joséphine that we wanted to stop somewhere around Valance, and we were looking for a nice boulangerie to get some breakfast.

We set Claude’s nose in the right direction and let his horses run free. 130km/h south towards Nimes.

It was about a 2 hour run down the motorway before we stopped at the Boulangerie Pâtisserie PONTET in Saint-Georges-les-Bains, and what a delightful little boulangerie it was. Such a wonderful display of delicious goodies, that it was hard to choose.

I have to say that the French really are my favourite people … except when they are behind the wheel of a car 🙁

Two coffees and two almond croissants, sitting outside of the little shop in the cold. But the food and the coffee was just so good.

We needed to find a comfort stop, and we were told that there were some public toilets in the next township, so off we went.

They were a bit hard to find … the signage is a bit different to what we are used to, and they are called “WC Publics” … but we found them.

Unfortunately the main toilet door was locked and the only facilities open were the urinals, so only one of us got any comfort from that comfort stop.

We were making good time, so we decided to take the “no tolls” option for a while and see some more of the countryside. And hopefully find another toilet.

We found ourselves in a pretty little township called Le Pouzin where we stopped to have a look around, take some photos, and post some postcards. If you never get a postcard from us, then that means that we didn’t send you one. In fact, you have to be 3 years old or younger to get a postcard from us 🙂

And it seems that one of the postcards that we posted from Bergen (Norway) turned up yesterday.

When you drive on the toll roads, you are sitting on 130km/h yet some vehicles go past you like you are standing still. Because you are going so fast and trying to stay as much as possible in the far right-hand (slow) land, and trying to stay alive, you don’t see much.

And – to be honest – there’s not much to see. It appears that the people from medieval times didn’t build their castles along the toll roads – they built them on the scenic routes.

We love driving the scenic routes, but they do become a bit tiring after a while because you are constantly speeding up and slowing down. Going through roundabouts. Taking what feels like back roads and shortcuts, probably because that’s exactly what they are.

Trying to get your speed right by reading the non-esistent speed signs, but relying on minor clues and local knowledge.

And having someone right on your clacker flashing their lights at you is often a good indication that you are not going at the accepted speed limit.

Coming out of Le Pouzin I had this campervan thing right on my back bumper flashing his lights at me. I mean, I could see the whites of his eyes, and I wasn’t getting a “welcome to France” vibe.

I sped up a little, acknowledging that I might have missed one of those random signs that seems to indicate that the last imaginary speed limit had been lifted, but clearly I wasn’t trying hard enough.

In France, someone sitting on your back bumper – even at 130km/h – is a pretty clear message: “get out of my way”. But when you are on a single lane road (ie single, narrow lane each way) with nowhere else to go, and nowhere to pull over and let them pass, you are a bit limited for options.

Mr Campervan put on his left blinker to overtake me and just went for it. I was surprised that our mirrors didn’t touch as he went past, and I was even more surprised that he didn’t take a layer of paint of my front bumper as he suddenly cut back in.

He certainly showed me what he thought.

I wanted to shake my fist at him and shout something in French, but the only French I can confidently say is “Je ne parle pas français” (I don’t speak any French), and I didn’t expect that would be helpful in this situation.

I could have shouted something in english – “Your mother wears army boots” – but if he didn’t parlez vouz français then the point would have been lost on him.

And by the time I’d processed those options, he had disappeared like a fart in a fan factory.

We drove through some more amazing medieval villages and even saw a medieval castle on a hill which we went to investigate, only to find it was closed.

When I say “closed”, I mean that it was surrounded by temporary fencing as a means of discouraging you from going near it. And the other thing that discouraged me from getting too close was the large supporting timbers that stopped the walls from falling over.

But I guess you have to expect that after 1000 years or so.

When we were back on the scenic route again after unsuccessfully investigating the castle, I was puddling along happily and I realised that I had 3 motorcycles sitting close behind me.

Not just any motorcycles, but ones where all of the riders are dressed alike and their bikes are fitted with blue lights and sirens.

Gendarmerie.

Their lights weren’t flashing, and I wasn’t speeding (at least, I didn’t think I was speeding). But we are in a car with red number plates that seem to scream “foreigner”.

But they all pulled out and roared away.

By this time it was close to 1.00pm and we were getting tired and hungry. We checked the “tolls” option again and found that we could cut about 45 minutes off our trip and get into Nimes by about 2.10am. So that’s the option we selected.

Back onto the motorway, we were confronted with some roadworks. It appears that councils all over the world use the same approach to roadworks – they put out orange traffic cones for 20km or so and slow down the traffic, yet there is never anyone working anywhere to be seen.

I mentioned earlier that when a French drivers is sitting on your tail it means “get out of my way”.

We were on the motorway puddling along at 130km/h and there was some slow traffic ahead. I checked that there were no vehicles in sight behind me who wanted to break the sound barrier, and so I pulled into the fast lane to leisurely overtake the slower vehicles.

It turned out that there was someone behind me who wanted to break the sound barrier – a white van with blue and white checkered pattern down the sides and blue (not flashing) lights on top.

How could this happen twice in one day?

He was obviously in a hurry, but wasn’t under lights and siren, so … what do you do? Break the speed limit to get out of his way, or stay in the way.

I decided to poke the less dangerous bear, and I sped up a little, and moved over quickly, to have … an ambulance go roaring past.

We got into Nîmes around 2.00pm and made our way to our accommodation. We are staying at Kate’s garden apartment tonight for 3 nights, so that will be nice. No washing machine here so we can’t easily resolve the underwear crisis, although there are reports of a laundromat around the corner.

The street’s around Kate’s place are incredibly narrow, with cars parked along either side at various places. We missed the apartment on the first go-around because we couldn’t see anywhere to park nearby, so we did another loop.

Did I mention how narrow some of the streets are? Some are so narrow, with cars parked so badly, that you have to do a 3 point turn just to turn a corner into the next street.

I dropped MBW off and she went in search of the apartment while I did loops.

