An American in Provence

We woke up at 5:30, got dressed, and took our breakfast with us (though this time sans coffee as our host didn’t want to brew coffee at 5:30 am). We walked back to the train station, and tried to buy tickets from the automated machine. We selected one trip to the airport (5.50 €), tried to pay with our credit card, then put a 20 € bill in. It spit out the ticket, but no change. I thought that perhaps we could still use the money in the machine, so I pressed the button for another ticket. Nothing happened, so we put another 20€ bill in, and got our ticket.
Turns out that the machine doesn’t give change for more than 9€, it gives you a receipt that you then have to cash in at a ticket office. We took the train to the airport, figuring the ticket office would be open there. We arrived a little after 7 am, and the ticket office was supposed to open at 7:10. We waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, at about 7:25, we decided to go check in, and then come back. We went and checked in (why more people don’t use the automated ticket counters and prefer to stand in line I don’t know). Then we went back to the train station, to find the ticket office still closed. I think this beats even France. In France they would be there, just glare at you as they help you for actually wanting service and disturbing their early morning coffee. Oh well. We will try to call or email and get our money back, and if not, just chalk it up to traveling. Anyone going to Rome and need a train ticket from Fiumicino airport?

This time Alain managed to get through security, deodorant intact. This is why I think airport security is such a joke. The guy was much more interested in chatting up his female coworker than actually looking at the screen. Boarded the plane for Nice, and again got stuck in front of a kid. Why does this keep happening to me? We arrived in Nice at around 10:20, and the shuttle bus took just long enough so that we missed the earlier train to Marseille. So we sat outside at a café right next to the airport, had croissants, coffee, and then later sandwiches and a brownie before catching our 1:30 train to Marseille. Much fewer people this time.

Alain slept most of the way while I read my new book that I had bought in Italy. We arrived in Marseille at 4, took the subway back to our apartment, and were very glad to be home. To celebrate New Year’s, we made some special pasta that we had bought in Italy (pretty much the same as any store-bought dried pasta I think) and we watched Gladiator because we wanted to see the Roman Forum sites. I fell asleep after about the first five minutes, then stumbled off to bed about halfway through the film. Alain slept off and on, woke up a bit after midnight, said “Happy New Year” and came to bed. Supposedly I mumbled “Happy New Year” in response, but I have no direct knowledge of this fact. We lead wild and exciting lives. Happy New Year!