31st August (sunny and warm) 11 km

Well first we had the light show and last night we had the sound show. The French…believing all the hype about themselves as far as passionate, fiery, desperate, anguished etc goes….decide to put on a performance, worthy of the audience in the camp.

We had just settled into a nice sleep, or so it seemed, as we weren’t really sure of the time at all, when, in the far corner of the camp…and it’s not that big, a loud anguished cry emanates from over by the toilet block….obviously upset, but not wanting to interrupt her ablutions. Her pain and suffering is joined by a male voice, seemingly trying to reason with the female, trying to dispel any concerns she has, and that the morning will bring about a whole new day and hopefully, better weather than we have been having.

But no….said female was now in full swing and also had captured the attention of the camp owner, who was attempting, unsuccessfully I might add, to quieten the female down. Her screams of anguish were now bellowing out all over the camp and we were privy to the entire demise of their relationship.

Given that my French is limited, especially in trying to follow someone screaming at a seriously increased pace, my interpretations of the night’s account, may be slightly inaccurate.

The initial cry was followed by the words,

Don’t come near me with that penis….although, she could have said piano, as a little further on, she mentioned about not being in tune in the relationship. From under the fly sheet I was cricking my neck, in an attempt to see and hear all the action. I became seriously concerned to see another, smaller shape, following the two of them around, passively listening to what was going on, but not crying or gesturing with their arms, or saying a word as all French do. This worried me at first as I thought a child was involved, but I have surmised since then that it was in fact a dwarf….a mute dwarf….a mute deaf dwarf, actually a mute deaf dwarf with no arms, who was in no way involved in the skirmish and was in fact just on his way back from struggling to have a wee in the toilets.

After the camp owner had given up on the situation and returned to the luxury of his double glazed accommodation, leaving everyone else to listen to the increased volume, the female starts throwing pots, pans, tent poles, pegs etc. She then gets in the car. Thank God for that I think, but no. Now for the remainder of the early hours, she drives from spot to spot within the camp, only for him to follow and begin banging on the car windows and yelling abuse to her through closed windows.

Once again I may have confused some of the words but I’m sure he said

“When I told you to pop into town to pick up a little something….I didn’t mean the dwarf”.

Julia here…..well Pete may have interpreted some of the action incorrectly, but boy oh boy as Franki Valli said, what a night!  Every time she parked the car near us, he would bang on the windows yelling at her and then inexplicably quieten down.  Each time we thought, “thank God that’s over” and then he’d either start again, or she would start the car and drive sedately to another area of the campground and he would walk after her until she stopped and then he’d start banging on the car again and yelling.  We would just be grateful they had moved further away from us!  But not wanting us to miss out in any way, they came back for a repeat performance, several times.  It was as if they didn’t want anyone in the camp to manage a full night’s sleep.

I did consider jumping up and pointing out how rude they were but of course I don’t speak the language and didn’t know if the angry French man may switch his frustrations to a target who wasn’t locked inside a car.  Suffice to say I had made note there was a fire extinguisher right next to our tent so we decided discretion would be the better part of valour on this occasion and waited for the show to die down, which it did eventually.  Not sure when as I’d turned my phone off, but I would estimate it to have been around 3am.

Consequently we didn’t wake up until 7.45am this morning which was fine as our only plan today is to have a leisurely morning around camp, waiting for the workers to clear the trains, and then to ride to the train station 3km away and catch a train to Paris. 

Yes, that's Pete dusting his bike!

So we enjoyed a leisurely cup of tea in the early morning sun, quietly blogging and packing.  Then muesli and banana followed by baguette with jam and a coffee.  Kept an eye out for last night’s entertainment but it was very dark last night so we couldn’t guess who the offenders might be.  Took our time as the tent was quite wet from condensation and the sun was getting seriously hot.  Left about 10.30am for the short ride into Vernon and quickly located the train station.  Bought tickets for the 12.52pm train to Paris which took a long time due to all the people in the line in front of Pete having numerous questions.  Meanwhile I was outside with the bikes and logged onto the free wifi at the station to transfer the photos from my phone to the computer.

Once Pete got the tickets, we went through to the platform and I sat in the shade continuing work with the photos while Pete made a short walk into town to get a baguette and cheese and we made ourselves some lunch.  A lot of people started gathering for our train and we were a little worried we might not get on with our fully laden bikes.  

Heading into the train station and being
reminded not to relieve ourselves on the way!