Have you wondered what happens when a repairman needs to do some work in a steet but can’t park? He just simply double-parks, puts on his hazard lights, and puts out some traffic cones indicating that the street is closed.

It plays havoc with poor Joséphine, who insisted that I go down a road that was closed, and then had a bit of a breakdown when I didn’t.

But all’s well that ends well, and MBW got into the apartment, I “did a repairman” and parked on the footpath with my hazard lights on and unloaded Claude.

All unloaded, we took Claude to the provided undercover parking station about 4 minutes walk away.

Once we had done all of that, we found a laundromat nearby and got our important stuff washed and dried for the grand sum of 9 Euros, then went in search of a supermarket nearby to get some stuff for dinner. And some more milk.

It will be an early night tonight, me thinks. MBW is making apricot chicken and rice, and then after dinner we might watch the next installment of Reacher, Maybe even 2 installments.

Tomorrow we are off exploring some things nearby, like Avignon. We will also go and find an E.Leclerc and do a decent shop for some breakfast cereal, yoghurt, chocolate. All the important stuff.

Do you recall earlier on I mentioned that we filled Claude’s tank and that the computer said we have 680km until empty.

Because most of the trip today was on the motorway and a constant speed, Claude returned a trip performance of a little over 4.0 litres/100km. So by the time we got to Nimes – about 260km away – Claude had done some recalculations, and we now had something over 700km range on the fuel tank.

More than what we started with.

Go figure.

On a happy note, I am extremely pleased to advise that Kate’s apartment does NOT have a HWS hanging above the toilet.

That means that I will be able to comfortably … nope, doesn’t matter.

Ciao

#Europe2025

It was a bit of a rollercoaster today. The day started on a high, and ended with a feeling of disaapointent.

Or maybe I’m being overly dramatic.

We stayed at Ingrid’s place last night. It’s always nice when you get to meet the host. It’s especially nice when they speak English.

The one useful bit of French that I have mastered is “Je suis Australien. Parlez vous Anglais?” And it comes in very handy, except for when the person you are asking shakes their head “no”.

Fortunately Ingrid had a pretty good grasp of English. Even more fortunately, the AirBNB app on my phone does a fine job of translating the French to something I can understand.

So we stayed at Ingrid’s last night. It was a really comfortable, cosy little apartment that was newly renovated and very comfortable. And cosy.

And it had a coffee machine.

Yesterday afternoon we did a drive around Lake Annecy, and that was very pretty. Then we went in search of a supermarket and found an Aldi that was hard to get to, and even harder to get home from.

The streets are narrow. Sometimes they are so narrow that there is a set of traffic lights to allow traffic in one direction to go, and then the other direction has a turn.

And the French drivers are impatient, arrogant, and pushy. They love honking their horn at you and will often just drive straight at you, forcing you to take evasive action.

The trip home from the local Aldi in the rain last night was really not a pleasant experience. But then something magical happens today in Annecy …

Ingrid said that there was no rush to move out because nobody was coming in tonight. So we had a nice chat with 2 of the grandies, we had breakfast, we finished packing our bags, and then we headed out to the markets in the centre of the city – about 15 minutes drive away.

You may recall that Yesterday Geoff had a problem with not having a Crit’Air sticker to drive into certain areas of certain cities here in France due to excessive emissions.

Did I mention that it is mandatory? And that the way we organised to get Claude meant that we could never have got one anyway? And if you get caught without one, you get a fine up to 160 Euro? That’s something close to $300!

But I emailed the people who organised Claude for us last night, and there was an email response waiting for me this morning, which essentially said “don’t worry about it. You won’t get fined, and if you do, we will reimburse you.”

So with no concerns about driving into the city (and the low emission zone), and happy to get there faster than on public transport, we hopped into Claude and drove down to the old part of Annecy.

And what a spectacular little city it is. Clean, beautiful, ancient (in a medieval kind of way) with the markets in progress this morning.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

We parked in the public carpark, bought a parking ticket for about 90 minutes, and went off for a wander around the city.

The central part of the city is very old, with some beautiful buildings and winding narrow streets. There is also a canal running through the centre of the city, and you can just picture this being used in medieval days for drinking, and washing, and disposing of dead bodies in a hygenic way.

The water is so incredibly crystal clear, it is amazing.

The buildings and the streets are a sensory overload. I probably took 100 photos, but they don’t do it justice.

We wandered through the markets which sell everything from cured meats, cheeses, sweets (like nougat and fudge), plus clothes and paintings.

The first few food vendors that we encountered were happy to allow us to try their product, and they were also (fortunately) fluent in English.

We tried different types of salami, and some amazing french cheeses, plus some of the nougat and also some hummus (not a fan, sorry). We bought some tomatos and some salami and some cheese … so all we need is a fresh baguette and we will be in business for lunch.

We bought some souvenirs and then wandered over to the “Pont des Amours” (bridge of love) and took our photo. Legend has it that if you kiss on the Pont des Amours then your love is sealed forever.

Or maybe MBW made that up just to get a kiss? She only has to ask …

We took some more photos of the lake, then went and found Claude and headed back to Ingrid’s place to have a final coffee and load up our bags ready to go.

Let’s digress for a minute and talk about phobias. I’m happy to admit that I’m not crazy about heights, and I have a pretty bad fear of being trapped in a small space, but I’ve discovered a new phobia that I didn’t even know I had.

Units and apartments here in France are often very small, so they need to be creative with where things are installed. In Ingrid’s apartment, the hot water system is installed above the toilet. Directly above your head.

And I’m talking a water tank that probably holds 150 litres of very hot water, sitting on a couple of brackets. Above your head.

So now (thanks Ingrid) I confess to having a fear of having a HWS fall on my head while I am sitting on the toilet.

Today we were travelling from Annecy to Lyon. Not a great distance – about 1h30 minutes if we pay tolls (and travel 180km in a big wide loop), or 2h30 minutes if we take the back roads (and travel about 120km through scenic little towns).

Because we weren’t in a hurry, we opted for the longer (time) but shorter (distance) route. With no tolls.

We told Joséphine where we wanted to go, and pointed Claude in the right direction.

