Our first impressions of Bordeaux were that it was a bit seedy, but that was because we walked to our hotel from the station through a rather run-down area of town.
The streets were dirty, doors and walls were splattered with grafitti and some potentially pleasant houses stood abandoned and neglected. I could sympathise with the woman I overheard complaining at reception that she felt unsafe walking back after dark.
However, when we managed to find the 'real town' it was a different story. The place was buzzing with tourists - mainly there for the rugby - and had lively cafés and interesting shops. Not that we explored them that much because having discovered the public transport system Bear was content to see the sights from the window of a bus or a tram.
On the way to Toulouse the English couple behind us were going to a rugby match. The husband was obviously a keen supporter whereas his wife was indifferent and in a rather bad mood. He was well organised with a map and I ventured to ask him if he could find the road where our next hotel was. He reckoned it would be about half an hour's walk from the station 'if we were fit' so we opted for a taxi.
This was the only time we were ripped off - 20 euros - nearly double the fare for a longer journey between stations in Paris. (It only cost 12 on the way back at the end of our stay).
The receptionist provided us with a map and we walked the fairly short distance to the main square and sat down at one of the pavement cafés for a cool drink. There was loud cheering from people watching the match on television and service was slow. But what did it matter: this was a holiday.
Bear decided he didn't like the route I had chosen (using the plan). The streets were 'boring' so he found another more convoluted way back.
We hadn't eaten since breakfast and I was really looking forward to a leisurely meal to round off the day. But Bear was suddenly stricken with a bout of S and D.
He spent the early evening shut in the loo and then retired to bed about half past eight. Meanwhile, I was starving. Room service was expensive but I didn't feel I should leave him alone and go to the restaurant so I dialled the number and asked for a 'Plateau Bien-etre' (consisting of prawn salad, fish in sauce and fruit salad) and, what the hell, a glass of Chablis to accompany it.
The next morning he was still off colour but insisted on coming down to breakfast to watch me eat. We wandered gently round town until he fancied a snack about mid-afternoon. The tummy bug had run its course.
One of the highlights of our stay in Toulouse was a boat-trip on a very long barge driven from the back - so I've no idea how the 'captain' could see where he was going. This was the only time we really heard the local accent - cinquante cinq comes out like 'sinkont sink' and the overall effect of the phrasing is quite musical.
The 'driver' navigated the narrow entrance to the lock leading to the Canal du Midi with amazing accuracy - only the slightest bump - and his wife (well past middle age) shinned up a ladder to close the lock gates manually. He explained that several hundred years ago they had planted plane trees beside the canals not realising that the leaves took a good five years to decompose. This results in serious clogging up but each section of canal is only cleaned once every forty-five years. It has been calculated that unless they maintain the canals more efficiently it won't be too many years before they become impassable.
One more lock and we were back on the Garonne. He pointed out the main buildings on each bank and explained about the bridges which have holes through to reduce the pressure when the water level is too high. On one bridge the holes were intended to be decorated to represent roaring lions but they ran out of funds. With a bit of imagination you can see what they intended.
It was in Toulouse that we had a bit of a difference of opinion about meals. We had decided that we'd only indulge in one 'good meal' a day and just have a snack at lunchtime but my dreams of sampling some local specialities were still unfulfilled. Five days into the holiday and we had only had one 'proper' meal - and then Bear had the nerve to say he'd never seen me eat so much.
What!!!??? Maybe it was because I was always so humgry that if I did get near anything remotely edible I would tuck in. Problem was it was more likely to be a prepacked salad or sandwich from a station buffet (taken back to the hotel room) than a nice meal in a cosy restaurant.
On Tuesday we set off for Avignon. By this time I was beginning to count the hours till we were on the way home. But not without some pangs of guilt. Bear couldn't help having dodgy knees or a gippy tummy. However, there was no need for some of his unkind remarks.
He decided he didn't like the summer trousers I was wearing and kept on about how dreadful I looked. Then he picked up on the slightest remark that might have been construed as vaguely pessimistic and accused me of 'always looking on the black side'. I began to feel I dare not say anything at all. It was better to keep quiet than try to second guess his possible reaction to an innocently intended statement.
Fortunately the hotel in Avignon was right next door to the station and also within easy walking distance of the town centre. Unfortunately, the tiny map the receptionist gave us was completely inaccurate and totally useless.
We set out for our first evening's exploration but without discussing where exactly we would go. As usual Bear led and I followed. I suspected he would want to see 'the' bridge but every time we came to a sign saying Palais des Papes (the bridge is next to it) he turned in the opposite direction. Eventually he came to an arch leading out of the town. I could see a repetition of the argument in Bordeaux looming.
My rumbling tummy was making me a bit irritable as I'd eaten nothing since breakfast.
"Where are we going then?"
I think he was trying to make for the bridge but a glance at our surroundings was enough to tell him that it wasn't situated at that particular spot. The ensuing altercation ended with
"If you're so clever you lead the way then."
Fortunately I remembered that there were excellent signs and all I had to do was follow them. Sure enough we came to the Palais des Papes and gladly sat down for a drink. Once again service was painfully slow but we were pleased of a seat.
It was obvious that, even if Bear were interested, he wouldn't be able to cope with the steps on a tour of the palace. If the visit didn't last too long maybe we could try tomorrow. He could sit with a beer or two while I looked round.
We tried to make out the logic of the plan we had been given. The tourist office was closed and the lady at the tabac where we asked for a town map said she had sold out. Even the signs for the bridge were a bit ambiguous but we did get there eventually.
It was finding the back that was the problem. Somehow or other we got lost in a labyrinth of narrow streets. It was fascinating wandering round at first but became extremely worrying when Bear's knees began to play up. After what seemed like hours we found 'civilisation' and limped back to the hotel.
Back in our room I freshened up and changed out of the offending trousers looking forward to trying the restaurant. Bear crashed out on the bed. He snored for a good half an hour and when he woke I got the distinct impression that our dinner date was off. He didn't want anything at all. There was no room service. I found half a packet of chocolate biscuits and scoffed those.
However, the last day of the holiday was probably the best. No Popes' Palace: the visit would take a good hour and a half; but we looked round the church nearby and then took a tour on the little train going through the town. Surprisingly it took in some of the same route that we had walked the previous day and needed some very skilful driving to avoid colliding with walls or pedestrians.
Then, for the final evening we had a real dinner -a mixture of fish in sauce and a selection of cheeses.
The train to Paris wasn't till 12.33 on the last day but we just killed time in the hotel until 11 and then waited around at the station.
We arrived home at 7.30 that evening. Jay and CC had prepared a simple but delicious meal but Bear didn't want anything. He took himself off to bed.
All back to normal then.
Incidently, when it says above that this post is "by Sablonneuse" it is not true. If the post carries my tag (see left) it means that the posting and content is by me alone and Sandy isn't responsible for any views or opinions expressed here.
