Marseilles & Nîmes, France 🇫🇷

May 28

Hubby Bill asked me if I would pick him up at the Marseilles, France, Airport upon his arrival from Washington D. C. (Dulles Airport), as he thought navigating the gymnastics of local travel may get the best of him upon his arrival. He is practically correct.

“Of course,” I slyly replied after we made plans to come back to the South of France for the Retreat for Writer’s, hosted by Akimbo Alum, Cindy Villanueva, and PS’er and Akimbo Alumna, Diane Osgood. This is the third one in four years held in the spring in the lovely Cévennes Region.

When I mentioned having to “pick” Bill up when he arrived in Marseille, to fellow writer and traveler, she said she’d love to come with me. When another retreater, Dave Vance, also in the area and staying in the same building as us mentioned he’d like to go as well, we actually became an entourage to welcome Bill back to the South of France.

Let me explain the reason why Bill didn’t want to navigate the third leg of the trip after grabbing his suitcases off the carousel in baggage - Terminal 1.

After a long day of, say, 22.5 hours and flying a good part of the world to Europe, figuring out the bus from Marseilles Airport to the Marseilles Train Station and then to Nîmes, is a big deal and frightening to some, including Bill.

I, on the other hand, like to figure out how to get from one place to another, by trains and buses, and, all in a foreign language to boot. Smiling helps. Saying the greetings in their language really helps. This method is not for all, but for me, it stretches me as a person more than anything.

Since Bill and I bought the train tickets in advance, I only had to exchange one (the morning). Katy, Dave and I conferred yesterday after our local trip to Pont du Gard, to buy the early tickets for today’s trip while still in the train station. Good plan for sure. I’ve been in and out of the second largest city in France a couple of times, but never tooled around it to check out the sights and sounds of this big and hustling Mediterranean Sea City.

Our plans were loose on how much we could see, but Katy thought going up to see the Cathedral on the “hill” up close and personal would be a good start upon our arrival. She was there two years ago and thought it would be terrific for us to see it too.

Keeping the time schedule in check to pick up Bill in the middle of the afternoon, we knew our time was precious. We reversed engineered the trip.

Train from Nîmes to Marseilles Airport.

Bus from Marseilles Airport to downtown Marseilles

Train Station (where the buses also live)

Metro to the Cathedral? That’s another learning curve.

Walk? It would be a challenge but doable - time being the biggest hurdle.

Taxi? Since time was an issue, a taxi seemed the best bet.

And this is where the fun started! Ha!

Exiting the train station near the taxi stand, we went to the first driver in the queue. He didn’t speak a lick of English - NONE! This may be a tough one, I thought to myself. However, we persevered. There was some haggling on the price of taking us to the Cathedral on the hill, though the taxi driver accepted the price we bargained for, and we were off to the city streets in no time. Cash money does the talking…no language skills needed.

Thankfully, our driver, I don’t know, showing off his city, had taken us all over the place to get us to the wrong church, He did not take us to the right church we had our sights on, you know, the one on the hill overlooking the entire bay as we tried to tell him, in English, not French, mind you.

Frankly, the mix up was all my fault. I inadvertently showed him the WRONG church photo on my phone. We were trying to explain in English where we wanted to go, and he kept talking over us in French. I was all confused about the mileage, thinking the church was a mile away, as the crow flies (that’s the wrong church that was a mile away).

But, there was no way the church on the hill, known the world over as Notre-Dame de la Garde was only a mile away. By this time, this guy had taken us all over the city and getting more angry with each mile (km). It got dicey enough that he called a friend who could speak English to us on what the driver was attempting to convey to us about the fare.

However, with another 25 euro in cash added to sweeten the pot, and to satisfy the driver to drive the extra miles, he was, I think, okay with the new and improved offer. This time he drove us to the right church. In all of the back and forth with two languages, Katy and Dave were able to ascertain that our driver told his English speaking friend that, "These Americans’ heads are filled with croissants!"Then the giggles started, then the knee-slapping laughter started as we tumbled out of the backseat of his car - right at the top of the Notre-Dame Cathedral on the hill!

Víolá! We made it!

Oh, by the way, and the reason we were there in the first place, is that Bill was picked up by the three of us. We were all whisked by bus and train back to Nîmes in good standing!

Blessed and Thankful!

Viva La France! 🇫🇷

Terri