Remember how I said that the traffic last night getting to and from Aldi was bad? Well, just up the road from home in a slightly different direction is a E.Leclerc. And we do love E.Leclerc. But we didn’t know it was there yesterday 🙁

But what a pretty drive it was. Up mountains, and down spectacular roads. Rolling countryside all around us, with these little villages or townships (they call them communes) every 5-10km.

I have this picture in my head of all of the various kings and royalty having a castle and village inside a walled estate. If he wanted to communicate with the next king up the road, he’d throw open the gate and send a horseman to ride the short distance to the next castle in a walled village.

And that’s exactly what it is like. You slow down to drive through a small village with medieval buildings surrounded by a wall, then speed up for the next 5km and travel through rolling green hills until you get to the next walled village and slow down again.

There was one road down the side of a mountain that was so narrow that vechicles could only go in one direction at a time. And trucks needed to stay as far left as possible so that they didn’t wipe out on the overhanging rock.

At around 12.30 we decided that the next village we saw with a boulangerie would be our lunch stop … and a few minutes later we came into Serrières-en-Chautagne, complete with a boulangerie and a little picnic area.

Every boulangerie that I have been into is a work of art, and this one was no different. All of these beautiful pastries laid out, with baguettes stacked against the wall.

I asked the girl in the shop (using Google Translate) if I could take a photo. She said something in French that was quite obviously “so long as I’m not in the photo”. Some things are the same in any language ..

We bought a fresh (still warm) baguette and a couple of croissants to go with our salami, cheese and tomatos, and headed down to the park to eat.

It turns out that Serrières-en-Chautagne also has something that we have not seen in any other township that we have been through – a public toilet. There were no doors on the men’s room so there was sbsolutely no privacy from the outside world … but it was a public toilet, and it was free.

It’s the thought that counts.

From there, we just progressed through a random series of twists and turns, and townships with varying degrees of size and history.

And then we went through this place called Salagnon – in the middle of nowhere – that had both ancient buildings, and (it appeared) a pizza vending machine in the main street.

Mind-blowing.

Lyon is obviously a bit of a central hub for France, because on the outskirts of Lyon (… well at least we think it was Lyon …) there were distribution centres with trucks lined up as far as you could see.

And so we went from travelling through the rolling green hills, to suddenly into the outskirts of Lyon and we found ourselves on major roads with impatient drivers again … which just felt like a disappointment. We’d gone from this romantic beauty to dirty roads, traffic and impatient drivers. And traffic congestion.

And then with only about 12 minutes to go before we were due to arrive at our AirBNB for the next couple of nights, one of us made a poor decision about which exit to take off the main road, and we found ourselves unexpectedly on a toll road heading in the wrong direction.

In my defence, Joséphine’s directions were unclear, and I turned too early.

And when you make a mistake like that, no Frenchman in his right mind is going to let you swerve back into the correct lane again. You are done.

And I dont think that any of them are in their right mind, to be honest.

Like all good toll roads when you make a mistake, you get penalised by having to drive about 10km at 130km/h in the opposite direction to where you want to go, before you can find an exit.

Plus you have to pay a toll.

And then there is the 30 minute time penality added to your ETA before you can find yourself even close to where you originally wanted to be. Plus some additional traffic congestion just for fun.

Bugger.

Traffic in Lyon was appalling. Plus there is that Low Emission Zone thing and the Crit’Air sticker issue hanging over my head. I obviously did some things while I was driving (and stressed) that other people didn’t like, like blocking an intersection when the lights changed unexpectedly … which earned me plenty of horn honking.

C’est la vie.

We finally made it to our accommodation and had some challenges getting into the building to retrieve the key. Once we had the key, we had to take Claude down 2 levels of an impossibly dark and narrow basement ramp system to find our parking space.

It was so narrow I needed to fold in Claude’s mirrors so that I didn’t lose them on the way down.

And then we needed to find our impossibly small parking space, and then we needed to search around the basement to find the elevator.

Dark, damp spaces, hidden doors, and secret codes to make the elevator work. It was like something out of Get Smart. But creepier.

There is so much roadwork going on around here that the place just feels tired and dirty. There was one spot where there was so much of the road that that was under construction that the detour had you driving along a footpath.

Lyon just has a bit of a gritty feel about it.

But I have said that before, about Oslo … and then we did a walking tour and saw an entirely different side of the city. Hopefully that will happen again tomorrow.

We popped up to the local supermarket in the rain to get some supplies for dinner, then home to cook and eat chicken and mushroom stirfry.

We did battle with the coffee machine, but finally got it to produce something that loosely resembled coffee … not the best coffee I’ve even had, but not the worst either.

It’s been a long and sometimes stressful day of driving, and I’m tired. MBW has already showered and is in her PJs, so I think it’s time for me to do likewise.

We have a walking tour at 10.30am tomorrow, so that will give us time to find out our public transport options to get to the starting point … because there is no way I’m driving Claude up that carpark ramp any more times than I absolutely have to!

Ciao

#Europe2025

OK, I’m just going to come straight out and say it. I wish I’d paid more attention in Year 8 French lessons with Miss what’s-her-name.

Last night we stayed with Laurence and Guy, and we met Guy (pronunced “Ghee”). He didn’t speak a single word of English, and the only French that I can remember was completely useless.

“Quelle heure est-il?” is the only only French phrase that I can recall, and from memory it means “What time it is?”

Absolutely no use at all when what you really want to ask is “Where is the nearest McDonalds?”, or “Will you call me fat if I eat 2 baguettes for breakfast?”

Anyway, Guy was scheduled to arrive at 9.00am to check us out, but we were ready to roll by 8.30, so we messaged him and he came straight over.

By the time he’d arrived – maybe 8.40 – I had already packed all of our stuff into Claude and we were ready to go.

Remember the photo from yesterday or the really narrow ramp up onto the carpark level? Remember how I had maybe an inch or two either side of the mirrors? Guy took that ramp in his little Renault minivan like he was practicing for the French Rally championships.

Crikey!

