We've arrived
After a few days of frantic activity and a long and mostly uneventful trans-Atlantic crossing, we finally arrived in Toulose yesterday morning. Except for one bicycle, everything seems to have arrived intact. Apparently Marty's bike decided to stay in Boston, despite its arrival at Logan many hours in advance of the plane's departure. We hope that it arrives today.
Our apartment location is very cool. We now know why our mailing address seemed peculiar. We don't live on a street; our driveway is off of the bike path next to the Canal du Midi. You literally have to drive on the bike path to get to our driveway. Only residents are allowed to drive on the bike path. Our closest neighbors (besides the ones that live in our building) live on the Canal in boats.
It was a bit sobering when we arrived at our furnished apartment and realized that we didn't have basic household stuff (like toilet paper), we didn't know where the store is, our one bike was in pieces in a box, we didn't have a car and we hadn't slept more than a few winks in the last 24 hours. Fortunately, we had friends. Peter von Ballmoos, who is Swiss, and Georg Weidenspointer, who is German, patiently guided us through the chaos of our first day in France. (Peter and Georg are both colleagues of Marty who, at different times in the past, worked at UNH's Space Science Center.) They picked us up at the airport, negotiated the return of our missing bicyle, translated our meeting with our landlady and her son, and generally got us settled. After we took naps, Georg took us on a shopping spree. (I'm thrilled to report that we now have toilet paper.)
Survivor Episode Toulouse: First Challenge
This morning we found ourselves our own facing our first challenge. We had to get ourselves from our town of Ramonville St. Agne into the center of Toulouse by bus in time for Marty's French class. After a night's rest, our team was ready for the challenge. We found the bus stop, figured out which buses would get us where we needed to be, deciphered the schedule, calculated the cost of the tickets, prepared our money, got on the bus, and purchased a round-trip ticket. We were on a roll, and I was feeling cocky. We were going to win this challenge. Our team would survive. Then it happened.
In France, as in much of Europe, you have to punch your bus ticket to validate it. I knew this and I was ready. I punched one ticket with no problem. I confidently punched the second ticket and, to my horror, a light started flashing and an alarm went off. This was not supposed to happen. It wasn't in the plan.
What do you do when you set off an alarm on the bus, your first day in France? I had left for France prepared. I had read several books. I checked out web sites. I had done my homework. Nothing had prepared me for bus alarms.
Well, I could have conjured up a little French and asked a fellow rider for help. I could have a calmly turned to the bus driver with that clueless, helpless look that one perfects as a foreigner in a country where one has limited language skills. I could have simply tried to re-punch the ticket. Did I exercise any of these perfectly reasonable options? Of course not. I panicked, pretended that I didn't notice the flashing light and buzzing alarm, and started furtively looking for a seat. The bus driver, however, was apparently less inclined to ignore the alarm. He called me back and said something completely incomprehensible in French. This time I was ready. I easily (and quite naturally) conjured up my clueless, helpless look. The bus driver immediately recognized the clueless, helpless look (it's international) and took pity on me. He abandoned oral communication, took the offending ticket and re-punched it for me. We survived our first challenge.
Our apartment location is very cool. We now know why our mailing address seemed peculiar. We don't live on a street; our driveway is off of the bike path next to the Canal du Midi. You literally have to drive on the bike path to get to our driveway. Only residents are allowed to drive on the bike path. Our closest neighbors (besides the ones that live in our building) live on the Canal in boats.
It was a bit sobering when we arrived at our furnished apartment and realized that we didn't have basic household stuff (like toilet paper), we didn't know where the store is, our one bike was in pieces in a box, we didn't have a car and we hadn't slept more than a few winks in the last 24 hours. Fortunately, we had friends. Peter von Ballmoos, who is Swiss, and Georg Weidenspointer, who is German, patiently guided us through the chaos of our first day in France. (Peter and Georg are both colleagues of Marty who, at different times in the past, worked at UNH's Space Science Center.) They picked us up at the airport, negotiated the return of our missing bicyle, translated our meeting with our landlady and her son, and generally got us settled. After we took naps, Georg took us on a shopping spree. (I'm thrilled to report that we now have toilet paper.)
Survivor Episode Toulouse: First Challenge
This morning we found ourselves our own facing our first challenge. We had to get ourselves from our town of Ramonville St. Agne into the center of Toulouse by bus in time for Marty's French class. After a night's rest, our team was ready for the challenge. We found the bus stop, figured out which buses would get us where we needed to be, deciphered the schedule, calculated the cost of the tickets, prepared our money, got on the bus, and purchased a round-trip ticket. We were on a roll, and I was feeling cocky. We were going to win this challenge. Our team would survive. Then it happened.
In France, as in much of Europe, you have to punch your bus ticket to validate it. I knew this and I was ready. I punched one ticket with no problem. I confidently punched the second ticket and, to my horror, a light started flashing and an alarm went off. This was not supposed to happen. It wasn't in the plan.
What do you do when you set off an alarm on the bus, your first day in France? I had left for France prepared. I had read several books. I checked out web sites. I had done my homework. Nothing had prepared me for bus alarms.
Well, I could have conjured up a little French and asked a fellow rider for help. I could have a calmly turned to the bus driver with that clueless, helpless look that one perfects as a foreigner in a country where one has limited language skills. I could have simply tried to re-punch the ticket. Did I exercise any of these perfectly reasonable options? Of course not. I panicked, pretended that I didn't notice the flashing light and buzzing alarm, and started furtively looking for a seat. The bus driver, however, was apparently less inclined to ignore the alarm. He called me back and said something completely incomprehensible in French. This time I was ready. I easily (and quite naturally) conjured up my clueless, helpless look. The bus driver immediately recognized the clueless, helpless look (it's international) and took pity on me. He abandoned oral communication, took the offending ticket and re-punched it for me. We survived our first challenge.
posted by Nancy at 2:47 AM
1 Comments:
I'm glad to read that you two arrived safely, albeit tired. When I arrived in Germany I was so tired that I slept through my first couple of hours of scenery while on the bus to Baumholder.
It sounds like your apt. is in a great location. My friends' barge is called Vertrouen and it is somewhere nearby on the Canal du Midi. Keep your eyes open. All three owners are American so you will be able to communicate sans Larousse.
Keep us posted on your adventures. I've already started looking into flights!
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