10 April

Today the routine varied. I was awake at 6, then up at 6:15 and showered and dressed, then started to pack everything away. The shirts just get laid on top of the other luggage, so they go last and come out first (they will go on the car coat hanger once I pick it up). Then it was down for a light breakfast and news of the night before – apparently one of the toilets had overflowed from the cistern and flooded the floor and then the dining room below. Most of the water had been mopped up and the carpets had been vacuumed, but they were unsure whether the light fittings had been affected. Fortunately they had not, so I was able to see my breakfast – just toast, tea and orange juice. After that, I finished preparing, packing and took my luggage down, finally packing the suitcase down there (English map, shirts and clean underwear). It took two trips as I had to ensure that the room was fully empty. I said my farewells (I would certainly stay there again, and if anyone else is down that way, it is Glenhill B&B, 21 Alexandra Road, Worthing).
I put the SatNav on and gradually made my way to Gatwick. Although the traffic was heavy at some points, it moved quickly. Roundabouts and traffic lights were the big hold-ups and I arrived at Gatwick at 8:15 and espied a petrol station to refuel. That was okay and then it was into Gatwick South Terminal Car Rental and finding a parking spot in there. Eventually I did, but then I had trouble getting out of the car (narrow spots, and it was only a Peugeot 207, not the widest of vehicles). An attendant rushed up, did the paperwork and after a minute or so (to print a receipt) I was on my way.
I got to the train terminal with adequate time, but then the ticket machine refused to accept my credit card. No matter which way I tried it, it wouldn’t say it was valid. After utter frustration, I had to go to the ticket lines and so missed the first train (8:38) I had expected to catch. Then, with other queries, the line was moving so slowly that I feared I would miss the next one. However I managed to catch the 8:52 with a minute to spare. I followed a man with his daughter pulling a huge pink suitcase which he was reluctant to pull along onto the train.
On the train I chatted with him; he was taking his younger daughter with him to EuroDisney while his older daughter was off to Brisbane with the mother. He had been to Australia before (relatives there) and had a good knowledge of it. Before too long we were at St Pancras in London and we all got off. They were going on the 11:08 train.
I looked for a letter receiver (no luck, so I’ll have to post the postcards back to England in a large envelope and get someone else to post them) and then went off to EuroStar departures. Security was not as tight as at other places, but because of the hurry I did not get the coins out of my pocket and so set the alarm off. A slow frisk and I was allowed to go on. By the time I gathered everything together, and went through passport control (only a formality because of the EU passport but I did take my cap off so I looked the same), the boarding call for the 10:38 (now the time of the train I was given. I still hadn’t been able to find a letter receiver (though I had been assured they were inside), so that is a task for over there.
I went through the queue to board (only two queues, security and to board, so it was nowhere near as bad as the US) and was quickly in coach 12, seat 21. There was enough room to stow all my gear and I photographed it, much to the amusement of the English couple opposite. Then the train was off. At 10:28. It began to glide out of the platform, moved slowly through the London area and then picked up time. We went through the Kent countryside, which I tried to photograph – but as the locomotives are electric, there were staunchions every few metres. We stopped at Ashdown International Station and then the meal was served. My first course was fruit (don’t any of these dieticians know that fruit elevates sugar levels, especially when doing nothing – and sitting in a train seat for nearly two hours is as close as you can get to doing nothing) and the second course was omelette, mushrooms and salmon. All I could do was eat the omelette and hope that no salmon had got onto it (I’ll know before the train gets into Gard de Nord if it had, because that’s how long it will take me to react – the place for special conditions on the ticket booking doesn’t have enough room for more than one special condition, so perhaps I’ll have to make seafood the highest). The train had been next to a motorway at one stage and we were leaving the cars well behind, so we must have been going very quickly. I had tried to get the speed with the SatNav, but treated windows in trains stop the satellite signals getting through.
By this stage we must have been in the chunnel, as the tunnel we were in seemed a lot longer than the others we had passed through. Otherwise, the ride was very smooth, certainly a lot better than any in North America and exceedingly better than any I have been on in Australia.
Most of the staff were French, but very polite and spoke in very good English.
Not long after 11:30 we arrived in France. The countryside didn’t look too different but the buildings did. Of course the traffic is on the other side, but that is now familiar from North America. The graffiti was, as in any country, an unwelcome blight on both the natural and built countryside. Certainly, from first impressions, things are neat and cared for. The villages, as in England, seem very compact and self-contained, with farming right up to the back yards of the houses. The ubiquitous mobile telephone towers are very visible, farm fences seem more permanent than in Australia and the trees are shorter and spindlier, as in most of North America and Britain. I can see why visitors to Australia marvel at the gumtrees. Internet addresses are also very evident, ending of course in fr. Some hills seem stark, but I do know that in some places in France they don’t use landfill for rubbish, they build hills and cover them with fill. A stark difference is that every bit of land is used – there are no areas visible which are just “left”, but given the length of land use and population, that is inevitable. The size of some farms is surprising, but I can’t tell whether they are farmed iin common or not. Wind farms were also visible from the train. Church steeples were a common sight, a few visible at one time. I’m looking at the roads, seeing whether there are spots to pull of at to take photos – but from a speeding train they are not visible.
