Péage

Liberté, égalité, fraternité . . . et péage. Must not forget péage, because as far as I'm concerned it's definitely a part of the French motto. The French sure love their toll roads! When planning our southwestern France trip I carefully calculated the cost comparison between taking the ferry and driving against flying and renting a car. Taking the ferry and driving down, including the cost of the ferry fare and all necessary petrol (which is massively expensive in the UK and throughout Europe), the ferry/drive route was enough cheaper that we decided to go for it, despite the 11-hour drive from the port in northern France to our destination in southwest France. We have driven shorter distances in France and other places in Europe, but a long road-trip sounded like an adventure, and hey if we were going to save a few euro, even better! Boy were we wrong. For all the research I do in planning trips (and if you know me, I do an insane amount of research) I really missed the mark on this one. The first toll booth was something like €9 ($12). This wasn't some cool bridge, or particularly special looking road. It was just a road! I was hoping this was a one-time shot, but after a couple more we realised we were going to be nickelled and dimed the whole way down. Wrong again! At about our fourth péage station, probably a mere 10 miles from the last one we just fed a bunch of money to, the machine read, wait for it . . . €29.40!!! A $39 toll for 10 miles!? Holy smokes! We encountered many more around the €10-15 mark, and our cheaper ferry/drive option suddenly became quite expensive. Everytime I saw one of those nifty blue "welcome to the autoroute" signs I knew we would soon be paying for that sign with another péage stop! We figured we spent in the arena of €200 just on tolls during this trip.

Now that I got that off my chest . . . the farmhouse served as not only a unique lodging experience, but also a great base for lots of great sightseeing throughout southwestern France. Our excursions also included a new country we can check off our lists, too. From the farm we were able to visit Carcassonne, Andorra, tiny off-the-map villages, spent the day with an old friend of mine who lives in the area, Pont du Gard, Nimes and Toulouse. En route back to the port at the end of the week we were also able to spend some time in the gorgeous Dordogne region visiting some of the most post-card perfect villages on earth. And lastly before finishing the drive up to the port to catch our ferry back to the UK we stopped to visit another sobering relic from World War II at Oradour-sur-Glane.

FERRY

Car all set to sail! For anyone who's ever wondered about those oval black and white decals with a country's initials? They're not just a vehicular fashion statement. When you drive your car through Europe from one country to another your vehicle has to be identified with its country of origin. Since all European license plates look the same, the sticker bearing the country's initials is required. Our GB magnet only adorns our car when we leave the UK :)


Our glamorous stateroom, all set to slow-boat it on the overnight ferry!

CARCASSONNE

Carcassonne is a picturesque medieval fortress city. Medieval wall walks and wandering the old town are really the main events here. It is plenty charming, but also plenty touristy. The tourism factor was a bit much, but as the sun went down the place became a moody playground devoid of tourists.





























ANDORRA

Don't forget the dramamine! The road to Andorra is full of mountainous, windy roads just like this. Much of the drive was definitely a white-knuckle experience, but at just a couple of hours from where we were staying we couldn't resist the opportunity to check another country off our list. For our most recent UK resident visa we had to document every day's whereabouts for the last decade. In doing so I realised I've hit a good chunk of the European continent. Depending on the list you use, I've either been to over half or exactly half of the countries in Europe--the most comprehensive European country list totals 50. Hitting every single one is now officially on my bucket list, and with Andorra I'm at number 25!


An experimental dashboard shot zipping through one of the Pyrenees Mountain tunnels on the way to Andorra


Andorra is a tiny principality sandwiched between France and Spain in the Pyrenees Mountains. The whole country is not but 180 square miles with a population less than 100,000. On the drive we popped in the movie Princess Diaries. The whole experience felt very much like we were traveling to the fictitious country of Genovia depicted in the film, no doubt modelled after small European countries like Andorra, Luxembourg and Liechtenstein. And so throughout the day we would sing out "Genovia!" and quote funny lines from the movie. And look, it's Princess Mia . . .




A playground stop after the long drive






The country is totally and completely surrounded by high mountains and being there feels much like being at the bottom of a bowl.


Catalan is the official language here, but French and especially Spanish are widely spoken here.


Some of the best paella we've ever had was at this random Italian place we found. So good!


Dallin was in heaven with his seafood paella!






Andorra is known as a major tax haven, and thus banking and duty-free shopping are the big attractions here. I have never seen so much shopping and private banking in one place before.




One of the many pitstops we took so Scott could take a conference call. I don't speak much about how much Scott works during our travels and conference calls don't make for great photos, but he ALWAYS works on trips. And this one was particularly bad. He billed over 35 hours during our week in France! It left him wanting another holiday and me exhausted from having to manage active, cranky kids in all kinds of random situations. At one point due to heavy Blackberry usage we had to stop in a tiny town at night just outside of Andorra so Scott could beg mercy on a restauranteur for a five-minute charge boost.












On the road back to France from Andorra


Another Pyrenean tunnel a la Tron

SMALL VILLAGES

One of the things I loved most about where we stayed was the small-town atmosphere, so charming in a rather unassuming way.
















True haute couture en France

PONT DU GARD

The grand Roman aqueduct








Trevon's favourite part was throwing rocks into the Gard River







NIMES

This charming city is home to many great Roman architectural finds.


Maison Carrée


Sharing a crêpe au chocolat


On "Madeleine" street


In a little moment of heaven with his chocolate eclair


Roman amphitheatre

TOULOUSE

Toulouse is the fourth largest city in France. It has a very different flavour from many other French towns. It is a university town and that combined with the warmer tones of the cramped streets give it a definite bohemian vibe.


Main town square


Dallin in front of the marathon signage as the town prepares for the Toulouse marathon the next day


Hopping along the barricades as dad takes another conference call


Trevon plays traffic cop


The gorgeous Romanesque Saint-Sernin Basilica



















DORDOGNE
The villages of the Dordogne are exceptional. So amazingly beautiful that it hardly seems like it could possibly be real. It's as if Disney came through and waved a magic wand. I nearly expected Belle and company to burst out in song. There simply aren't words for how stunningly beautiful these places are.






Lunch stop in Domme




Lunch with a view





La Roque-Gagneac . . .


















Beynac . . .
























Sarlat . . .






ORADOUR-SUR-GLANE

As we finished off the drive back up north to the port to catch our ferry back to the UK we couldn't pass up the opportunity to stop for a quick visit to see Oradour-sur-Glane, which comes as a stark contrast to the beauty we experienced in the Dordogne. Known as the Village des Martyrs, it was machine gunned and burned to the ground on 10 June 1944 by Nazi troops to terrorise the population. This occurred 4 days after the allied invasions in Normandy. In true methodical, detailed fashion the nazis rounded up all 642 inhabitants of the village, women and children were taken to the church and gassed, and the men were executed. The town was then set on fire, left under ashes. The town has been left untouched and remains as it was left 60 years ago. Now a ghost town it stands as yet another reminder of World Ward II. Visiting Oradour-sur-Glane felt very much like stepping back in time, visiting a moment frozen in time, and you can almost feel the life lost here motionless around you.
































Bridge crossing back into Le Havre

On the sunset ferry home to the UK . . .











The ramp we drive off back into the UK. Au revoir France!