The 8th of April

This morning we woke up inside of our cozy B&B to the smell of something delicious cooking in the kitchen downstairs. We threw on some clothes for the day and followed ours noses. A table for four was set up with an arrangement of homemade marmalades and jams that Francis (the owner of the B&B) had made from the fruits in their garden. The aroma of fresh coffee and hand squeezed orange juice tantalized our morning drowsiness. We all sat around content and amused by the many adorable cats looking at us through the garden window- peeking their noses over the window ledge. Caroline, Francis’ wife laid a few baskets on the table. One basket was full of warm croissants and pain au chocolat from the local bakery, and the other basket was full of a Spelt (a brown, grainy bread) also made by Francis.

After a remarkable resting period in the small town near Sommières we packed up the car again and headed in the direction of Marseille. We did have a midway point in which we wanted to explore before we arrived at our next hostel. It’s called the Pont du Gard in a town called Remoulins. The Pont du Gard is nearly 2000 years old, and was built by ancient Romans for the transportation of water, and then later was used as a toll bridge in 1295 and was used from then on as a major landmark for generations. So obviously this is quite a significant site. As soon as we could see the Roman Aqueduct’s arches we were snapping photos. Unfortunately the weather was a bit cloudy, cold and rainy- but we were wearing our big black jackets and lots of layers so we managed. While mom and Karla continued down the normal paved pathway, Sam and I found an untraditional path of rock climbing, squeezing through trees, and shuffling our feet down steep desert- like rock landscape to find the perfect photo opportunities. We wandered around the ancient grounds that were once walked upon by the Romans, medieval and Renaissance citizens, and modern day tourists. When we all met up at the bridge for one more breath taking view, we realized that the sun was shinning and it was quite hot out! I was sweating in all my layers, but it felt good to be warm again! As we walked back to the car, I remember looking straight up through the arches which were standing nearly 100 feet above me and seeing the light streaming through in great beams towards the water. The sky became a brilliant blue and the illumination seemed like the light at the end of the tunnel for perfect Spring weather. It was an astonishing view and experience for all of us.

On the road again. Our next stop was the city of Marseille, a city which all of us imagined being kind of a sleepy fishing village with well known historical architecture for us to explore in peace… but to our shocking surprise it is the second largest city in all of France, next to Paris. This slap in the face started as I began to drive through the suburbs on the highway- everything along the road and beyond was smothered in graffiti and litter. The buildings were all a beige or salmon color throughout, and all of the streets were a blackish grey with buses colliding with the aggressive cars and motorcyclists, people on Mopeds were pushy whilst weaving through traffic lanes 1 foot in length, the pedestrians were vigorously fused with traffic in gross numbers, and there we were in our Kangoo wide eyed, petrified, and dumbfounded with confused attempts for action. We hurriedly opened the map again and zoomed in on Marseille- whoever built the roads for this city had taken a blank sheet, grabbed a handful of contorted spaghetti, threw it down and called it good. It was exactly as if we walked into a third world country where there were no rules and no laws. I simply followed suite and became as aggressive as the locals and at the same time patient, considering I didn’t have a chance winning a “merging show-down” with buses on my right coming into my lane and Mopeds blasting through on my left at lightening speeds with no fear of not being seen. Somehow we made it to our street, in a foreign neighborhood consisting of all Middle Eastern men. At the end of this street we found a hostel called “Vertigo”. We walked in the front door and were transported into a retro, artistic and young upbeat hostel that was playing soothing jazzy music. Ahhh… our light at the end of the tunnel. We ended up having our own little Cabanas in the courtyard area of the hostel, and for dinner that night we decided to just relax inside of our little safe haven. Karla and mom sent Sam and I out into the wilderness of traffic, homeless, and chaos to the nearby American Institute for dinner… McDonalds. We sat at the little bar in the common room, listened to artsy/ ambient music, eating our ‘Big & Tasty’ meals, drank lots and lots of regional wine, and laughed the night away.