The first week in Tresques was a sleeper. Literally.
We slept through a lot of it. The rollator made it down to the kitchen but that was it. We didn’t go out for meals until the next weekend. Just prepared goodies from Intermarche or Picard, the upscale version of M&M in Canada.
Saturday, Sept 20 was our first restaurant meal, at Le Pt’it Mercier. Don’t bother looking up Mercier. It is the surname of the young (by our standards) chef, Hugo. Everybody is adding Petit in some way to restaurant names so they can seem chi-chi. I don’t know. The meal was great and we had a sort of Marcus cat to keep us company and eat dead bugs or sniff them.
He was checking Judy out. Typical.
So….that was Saturday.
Sunday was Le Petit (again already) Eden in St. Quentin de la Poterie. What a mouthful. No cats there. But it was raining dogs, and we were happy to eat inside with all the locals.
There is one senior lady, older then us (amazing) , who claims that this is the best resto in St. Quentin. She should know. Bet she has tried them all.
Sunday was also the day for the Archers to fly to Marseille via Lisbon. What an adventuresome duo.
Their flight was on time, and so were we. Short term parking at the Marignane airport is pretty reasonable. The only challenge was getting Mary and Brad through passport control, and they texted their status. Very slow, but after the better part of an hour they showed up near Paul, in the food court.
Pooped and hungry but ready for action they were, so after we escaped Marignane we took the A7 north to another Paul (like OnRoute in Ontario) where we stopped for a cold drink and sandwich. Then north to Orange, switch over to the A9, and then south to the Roquemaure exit. Google it.
Rural legend has it that this is where Hannibal and his herd of elephants crossed the Rhone on the way to conquer whatever. How they crossed the Mediterranean from Africa is beyond me. But you can google that too.
After a leisurely ride through the mostly red and brown vineyards, we arrived at the Château de Tresques.
Gosh, looks inviting, no?
For dinner after this arduous journey, we heated up a couple of Fiorini pizzas from Intermarché. Frozen pizzas here are top notch, and easy on the budget. Various toppings, all available in a ten minute cook time.
Crunchy on the outside, chewy inside – just like igloos according to polar bears. (Thanks to Gary Larsen).
The visit from Brad and Mary was a treat. They get up early, pour their coffees, are quiet, and clean up the dishes.
We had some fine lunches out at a variety of restaurants, from the classy Bistro de Montcaud to the more casual Petit Patio in Orange. The week went by fast; we watched an old James Taylor concert plus a newer Dixie Chicks tour concert.
Geoff and Nicola came up for apéro one afternoon on the terrace. They explained about their 40-plus week renovation of their “new” Victorian house far from London. Lots of work for the serfs.
Serge and Patricia visited a couple of days later, also for apéro. Inside, however. All quite congenial.
And before we knew it, we were escorting the Archers back to the Marseille airport, the day before their gruelling journey back to Toronto via London. Good travellers and good guests. We went back to washing our dishes and sleeping in.
Back to Le-Grau-du-Roi
We booked three nights at the Hotel Splendid, where we had stayed previously.
The room was somewhat dinky but the bed was quite comfortable. Since it was on the fourth floor Judy had a good view of people and dogs as they paraded along the promenade between the road and beach.
The fourth floor in France would be considered the fifth floor in North America, since the ground floor is zero. Fascinating, no?
Judy’s new walking aid was a big help, and the restaurant staff was very courteous in terms of storing it during meals.
We made a new friend at our first dinner, a moochie cat. He is a regular at the restaurants along the main drag. He lives behind the hotel and everyone seems to know him – his name is Serge. He took an immediate shine to Jude, since she had ordered a half chicken and needed help to finish it.
Seafood is a staple of the resto menus. One of my favourte dishes is a fisherman’s platter, with shrimp, mussels, and bulots. The latter are sea snails, an acquired taste for sure.
Before finishing our stay in Le Grau, we lunched at an outdoor spot that had an unusual variety of goodies from the sea. Judy started with a mussel dish while I had couteaux – French for knives. They are clams which Judy calls razor-backs, thanks to their similarity to straight razors. Ugly but tasty. Then we each had calamar, which were served whole. Quite filling but not to everyone’s taste.
Judy also had a Lynchburg Lemonade, with bourbon. She consumed the whole thang.
After three nights at the Med, we were back to Tresques Friday morning. Just ten days to chill and enjoy before the journey to Toronto. Three more lunches at favourite restaurants. Meal prices in France are approaching the stratosphere. It’s partly the lousy exchange, but the days of a prix fixe lunch under €20 are history.
Fortunately the costs of prepared foods at the supermarkets and specialty stores are within the budget, just.
Three flights to Toronto
As usual, we spent the night before flights at the Marignane Best Western. 6:30 wakeup call and we were off to the airport by 8:00, to catch a 10:40 flight to Paris. Arriving in Toronto around 4:30. Hah!!We had no idea that this would be our screwiest travel day in our shared history.
Check in was fine. Well, not exactly. We were told that for our Toronto long haul the screen at one of our seats wasn’t working. Big deal.
Then downhill from there.
We sat in the mobility assistance area with the rest of the seniors until around 9:30, then off to security and our gate.
Not so fast.
Our little brigade of wheelchairs made it to the departure level, and then we had to turn around and go back to the main floor.
There we were collectively greeted by army guys in camo outfits, with what looked like sub machine guns. I did not take any pictures. Sorry. Not a smile on any face.
We were herded back to the check-in zone to then hurry up and wait. There were hundreds of people by now, and all we could glean was that someone had tried to get through security with something suspicious attached to her body. It must have been mighty suspicious to call out the French military, plus the gendarmes and fire department.
By this time, we were pals with another travelling trio, led by Tracey, a lovely Irish lady with a voice you could listen to all day long. She had lived in Paris for eight years and spoke fluent French, but maybe with an Irish accent. We will never know.
After a couple of hours, they let us through security, but our 10:40 flight was long gone. Which meant we would not meet our connection in Paris. Uh oh.
In Paris, our wheelchair guy took us right to the Air France desk to figure out what to do next.
Fortunately there was a flight from Amsterdam to Toronto with a couple of business seats available. Better than an overnight at Charles de Gaulle. We were assured that our luggage would join us. Uh oh. Hah. Hah.
Off to Whamsterdam. We were escorted to gate E2 – I will never forget it – for a wait to board the home leg.
There is something bizarre about long waits. The time seems to pass faster than if you are just waiting for a few minutes. Probably has to do with the feeling of futility and total loss of control.
We boarded the KLM flight after meeting the captain briefly at check-in. He inspired confidence.
The plane made it to the tarmac before the captain announced that there was a defective valve which posed a safety issue. It would have to be replaced, and the part was sitting at the KLM maintenance depot, about a one hour drive across the airport. Then another hour for the maintenance crew to install and test it. Another two hours.
Beyond cranky.
The big bird finally launched, and it turns out we were sort of lucky. Many Amsterdam flights were cancelled or delayed the next day thanks to high winds.
After a flight of eight hours, we arrived in Toronto around 11:00 PM. Our luggage was not so fortunate. We had all of the essentials in our hand baggage so it was relatively easy to catch a limo and head home. No traffic at midnight Wednesday.
Our wayward bags arrived late Thursday evening, just as I was donning my sleeping attire. Whacked.
In the end, a nice job by Air France and KLM to get us home. I can’t imagine how this could have all been managed without some pretty well integrated technology.
And a captain with empathy.
Signing off now, after another adventure with the Châtelaine and her trusty escort.
A bientôt to all.
Tresquenadiens 