So there was lots of shoulder shrugging, and plenty of gesticulating, plus a little help from Google Translate, we managed to convey that we were done, that we’d had a lovely time, and that we’d left the apartment spick and spiffy.

The only remaining question we had from the check-out procedures was removal of the rubbish, and when we showed him the bag we were carrying, he pointed to an unmarked door which he opened with a special key, and then proceeded to usher us down some dark, concrete steps into the dungeon … er, basement.

Do you ever lie awake at night and wonder “how am I going to die”, and then suddenly find yourself in a situation where you wonder if this is it, and it wasn’t a possibility that you’d considered previously?

Like being tied up and starved in a cold, dark dungeon in Dijon?

I had that moment this morning walking down those stairs. But it was all OK.

So the rubbish was thrown, we had said our final “merci beaucoup” and “au revoir” and we were off.

While we really want to enjoy the scenery here and the medieval castles, that means taking the “no toll” option which saves a few Euros, but can add many hours to the trip. So if we just want to be somewhere, we take the toll road and part with up to 30 Euro (I think the most expensive toll road so far), and get there in super-quick time.

Today was one of those days. We just wanted to get to Annecy and see the sights. All reports are that Annecy is very beautiful.

Today is Monday, and just like in Australia, Monday has all of the little munchkins back at school – with the associated school zones and kids everywhere.

But we made it through the traffic and got onto the A39. We set Clause’s phasers to warp speed, and in no time we were hurtling down the A39 at 130km/h.

All repoprts are that the police here are both decisive and inflexible. If you get caught doing 5km/h over the limit, you get a fine and don’t even bother arguing about it.

So Claude’s cruise control is a very handy feature. Set and forget. 130km/h and point him at Annecy.

Nothwistanding what I have heard about the ruthless policing, there are still any number of other drivers on the road who seem to treat the speed limits as a suggestion rather than as a requirement. They go blasting past you like you are standing still, and vanish into the distance.

So because we spent a bit of time on the toll roads, we didn’t see a great deal of the countryside. But we were making good time.

We stopped at some little roadside rest area for a cuppa and a biscuit. They have toilet stops on the toll roads, but you barely see any facilities on the other minor roads, which is a bit of a problem for someone with a KMart bladder.

Those snow chains that we bought for Claude on our first day in France proved their worth today. Because Annecy is in an area known for snow and ice, becauase it is up in the French Alps, it is mandatory to carry snow chains.

I carry them, but I have no idea how to fit them and no intention of using them. The warning signs were all there, but the roads were clear and dry.

When we left the rest stop, Claude and Joséphine decided that they were no longer talking, and we could not get Google Maps to load on Claude’s screen. Argh!

But I’m please to report that they resolved their differences, and within a few kilometres they were happily communicating again, which meant that MBW and I were also OK because we had Google Maps again.

No Google Maps means that there is also not a great deal of happiness in the car 🙁

The most interesting part of the journey was the tunnels. Because this area is so mountainous, the toll roads typically go straight through the mountains. That is a huge time-saver, because I can tell you that the toll free option (ie over the mountain) takes a great deal longer and uses a great deal more fuel.

And it probably also significantly increases the risk of needing to fit those snow chains!

Now I have a confession. Ever since I watched that movie “Daylight” with Sly Stalone about a tanker explosion in a tunnel, I’ve had a bit of a thing about tunnels.

I avoid them if I can. But sometimes you can’t – like when you are on a toll road to Annecy.

I have to tell you that we must have gone through 6 or 7 tunnels today, all increasingly long and dark.

In fact, I have been through so many dark and winding tunnels today that I was starting to have flashbacks to my last colonoscopy.

Which reminds me, I must have another one coming up soon.

The infrastructure is pretty amazing here. Roads link into other roads and you find yourself just zipping from one road to another … clocking up tolls as you go, but that’s another issue.

The only real problem that we had was that Joséphine was a bit slow making up her mind about giving us directions, and there were a few times where we ended up not exactly where we wanted to be.

But that’s OK – it’s all part of the fun.

We had a slight problem with our accommodation tonight. The check-in time was 5.00pm and we were got to Annecy around lunchtime. We have also been warned about leaving Claude parked anywhere with our luggage still inside it.

None of that is something that we would worry about in Australia – we travelled 10,000km with Percy (the caravan) on the back, all the way through Queensland and the NT without any issues, but we have been warned about France.

So we got some stuff for lunch – a baguette and some ham – and we set off on a drive around Lac d’Annecy (Lake Annecy), one of the largest lakes in France. It is a very pretty drive of about 40km, but is forecast to take about 2 hours … which didn’t make a great deal of sense … until we started to do the drive.

Like all other areas of France where we have been so far – except for the toll roads – your trip is puncutated with speed up to 80km/h, slow down to 50km/h (and there is a trick to figuring out when you have to do that, because it is not actually signed as such), then down to 30km/h, then back up again.

And once you hit to gear, you are slowing down again. And then there are lots and lots of roundabouts, and all of the crazy French drivers.

So we set off and found a nice, quiet place to stop for lunch about one third of the way around.

There are some very pretty little townships surrounding the lake that just feel like little alpine villages. And then you come through a genuine medieval village that must be hundreds of years old.

In fact, we were reading some information about Annecy and it seems that parts of Annecy date back to the first (FIRST!) century.

We finished the drive, and parked back in the city. We kept getting a message about entering (or leaving) a low emission zone – which we Googled – and found that there are some zones in some cities where certain vehicles are restricted from entering.

That shouldn’t be an issue for us as Claude is brand new and meets all of the environmental standards, but … a Crit’Air stick is mandatory on all vehicles, and we don’t have one.

Not an issue for Annecy because they have no restrictions in place, but they do have restrictions in Lyon (tomorrow night), Nice (next week) …

Argh!

But that is future Geoff’s problem.

We got groceries for dinner, arrived at the apartment, met Ingrid (our host) and settled in for the night. And it is a lovely apartment too.

Now I promised an interesting story about Annecy.

