"THIS is very FRENCH..."

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....or Jim and The Three Bears

August 22, 2006



Simone is working all week, so I'm off to explore more of France (and give her a bit of a break from house guests). On to…the Pyrenees. After Internet searches and guide book perusing, I settled on Pau as a base station to explore the mountains. I found a hotel (the Inter-Hotel de Gramont) that had been well received by reviewers and was only $60 Euros (about $80 US/night), which if the hotel is decent is a great deal in France (especially in the high-season).

While I didn’t recount the earlier tale of our first night at a hotel in Avignon, suffice it to say that I am learning my fair share about traveling in France via the school of hard knocks. Also, if you are ever in Avignon don’t stay at the Hotel Vert unless you are on a strict budget (or your tastes run toward rooms with primarily pink décor, dirty floors, failing air conditioning units, showers with no curtain, the smell of insect repellant, and poor parking conditions).

So, by now point I've realized that the way to determine the real value hotels in France is to inspect the rooms. While, I suspect you're pretty safe if you’re willing to spend upwards of $150 US/night -- I wasn’t. For anything less I don’t think you can trust the Internet or the person you speak with at the hotel.

By the time I got up, got packed, and worked my way across the countryside to Pau it was edging toward 6:00p. The instructions to get to the hotel were simple. Follow the signs to Centre Ville (the center of town), then those to Hotel de Ville, and the hotel is just on the right past the town hall. If you have driven in France you know that finding Centre Ville in any town is as simple as following the ubiquitous signposts and luckily the same was true of the Hotel de Ville signs, but that's where 'simple' ended. I wandered around for about 45 minutes and while every street corner was happy to point me in the general direction (which began as convenient, but quickly progressed to mocking), try as I might, I never actually found the place. The hotel was much like Platform 9 3/4 on the way to Hogwarts. Presumably if you know where the n-dimensional portal leading to the hotel is, it's simple to find.

Now, at this point it's worth mentioning a previously overlooked fact. On my way out from Simone’s I had borrowed the equivalent of about ½ gal of water and had consumed the better part of it on the trip over. Now in the US, this would be of little concern as you would just stop at the first business establishment in town and, well, take care of business. But in France, things are a little different. Toilets, of any sort, are at a premium and clean toilets are something of a novelty.

So, at this point my bladder, and I’d like to think my good sense, were demanding a backup plan. I parked the car and began to wander the city thinking that my situation would improve on foot. In short order I came upon the Best Western Hotel Continental.

Since a Best Western seemed like familiar territory and I really needed some relief I decided to give it a try. The price of a standard (read ‘without air conditioning’) was $60 Euros/night, this was looking promising. Given the coolness of the evenings a lack of a/c is definitely not a deal-breaker. The experience gained from our Vert Hotel debacle led me to ask the desk clerk if I could get a look at the room before I committed. This served two purposes. First, it gave me the chance to decline if I didn’t like the accommodations. But to someone about to spring a leak it provided a second, more important, benefit. Since they usually just give you the key and allow you to show yourself the room, it meant an unoccupied, private, and hopefully clean restroom. As an aside, it occurred to me that this is a ploy you could use if you ever find yourself in desperate need of a facility in France (and if you are ever in France, you will at some point, be in desperate need of a facility). Also, it's worth noting that I mentioned a 'key' and not just for the novelty.

So, up I went to the 5th floor. The lifts (elevators) are interminably slow in these old buildings and by the time I got to the room I could barely turn the key fast enough. As the door opened I was struck by three surprises. First, I was pleasantly surprised that the room seemed nicely appointed. Second, I was surprised to see someone else’s laptop bag, notepad, suitcase, and clothes. Third, I was surprised that, in their apparent absence and my state of desperation, I was seriously considering using their restroom. I guess my good upbringing (and possibly some concern over enacting a French adaptation of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” wherein I would play Goldilocks) made me lock up the room and return to the front desk.

On the way back, the lift was taking so long that I decided to take the stairs. As you can imagine the bouncing did not help my situation. After profuse apologies from the desk clerk, some comments about the disconnect between her two reservation systems (computer and scrolls of vellum), and her assurance that this NEVER happens, she gave me another key to a room on the 4th floor.

By this time I was about to pass out. I grabbed the key and bounded up the four flights of stairs. I'm sure that by the time I returned the desk clerk was speculating on why an American would take so long to inspect a hotel room. In the end the room was spacious and clean, so I told her I would take it. She was happy to oblige and after recording the booking she asked me to follow her so she could explain the parking situation (which had a somewhat ominous tone).

