Been there Done That - Day 1
DAY 1
Our plants will be dead when we return, but this holiday is well worth the life of the couple of semi-defunct cacti that are decorating our mantelpiece.
We woke up at 5 (figure that, I didn't even have to be kicked out of the bed for this), got on the road at 6 with the sun, and eventually arrived to Dover well before our ferry was due.
On the road from home to the port, the fog was so thick, it could have been sliced with a knife and spread on toast. After half an hour of cautious driving in the foggiest of fogs, somewhere in Surrey the "intelligent" panels on the road kindly reminded us motorists that there was some sort of fog hazard around (thanks for the tip, guys). In the deep haze, the sun looked spooky and unreal, like a round cheese floating in the sky, slowly changing colour to a potent yellow disk. No wonder the Mayans had the jitters every time the heavenly bodies behaved funny, on a day like this they would have been rushing to their pyramids to start a sacrifice binge.
Still, Dover did receive us with less and less of that fog, and we were able to check out the famous white cliffs (I had been banging about this for a long time now and can tick the box of being there and doing that at last). Unfortunately, only the white cliffs were worth it; Dover, at least the way to the port, was ehm....
... nice or what?
Of course we were not sorry to leave the country after this view. Do they do it on purpose to discourage immigration? We hoped things looked brighter, warmer, nicer on the other side. And well, they did start looking much better from the boat... white cliffs bye byeeee!
We reached Calais in 2 hours; long flat beaches, blue sea, concrete blocks & towers... just like a Spanish seaside resort in grey. In fact, right after the big sign indicating CALAIS (in case you had gotten on the wrong boat), we were welcome by the wonderful view of "BooZers, Spirit of Calais" a shopping centre designed for the classy tourist.
Yes, it didn't look any prettier on the other side. Thankfully, the road took us away from the concrete-hole of Calais avoiding as much of it as possible. And now it did start feeling like a holiday - roof down, warm weather, tidy fields of grain with big rolled-up, lined-up, stacks of hay, and long, straight, empty motorways. Finding our way was so smooth that we wondered how travel was possible before the advent of the Tom-Tom. Kinder Bueno & Lion Bar for lunch (melted before reaching the mouth).
After the absolute rip-off péage (for the long empty motorways aforementioned), we hit Le Havre. Not as horrendous as Calais, jewel of the crown, only because it seems like a functional industrial port - thus with industrial stuff, not masqueraded with a sheen of cheapo tourist make-up. Also, extra points to it for not having a BooZer supermarket for its most wonderful bridge (rip-off part 2 but wonderful structure!)
(20 degrees; 13:45, 5€ to cross)
Stopped for petrol just
before the entrance of Le Havre 52€ for a life-saving tankfull of the black stuff - we had just depleted the last drop in the tank! Phil changed to flip-flops and decided to drive bare-footed, what a hippie. Also noted the unmanliness of wearing sea-sickness bracelets, but better safe than sorry!
Further péage and all the cows seem to be sleeping siestas under trees, thirsty for the shadow, what a life.
We arrived pretty fast to Mt. St. Michel; not worth stopping anywhere around a motorway anyway. In fact, we arrived early than predicted so the 1 hour queueing to get from one side of the parking to the other side and our specific spot didn't bother us that much. Of course finding our spot took us a couple of "bon, bof, behs" with pouted mouth from the parking attendants who were more concerned about their cigarettes than sorting the stagnant traffic situation.
We enjoyed the majestic presence of the Mont over our heads and the priceless people spotting (all the annoying ones were Mediterraneans, doh!). Then, it took us almost another hour to find the hotel - well, me running up and down the alleys and stairs in the Mont, which are many and of different shapes and widths, fighting against the hordes of baby prams, slow tourists, old tourists, tourists taking photos and tourists choosing cards or calling Manolo!!! while blocking the road, and Phil sitting with the luggage in a corner.