We had never planned to come to Annecy, but when we were in the final stages of our bookings and accomodation we did a final check to confirm that we hadn’t missed anything. And we discovered that we had missed a night between Dijon and Lyon – we had miscalculated our days.

So we looked for somewhere to stay for just one night.

And we found Annecy.

Tomorrow we will get up early and go down to the markets by bus, and then come back and pack Claude before setting off for Lyon.

Ingrid (our host) said that there is nobody in the unit tomorrow night, so we don’t need to rush off. But we will plan to be gone by lunch time to make the drive – only a short one – to Lyon to continue the adventure.

We will be in Lyon for a few nights, so that will be a nice rest.

Ciao

#Europe2025

I was so tired last night that I reckon I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I must be out of practice with these driving days, although we didn’t go very far – maybe 250-300km total.

Or maybe my tiny brain is still blown about the things that we are seeing here. I’d better start getting used to that.

It’s Sunday here today, and we thought perhaps we might go to church. Preferably an english-speaking one, otherwise it will be harder than usual to follow along with the sermon. A quick Google search seemed to identify that there is indeed an english-speaking church that could meet our requirements, and it was about 6 or 7 down on the list of possible results.

Unfortunately though, it is in Paris. And that’s a bit far to go.

Sunday also means that many things here are closed, or so we discovered. The supermarket across the street is closed, although we already have muesli and yoghurt and milk for breakfast. And coffee.

Claude gets the day off today. I think I mentioned that we had been unable to organise a walking tour of Dijon, but we found a booklet here in the apartment about “The Owl’s Trail”, which is a circuit of the city centre (and specifically the older parts of Dijon) with 22 separate stops at historical buildings. Stop 17 was about 1.2km from where we are staying, so that was our starting point.

MBW – clever thing that she is – figured out that if we got away by around 9.00am, we would be at a good location around lunchtime to stop for lunch.

There were a few factors that drove our thinking today. We had some leftover pasta for dinner last night, so we needed to have something significant to eat today so that we don’t waste away.

I know what you’re thinking, and you can just keep that thought to yourself.

Sunday night is traditionally somewhere between “get your own dinner”, and “surprise dinner” in the Taylor house. When I say “surprise”, its normally a surprise if we have anything better than a bowl of breakfast cereal or a piece of toast on Sunday nights.

So we figured that we would have a substantial lunch, and then we can have something simple for dinner.

Man cannot live on baguettes and croissants alone. Apparently.

The other factor driving our thinking was that it was a bit cold this morning. 9 degrees that felt like 7.

So we had breakfast, put on some warm clothes, and I did a quick welfare check on Claude. I’m pleased to report that he was still sitting happily in the carpark out the back of the apartments.

Very tiny, narrow parking spots, too.

And the ramp out of the parking area is just plain scary. It turns out that Claude has mirrors that can be folded in, and I can see why that is necessary.

Once again, I’m glad that we are not in the Landcruiser.

We were out the door and walking up Rue Charles Dumont towards our starting point just after 9.00am.

They are a strange bunch of drivers here in France. I’ve had some really bad expeiences where I’ve been backing out of a parking space at a supermarket and I’ve hesitated a nanosecond too long putting Claude into Drive, and some impatient driver comes roaring around the back of me.

Yet when you are a pedestrian, they can be inordinately accommodating. If you even make a move to step onto a pedestrian crossing, they will flash their lights at you (in a good way) and screech to a halt so you can cross the road. Unlike in Australia where they speed up and swerve at you to make you get off the road.

Or maybe that’s just me that does that?

I’m not going to show my ignorance by trying to name and describe all of the stops on the Owl’s Trail, but you can read more about it here, or you can just Google it yourself.

But I will say this. There are parts of the historic centre of Dijon where you feel like you have stepped back in time. There was one castle that we looked at that was built in the 4th or 5th century – more than 1,500 years ago.

Unbelievble.

Have a look at the pictures below.

We found a little takeaway place and bought some chicken wings and hot, roasted potatos in garlic, and it hit the spot.

MBW also found a souvenir shop in the Place de la Libération, and bought some mustard … which seems a little counter-intuitive to me because I’m sure that you can buy mustard – even Dijon mustard at home.

We had finished the circuit by about 1.30pm and headed back towards our apartment, with no plans for the afternoon. We stopped at a boulangerie and bought a baguette for dinner, and a coffee eclair because … well … just because.

Don’t judge me.

They sell various types of baguettes here in France. Some of them look like a traditional (Australian-made) French bread stick, while others look quite different.

We saw some the other day called “rustic” baguettes, and the guy in the shop today said that they are also known as “traitional” baguettes and that it has someting to do with the flour they use. The traditional ones are a bit more than half a metre long, while the regular ones are maybe over a metre – similar to Frenh bread sticks at home.

But the rustic or traditional ones have more of a sourdough or wholemeal look about them, and if you are really lucky, they hand it to you in a bag and it is still warm.

Sell my clothes …

We got home, had a cuppa and the eclair, and then asked ChatGPT for some advice on things to do within 50km of Dijon.

One of the main options is to drive the “Route des Grands Crus” (roughly translated as “road of the great wines”) which is a self-driving tour through vinyards that stretch further than you can see. And as you follow the signs and the road, you go through these unbelievable little medieval villages.

I know that I keep talking about these villages, and I keep using the word “unbelievable” to describe then, but they truly are mind-blowing. I seriously wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw King Arthur walking down the street – that’s the honest feeling that you have.

The tiny narrow winding streets, the buildings that are 100s of years old, and the feeling that virtually nothing has changed since they were built. And many of them look like they are still in serious need of roof repairs.

Walking or driving through these little villages causes some serious “pinch me” moments. I can’t believe that we are here and experiencing something that I can’t even begin to comprehend. And yet the locals probably see it every single day and think nothing of it.

Apparently this is the place where the best reds in the world come from. We are going to have to buy a bottle and give it a try.

We drove down as far as Beaune, and turned Claude around and headed for home.

Joséphine – that’s the name of our Google Maps voice – seems to struggle with the English pronunciation of the French place names here. I suppose that we could change her to speak in her native tongue, but I suspect that will simply make driving here just that little bit more challenging that it is already. And we absolutely don’t need that.

