Our plan was to drive from the gite to Brive-la-Gaillarde, return the car before the hire place closed at noon, then find lunch in town before catching our 2pm train to Narbonne. We'd then grab a quick bite to eat in Narbonne, before joining the coastal TGV from Narbonne to Barcelona, arriving there at 8:40pm. I had read the instructions and watched the video for retrieving our room access cards after hours, and after getting settled, we'd then find some late supper in Barcelona.
It all went exactly to plan up to and including the part where we grab a quick dinner in Narbonne, although Brive was very very quiet. The poster I bought in Rocamadour continued to be annoying, as no-one sold (or could even suggest who might sell) poster tubes for securely carrying it, let alone posting it.
In the end, La Poste managed to find a square tube that I cut down to a short triangular prism. I then took it back to the post office to be told that it would cost 27euro to mail a 6 euro poster. Ah, no. She then said I could send it as a 'petit paquet', which would take a very long time to get there, but would only cost 8 euro. Done.
The plan only came unstuck when our train from Narbonne didn't appear on the board, not least because the board was filled with a whole lot of delayed trains, from indeterminate to 3+ hours. We heard from an expat English man (at the station to put his son and daughter-in-law on the train to Barcelona) that Barcelona station was underwater, and the train had been cancelled. Merde. (That rain we had in Cahus overnight was significantly heavier in places south.)
I nipped across to the Hertz rental place, still open, to enquire about hiring a car. One way fee is 800 euro (!!!!), *and* they didn't have any cars suitable for Spain. She suggested we try the bus depot down the street a bit. JD returned the station to try to get verification that the train was indeed cancelled, while I went down to the bus depot. No buses there, and the office was not only abandoned but looked derelict. We met up again outside Hertz, JD having confirmed that not only was the train cancelled but the road was also cut. We met a few other English speakers, and with them a francophonic expat American, Susan.
Susan, an international relations consultant who works in Narbonne but lives in Montpellier, had also been caught out by the train cancellations (apparently the line to Montpellier was completely washed out). She recommended some accommodation, cheap but clean, and offered to take us there. Although she'd made her booking online, she rang on our behalf to ensure they had rooms for us. On a poor line, Susan managed to secure our rooms, and we set off the 600m or so to the hotel. A little tiny bit of me was thinking it could all be a scam, but at that point I didn't care too much - the credit card company could sort it out if it was. In the end, it wasn't. The hotel was a perfectly servicable commuter hotel, offering a two bed room for 50 euro a night, with a kettle and hotplate, and a window that opens. We got two rooms side by side, JD had a quick shower, and then we rejoined Susan downstairs to go out for a drink, and a bite more to eat for the boys.
We walked through the middle of the old town, with its Norman towers and other old buildings, past the exposed bit of Roman road (ca 3rd century, possibly Domitia if our memory serves). Narbonensis was an important Roman settlement for quite some time. The wine bar was on the promenade facing the river, and we sat down to enjoy a beverage each, plus some saucisson Susan sweet-talked the proprieter into providing.
Shortly after that the heavens opened. We were sitting outside under umbrellas, which fortunately had guttering slung between the umbrellas. Ah well, looked like we needed to have another round (or three), plus some tapas. By 9:30pm, the kids were slightly manic - too little sleep, too much lemonade - and I went in to settle the tab, including a bottle of wine to take away. And the rain, which had eased before, resumed more aggresively than before.
We waited it out for another 15-20minutes, but it showed no sign of easing. Nothing for it - we had to walk home in the rain. I had my hoodie with me, and the wine, so I walked briskly, while the others dashed ahead, dodging puddles, and trying to find overhangs to wait under until I caught up. After a while, we were all so soaked, we utterly gave up hiding from the rain, to the point that Susan and the boys started jumping in puddles.
We got back to the hotel, soaked to the skin, and into our room, agreeing to meet Susan shortly in her room to share the wine. We each stripped off, and hung our wet clothes on the heated towel rail (thank heavens for those!), the boys had a shower and went to bed, and JD and I went up to Susan's room (taking some toothpaste and the spare deodorant - she'd bought a toothbrush when she discovered she was stranded unexpectedly). With only one set of very wet clothes, Susan entertained us draped in two towels, and we chatted for a while as we finished the bottle.
