Pleasant Montpellier

A very  pleasant place, with pleasant people. Sharif tells me that is has the largest auto-free zone in Europe. The whole central area is made up of tiny streets, except for a few grand, tree-lined boulevards, and they are given over to brand-new tram-lines that are just like our light rail in the Twin Cities, except that there are lots more of them, running constantly.

The stations for these sleek, silent ships are built up just enough higher than the sidewalk to permit wheelchairs to enter without a bump. There is hardly any space at all between the car and the quay, and the ramps from the sidewalk are unobtrusive. Each station is also sheltered with a large glass enclosure for rain and shade. [I suppose it is quite hot here in the summer.]

The architecture is just like Paris, only a bit lower: five-six-storey buildings with iron balconies, but the narrow, curving streets make it seem like Paris of a bygone time.

My hotel, the 2-star KallisteI  (about which the less said the better, except that the proprietor was very nice and I did have a really good sleep, which is, after all, the real point)  was within walking distance of the station. But, since I didn’t know exactly where it was, I went to the cab stand, which was quite a long walk from the station (in the opposite direction, as it turned out), because of the auto restrictions. The head of the line didn’t want to take me. He was most pleasant, assuring me that it was only a five-minute walk. This may have been true if I had known the way, but his directions were inadequate. So, I had a fairly extended tour of Monpellier’s main square,La Place de la Comédie, and curving back streets. It turned out that Kalliste was pretty close. I stopped for directions in a supermarket, but the nice young attendants had never heard of the hotel OR of the street (one block away) it was on. Clueless suburbans, I suppose. But they really were  helpful and not in a hurry to get rid of me. They asked their supervisor – an older woman, who knew.

This gave me the opportunity not only to experience a little of the people of Montpellier, but also to check out their holiday festivities. On this Thursday might everyone was out on the street. Bars and restaurants thriving, and a nice big outdoor Christmas market, complete with an old-fashioned carousel – occupying several blocks of the main street.  These seem to be popular in euroiope – at least where temperature permits. Theu have a huge one right in the middle of the  Place de la Défense in Paris (next to the OWS camp).

After struggling up the three flights to my 2-star room (a generous rating), I went out for dinner. I found that I was in Chinatown. Lots of nice-looking places with names like “Jade Garden” and “Pagoda” – mostly Vietnamese and Thai. But I didn’t feel like Asian food,  and the fixed-price menus didn’t look that appealing anyway, so I walked around the corner where I found a nice mom-and-pop hole-in-the-wall that styled itself Moroccan.  Maybe, although they looked more like pieds noirs to me. Anyway, like all the Montpellierains I met, they were extremely nice. Just like Catalans. And I got a really good,home-cooked tagine of eggplant, kofta (little burger patties) and merguez (the delicious, thin, North African lamb sausage ) with an egg. Along with the bread, I couldn’t ask for more. And the lady complimented my French. “You speak French very well”, said she. When I wrinkled my nose and shook my head, she repeated it. I told her she was very kind, but she insisted: “It’s true”. Well, I suppose my French IS impeccable – as long as I am talking about stuff to eat!

One way in which France definitely surpasses Spain is pastry. I had got up early, so I had plenty of time to read the paper over a couple of café crèmes and what may be the best croissant I have ever eaten. Right across the auto-free Place de la Gare from the station is a brassérie-viennoisérie (a restaurant that also bakes its own pastries). Not only do they sell them at the traditional bar (where one traditional worker was drinking his traditional pastis eye-opener), but they sell them out the window over an outdoor counter, where there was a long line. I went inside and sat down. The croissant (about a dollar) and maxi-chocolate (huge, chocolate-filled croissant at $1.30) were still hot from the oven. Heavenly.

Roman bridge over the Rhone at Avignon "sur le pont d'Avignon..."

I got to see the Rhone as we crossed into Avignon.  And caught a fleeting glimpse of Cezanne's favorite mountain.

Mt. St. Victoire, as seen by Paul Cezanne

Then I had an hour in Marseilles, 

Old harbor, with chalk butte behind

which gave me enough time to check out reservations from Ventimiglia to Milan. No dice. On December 11, the French revised their schedules, and this threw a monkey-wrench into the already iffy communications with the Italian computers. SO, I just had to wing it and hope that there was an evening train to Milan.

After a really good salmon sandwich (the fresh French demi-baguettes make all the difference), I got on my first non-TGV train, bound for Nice along the Côte d’Azur.  On the left, the pine-covered chalk buttes  of Provençe reflect the winter sunshine. Some have little villages or castles on top.

An occasional glimpse of the Mediterranean on the right. As far as I can tell, I am the only passenger in this 1^st-class car. Unlike the wonderful TGVs, this one has the old-fashioned layout with compartments for six [three facing three]. It also has a little table and an electrical outlet to keep my battery charged.

A word about the TGVs. They are very fast (almost 200 mph) and luxurious. All  the doors are automatic. The double-decker cars provide easy access to the lower level, for elderly passengers like me. The toilets are exquisite.

Since it is only a couple of days until Christmas, there are lots of travelers, many with small children and some with dogs! The latter custom is, apparently, well-established here. Dogs are also permitted in bars and brasseries – at least in this part of France.

There was a connecting train to Italy immediately after my arrival in Nice, so I just  got on it, without a seat reservation. They post the quay number only 20 minutes before departure, but I was first in line and went to the designated track. This involved some stairs up to the quay. A nice young Frenchman helped me with my bag. [This is the SECOND time this has happened to me in France, so don’t believe anyone who says the French are mean and nasty. Some are – mostly in Paris; most are not.] Then I walked to the end of the treack and sat down.

After awhile, I began to get nervous for some reason. I looked down the quay to see that no one was waiting anymore! When I walked back to the electronic sign, I found that they gad changed the track, so I had to clunk-clunk-clunk down the stairs, dragging my bag like Christopher Robin dragging Pooh. And then up to the right track. But there was time.

And I was excited to be able to get on today. The old train from Ventimiglia to Milan has one first-class car – old fashioned like the one from Marseille to Nice, only more so: you can shut the door and draw the apartment curtains. I could even fold up the arm-rests and streych out, but I am not that tired. The trip to Milano takes four hours, getting in at 9:00 pm, so the whole journey from Montpellier took just under 12 hours. Although there wasn’t time to get a reservation (which Thos. Cook’s Tinetable says is required), the conductors didn’t bat an eye. Both of them smiled warmly when I flashed my pass, and didn’t ask for any reservation.

There were great views of the cote d’azur from Nice to Italy. 

Menton, just west of Italian border

The train stopped at all stations, so we hit Monaco and villages I had never heard of. Lots of very high-priced-looking villas and condos on the left, beautiful bays and capes and the sea on the right. 

Condos above Eze 

I have the impression that rent it still considerably lower in Italy. Ventimiglia and San Remo are not so tony-looking.


So,, when I arrive in Milan, it will be just about 48 gours since i left Granada - 24 of which were in France. I think I am getting my money's-worth out of my Eurailpass.