Thursday, July 29, 2004
Ahhh... Par lez vooz Angles?
Can you believe it?! I've been in FRANCE for three days now.
We arrived in Calais on Tuesday around 1pm, and I got to put my French to the test, with interesting results.
First, at the train station, I managed to successfully book us tickets to Rouen for the next day, even though I had only intended to make inquiries. That was ok, though, because I think we ended up on one of the cheaper modes of transport; a train that stopped at EVERY stop and took about three or four times as long as it could have. Then, talking to the man I had just bought tickets from, I tried to find out which bus to catch to get to a camping ground on the far side of Bleriot Plage. I made such a meal of it that the guy stared at me with a frown and his mouth hanging open, then shook his head in exasperation and said, "Speak English!"
Second, with the busdriver, I managed to get us dropped off at the wrong camping ground, which was full, and we had to walk about 3 or 4 km in the hot sun with our bursting-at-the-seams packs crushing us inches into the ground at every step (please excuse wild exaggeration) to the next camping ground. Which, fortunately, turned out to be really nice and pretty cheap, and mainly full of French people. We caught the train next day to Rouen.
Since those early small disasters, I have managed to successfully make enquiries about rooms and prices in hotels, and Dad and I are now staying in a pretty cheap little hotel directly opposite an old church, and about 150 metres from the train station. We are on the 4th floor (which, in New Zealand would be the 5th floor, because they start counting from the first floor up, here) which I love because we are on a level with the statues on the old church, and with it's clock tower, and which Dad does not love because of the obstacle of a large number of stairs between us and the street. There is a little corner store very near by, where I think they think I am French, so far, because all I've had to say to them is: bonjour, ca coute combien? Combien? Ah, oui (*hand over money*). Au revoir! Nothing complicated.
I was awoken this morning by the chiming of the clock (big clock; big, loud bells) outside our window at 8am. Dad said workmen had been working nearby since 7am, but I didn't really notice. Thankfully Dad didn't snore much last night, so I got a pretty good night's sleep (Calais was a different story, but lets let bygones be bygones, eh?). Today we're looking at finding accommodation in St. Malo or Mont St. Michel, one of which will be our next destination. We're in Rouen for two more nights so we can explore the city a bit. There are huge buildings here, like the Palais de Justice (courthouse?) and the cathedral, which have bits pelted out of them and shattered masonry and ornamental towers and parts of walls missing; a result of bullets and shelling during WWII. Also, this is the town where Joan of Arc was imprisoned, totured and burnt at the stake. We have already walked past the ancient tower where she was kept prisoner several times, as it's near our hotel. I want to find the massive cross that marks the place of her death. It is so strange that she was denounced as a heretic for political convenience and killed, then later made a saint, and now generates tourist revenue for the town of her death. Politics, religion, treachery, death, and money all mixed up together. It is good to know that God is actually someone real, behind the words of Christianity, because the religion itself, in the hands of wicked people, has been besmirched by some strange and terrible deeds.
Umm, anyway. I think I'm going to come home before Christmas, like mid-December, I think. But, until then, love you and miss you!
We arrived in Calais on Tuesday around 1pm, and I got to put my French to the test, with interesting results.
First, at the train station, I managed to successfully book us tickets to Rouen for the next day, even though I had only intended to make inquiries. That was ok, though, because I think we ended up on one of the cheaper modes of transport; a train that stopped at EVERY stop and took about three or four times as long as it could have. Then, talking to the man I had just bought tickets from, I tried to find out which bus to catch to get to a camping ground on the far side of Bleriot Plage. I made such a meal of it that the guy stared at me with a frown and his mouth hanging open, then shook his head in exasperation and said, "Speak English!"
Second, with the busdriver, I managed to get us dropped off at the wrong camping ground, which was full, and we had to walk about 3 or 4 km in the hot sun with our bursting-at-the-seams packs crushing us inches into the ground at every step (please excuse wild exaggeration) to the next camping ground. Which, fortunately, turned out to be really nice and pretty cheap, and mainly full of French people. We caught the train next day to Rouen.
Since those early small disasters, I have managed to successfully make enquiries about rooms and prices in hotels, and Dad and I are now staying in a pretty cheap little hotel directly opposite an old church, and about 150 metres from the train station. We are on the 4th floor (which, in New Zealand would be the 5th floor, because they start counting from the first floor up, here) which I love because we are on a level with the statues on the old church, and with it's clock tower, and which Dad does not love because of the obstacle of a large number of stairs between us and the street. There is a little corner store very near by, where I think they think I am French, so far, because all I've had to say to them is: bonjour, ca coute combien? Combien? Ah, oui (*hand over money*). Au revoir! Nothing complicated.
I was awoken this morning by the chiming of the clock (big clock; big, loud bells) outside our window at 8am. Dad said workmen had been working nearby since 7am, but I didn't really notice. Thankfully Dad didn't snore much last night, so I got a pretty good night's sleep (Calais was a different story, but lets let bygones be bygones, eh?). Today we're looking at finding accommodation in St. Malo or Mont St. Michel, one of which will be our next destination. We're in Rouen for two more nights so we can explore the city a bit. There are huge buildings here, like the Palais de Justice (courthouse?) and the cathedral, which have bits pelted out of them and shattered masonry and ornamental towers and parts of walls missing; a result of bullets and shelling during WWII. Also, this is the town where Joan of Arc was imprisoned, totured and burnt at the stake. We have already walked past the ancient tower where she was kept prisoner several times, as it's near our hotel. I want to find the massive cross that marks the place of her death. It is so strange that she was denounced as a heretic for political convenience and killed, then later made a saint, and now generates tourist revenue for the town of her death. Politics, religion, treachery, death, and money all mixed up together. It is good to know that God is actually someone real, behind the words of Christianity, because the religion itself, in the hands of wicked people, has been besmirched by some strange and terrible deeds.
Umm, anyway. I think I'm going to come home before Christmas, like mid-December, I think. But, until then, love you and miss you!
# posted by Doug @ 09:11 
