The end of Switzerland
Based on the feedback from so many of you, you will be pleasantly surprised to find out that our last day with Switzerland was wooonderful. We walked from the waiting room in the Bern train station after finishing up our last blog to wait in front of Mc Donald’s for our Swiss friend Simon. We were met instead by his charming girlfriend Pierina until he could get there to usher us into his tiny yellow euro-car. We squished ourselves in between a giant boombox, his floorball training equipment, and our embarrassingly large suitcases and cruised off to his favorite bar, “Desperado.” When we pulled into the obviously Mexican-themed bar, we forgot for a moment where we were, and thought for sure it could not be Switzerland. His little brother Alan showed up and Simon bought us a round of “Tequeiros” which were like Corona’s with sugar and tequila in them. It was certainly not what we expected, but wonderful all the same. Before turning in for the night, Simon took us to a cool bar for some local beers on the river that runs through Solothurn. He and Pierina laid out a magnificent breakfast spread the next morning followed by homemade (and fantastic) Rösti . We ate better than we had since crossing the border into Switzerland. The four of us crammed back into the yellow euro-car headed for the train station and said goodbye with hopes our new friends coming to visit the good ole US of A so we can return the hospitality.
Alan, Simon, and Pierina |
Marseille and other Adventures
So, every long trip needs an unexpected adventure that is funny 5 years later, but horrible when it happens. We started off with a plan to take the train from Marseille to Avignon on Monday morning, spend half the day there, and then take the 20 minute train to spend the afternoon in Arles before heading back to Marseille on the evening train. We should have been able to spot the foreboding on that first train ride when we somehow happened to get on the one local train of the day that had double the stops and took twice as long as all the other trains. Not us, we’re Cloustons. We thought, “okay so rough start, that just means the rest of the day will be awesome.” Avignon was awesome.
Avignon
We walked out of the train station to see a city on front of us whose borders were 30ft (ish) stone walls with touring gates leading us in. We could see the remnants of what must have been a moat at one time surrounding the whole city, although it is no longer filled with water. We walked along the Rue de le Republique stopping for fresh bread, French biscuits, and French candy on our way to see the Palace of the Popes. What a site. In 1305 the papacy moved to France to avoid local wars in Italy. Apparently it stayed there for almost the entire 14th century and was home to 6 popes before the papacy moved back to Rome in 1377. This “palace” is a small city and was a wonder to see sitting so high looking over the Rhône. We were as overheated as we were awestruck, it had to have been over 100 degrees as we hiked up the gazillion steps to the top. We got some water, checked out the famous bridge and made our way back to the train station to make it to Arles by early evening. We were exhausted from the sun and from walking and were thrilled to have a few minutes to rest in the air-conditioned train car. We began to chat about how long the ride would be and what we would do in Arles when a woman approached and asked if we spoke English. We said “yes,” and were sort of exasperated when we realized that she did not speak English herself, and was joined by 3 other women who began pleading in French for money to feed their babies. We were really uncomfortable and not sure what to do when they immediately filled in all of the empty seats around us, shifted so each of them was looking at us, and continued to insist that we are American and so we must have money to give them. Luckily Mollie was clever enough to play the “I only speak English” card until the train police came and booted them off of the train for having no tickets. While one always feels for those who are in need, in this situation we did not feel empathy, we felt bullied. It was obvious how uncomfortable we were, and just as obvious how okay they were making us feel that way. This whole situation was really different for us because we are not used to that sort of persistence. This experience only represented 15 minutes in our already long day, so we decided to just look forward to what might be in Arles.