She led me out the front of the hotel and asked where my car was. I told her it was a few blocks down the road. She indicating that I should drive my car up the road toward where we were standing, then make at right at the intersection, and park in the garage under the Best Western sign across the street.

Now, given those instructions, and no other info, it all seems very straightforward. Right? Remember though, this whole endeavor started on the road to another hotel with equally “obvious” directions. But I’ve learned that what’s obvious for the French is not always obvious to me. What was obvious to me was the fact that the road the desk clerk was instructing me to go down was a one-way road. Again, not a problem, if it was one-way in the direction I was to go. It was not.

So, I looked at her quizzically, hoping that maybe I had misunderstood (she spoke English but with a bit of French thrown in). Her response to my concern was “Yes, it is illegal, but it’s the only way.”

Now I’m not pretending that I’ve never gone the wrong way down a one-way street before. But when I have it was in the US and either unintentional or the street was clearly empty. But in this case I was in France (a very different driving environment deserving of it’s own blog entry), it was clearly intentional, and the street was full of cars.

So, as my look turned to one of disbelief her revised response was “THIS is very FRENCH” with an accompanying, and exaggerated, rolling of the eyes. At least she appreciated the ridiculousness of the situation, even if she could do nothing about it. She then sagely suggested that I wait at the intersection until the street I would be illegally driving the wrong way on cleared of traffic. I thought to myself, lucky for me the French are different from every other nationality in that they love nothing more than sitting behind someone at an intersection while that someone holds up traffic indefinitely for no conceivable reason. It’s little known that under such circumstances, rather than becoming frustrated, beeping their horns, screaming expletives, ‘lovingly’ nudging your car, or flying into road rage, they just use this time to make croissants. This should be interesting.

As I walked away the desk clerk dropped the other shoe. “If all the spaces are full, just park in the back of the garage , then let me know when you come back, and give me your keys so we can move your car if people need to get out." Did I mention that another thing the French love, unlike everyone else, is packing up all their belongings from their hotel room, checking out, crossing a well-trafficked street, and making their way into a gated underground parking garage only to find their egress blocked by another car. .

Well, in the sometimes it's better to be lucky than smart category, I drove up the street, into the intersection, made my turn, and sped into the garage without incident. There was the small matter of an oncoming bus, but it was a good 15 meters away and at this point I wouldn't want want to quibble over technicalities. I’m just going to chalk up my safety to being watched over by 'travel fairies' and leave it at that.

While parking was a bit of a trick I figured if the guy in the Mercedes, that was 40%!l(MISSING)arger than my Peugeot, could do it -- so could I. After a bit, I was parked without a scratch and got my rollerboard, my backpack, and myself to the front desk. The desk clerk entrusted me with a third room key. I was a little suspect as it was the room one up the hall from the one I had inspected, but I was trying to go with the flow (you really have to learn to do that here). When I got back up to the 4th floor I found the door to my new room was actually a double door and I began to think that the travel fairies were smiling down on me again as this was clearly the entrance into a luxury suite. Air conditioning here I come (hey, it’s not necessary but it’s still a nice perk). Well, I guess the travel fairies weren’t feeling that gracious (to be fair I should probably be building up karma for when I really need it). While I did find a luxury suite behind Door Number 3 it, once again, contained other peoples' belongings. And, once again, there were no occupants in the room, so I locked up for my unseen neighbors and headed back downstairs, luggage in tow.

The desk clerk made a comment about “being on vacation”, which I took to be French for not paying attention. I guess she realized that the “this never happens” line was probably no longer appropriate. In any case, I am finally checked in and the room is fine. It’s strange using an actual key in a hotel and now I know why it’s probably a good idea that we use computer coded cards instead. People with computers may make mistakes, but people without them apparently make more.

Well, I’m finally heading out to explore downtown Pau for a couple of hours. If the desk clerk doesn't get back from "being on vacation", when I return from my stroll I may get to be Baby Bear, instead of Goldilocks.

“Look, look!!! Somebody's been lying on my bed and they're still there, fast asleep.'”

I guess whether or not that’s a good thing is up to the travel fairies.

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Comments

[Mom]

"THIS is very FUNNY..."
You should have warned us how VERY funny it was. I was reading it at work and trying to answer the phones while cracking up. Good job!

[Sharon]

Hahahahaha
This is HILARIOUS...how "French!" I love the "inspect the room to use the bathroom" trick...will have to remember that one! :-)

[Ania]

tres amusant!
Jim, this is a great journal entry. I couldn't stop laughing as I was picturing you with your strong "motivation" to find the room, the French hotel clerc rolling her eyes, the desperate trips up and down the stairs...You really have a comical streak in your writing. I enjoyed it! Thanks.