Saturday morning found us packed back into the little Ford Fiesta and on the road to our final destination -- Villefranche-sur-Mer.
All went well; the maps were clear; directions matched actual roads and conditions and we even had agreement with TomTom. Up on to the highways without incident; successfully navigating both ticket and coin toll routes and back into Nice, we rocketed. With one tiny exception where TomTom told us to stay right, and all of us echoing "stay right" and still I took the left fork, all was good.
Nice was relatively calm and uneventful as we passed by the Negresco, toodling along the Promenade des Anglais and up to the Quai des Etats Unis.
Villefranche is truly a small town down the side of a cliff that extends into the most beautiful deep clear bay. Down and around sharp switchback roads (thankfully at a snail's pace because I was following the little 'petit train touristique'), we entered the port of Villefranche. Apparently the old part of Villefranche was along the side of the hill. We continued along the road, not sure if it was a pedestrian walkway, or a sidewalk lined with restaurants. But that is the way in Europe, pedestrians walk everywhere and cars stop for them, and in return, cars can go on pedestrian recognized lane ways, just so long as they drive slowly.
We found our apartment but then came the task of finding a parking space. So I did what everyone was doing -- headed for the beach. As I took the ticket I carefully noted that you could pay by coin and I had plenty left over from the toll roads.
Our apartment is right on the port road, overlooking the moored fishing boats and sailboats and the odd yacht. The beach is about 100 meters away and traffic, when it's not beach time, is relatively light and slow because the pedestrians are everywhere, a steady stream of humanity, wearing flip flops and sandals, all excitedly chatting about their day.
This apartment is all about location. The living quarters are basic - no expresso maker, no chi-chi wall hangings or even a broom. But there is the balcony and that makes up for everything.
We quickly grabbed our beach gear from the car and spent a pleasant afternoon at the Beach. Unlike Nice that has a large stone beach, Villefranche has small pebbles at quickly conform to your back when you lie down. The water is cooler now; guess Fall is setting in, There is little actual beach once you enter the water; there is quite a drop off. There's not a lot of time to get accustomed to the water temperature - refreshing is a good description. As long as the sun is on you, it is very nice indeed.
Upon our return to the apartment, we settled down to wait for a parking space to become available. One opened up and I dragged Mom down to wait by it until I could retrieve the car. Specific instructions were given to throw herself under the cars to ensure that the space stayed open for me.
Now, I must digress for a moment, to give further explanations. This trip has had its moments of stress and trouble whenever tickets were involved. You know about my toll route troubles, but I had omitted (accidentally or on purpose is for you to decide) about Les Baux. Where you enter at the parking lot (which, incidentally, is called Parking not Stationnement), there are signs all over the place in numerous languages to remind you to take your ticket with you and pay for it at the automatic cash machine before you attempt to leave.
I had dutifully taken my ticket into the windblown medieval town, keeping it safe in the side pocket of my purse. Time came to pay. I pulled out the ticket and it spat it back, rejected. Okay, maybe I'd put it in backwards. I reinserted it and this time, nothing, no instructions, no whirring to indicate machine thought, no ticket. I could see it, but it wouldn't come out. This is also the only ticket paying machine available.
As the line formed behind me, I looked around with desperation for assistance. There was a policeman talking to another man, so he became my would-be saviour. I batted my pretty brown eyes at him and gave him the helpless female look and over he came. After repeating the obvious (The ticket is stuck in there. Did you force it? It won't come out - all in French of course.), he produced a rather large knife from his back belt compartment and proceeded to dig out the ticket. Better than a nail file.
That's when I discovered that I'd accidentally inserted the Chateau's entry ticket into the machine instead of the parking ticket. From the corner of my eye, I could see Mom and Sona physically distancing from me as they realized what had happened. With a pointed look and some words of further clarification in case I needed it, the policeman handed me back the entry ticket. Rather red-faced, I checked my purse pocket again and there it was, the parking ticket. I quickly paid, retrieved my exit ticket and ran to catch up with Sona and Mom. Another stupid tourist story for the policeman to recount to his wife that evening.
Now flash forward to Villefranche.
I ran back to the car, executed a passable three-point turn, and drove slowly to the exit. Ticket inserted, nothing. There I was, sitting with my Euros in hand, ready to pay but no place to pay. And no ticket. Panic was setting again. Would Mom still be there, guarding the parking space? Would a driver become impatient and just run her over? Would I be able to ever leave the beach?
Once again assistance arrived in the form of the Police Municipal. I was informed to push the red button on the machine. Dutifully following his instructions, I buzzed. A voice actually answered. I had to return to the Snack Bar and get a ticket from there. Another three-point turn, and back down the beach I drove. I had to pass the Snack Bar as there were no spaces available and go all the way to the end of the parking road, turn around and come back. There are 2 Snack Bars. I stopped at the second one and was told to go to the red building OUTSIDE the parking lot and seek assistance. Once I had stated the obvious, I was told to go to the automatic parking machine by the first one. Thoroughly frustrated and now hot and panicked, I made the second stop, went up to the machine, pushed the red button and once again, I explained my circumstances ("the machine ate my ticket.") and he checked the video surveillance camera (for a beach parking lot?). Nine euros later, I had a exit ticket and off I went.
It was with much amazement and relief that I found Mom, and Sona, still guarding the parking space, eve after a half an hour. I quickly parked, and they told me how they'd stared down the drivers who'd dared to eye the parking space. The steely glare and jutted out chin that Mom must have shown would have been more than any intrepid beach goer. Not worth the trouble.
And so here we are. In paradise. It's good to be us.
Check out the pictures. More to follow, so check out the photo site.
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