The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
-by Sherryanne De La Boise
Last week, I told you about renting a car in France. I neglected to tell that we had opted to rent a GPS system. GPS was very new in 2009. It came with several pieces that had to be plugged together and then into the cigarette lighter.
The unit, thankfully, spoke English. Not a nice American Siri (who had yet to be invented), but a snippy British Dame with Attitude.
As we were drove from the Paris airport to the skating competition in Rouen, France, there were many roundabouts. Did she say to enter at 6 o'clock and leave at 9 o'clock? Nope.
Or, give the exact words on the exit sign? Nope.
"Please Find and Take the Third exit."
Being France, there would be a couple of driveways or side streets before that third exit, that the GPS Dame never bothered to count. If we miscounted and turned off onto the wrong road, she would sigh. And then, in a very discouraged tone say, "When possible, please make a LEGAL turn about course. Sigh."
We traveled through the first dozen roundabouts, when the photographic opportunity just became too much to resist. In France, they are not content with manicured lawn in the middleof their roundabouts. Oh no. They fill them with very photographic content, like sculptures and representations of the local industry. There was a dairy-centric display with dancing jersey cows that got us laughing so hard that we missed the correct turnoff and circled around it again, much to the annoyance of our GPS Dame.
At the next roundabout, the desire to have a picture was too great. Like a cat who has seen catnip, Mother and her camera hopped out of the car, dodged between two advancing trucks and was off walking the roundabout, contemplating lighting and composition.
The GPS Dame started fussing because the car had passed the correct turnoff, as I drove around the roundabout several times to give Mother time to take pictures. "You have missed your exit. Please pull over to safety while I recalculate your route."
I continue to just go around the roundabout circle. "Please Find and Take the Next exit."
I drive past the exit, as Mother is still taking her picture. I swear I hear her sighing, "You have Missed your exit. Please pull over to safety while I recalculate your route."
After three times of sighing and nagging me about missing the turnoff, the GPS Dame goes silent. The little green icon still indicates that we are connected to the system. We have succeeded in getting a mere machine so frustrated that it is no longer talking to us.
Mother has gotten her picture and is back in the car. We take the correct exit and continue on to Rouen. The GPS Dame gives us the silent treatment for another 10 miles. Meanwhile, we are trying to dig out a traffic map of France, because we don't know how long she is going to be offended. When she finally tells us, "At the roundabout, Please Find and take the Fourth exit," We breathe a sigh of relief.
In Rouen, there is a square with both a beautiful cathedral (looks like Notre Dame) and our hotel. It's in the cramped, historic area where our ancestors might have lived in the middle ages. Unfortunately, all adjacent streets are blocked. But, the GPS Dame is not aware of this. Round and round we drive. In frustration, I leave Mother in the parked car and walk several blocks to the hotel. The entrance does not have a canopied driveway with bellhop. This small hotel is a two star place(recommended by Rick Steves) run by a French family. It caters to travelling Europeans, which is one of the reasons I selected it. When my daughter is done with her competition, I want her to spend a night here and experience the type of hotel that the locals would use.
The other team parents prefer the Marriott (The team will stay in the Best Western of Rouen). They have come over as a group, on the same flight as the team, but are put onto a different bus (This helps the coaches maintain control over the athletes). Some of the parents are travelling for the first time outside of the U.S. (and the first time they have ever gotten a passport).
I guess I understand that there are so many things to see and do in the U.S.A. that there really is no reason to travel further. Unless you have an Italian neighbor, who makes you curious about their homeland. Or, you read a book in school that makes you curious about seeing the pyramids. Or, you want to see your child compete on Team U.S.A….
While I terrified myself by renting a car in a foreign country, those parents were having nightmares about being someplace where they could not speak to anyone. What if there was an emergency? What if the French were as nasty as their reputation? And, how would they call home with all of those extra numbers that needed to be dialed? Did you pause after certain numbers? Or, just dial every number all at once?
The hotel sends someone to help me fetch Mother and the bags. Then, they direct me to a municipal parking garage to stash the car. Just like in the airport, the driving corridors and the parking spaces are tiny, and again I swing too wide. This initial drivewas stressful. I'm tired and not in the mood to fight getting the car into reverse, so just sideswipe a column adjacent to the parking space. I have insurance.
Thank heavens the GPS Dame has been unplugged. She'd probably sigh and say, "Please return the car and me to the rental agency, then Proceed to the next Taxi stand."