UK and The Frenchies

A couple mis-adventures in Europe.
The first was when I arrived in Machester after about 12 hours of travel (layover in Amsterdam) and got off the plane looking for my "driver." No Shauri sign to be seen. Turns out the message he got was that my plane was arriving at 10am, so he came and I wasn't there so he left. I actually arrived at 12. He told me to sit tight and wait for him to come back..he was an hour away. This is all fine except for when you are totally exhausted and the only food options in the airport are stale donuts and really bizarre UK sandwiches that include egg and pickles on them no matter what else it is made of.

I should also mention that I only got ahold of my driver after asking 3 people at the airport to show me how to dial the phone number. Simple? No. Not for me.



On this 6 day journey I flew to Manchester, car to Liverpool, plane to Paris, train to Bordeaux, plane to London and back to the states. Several taxis and tube rides in between. I tried every mode of transportation available in Europe...and few went smoothly.


I mentioned in the last post that I was in Paris learning how to be a photographer with professional photog Joel Addams--highly recommend him for anyone in need of a brush up or a get me started lesson.



Basically he is a slave driver who tried (I emphasize tried) to get me going by 6:30am both days and wrapped us up around 11pm. In between we covered every inch of Paris possible and he taught me the finer points of how to turn off my "auto" function for good.

Here are some photos from our journey together:







Our time together ended Saturday night, and that's where my travel mishaps picked up again. Somehow, someway we ended up running late for the train station and not only were we late, but I hadn't printed out my online receipt to get my ticket.

SOOO..once we got there the nice french lady at the ticket booth said she'd look up my reservation by my credit card and name...no dice. I had 10 minutes at this point to get to my train gate and board so I had no other choice but to (pause for dramatic effect) buy another ticket. Sigh.

But not too much time to sigh, we got it in hand and RAN. Ran because my new ticket was in steerage and so my train car was practically the VERY-LAST-ONE. Breathlessly I jumped aboard just as it was about to pull out.

Au Revoir Paris!

Next stop was to see Maria and Desmond who are a bit outside of lovely Bordeaux. I can't even describe how happy I was to see them. Especially because when I was getting off the train I asked all the Frenchies if this was Libourne (my stop) and no one understood a word I was saying. So I stood in the dark on the platform looking around for a familiar face, or even a sign and then...as if like an angel from heaven who should pop around the corner but Twizzle. Aka, Desmond the delightful.



Followed shortly thereafter by Maria the Magnificent.



Two of my favorite people in the world. Or at least in France. For sure in France.



I will tell you that I have never seen a more beautiful place to call home in my life than their petit chateau. And by petit I mean ginormous.







Their house, their property, their villa all made me feel like I had just stepped on to the set of Pride and Prejudice. (And believe me, I kept hoping Mr. Darcy would appear, but this was the closest...)



I LOVED our morning trip down to the dock to see a village boat race...




Our trip to get french bread and croissants, and you'll note their house is listed on the street sign...



and then our trips to the most quaint little town in the WORLD and of course Bordeaux for dinner.








I got to sleep in my own WING of the house...hello. AND they served me bread, cheese and chocolate to my heart's content.

They were the best hosts ever and the best part was all the laughs and quality time. It was fantastique!



Finally, back to London. Where I had a few hours that night to see a couple big sights with every Rootster's favorite (if barely remembered and past fun award winner) Mark...


and to have dinner with two of my new lovely goddess friends from my Bali surf adventure trip.




All in all...it was a perfect dream - and in terms of my jetlag I sometimes think that's what it was.

One minor sidebar. On the flight home, this man who was sitting kitty-corner from me decided to come over pre-flight and literally stand in front of my seat between me and the other seat and make inane jokes about the socks I was wearing.

I gave him the requisite polite laughs and only mildly mocked him and then thought that would be it. BUT, no. The whole 8 hour flight I would see him out of the corner of my eye, twisting his body and staring at me trying to make eye contact. It was hard work pretending I never saw him, believe me.

Would have been great if it was Mr. Darcy, but he was much closer to Mr. Collins.

And thus ends my lovely European dream.