Côte d'Azur, 2011 | |
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My friend Brian started off 2011 by moving to a different country. Not just any country, but a beloved monarchy, one whose citizens are so smitten with their royal family, they are awarded two public holidays any time a prince goes off and gets married. And since Prince William so propitiously chose to get married the weekend after Easter this year (which itself comes with two public holidays), the fortunate Brits could take three days off work and end up with a ten day vacation. It is during this time that Brian invited me to visit his London flat, and I gladly accepted. Soon after I arrived, we did what any sane local would do to avoid the wedding ceremony crowds: we fled London and left the city to the tourists. Our destination: the Côte d'Azur, a.k.a. the French Riviera.
MarseilleOur flight to Marseille was out of London Gatwick at 06:30, which meant we had to leave the flat at an ungodly hour, some time between way too late and way too early, when only London's taxis and 24 hour buses were stirring. At the airport, going through security was a breeze and the security personnel were incredibly polite, something American travelers are not accustomed to. Courtesy and respect are actually pleasantly common among both public and private British servants. At the boarding gate, an airline representative even made the apologetic announcement that sadly only one of the jetway doors were open, and that we should “please bear that in mind.” Bearing that in mind, somehow we managed to overcome this inconvenience and get seated on the plane. British Airways even served us breakfast and the 1h40m flying time went by quickly, especially considering we traversed all of France over a croissant and coffee. At Marseille International we discovered that having a non-EU passport was actually an advantage as most travelers were EU residents and the line for “other” at passport control/customs was nonexistent. | |
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By 10:00 local time we were at the car rental office. I had shrewdly reserved a tiny Ford Fiesta diesel that magically gets a whopping 65m.p.g., putting hybrids in America to shame. But that's not the car Hertz actually gave us. Having run out of Fiestas (they knew how to take my reservation just not how to keep it), they “upgraded” us to the Cadillac-equivalent of Europe: the full size Opel Insignia 6-speed manual diesel. Hertz did us no favor — they signed our death sentence. Sure, the car was comfortable, and, at 48 m.p.g. on the highway, super efficient for its class, but its class had no place in France. The car was just not designed for the narrow roads, toy-size parking spaces, and crannied garage entrances of France. Were it not for the vehicle's parking assist feature, we would have scraped, dinged, and dented it beyond all recognition. The city of Marseille is a short drive from the airport and our first order of business upon arrival was to park our monstrosity and get ourselves something to eat. My severely jetlagged stomach was still at an undetermined time zone. Reaching the Vieux Port, we followed the signs to the big blue P and many terrifyingly high pitched beeps from the park-assist later, we were safely parked underground. Armed with Rick Steve's guide on Provence and the South of France, we followed his recommended self-guided walk of the Old Port, heading to the Marseille Cathedral and were treated to some good views of the Old Port. 
Along the narrow streets and alleys of this poor neighborhood of Marseille, we saw a kaleidoscope of laundry hanging out of window panes. The residents in these parts seemed no strangers to theft as scooters and motorbikes were locked with the thickest and heaviest chains I'd seen. 
Rick (as we often referred to the guidebook) recommended any number of restaurants along the Quai du Port street at the Vieux Port, and, guided solely by scent, we settled on Chez Madie. While we were waiting for our lunch to come out we witnessed an all too common and disturbing parallel parking scene. Just as one car vacated a spot on the opposite side of the street, a station wagon immediately tried to seize it but could barely fit with maybe an inch to spare on both sides. Rather than give up (I would have said: “there's just no way”), the driver guided his oversize car in, and with a long series of bumps to the car ahead and the car behind finally reached an equilibrium and got out to have lunch too. This little scene convinced me that parallel parking of the Opel was out of the question and any parking was to be done underground. |
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After lunch we left the convenience of exploring on foot and drove up to see the Notre Dame de la Garde. Signs to the Notre Dame were scarce, but it was a simple problem of gradient ascent as the church is very simply the highest point in Marseille. The only real problem was coping with the narrow streets, hairpin turns, and not stalling the diesel engine in the process. Rick Steves has one word to say about the view: Bam! And he is so right. At the top, one gets an unobstructed 360 view of all of Marseille. One could easily spend a whole day here just gazing and admiring. I wanted to capture it all and the best approximation I could achieve was the set of panoramas below. Feel free to mouse over the panoramas, and see if you can find Waldo.
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On top of the Notre Dame you had to use coin-operated binoculars to get a closer look; I give you the effect for free. 
Yes, one could spend a whole day up here gazing at the beautiful city below, but we didn't have all day. There was still Arles, Nîmes, and the Pont Du Gard before we were to check into our hotel in Avignon. So, back down the hill we went and took the A7 towards Arles. When we approached Arles an hour and a half later, however, we missed the exit to go into town. Since at this point it was already mid-afternoon, we just kept going. Nîmes | |
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Nîmes was easy enough to get to — follow the signs to the centre of town and lock in on the familiar blue P markings to garage parking underneath the arena. Getting out would turn out to be a nightmare, however. The main (and pretty much only) attraction in Nîmes is the arena, a Roman amphitheatre built in the first century that was converted to a bullring in 1863. Today, it's just a museum, and we weren't sure it was worth the €10 to see it from the inside. We were so dehydrated, we decided we'd first look for bottled water and flip a two-euro coin later to make up our minds. The coin determined we should skip it, which we happily agreed to as we were on a tight schedule. Rick recommended the scenic road to Uzès as a way of getting to the Pont du Gard, and being suckers for a scenic roads, we went for it. The trouble is, finding the darned road is close to impossible. Invariably every sign for Uzès led us down the wrong path, and we spent at least an hour and a half backtracking and going around in circles. What made matters worse was that making a U-turn in France is practically impossible because of the numerous one-way streets and roundabouts. At one point we thought we had it (at least we felt we were going in the right direction), but then the two-way road got narrower and narrower and started to resemble a one way alley. There was certainly nothing scenic about it — just stone walls on both sides. My hesitation and uncertainty behind the wheel was starting to get on the nerves of the two drivers behind us, and at a stop sign they raced past us only to find a truck heading straight towards them. With no where to go, they reversed back behind us to let the truck pass. I wish we had captured that scene on video. Instead, Brian took the video below on his phone to show you what this road was like. Near the end of the video, you can see the approaching car having to back up to let us through. Miraculously unscathed, we eventually found the elusive D979 to Uzès and were on our way to the aqueduct. Pont du Gard |
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The one good thing that came out of our meandering in Nimes was that we made it to the aqueduct past 17:00, when the €15 parking fee is waived and the parking lot is nearly empty. Many families come out here for a picnic and spend the whole day relaxing / swimming in the river, and it's easy to see why. At the end of April it was still too cold for swimming but one could still sit and marvel at the ever changing color of the arch stones bathed in late afternoon sunlight. The Pont du Gard is awe-inspiring. To think the Romans constructed this massive structure two thousand years ago is mind boggling. Add to this the fact the aqueduct slopes at just one inch for every 200 feet, and you start to have a lot of respect for the Romans' engineering skills. 
Brian noted that this was definitely a place he would come back to, and I shared his sentiment. However, with the sun almost down, it was time to leave and try to find our hotel in Avignon, probably another half an hour away. Keep in mind that everything I described on this page happened in a single day — an epic day that began at 3 a.m.
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Part 2 » (Avignon & Cassis) | |