Granted, I should have known where I was going, planned as I had all the trip, but so it happens that to get the key to our room we had to go to a hotel which was not our hotel (get it?) and then they would give us they key and show us the way... which was through a shop, through the shop's back door, trawling through dresses and corridors full of boxes, and up a spiral and dark staircase.
So, seeing the "magnificent" entrance, I was already expecting the worse. And, voilá, our room, in a sort of turret whose entry is actually at the very top of the Mont (well, almost under the abbey), you just have to get lost a bit to find it, then go down some quirky stairs and alleys, and before you get to the cemetery, a little door: Logis St. Sebastian; go downstairs to the bottom through that spiral staircase (yes, the one that ended in the backroom of a shop), and there we were! On a room facing the main street (I feel like opening the window and emptying the contents of the bedpan on the tourists), so narrow one can almost see inside the rooms of the building opposite, the Hotel le Mouton Blanc (in fact, the main hotel, where you get the key for the Logis - are you lost yet?).
Our plants will be dead when we return, but this holiday is well worth the life of the couple of semi-defunct cacti that are decorating our mantelpiece.
We woke up at 5 (figure that, I didn't even have to be kicked out of the bed for this), got on the road at 6 with the sun, and eventually arrived to Dover well before our ferry was due.
On the road from home to the port, the fog was so thick, it could have been sliced with a knife and spread on toast. After half an hour of cautious driving in the foggiest of fogs, somewhere in Surrey the "intelligent" panels on the road kindly reminded us motorists that there was some sort of fog hazard around (thanks for the tip, guys). In the deep haze, the sun looked spooky and unreal, like a round cheese floating in the sky, slowly changing colour to a potent yellow disk. No wonder the Mayans had the jitters every time the heavenly bodies behaved funny, on a day like this they would have been rushing to their pyramids to start a sacrifice binge.
Still, Dover did receive us with less and less of that fog, and we were able to check out the famous white cliffs (I had been banging about this for a long time now and can tick the box of being there and doing that at last). Unfortunately, only the white cliffs were worth it; Dover, at least the way to the port, was ehm....
... nice or what?Of course we were not sorry to leave the country after this view. Do they do it on purpose to discourage immigration? We hoped things looked brighter, warmer, nicer on the other side. And well, they did start looking much better from the boat... white cliffs bye byeeee!
We reached Calais in 2 hours; long flat beaches, blue sea, concrete blocks & towers... just like a Spanish seaside resort in grey. In fact, right after the big sign indicating CALAIS (in case you had gotten on the wrong boat), we were welcome by the wonderful view of "BooZers, Spirit of Calais" a shopping centre designed for the classy tourist.
Yes, it didn't look any prettier on the other side. Thankfully, the road took us away from the concrete-hole of Calais avoiding as much of it as possible. And now it did start feeling like a holiday - roof down, warm weather, tidy fields of grain with big rolled-up, lined-up, stacks of hay, and long, straight, empty motorways. Finding our way was so smooth that we wondered how travel was possible before the advent of the Tom-Tom. Kinder Bueno & Lion Bar for lunch (melted before reaching the mouth).
After the absolute rip-off péage (for the long empty motorways aforementioned), we hit Le Havre. Not as horrendous as Calais, jewel of the crown, only because it seems like a functional industrial port - thus with industrial stuff, not masqueraded with a sheen of cheapo tourist make-up. Also, extra points to it for not having a BooZer supermarket for its most wonderful bridge (rip-off part 2 but wonderful structure!)
(20 degrees; 13:45, 5€ to cross)
Stopped for petrol just
before the entrance of Le Havre 52€ for a life-saving tankfull of the black stuff - we had just depleted the last drop in the tank! Phil changed to flip-flops and decided to drive bare-footed, what a hippie. Also noted the unmanliness of wearing sea-sickness bracelets, but better safe than sorry!Further péage and all the cows seem to be sleeping siestas under trees, thirsty for the shadow, what a life.