We found a servo with reasonably priced fuel so that Claude has plenty of juice to get us to Annecy tomorrow for the night. There’s a funny story about Annecy, and if I remember, I’ll tell you that one tomorrow.

There is a C&W song called “There’s a cold beer calling my name“. Well, I’m singing a variation to that one … “there’s a warm baguette calling my name”.

Dinner.

Check out the photos below for a summary of our day.

Ciao

#Europe2025

I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven.

We stayed in an AirBNB near Montlevon last night. Not really in Montlevon, but a bit north of it. Condé-en-Brie is also nearby, as is Château-Thierry.

If you type “Les Bories en Champagne” into Google Maps, you will see a photo of the place where we are staying.

We woke this morning at about 7.00am, which is about 4.00pm your time, assuming that you are in Brisbane. I hadn’t slept well, but there are probably a million reasons for that. Sleeping in a strange bed in a building that is probably a few hundred years od is part of that reason.

Echos of MBW screaming out “LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT!!” every time I drifted onto the wrong side of the road is probably a reason too.

45 years in ingrained habits driving on the left side of the road are hard to break, and it all feels wrong … but we will get better. I’m certain we will.

I’ll be driving and honking my horn like a Frenchman in no time.

Because we only arrived here at about 5.30pm last night and had done a super-quick run down to the little supermarket in Condé-en-Brie to get some important supplies, we were not well prepared for breakfast. And breakfast is the most important meal of the day, as I’m sure that you know.

So we found Claude where we had left him last night, fired him up, and did a quick run down to the local boulangerie.

My goodness. Baguettes, croissants, pastries of all kind.

My goodness.

If MBW hadn’t been with me, I’d have asked the lady in the shop to marry me …

We purchased a baguette, a plain croissant and a chocolate croissant for breakfast, and headed home to have breakfast and coffee.

We bought some ground coffee last night, so we fired up the coffee machine and had breakast.

Not the best coffee and croissants that I’ve ever had … actually scratch that. It probably WAS the best coffee and croissants and baguette that I’ve ever had. With French butter and strawberry jam.

Sell my clothes, I think I’ve gone to Heaven.

I didn’t want it to end, it was soooooooooo good 🙂

We gave the house a quick tidy, and filled our little Thermos flasks that we bought cheap in Rovaniemi with boiling water and got some teabags ready to take with us.

We only had one important job to do today – get snow chains. As I’ve discussed before, I have absolutely no intention of using them, but we are required to carry them for some of the places where we will be going. Like Italy, before the middle of April.

I might even bring them home with me when we finally return home … assuming that I don’t run away and hide here in France.

If ever we (you and I) attend the same Christmas function in 2025 and you get an unopened set of snow chains in perfect condition as part of a Secret Santa gift, they will be from me.

Surprise!

I went out to Claude to get the engine started and the seat warmers* going for MBW, and poke some of the buttons on the dashboard to see what they do. I found a few nifty features that will be very handy on our roadtrip.

*Seat warmers are NOT one of those nifty features BTW, but MBW doesn’t need to know that.

We had managed to get Google Maps and Android Auto working, so that makes life a bit easier.

We programmed up “Château-Thierry” into Maps, and off we went. We were looking for a NorAuto – probably a bit like a Repco or Autobarn with a vehicle servicing facility on site.

Parked Claude and went inside, and we quickly established that the guy behind the counter had a better grasp on English than we have on French, and so we struck a deal.

€76.00 was the cheapest price for a set of snow chains that will meet the legal requiement. And they came in a nice carry case.

I’ve never purchased snow chains before, and I suspect I never will again.

To be honest, I expected that the store staff would laugh maniacally at us for buying snow chains in this warm weather, but the guy took it as a very serious transaction and happily took our money.

That was the only thing that we realy needed to do today, as we had decided to just “settle in” a bit and get our bearings.

Across the road from NorAuto was something that looked suspiciously like a shopping centre, and as we had nothing else important to do, we went over.

The place was like CostCo (or Wamart). They sell almost everything, from groceries to clothes to homewares. And alcohol.

But no guns that i saw.

Given that we will be travelling around quite a bit, we purchased some plates and cutlery for those days that we stop and have lunch at the side of the road, plus an esky bag and some other things that we didn’t need.

MBW announced that she hadn’t brought enough short-sleeved tops on holidays (… a likely story …), so she found something in her size and added it to the pile.

BTW the shop is called E.Leclerc if you ever find yourself in Château-Thierry and need to buy some things that you don’t need.

Sorry, that pobably sounded like sarcasm 🙁 I’ll ping myself on my next performance review.

We were going to buy some groceries to put into our new esky bag, but it was only 10.30am and a bit early for lunch, and the things that we wanted to put onto our baguette for lunch are likely to give explosive diarrhea if not refrigerated correctly, and ED was not something that we particularly wanted.

So we went to look at a medieval castle instead.

My tiny brain simply could not appreciate the spectacular beauty of the place, and nor the fact that it was built in the 10th century. A million pictures cannot do it justice, but I’ve included some below anyway.

One of the good things about medieval castles is that they are built at the top of a hill, with sweeping view all around. And from this medieval castle, we could see some street markets just down below, so we hopped back into Claude and went looking.

We found the markets, and then found a parking space, so we got out and went for a walk.

Nothing particularly exciting, and we didn’t buy anything. But it was fun to poke aound.

We listened to people speaking French and wondered what they were talking about. Probably about us.

By this tme we were getting hungry and needed to get some stuff for lunch. MBW found an Aldi (… seriously, it’s like a sixth sense …) and so we bought stuff for lunch and also for dinner tonight.

Everywhere you look around here, all you see is people walking around carrying a baguette. It’s almost like it is a national sport.

So not to be outdone, we bought a baguette and some ham and cheese, plus we got some potatoes, salad and steak for dinner.

Home to Les Bories en Champagne, and we ate lunch like Frenchmen (and Frenchwomen).

And it was good. So good.

