Lost in Southern France (Segment Two)

France, Day 4: This day was pretty low key. We bummed around town and eventually made our way into Toulon, a pretty big port city about 30 minutes to the west. We did find a Christmas market, though, with booths filled with assorted merchandise and food. We had our first crepe experience, and that was lovely. I think my favorite part was the fake snow covered pine trees that tried to distract from the surrounding palm trees. Very clever. Other than that we walked along the dock in the harbor, found a shopping mall, which included the largest grocery store I’ve every seen, and visited the creepiest photography museum one could imagine. It seemed to specialize in bloody teeth and fingernail art. Weird. You never know what you’ll find in France.

France, Day 5: Definitely the most eventful day of the trip and one of the longest days of my life; this was good and bad. We woke up at 5:45 so we could catch the first of a line of trains to take us to Chataeuneuf du Pape: renowned wine country in France. We caught the first one just fine, but our next was delayed, which caused us to miss a connection. We finally got to the city of Orange (a springboard into the Chateauneuf region) but a few hours later than we had hoped. But that was okay. This was an adventure. We saw a huge Roman amphitheater from circa 50 A.D., and that was quite cool. From there we had hoped to cycle around the vineyards and hit up a number of wineries (or “domaines” as they’re called in France). Unfortunately it was incredibly windy, so bikes would be no good, but the lady at the tourist info. office assured us there were some great domaines within walking distance. So we headed along the D68 out of town and into the vineyards! After maybe 45 minutes of walking in the crazy wind (in dress clothes, mind you – we wanted to be classy for our winery day) we finally passed the first domaine. Mandy was elated. Aaron wasn’t ready to stop, though. The highest goal for him was to taste wine at Mount Redon, a domaine producing some of the choicest wines in the world. Mandy was a little annoyed, but they continued on. After passing a number of perfectly good domaines and walking up a good-sized hill (there’s a reason it’s called Mount Redon) in quasi-gale-force wind for nearly two hours, we had reached the pinnacle. The winery and tasting were amazing, and even Mandy, with her limited knowledge of wine was very impressed. We were also able to purchase a couple bottles at phenomenally inexpensive prices. So that was very cool. After this, we trekked back into the town of Orange just as we lost daylight and caught the first of our trains back. It had been a bit stressful, but we had made it. Or had we? The first two connections went perfectly. The third didn’t. Our train was nowhere to be found – something about a transportation strike. We could catch a later train, but that would put us in Toulon (where we had visited yesterday) after the buses had stopped running to Heyeres, where we had a nice comfortable hotel room that was already paid for. So after we struggled to make it to Chateauneuf, walked for kilometers and kilometers in the cold wind, and had nothing to eat all day except half a baguette with peanut butter and some grapes we stole off a vine, we found ourselves stranded in Toulon, which for all its niceties during the day, is a little bit seedy at night. (Are you feeling sorry for us yet?) We walked around for about two hours past the prostitutes and sex shops before finally finding a hotel we could afford – you know the kind with the vertical neon sign where one of the letters is blinking out. The front desk actually looked promising, but we started to get nervous when the attendant made us look at the room before agreeing to pay for it. So we did: the building was quite old and the hallways were pretty dark and smelled like urine. We saw a glimpse of a fellow tenant, who basically looked like a homeless guy who scraped up enough money to stay there for a couple nights and was trying to tell us something albeit incoherently. The room had a dingy neon light and a stained bedspread and holey blanket, but thankfully it was odor free, and the sheets looked clean. The bathroom even had a “Touch of Charm” complimentary soap bar. Classy. Luckily we were only there for a few hours before catching the first bus back to Hyeres in the morning. What a day! Southern France proved to be beautiful as well as…memorable.

Pictures are same from Segment One

Lost in Southern France (Segment One)

From December 7th to January 7th Westfield House had a break between terms. During this break period we decided to travel around Western Europe and "see the world" as you will. For our first trip we traveled down to southern France to stay in the old city of Hyeres (pronounced yeh-reh), which is just a mile or so inland from the Mediterranean Sea. We found a nice cheap hotel online which was perfect for our budget, and it was one of the nicest places we stayed during our month break. As we landed we had a tough time because there was 1 bus that left every 4 hours for the city and we had no idea where it was. Signs didn't help much because...well...neither of us know any French. Why we decided to vacation and relax in a country where we didn't know the language is a mystery to me, but luckily Mandy learned a few phrases before our trip. Mandy became the brave French speaker for the trip and successfully found us the bus and the way to our hotel.

