Blog post 1

I’ve decided to do a blog of my month in Saumur, France, rather than a long series of Facebook posts. In that way, I can include my thoughts as well as tons of photos. I’ll try to give each section a heading. That way, one does not have to read every word. Although it has taken a bit to get reliable internet, then to find time to download my photos. 

Departure

I flew French Bee, a French discount airline recommended by my friend Isaiah. Without realizing it, I booked myself into their version of first class. When booking, they asked me if I wanted meals, I said yes. They asked me if I wanted wine, I said yes. They asked me if I wanted to choose my seat, I said yes. They recommended their Premsmart class, $719 round trip from Newark to Paris – a steal! Imagine my surprise when I found that I was in the first boarding group and was offered champagne! I just had to get myself from Indianapolis to Newark. I first chose Spirit. That was cool until they changed my destination from Newark to Ft. Lauderdale. Same thing, right? I ended up taking United. Not usually a fan, but they were prompt and efficient.

The French Bee flight was absolutely one of the best I have ever taken (short of when Michael Edelstein gave me first class on Delta). The takeoff was a smooth as soft butter. (Probably because we took off at 11:00PM.) The flight was only five and a half hours. My seat companion was a lovely French lady (Rajae). We had a good conversation before settling in. On most transatlantic flights, I don’t sleep all that well and wake up tired. (It couldn’t be my age, could it?) But I actually slept on this flight, for about three hours. I guess I can now say that I have slept with a French woman. Okay, it was on an airplane and we both actually slept. Nonetheless, we have kept in touch. Meals were served with actual metal silverware. Wine and champagne were served in actual glass glasses. The food was as good as airline food gets. The service was impeccable – not too much, just enough, without you feeling that you were just a step in a process. Touchdown didn’t seem like a controlled crash. (Atterrisage in French – literally, returning to the ground.) People were actually polite to one another while disembarking. I saw no one rush to the front as if they were entitled even though they were in the most economy seat possible. I think it was because they had been treated well before and during the flight. Maybe I am painting too rosy a picture. 

We landed at Orly airport rather than Charles de Gaulle. CDG is massive. It takes forever to get from your arrival gate to passport control. Then the wait for passport control can take one to two hours. I must say that CDG staff has always been kind and courteous to me and my group and very helpful when we needed it the most. But CDG is an hour’s drive just to the ring road around Paris (le Périfique). And that’s a nightmare. Orly, on the other hand is quite calm. It was five minutes to passport control and only 15 minutes in line. Staff was kind and helpful. The agent in the booth noticed all the stamped visas in my passport, smiled and said I was obviously a veteran France visitor before waving me on. Baggage claim was swift and efficient. I will only fly French Bee in the future. I took an official cab from Orly to the Gare Montparnasse train station. The driver was friendly, but not awkwardly over friendly. He complimented me on my French. The fare was displayed in the corner of his rearview mirror, minimum 36 Euros (although the internet said it would be 28 Euros). It didn’t go over that. He helped me deal with my bag at the crazy taxi lane at Montparnasse. And he refused my tip. He said he made enough from the fare. (I have since learned that this is crazy unusual.) 

The train I had booked my train ticket in advance because you cannot get a high-speed train if you buy your ticket in the train station. Through this whole planning process, I was paranoid about not cutting transition times too close. That’s why I had eight hours in the Newark airport, and now four hours in the Montparnasse train station. The display boards show your train and its number. You have your car number and seat number on your ticket. But they don’t display your track number until 30-40 minutes before boarding. After eating lunch (a jambon-beurre) and reading for three hours, I was going crazy from boredom, in spite of my book, so I went in the main hall and stared at the board for freaking ever! I stood next to an older woman who apparently felt the same as I did. (At my age, am I allowed to call anyone older?) The first thing she said to me was, “I got here too early.” I shared the same sentiment. We were on the same train, but she was going all the way to Nantes. I was getting off at Angers. We didn’t really talk much except to note when one or another platform was posted. Finally, 20 minutes before our train was supposed to depart, she went looking.

Train information is posted at the beginning of the platform as soon as it is available. I guess she thought they had neglected to post it on the central board. Seconds after she walked away, our platform was posted. So here I was, walking towards the platforms shouting, “Madame, numéro trois! Numéro trois!” Thankfully, she heard me. I helped her scan her ticket, and we went our separate ways. The hour and a half trip to Angers was beautiful, passing through fields of corn and wheat with the occasional vineyard. I dozed a bit. This was one of those trips where we passed by Saumur on our way to Angers, because Saumur is a regional station where the TGV doesn’t even pass through the Saumur station. It’s like when one of returning flights during spring break flew over Louisville so we could change planes in Dallas to fly back to Louisville. It makes sense in someone’s mind. I literally walked off of one train onto another. The train to Saumur was definitely a commuter train. First, there were a lot of school kids on the train. And we stopped at four stations I had never heard of. They were literally a couple of concrete platforms with no terminal building. There were not assigned seats, so I had randomly seated myself by accident in the bicycle car. They had an ingenious setup for the bikes, storing them vertically. I wish I had taken a picture. By then, I had been traveling for 40 hours and was just happy to get on the correct train. We arrived at Saumur. I was literally the last person to get off the train and enter the station. We had stopped on platform 3, which meant you had to take an underground passage to get to the station. I was too tired to wrestle my suitcase up and down two flights of stairs. So, I waited for two elevators. I’m old, okay? 

My welcome 

Marie Odile had texted me where she would be parked. As I emerged from the station onto the sidewalk, I saw our mutual friend Doris, with her hand literally shading her eyes searching the crowd. I called to her. Hugs and kisses ensued with MO waving in the distance. I loaded my things into MO’s car and we headed to my home for a month. Traffic was a bit much for Saumur, but we were there (here?) in 10 minutes. My host, Thierry, was there to greet us and gave me the grand tour. I must say, this place is way more than I have ever needed in my life – four bedroom, two bathrooms, eat in kitchen for eight!

Shortly after I arrived, the doorbell sounded and who should be there but Mireille and Claude? I have always stayed with Mireille when in Saumur. It turned into a welcome party/apéro. Pierre-Yves, my other host joined us. So, it was a group of seven drinking sparkling wine, eating charcuterie and gringnottes and chatting until it was late. What a welcome!