But we did and wondered if we’d got on a carriage with the same noisy couple from last night as almost immediately, the show started.  Both of them talked loudly, gesticulating wildly and obviously very angry with each other and they didn’t care who heard their conversation!  We exchanged eyebrow raises with a fellow passenger who we found out was an American and was full of information about Paris as he has lived there for many years.

Pete again…..  We had only been in Paris five minutes when it was brought home loud and clear, why we live where we do……because it’s the best place in the world…that’s why. This scurrying mass of humanity is a sight to behold and at my age, a city such as this, has nothing remotely welcoming about it. 

Checking directions in Paris

Riding the streets wasn’t as bad as we thought, but to do it constantly would be like playing Russian Roulette. After constant referrals to Maps Me and asking locals, we found our way to the Hotel Austerlitz. Bad news right away – they had no car park, and hence nowhere to park the bikes and they wouldn’t let us take them up to our room. I was panicking now and it seemed our options were nil when, outside the entrance to reception, Julia looks at a roller door, right next to it and says “Wouldn’t it be good if we could park them in there?” I pushed the intercom and the door rolls up and a guy comes toward us. I told him that I had a proposition for him, which he smiled at, so I explained our situation and offered to pay him, if he would house the bikes during our stay for a fee of course. He said no fee would be necessary, so hopefully, they will still be there on Tuesday.

Saw some majestic buildings on the ride to the hotel

The view from the bridge near our hotel - that's Notre Dame on the left.

The next piece of unwelcome news, was that instead of two rooms, we had been allocated one, with an extra pull out bed for dad. My whole life, in the space of two incidents, was now rapidly falling apart. I love my dad very much. He and mum gave me the most fantastic childhood and moulded and guided me into the person I am. For that, I will always be grateful. However… a joke’s, a friggin joke. Here I am, in the “City of Love” (or as I will refer to it in future, a sprawling mass of polluted infested humanity), in a tiny room, with my father….. and my wife…?!  There are things that never go together. Marmite with hundreds and thousands, Adolf Hitler and some nice Jewish businessmen….. Jimmy Saville and any young person on the planet and this predicament ranked right up there. Downstairs, the poor woman on reception, must have thought Atilla the Hun had booked in. Firstly the bikes and now this. When I explained the gravity of the situation and did she possibly have another room for my father, she must have thought revenge was sweet.  Nothing tonight but she could give him his own room for the next three nights. 

At least we had a nice view of the Gare de Nord Station while we got
ripped off for our drinks.

Dad’s train was arriving at 6.47pm from Gare du Nord station, so we left at 4pm, so we could suss out the area. It’s a good job we did. After not using an underground for 30 years you tend to be a little rusty. There are people everywhere. The tube was packed to overflowing but eventually nine stops later we disembarked. Gare du Nord was chaotic. People milling about everywhere, quite overpowering and of course we forget in NZ just how much people have reduced their smoking over the years. Not here, it’s in big time.

Beggars on platforms, with dogs and cell phones no less. If you’re homeless and living on the street, what are you doing with a dog to look after, when you can’t take care of yourself. Think about it people….!  Groups of youths hanging around street corners, some innocently, some definitely not. The women of France have always struck me as stylish and that is still very obvious here. Julia and I watched a tall black man walking the streets in robes you would find in any African country, looking extremely regal, as were the women, the colour vibrant compared with all other fashion shades.

The eateries are everywhere, all with people touting for business. We called into a bar for a shandy and a beer, as the weather was now very warm. Got a lesson in French – a shandy is called panache over here.  Got another lesson when the bill arrived…..17 euro!!!!  That’s 30 bucks!!!!  I guess we needed that lesson to remind us that it won’t happen again.

We’ve been told that queues for everything are huge. Other than a couple of places that we’d like to see, that doesn’t bother us. We’ve both seen a lot in our times touring, we won’t stand for hours in queues to see something like the Mona Lisa, which is miniscule in size and only really means anything to a true aficionado of art anyway. I like what I like and it’s not some miserable looking woman with dank dark hair and a smug smile.

Jimmy arrives in the seething mass - in
the greeny blue jacket with his hand up

Back at platform 4, the train from London pulled in, packed solid. Ju and I had sussed out the tube ticketing and lines, so once dad arrived, we took him nine stations down the line and checked in to the hotel. By this time it was 8 pm. Decided just to have something light, so after a trip down the road to a nice supermarket, we just munched on cheese and bread with a cup of tea or coffee, before settling down for the night.