We wake early and watch more of the Tour de France, before we amble down the block for petit dejeuner. We treat ourselves to a taxi to the train station because the bags feel very heavy in this +33°C heat and although it is only three blocks, it is uphill. Perhaps being 60 allows us to make some allowances!
The train trip is direct and we once again enjoy the vistas of the oceanfront and all the yachts at play to start, the rocky red Pyrenees with their own versions of hoodoos – I wonder what they call them here – and then the picturesque and pastoral personality of this foodie nation with a golden hay crop taken off, green grocer crops growing, sunflowers doing their salutations, and Charolais cattle fattening.
We arrive at Gare du Lyon and the electricity is back on in Le Tren Bleu restaurant. Since we have bags in tow we forego the splendour and find a phone. Now, what do we actually dial of this multi-digit number to get through? Books have said you must dial 01 first in Paris, ultimately we give up trying and Dennis flags a very nice information person and it turns out you dial 0 then 10 digits…bon, mais…it is busy. These are the people we were to call one hour before we wanted into the apartment.
After a few more tries, we decide to head to the apartment anyway. We ask the cab driver to call for us and he very nicely has the lengthy conversation in French that we couldn’t have: we are here, where are they with the key?
He drops us and continues with the assurance that they told him they would be here in 15 to 20 minutes.
About 40 minutes later a lovely young man named Simon shows up apologetically and we are let into the building, then the inner building, as is the way here, and then there in the elevator. French elevators are small, but this one would make a phone booth look luxurious. One by one we ascend with the suitcases.
The apartment turns out to be very nice, with two large outdoor areas, off the living area. You could actually have six people to dinner on each of them, if the table was tiny. The kitchen, in its own room is no larger than the deck, but the separate bedroom and bathroom is largish and lux. Very nice. As we drink wine on our terrace, we watch the sun set and the girl in the apartment across the street brush her teeth and apply body cream in her bathroom. She doesn’t close the drapes and we don’t go in!
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