We exchanged contact details, and assurances of a bed and assistance should we ever find ourselves in the other's town (Michegan for her). Although it is exceptionally unlikely to ever happen, I hope it does.
We slept well, albeit in single beds yet again, and woke with a light hangover.
It all went exactly to plan up to and including the part where we grab a quick dinner in Narbonne, although Brive was very very quiet. The poster I bought in Rocamadour continued to be annoying, as no-one sold (or could even suggest who might sell) poster tubes for securely carrying it, let alone posting it.
In the end, La Poste managed to find a square tube that I cut down to a short triangular prism. I then took it back to the post office to be told that it would cost 27euro to mail a 6 euro poster. Ah, no. She then said I could send it as a 'petit paquet', which would take a very long time to get there, but would only cost 8 euro. Done.
The plan only came unstuck when our train from Narbonne didn't appear on the board, not least because the board was filled with a whole lot of delayed trains, from indeterminate to 3+ hours. We heard from an expat English man (at the station to put his son and daughter-in-law on the train to Barcelona) that Barcelona station was underwater, and the train had been cancelled. Merde. (That rain we had in Cahus overnight was significantly heavier in places south.)
I nipped across to the Hertz rental place, still open, to enquire about hiring a car. One way fee is 800 euro (!!!!), *and* they didn't have any cars suitable for Spain. She suggested we try the bus depot down the street a bit. JD returned the station to try to get verification that the train was indeed cancelled, while I went down to the bus depot. No buses there, and the office was not only abandoned but looked derelict. We met up again outside Hertz, JD having confirmed that not only was the train cancelled but the road was also cut. We met a few other English speakers, and with them a francophonic expat American, Susan.
Susan, an international relations consultant who works in Narbonne but lives in Montpellier, had also been caught out by the train cancellations (apparently the line to Montpellier was completely washed out). She recommended some accommodation, cheap but clean, and offered to take us there. Although she'd made her booking online, she rang on our behalf to ensure they had rooms for us. On a poor line, Susan managed to secure our rooms, and we set off the 600m or so to the hotel. A little tiny bit of me was thinking it could all be a scam, but at that point I didn't care too much - the credit card company could sort it out if it was. In the end, it wasn't. The hotel was a perfectly servicable commuter hotel, offering a two bed room for 50 euro a night, with a kettle and hotplate, and a window that opens. We got two rooms side by side, JD had a quick shower, and then we rejoined Susan downstairs to go out for a drink, and a bite more to eat for the boys.
We walked through the middle of the old town, with its Norman towers and other old buildings, past the exposed bit of Roman road (ca 3rd century, possibly Domitia if our memory serves). Narbonensis was an important Roman settlement for quite some time. The wine bar was on the promenade facing the river, and we sat down to enjoy a beverage each, plus some saucisson Susan sweet-talked the proprieter into providing.
Shortly after that the heavens opened. We were sitting outside under umbrellas, which fortunately had guttering slung between the umbrellas. Ah well, looked like we needed to have another round (or three), plus some tapas. By 9:30pm, the kids were slightly manic - too little sleep, too much lemonade - and I went in to settle the tab, including a bottle of wine to take away. And the rain, which had eased before, resumed more aggresively than before.
We waited it out for another 15-20minutes, but it showed no sign of easing. Nothing for it - we had to walk home in the rain. I had my hoodie with me, and the wine, so I walked briskly, while the others dashed ahead, dodging puddles, and trying to find overhangs to wait under until I caught up. After a while, we were all so soaked, we utterly gave up hiding from the rain, to the point that Susan and the boys started jumping in puddles.
We got back to the hotel, soaked to the skin, and into our room, agreeing to meet Susan shortly in her room to share the wine. We each stripped off, and hung our wet clothes on the heated towel rail (thank heavens for those!), the boys had a shower and went to bed, and JD and I went up to Susan's room (taking some toothpaste and the spare deodorant - she'd bought a toothbrush when she discovered she was stranded unexpectedly). With only one set of very wet clothes, Susan entertained us draped in two towels, and we chatted for a while as we finished the bottle.
We exchanged contact details, and assurances of a bed and assistance should we ever find ourselves in the other's town (Michegan for her). Although it is exceptionally unlikely to ever happen, I hope it does.
We slept well, albeit in single beds yet again, and woke with a light hangover.
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