I’m not going to bore you will all of the minutia of our lives, because that would be as boring as watching paint dry, but we did repack our suitcases to separate the stuff we will likely not need again from the stuff that we will, and that will make finding things just a bit easier in future.

Well, that’s the theory.

After all of that excitement, we jumped back into Claude and went for a drive down to Condé-en-Brie just for a poke around and take some photos. I mean, it’s not every day that you get to walk through a provincial French village where the houses are hundreds of years old, and you feel like you are on the set of Beauty and the Beast.

Some of the streets are like goat tracks – in fact I suspect that’s exactly what they were once. Tiny, narrow little streets between stone buildings. I’m glad I ddn’t bring the Landcruiser!

We are so lucky to be here doing this. Please reimnd me of that next time I complain about something trivial.

There are many things about this Airbnb that make it fun and interesting, and also cause you to wonder how they got building approval. Like doorways that are seriously low.

You don’t need to understand French to know what “Attention à la tête” means.

But I expect building approvals weren’t an accepted practice 500-1000 years ago when these places were built.

Back home to get ready for dinner and coffee.

Steak tonight and I’m cooking, so I’d best be off.

Ciao

#Europe2025

Yesterday I mentioned that we found the breakfast buffet at the Grand Central Hotel in Helsinki to be a bit unusual.

I actually wondered if I had mistakenly taken the wrong door in the back of our wardrobe, and found ourselves in an alternative universe. So today, I was extra careful.

We are leaving for Paris today on a flight departing at 12.15pm, so we had plenty of time for a leisurely breakast. We got downstairs and found a table, which was a whole different experience to yesterday. Yesterday, we couldn’t find table anywhere.

We sat down, and MBW went off in search of food while I minded our stuff. She came back a few minutes later with a glass of green stuff, and a number of things on a plate that I recognised. I was feeling confident.

I went ino the serving area and did a quick scan of the buffet. I saw pickled cranberries, raisin soup, pickles … I kid you not.

Who eats pickled cranberries and raisin soup for breakfast?

I wondered if I had mistakenly found myself on the set of “Candid Camera”?

But there was other stuff there too. Regular stuff like bacon, scrambled eggs, and tomatoes.

And croissants. So all was forgiven 🙂

We had determined that we needed to leave the hotel and be on a train to the airport by 10.00am to allow ouselves plenty of time for the flight, but by shortly after 9.00am we had nothing else remaining for us to do … except eat pickled cranberries, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

So we gave our room a final check over, locked our suitcases, saddled up and checked out of the hotel.

Our room was quite functional in a “restored 1900s building with modern facilities” kind of way.

The train station was downstairs, so we headed out, bought our tickets to the airport and got on the train

Helsinki airport is a pretty bustling little place. We dropped our bags and went through the space-age luggage scanners that don’t require you to take your large electronics out of your bag.

I took the opportunity to remove everything from my pockets, plus my belt … as I had no intention of becoming romantically involved with the security guards again.

Our flight was uneventful. I know that I always say that when I talk about flights, but “uneventful” is alway my preference to “catestrophic engine failure”, or “rapid depressurisation of the cabin resulting in oxygen masks falling from the ceiling”.

The plane was an Embraer 190 which means absolutely nothing to me, except that it had a 2-2 seating configuration.

We landed in Paris about 10 minutes ahead of schedule and because we were on a relatively small plane, it didn’t take long to disembark or get our luggage.

Our next challenge was to collect our vehicle from the people who are supplying us with a new car – Car-2-Europe. We are essentially buying the car tax-free for 39 days and then giving it back.

We were collected from the airport and taken to the car yard where we signed bits of paper, and then watched a nice French gentleman do battle with the car’s menu system in an effort to change everything to English.

So, let me introduce you to Claude la Citroën Argentée. Claude for short.

Claude is a brand new Citroën C4 with 3 (that’s three) kilometres on the clock. He seems to be a hybrid, because the dashoard shows that there is a battery charging, so I’ll have to read the instructions to figure all of that out

So far I’ve managed to adjust the side mirrors and the seat, and I’m pretty pleased with myself.

French drivers are impatient maniacs. That’s the nicest thing I can say. I was desperately trying to stay within the speed limit on the trip from Paris to our Airbnb near Montlevon, and before we had gone 10km, I’d been overtaken with lots of horn honking because I wasn’t going fast enough.

And that’s despite the fact that I am driving a brand new car, on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road, and trying to interpret road signs in a different language, with speed signs that require the driver to have advanced mental telepathy.

if the speed signs exist at all.

And did I mention that many of the pretty little French backroads are barely wide enough for two cars to pass, yet I’m trying to stay on the road while a bus is barrelling towards me?

But it will get better. I know it will.

We are staying at a very pretty little cottage that seems to be in the middle of nowhere, and set in a lavender farm. A really gorgeous setting, although the cottage itself is probably best described as “quaint”. It is probably typical of houses built 100 years or more ago, and are very different to what you would expect in Australia.

We dropped off our bags and ducked out to a little supermarket about 10 minutes away to get some supplies for dinner. We also found a boulangerie, which will be the first place we go in the morning to get some baguettes and croissants.

After that we are on a mission to get some snow chains. Snow chains are a bit like life insurance – you need to carry them, but you hope never to need them.

That will be tomorrow’s adventure.

Ciao

#Europe2025

We have been staying in an apartment in Rovaniemi, called Apartment Laua A6. I don’t fully understand exactly what that means … maybe the apartment block is called “Apartment Laura” … but I can confirm that we were in apartment A6 on the second floor.

It was very comfortable, warm, and well equipped, including a washer and dryer so we were able to get all of our dirty stuff washed and dried. Goodness knows that we would never have got anything dry by hanging it outside – it would be been frozen and it would have snapped in half.

Of note, it also had a sauna in the bathroom wedged between the washer/dryer, and the shower.

The sauna was big enough for 2 people – actually probably 4 people at a squeeze – but only one of us used it. That will be the younger looking and better rested of the two of us.

I’ll say no more about that, though.

