Several times we have flown into Paris, with our eventual destination being Provence. In the olden times, we would rent a car and take two days each way to drive. Then we discovered that for a hundred bucks each we could take a TGV (Tres Grande Vitesse) train direct from Charles de Gaul Airport to Avignon in about 4 hours and pick up a rental car there.
This trip we were coming from Dublin, so we flew into Bordeaux, rented a car for the two weeks we were there, then turned it in at the Bordeaux TGV station and rode the rails north.
Rental Car
Our usual pattern when visiting France is to stay in gites, the French version of Air B&Bs. These originated as weekly accommodation, often on farms, where they are used to supplement rural incomes. For this style of visit, a car is essential, and the rental process is not much different from any other country.
But driving the back roads of France has its own challenges. I dealt with navigation in last week’s post. These little country roads are narrow, and locals drive them with what I would call a casual confidence. Which doesn’t include slowing down very much. On almost every foray I made, someone came roaring up behind me and tailgated me until I pulled over.
As far as meeting other cars, I have found that the best technique is to develop a feel for the point where your right-side wheels develop a slight rumble as they touch the broken edge of the pavement. Once you have that down pat, you figure you’re doing the best you can, and you just keep driving. Ten centimetres over, and you could be in the ditch, but c’est la vie.
And then there’s the cities. Everybody knows about the winding, narrow streets of ancient European towns. Well, it’s worse than that. The French economy isn’t doing too badly right now, and they always invest good money in infrastructure improvement: in other words, streets are torn up, moved around and generally even more haphazard and less documented than usual. It was no accident that I scheduled my second-last day in Bordeaux for a visit to the city, to take a dry run at the TGV station.
Every train station and airport I have ever been to has a wide street out front with room for vehicles to pull up temporarily to pick up and drop off passengers. Not Gare Saint Jean. They have a mass of tram lines in front, and a “buses only” dropoff. For cars, there’s an arrow that sends you diving into a dark, narrow tunnel, which exits into a darker underground labyrinth where the pathway snakes between paint-scraping concrete posts. There you squirm up to the usual gate where you take a ticket, and the barrier rises. Only then do the lights come on. Stand still while you’re unpacking the car, and the lights go off.
You have ten free minutes of parking, and it’s a euro a minute if you go over. I know, because it took me 12 minutes to take Linda and Anne upstairs into the train station and find a comfortable spot for them to wait for me while I returned the car. It was a good thing I had toured the interior of the station by Google Street View the night before.
Best Advice I Got: take careful photos of your car, 360 degrees, and watch out for reflections, especially on the windshield. The return agent found a rock chip that the company had no record of, but fortunately it was visible on my photo.
TGV
I confess to some disappointment with the TGV this time. I don’t know if it’s new equipment or a different department, but the trains we took from Paris to Avignon seemed roomier and the seats more comfortable. It’s still better than a Greyhound bus, and the ride is amazingly smooth. And for three-and-a-half hours from Bordeaux to Paris, I’m hardly complaining. Plus, it ended at the Gare Montparnasse, three kilometres from our hotel.
Paris Taxi
In the past, we have always used the Paris Metro, but subway stations have too many stairs for our aging knees, so we decided to take taxis this time. We were splitting the fare three ways, which helped.
Contrary to what you might think, Paris taxi drivers are cool. Every one we had drove in a relaxed manner. They eased through gaps with paper-thin margins. They took and gave right-of-way with a casual lack of bluster. They may have commented to their passengers at the antics of those they share the streets with, but always with good humour.
Let’s take, for example, Protest Day, which could have been pretty well any day in the last month. Last Tuesday we were going to La Musée de Orsay, only about 1.2 kilometres along the Left Bank from our hotel. We went down in the morning and asked the concierge to call us a taxi. After a while he came out from behind his desk. “Sorry, there are no taxis available. It must be because of the protest.”
Ah, the Pension Protest. Where was it going to be held? Pretty much where we were going, apparently. Hey, it’s a popular area for everyone.
But we decided to persevere and went to the nearest taxi rank. We were second in line, and we waited half an hour before one with a blue “for hire” light showed up. The driver zig-zagged easily between the police barricades and the blocked streets, and got us to the museum, no problem. If you don’t count half an hour and twenty-five euros fare to go one kilometre a problem.
When we came out, our next stop was the River Cruise Terminal at the Arc de Triomphe. Exactly the same place the protest was heading, but we figured once we got on the river we’d be out of the way. Fortunately, we were able to flag another taxi that was just dropping someone off at the museum, and we started out down the river.
It was the same barricades-and-blockages routine, but worse. In order to make progress, we kept getting forced left, away from the river. We kept circling and finally hit the bank about half a kilometre downstream of our target. They were only letting taxis and buses onto the Quay, and the procession had already passed, so the street was empty. The driver was able to drop us off right at the port.
But the trip home was even worse. Again, we were able to snag a taxi dropping someone off, and away we went. This driver decided to try the Right Bank. Bad idea. Fortunately, the Paris taxis have up-to-the-minute GPS info from the Gendarmerie, and they know exactly which streets are blocked off. So once again we did a big workaround, and finally got let off just on the other side of the Isle de la Cite from our hotel. The driver apologized, but it was basically a “you can’t get there from here” situation. Easier for us to cross the Isle on a one-way street, walking against the traffic.
The bottom line for the day was an hour’s ride and about a hundred bucks for a Distance Made Good of about five kilometres.
Electric Rickshaw
The following day we went to the Orangerie, the same distance away but on the opposite side of the Seine. No protests that day, so we were able to order a cab that whisked us there in a minimum of time and a cost of less than 20 Euros. However, a ride home was another problem. The Orangerie fronts on the Place de la Concorde, 11 lanes of constantly circulating traffic, and all the taxi rank space was taken up by construction. We waited a while, but no museum visitors showed up. I noticed a couple of pedal-operated vehicles best described as electric rickshaws parked awaiting customers. I assumed they would be rather expensive, but I thought, “What the heck?”
His price: 10 euros! Once we got going, we could tell it was mainly electric powered, and the driver only pedalled when he felt like it. Best of all, it travelled on the bicycle lanes, and where the traffic was heavy, we were faster than the cars. So, we rode home in style for a decent price.
The Bottom Line
In general, I think French drivers have had a bad rap. Over the years, I have seen a decline in the aggressive, abusive behaviours that used to occur. Now, there is very little horn honking, and any shouting you hear is likely to be a cyclist who has no other way to communicate with fellow travellers. This has happened in coincidence with a severe tightening of the drinking-and-driving laws. Surprise, surprise.
I have found the drivers there to be far more competent than their North American colleagues, and while they are quick to take advantage of their right-of-way, they are also quick to concede it to others who have rights. My big take-away from this experience is that if you never do anything suddenly, you’re pretty safe. Quick, aggressive driving is dangerous; as long as everyone knows what you’re going to do, they have the skill to avoid you.