We arrived pretty fast to Mt. St. Michel; not worth stopping anywhere around a motorway anyway. In fact, we arrived early than predicted so the 1 hour queueing to get from one side of the parking to the other side and our specific spot didn't bother us that much. Of course finding our spot took us a couple of "bon, bof, behs" with pouted mouth from the parking attendants who were more concerned about their cigarettes than sorting the stagnant traffic situation.
We enjoyed the majestic presence of the Mont over our heads and the priceless people spotting (all the annoying ones were Mediterraneans, doh!). Then, it took us almost another hour to find the hotel - well, me running up and down the alleys and stairs in the Mont, which are many and of different shapes and widths, fighting against the hordes of baby prams, slow tourists, old tourists, tourists taking photos and tourists choosing cards or calling Manolo!!! while blocking the road, and Phil sitting with the luggage in a corner.
Granted, I should have known where I was going, planned as I had all the trip, but so it happens that to get the key to our room we had to go to a hotel which was not our hotel (get it?) and then they would give us they key and show us the way... which was through a shop, through the shop's back door, trawling through dresses and corridors full of boxes, and up a spiral and dark staircase.So, seeing the "magnificent" entrance, I was already expecting the worse. And, voilá, our room, in a sort of turret whose entry is actually at the very top of the Mont (well, almost under the abbey), you just have to get lost a bit to find it, then go down some quirky stairs and alleys, and before you get to the cemetery, a little door: Logis St. Sebastian; go downstairs to the bottom through that spiral staircase (yes, the one that ended in the backroom of a shop), and there we were! On a room facing the main street (I feel like opening the window and emptying the contents of the bedpan on the tourists), so narrow one can almost see inside the rooms of the building opposite, the Hotel le Mouton Blanc (in fact, the main hotel, where you get the key for the Logis - are you lost yet?).
Hurray! found the door!
And this is the street leading from our place to the main street...
So, Le Mouton Blanc, we didn't try their food but had a lovely lunch on a terrace on the remparts, well, dinner, for 18€ each, not bad! And the room was 55€ which is pretty good for a night at the heart of the Mont (hey, tick the box, been there done that).
Unfortunately, we are too tired to see the Mont lit up (well, it was past nine and it wasn't getting dark, so we just gave up). We feel like an elderly couple, flossing our teeth together in a room with separate beds, at 9.30 in th
e evening and all ready to go to bed and... sleep. Sod the lights on the Mont, we are not made for such adventures, and the stairs are a killer. Still, we love this place, room big, clean, well located, big bathroom with the basics (in wonderful seventies blue), high beamed ceilings, fireplace (not working, of course), crap telly in a corner and bargain price. Plus, add the charm of being hidden away in a secluded tower and the fact that you can spit at tourists from your window and they will never be able to find you. Bargain!
And this is the street leading from our place to the main street...So, Le Mouton Blanc, we didn't try their food but had a lovely lunch on a terrace on the remparts, well, dinner, for 18€ each, not bad! And the room was 55€ which is pretty good for a night at the heart of the Mont (hey, tick the box, been there done that).
Unfortunately, we are too tired to see the Mont lit up (well, it was past nine and it wasn't getting dark, so we just gave up). We feel like an elderly couple, flossing our teeth together in a room with separate beds, at 9.30 in th
e evening and all ready to go to bed and... sleep. Sod the lights on the Mont, we are not made for such adventures, and the stairs are a killer. Still, we love this place, room big, clean, well located, big bathroom with the basics (in wonderful seventies blue), high beamed ceilings, fireplace (not working, of course), crap telly in a corner and bargain price. Plus, add the charm of being hidden away in a secluded tower and the fact that you can spit at tourists from your window and they will never be able to find you. Bargain!So, night night, leave you with a lovely view...
Labels: Calais, France, holidays, Mont Saint Michel, road trip, summer
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