France, Day 1: As Hyeres is basically built up a hillside, we had to climb up some little streets to find our hotel and drop off our baggage before heading back down into the city to start some exploring. As Hyeres was founded as a medieval village, the older part of the town consists of very very tiny little narrow streets that tend to look more like alleyways. There were some intriguing little markets along some of these alleyways on Saturday night, and the city was pretty lively. There were shops with fresh fruit, vegetables, and plenty of Mediterranean olive oil, pottery, and wooden crafty things. As France was starting to swing into the Christmas spirit, all the streets were lit up and twinkling too, which made for a very pretty effect. We tried going out to eat, which turned out to be a bit awkward as in all her diligent studies, Mandy forgot to look up phrases for some silly little side activities, like...eating for instance. Luckily Starbucks sells Croque Monsieur (ham and cheese) paninis, so she figured the Croque Monsieur sandwiches had to be somewhat safe. They were. You can't go wrong with cheese.

France, Day 2: The highlights for this day probably consisted of our walk to the botanical gardens and our trek around old, Medieval Hyeres. Hyeres is sometimes called the city of palm trees as its pretty much covered in them. Every street is lined with them, and the botanical garden had its share, too. It also had a number of other tropical plants, which we couldn’t believe we were walking amongst in DECEMBER. After poking around there we headed back up the hill to follow a walking tour suggested by a tourist pamphlet. We felt kind of geeky, but it was pretty sweet. We followed these old crazy zig-zag roads that the houses stacked on either side just barely let through. The buildings were pale yellow or pink with flowers tumbling down the sides and laundry hanging out the windows and an occasional moped propped up by a door, taking up half of the street. It felt kind of movie-like. As we came to the top of the hill, the houses gave way to some little squares with quaint old, old churches (1300’s or so) and then to Roman ruins at the very top. You could climb around them and from the very top we got a great view of the surrounding hills to the north and the city and sea to the south. Dinner that night was some pizza at a cheap little pizza place with a couple young French hooligans, an old man, and us squeezed into the little dining area. Little did we know how intimate we would become with that little old man. Forty-five minutes later we finally ended our conversation with him and said our good-byes. We spoke no French, and he spoke absolutely no English, but he could gesture with the best of them. It’s amazing how some flailing hands and carefully-chosen sound effects will tell a life-story. I’m pretty sure I have enough info. to write a decent biography of our French friend.

France, Day 3: Island day. We woke up early to catch a bus and ferry to the Isles d’Or, or Islands of gold. We didn’t find any, but whatever. We hit up the main island, Porquerolles, which is the largest and most popular. We apparently missed the treasures of the other two, like the military base and the nudist colony. Maybe next time. Anyway, we started following a path and eventually made our way all the way across the island to the lighthouse and steep cliffs that dropped down into the sea. The bad news is that it was a bit chilly and windy; the good news is that it was actually quite windy, which made for some excellent views of the waves crashing against the rocks below us. We took maybe 1,000,604 pictures as we made our way along the trail that ran along the cliff ledge, and then finally turned back inland to find our other destination: Domain de la Courtade, one of the island’s wineries that promised free degustation (tasting). We managed to stumble upon it, but they were closed for the French version of an afternoon siesta, so we found a beach, ate our peanut butter sandwiches, and came back. Mandy was a bit freaked out to ask for a tour with her limited French, but the owner came out to meet us and was very obliging after we at least made an effort to use French. He told us the only visitors he ever got in the winter were tourists from Michigan, so apparently he wasn’t too busy. He took us into his facilities, showed us around, gave us samples straight from the huge holding tanks, and talked to us for about an hour! We bought a couple bottles of wine, and he threw in some olive oil that he bottled as well. If you ever see a bottle of wine with a de la Courtade label, buy it. This guy was a gem!

Photos of Southern France Here! ( I suggest the Slide Show view)

Who remembers November?

It's no longer November, nor December, nor January...sigh. Well, I think we officially are the worst updaters of a blog ever. But don't lose hope. News from our travels will be posted very soon (not an empty promise) and you will get to see lots of fun pictures too (probably too many in S. France, but bear with 'em, they're pretty nice.) So wait patiently for a few more days and you will be rewarded with news from abroad. If you read this without getting an e-mail about it, you are really dedicated to the blog, and we salute you!