Palace of the Popes Avignon |
The Palace of the Popes in Avignon |
The famous bridge in Avignon |
Arles
The main attraction in Arles is an Amphitheater built by the Romans and still used today for bullfights and concerts. The original structure, made of wood, was built around 1AD. That means 2000 years ago other humans were walking in the same place. So cool. Thumbs up Arles, thumbs up. After walking around the amphitheater we stopped at a café for a cold drink and a dinner recommendation. We ate in a tiny but picturesque alleyway at a little French restaurant called Le Criquet . It was another beautiful and delicious meal by those reliable French chefs. The best and the worst part of eating dinner in France is that you are eating dinner in France. By this we mean that the food is always wonderful, and wine and desert are compulsory, but also that a “quick” dinner is impossible (and if possible would be blasphemous). We weren’t really looking for quick, we sat down at 6:45 pm and had to catch a 10:19 pm train, with the station maybe 10 minutes away. We had a three hour window – which we missed. We finished our last bite of desert at 8:30, last glass of wine at 8:45 and finally asked for the check at 9. We got the check at 10, delivered with a smile so genuine that it made us regret our annoyance, and decide running would be worth it for such a nice meal. This worked out great until it got dark and we ran in the wrong direction. When we realized we lost when the train sounds got more distant instead of closer. We got panicked when we realized we were off the map we had with us, and on dark back roads of a strange town in a foreign Francophone country. This, Mollie asserted, was just the sort of situation that everyone who cares about you warns you to avoid at all costs while you are out exploring the world. Oops. We realized we needed to shove the panic back down where it was coming from and make a plan. Once we decided to back track to re-enter map territory, we didn’t have too much trouble getting to the train station. Only problem was, it was 10:40 and the last train was gone. All of our belongings were in our cozy (and already paid for) hotel room back in Marseille (about 90 miles southeast of Arles) and were stuck in the Arles train station, with the next possible train leaving at 6:06 am, and no one to call for help. Before our marathon meal, we were in Arles for approximately 30 minutes and had no idea where to even find a hotel. Our options at that point were 1) sleep in the train station, 2) pay 400 € for a taxi back to Marseille, or 3) pay for a second hotel in Arles for the night and take that 6:06 am train out. The outlook was not sunny. We decided the safest and smartest thing to do would be to pay for a second hotel room. A wonderful woman who was working the night shift at the SNCF train station spoke decent English and saved our American behinds. She called and priced hotels, made us a reservation at a place that you could see from outside the train station, and made sure we knew where we were going. Wherever you are THANK YOU. We got to the hotel and it was all locked up and all the lights were off. Apparently hotels close in Arles, France. We pushed a button and a guy came down to let us in and the nightmare was over. We ran upstairs to Skype our Mama knowing that just her voice would make everything better. It did J We got a few hours sleep there, got back to Marseille into our comfy newly- made bed around 8 am, and sacked out until 11:30. Talking about it the next day we were cracking up thinking about our very different ways of coping with the situation. During our frantic wandering I had decided that I was the older sister and needed to figure it out so I wasn’t really as scared as I should have been because I was so busy concentrating on possible solutions. Mollie on the other hand, was outwardly collected, but was inwardly freaking out, more scared than she now thinks was necessary. Fear or exhaustion, we are not sure, but I walked away for one minute at she had called a cabbie to pick her up from the train station. After I reminded her that it would cost about 750 US dollars for that cab ride, we found a security guard to call and cancel the order. This guy was super nice and after that phone call realized we needed some serious assistance and brought us to his English speaking colleague who saved the day. After checkout the next day, we figured out the earliest feasible time we could leave Marseille and get to Nice and the beautiful ocean.
The Roman Amphitheatre in Arles France |
An inside view of the Amphitheatre |
The beautiful appetizer at Le Criquet in Arles |
Nice, France
Our trip has been amazing, but definitely trying at times, stretching us in ways we haven’t been stretched before. In Nice, everything got easier. We had been so exhausted from the last 2 days, that we hadn’t booked a place to stay in Nice. We went straight to the Tourist Information Center, which was conveniently located attached to the train station, and the staff person we spoke to asked our preferences and booked our hotel for us. We were thrilled when the hotel was a 10 minute walk from the train station and the beach was less than 5 minutes further down the road. We ate dinner just feet from the shore overlooking the French Riviera. We slept for about 11 hours to make up for what we are now referring to as the “Arles Atrocity,” grabbed coffee to go, and spent the day basking in the sun and swimming in the ocean. Heaven on earth. We have been so much fun, seeing a million sites, trying to embrace every new experience, and today was the first day we were able to just relax, breathe deep, and enjoy.
After an absolutely flawless day, we have been reliving the last few adventures in writing them down here. Luckily, they have started to lose their bitterness and become slightly humorous in the retelling. We have 20 minutes left on our 4 hour train ride to Milan, Italy, and we cannot wait to see what Italy has in store for us.
The Beach in Nice |
A sign in the train station in Ventimiglia Italy... Let us know if you can figure out what you are supposed to do based on this translation. |