The other thing about the apartment was that the bed was one of those memory cushion affars that seems quite hard, but then moulds to your shape. So you sit on the edge of the bed for a while, and there is a big, bum-shaped indentation in the mattress. When you sleep in the bed on – say – your right side, it leaves that indentation in the mattress so that when you roll over to your left side, you feel like you are lying in a hollow that is the wrong shape.

And sometimes – after you have been lying down, you look at the indentation in the matress and think that maybe a meteorite crashed into the bed, and then you remember that you ate too many croissants in Paris. Or had too many helpings of salmon and potato soup.

I’m sure that some people swear by these matresss, but I’m not a fan.

Today we woke to our last day in Rovaniemi. We are catching the VR train down to Helsinki for a few days before flying back to Paris.

We had done the majority of our packing last night, so we only needed to have our abultions, have breakfast, get dressed and call an Uber to take us to the station.

At 6.57am, the temperature was -12 that felt like -18, and the forecast was snow. We had made some decisions on what we would wear on the train today based on how we felt in the warm environment of our apartment (and after a sauna), but the harsh reality of -18 and snow meant that we needed to pull out our thermals.

Again. Pull out our thermals again.

We had breakfast and got dressed, and by the time we were ready to depart, I was sweating up a storm.

Bags downstairs, and MBW rubbed her magic smartphone to summon the Uber genie while I was putting the key back in the lockbox.

You see some funny things here that you don’t see at home. For example, the cars here are typically plugged into power overnight – I assume – so that the engine block doesn’t freeze solid. You also see people with a snowmobile on the back of their car.

Key safely back in the lockbox, and Uber summoned, MBW and I waited in the snow.

“How long until it arrives?” I asked MBW.

“1 minute”

“Did you get any indication of what type of vehicle we are waiting for?” I asked.

“A black Mercedes C class”.

I would have expected no less. We are Aussies, after all.

So our Mercedes turned up, our bags were loaded, and we set off to the station with a driver from Somalia. Seriously, Rovaniemi is a melting pot of all nationailties living in the one place … although “melting pot” is probably not the best way to describe it.

The fare for the Uber was about €5.50 Euro. A taxi would have cost about €20-30, and the bus would have cost €7.20 and taken about 4 times longer than a car trip.

Go figure.

We chose to travel in Ekstra (Extra) class because it just seemed like a better choice. This class is intended to provide a place where you can sit quietly and watch the world go by … and enjoy the complimentary tea, coffee and water.

Free coffee is always a bonus. Not the best coffee I’ve ever had, but not the worst either.

And they are pretty serious about it being a quiet space because they provide a quiet room at the end of the carriage where you can go to make a phone call.

Very thoughtful and obliging people, these Fins. The lady sitting opposite us – who appeared to be working on her laptop – must have gone up there for a conference call. In fact she was there so long I nearly went to check she was not stuck in the room and needed rescuing!

The train is a 2 level carriage, and we are on the top level. Our seats – 69 and 70 – are unfortunately facing backwards so we get to see what what we have already passed, rather than what’s coming … but that’s not the end of the world.

While we waited to depart the station, we took the opportunity to video call all 4 of our FLP – Elias and Isabel, Teddy and Lili.

It was good to see them and talk to them. Our emotional tanks are full 🙂

The trip was uneventful, as you would hope.

Lots of snow. Lots of small townships where there are houses painted all sorts of unusual colours that look really pretty here, but would look a bit strange back in Australia.

As much as I like travelling in trains, you can seriously only look out the window at snow so much, and with a trip that starts at 9.22am and finishes around 5.30pm, you really need a plan B.

MBW has downladed, and been watching episodes of “The Rookie“, while I downloaded an 13 part Netflix true crime thingo called “The Staircase“. I actually quite enjoy the way that Netflix puts these programs together.

But I’m waffling, because I don’t have much of substance to say today. Sorry 🙁

As you would expect, the view out of the train window changed as we went further south, and while there was still snow to be seen, it became less prominent and – in some places – almost non-existent.

We arrived into Helsinki about 5 minutes late … hey, it wouldn’t be a train journey if we didn’t arrive late.

I often think that Australia has a long way to go when it comes to accessibility – making it easy for everyone to get in and out without assistance. But I’ve found that accessibility is almost non-existent in Europe.

I’m sure I’ve spoken previously about the challenges getting suitcases in and out of the subway in Paris.

Even here in Helsinki, I had to manhandle both of our suitcases down a flight of stairs on the VR train, then down another 2 flights of stairs to get out of central station.

I don’t know if there was a ramp or wheelchair option anywhere, but I didn’t see it.

Once we were out of the station, we wheeled our suitcases around the corner to the Grand Central Hotel, a pretty swanky hotel in the city and right above the train station.

And guess what? I had to haul our suitcases up another 2 flights of stairs to get to reception.

We are in room 4079. We took the elevators to L4, then walked down a loooong corridor to get to .. another loooong corridor to eventually find our room. Honestly, I’ll be hitting 10,000 steps a day just getting to and from our room.

We dropped our stuff and went out for a walk to find dinner. MBW has heard of a food market nearby, which turned out to be a supermarket with a selection of hot and cold foods and salads.

Crispy chicken, potato rosti, and a yummy salad with mozzarella, tomatos, grapes, lettuce and cashews.

Then we bought coffee and icecream.

Breakfast is included here, and I’m hoping it will be fancy. Like the hotel.

Tomorrow we have a walking tour then some free time to explore, then Thursday we fly back to Paris.

We’ve both been having some trouble getting used to being on the other side of the road. Cars are left-hand drive so they drive on the right. Down escalators (on the left in Australia) are on the right here, and you need to keep to the right of the footpath.

We keep defaulting to keeping left, because old habits die hard, I guess.

But we are going to have to lift our game pretty soon. In two days we will be back in France and picking up a brand spanking new Citroen C4, and things could get ugly if we start messing up our left from right.

As I’ve said, this is a pretty swanky hotel, so I’ll bet they have a pretty swanky sauna here. I’ll have to go exploring …

Ciao

#Europe2025