One thing is the chains – I’ve seen a Midas Muffler place and a few chain hotels, and they seem out of place in this countryside, though I may be grateful later to see and recognise something familiar. Just saw a dairy herd and rectangular power transformers on poles.
A problem is that when we pass through villages, there are noise barriers up – the locals don’t get too affected by the noise of the trains (and there must be a lot each day), but as a tourist I cannot see anything. I think I will have a lot of photos of blurred trees and some form of barrier.
One piece of news not passed on probably because everyone else knew it was that clocks go forward an hour in France compared to England. So at 12:45 I’m wondering which town we are in and we are just pulling into the Gard du Nord, North Station, the end of my journey. I had noticed the increase in graffiti, some gypsy encampments and a few other giveaways of a large city, but in seeing everything was new, so were they.
After gathering my luggage together and getting off, I eventually found the place to get a ticket to Charles de Gaulle Airport. The self-serve machine was too self-serving and would not recognise my card for some reason. I had to go to the counter to get the ticket – perhaps just as well, because the zone system was not clear on the machine. The next trick was to find the platform – and after a few false starts I found the right spot. I passed on the train just about to leave, as it was crowded, and caught the next, which was an express. The train does not go to Terminal 3, where I had to pick the car up, just Terminals 1 and 2. I was supposed to catch the shuttle bus, but it only took five minutes to walk, even going slowly with all my luggage (I think before I eave for Japan, I will post as much as I can home from France, even if it is clothing, to minimise my carrying weight). Then I was orienting the map in the car pickup guide to find the Renault offices – and in common with a lot so far in Europe, everyone was in and was the same office. The procedure went through quickly with me trying to speak consistently in French and having difficulty with the speed of speech of the staff – and very soon I was loading the luggage into a little black four-door Renault Clio. The deliverer took the time to explain most of the functions of the car so I at least knew how to switch things on and off. I also got a handbook, but I’m going to wait until I am in the same place for a few days before reading it.
Now I had to fill the car fairly quickly – the tank has only a few litres in it. The servo at the airport was very busy, probably from rentals as well as others like me. I managed to find the diesel pump and fill the car (and start a log) and the transaction went through with the credit card with no problems. Then I was out and on my way to Amiens (well, I wanted to head in that direction). So the SatNav was told what I wanted and gave me the directions in English but the road signs on the display came up in French (good!). I got to Amiens okay, considering the car was manual, new and left-hand drive. I have to make sure I keep a finger on the indicator switch – that way I can’t accidentally try to change gear in the door pocket.
I wen through Amiens because I was a little earlier than I thought, and I also had in my mind that if worse came to worse, on my first night I could splurge while finding my way. I then set out for Morcourt, which is one of the places near where my grandfather won his medal. Along the way I found one place which had a few accommodation options in the SatNav – and after trying the first one (booked out), I found the next one (which I was also directed to) had rooms, at €39, which were en suite. Mind you, they had been converted and would not pass a safety audit in Australia, but they were clean, comfortable and had a TV. No Internet, but that may be here, I just didn’t investigate. Once having paid, I moved the car a little closer, then went for a walk with my camera.
I took some photos, then ended up in conversation with a lady and gent (though she did all the talking) who couldn’t speak any English who told me about the sights around the town. Also, there is a special display in the Museum. After thanking her, I got petit frittes for tea (after my poor accent, the seller said, “chips”) and walked around a little more. At this point, I saw the village “lads” roaring around the square outside the church on a small motorbike (taking turns). Before I got back to the hotel they were out the front of the Town Hall (a foolish move, I thought, as the police station was beside the hall. I was just about to get my stuff from the car and take it to the room when a lady walking a dog said hello and then told me about the river, just down the street. Again, she didn’t speak English, but I got the meaning and walked down there – and the view was very nice, although the young couple eating and … by the bank were surprised to see anyone else there. I walked around and back, passing behind an obvious school. This time I did get my stuff, went to my room and set up the charger for batteries and the computer (220 V, round pins) and then did this blog, looked for an Internet connection (everyone had password-protected their networks – blast!) and then tried to settle for a sleep in a new country, with a new language and a new car.