In my last post, I talked about what I really love (and don’t love) about Paris… but really, what I should have done was sum it all up into what I love about France, as a whole.
I love driving through the green fields, spotting mistletoe clinging to the trees. It’s probably the only time a parasite can be considered so beautiful and festive. Every tree looks like it’s been decorated for the holidays.
It’s really a sight to see.
But what I don’t love? France’s ever-changing speed limits. Yes… I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it again. I do not love the constant speed changes… fast, slow, speed up, slow down, go faster…
I got a speeding ticket.
How?????
Like… seriously… how the actual fc*k?
I was in a car that beeped incessantly at me if I was going too fast… or too slow. I was in a car that would slow ITSELF DOWN if the speed limit DECREASED!
Now… granted, I haven’t received a speeding ticket yet. But… it’s coming.
What I actually got was an unusual $85 charge on my credit card.
What the…???
There were no warnings… no text, no phone call and no email from Europcar to let me know that they were charging my card. I naturally thought my card had been compromised.
You would too!
I think I deserved at least a little communication… if only a simple heads up… before being so brazenly charged. Especially considering I had already signed off on an invoice stating I owed nothing.
Turns out… Europcar hit me with an “administration” fee.
$85.
That must have been some serious admin work. I can only imagine the extensive research, the mountain of paperwork, the countless emails, the signatures, the legal battles…
$85.
Highway robbery.
The only reason I even found out was because I asked ZC to call them and ask some tough, hard hitting questions… like, "What the actual f…???”
I was just about to cancel my credit card.
So… BIG HUGE thumbs down for Europcar. I can’t believe they led with zero communication. Pretty unprofessional… and pretty lousy on their part.
And now, I get to go home… where a speeding ticket is probably already waiting for me. It wasn’t even for speeding that much or for that long… because the dumb car would beep relentlessly if it wasn’t in the mood to slow itself down.
Jerk car.
Jerk police.
Jerk Europcar.
Oh well.
Perhaps I’ll just ignore it and then never drive in France again.
I guess you have to take the good with the bad. But seriously… I’m wearing out.
I can feel it… it’s time to go home. I’m exceedingly glad that I only planned three months for this trip, as opposed to the four, five and six months I’ve started to do.
It’s time to get back to routine… and back to work.
I have much debt to pay off.
Ugh…
So… I decided to drown my sorrows in Bordeaux… by drinking as much wine as I could possibly get my hands on.
I’d always dreamed of going to Bordeaux. I don’t even know why… I just felt drawn to it. When I realized it was only €25 to take the high speed train from Paris, I (literally) jumped on it.
My original plan had been to head to Sicily on the train… and then catch my already-booked-and-paid-for flight from Catania back to London. Those plans drastically changed when I realized the exorbitant cost of the trains I would need to get me to Catania. It would have been over $500… not including food, accommodation… or wine.
Bordeaux seemed a faster, closer, more relaxed option.
How could I go wrong?
The food, the wine, the cheese… being in one of the most beautiful places in France.
It was a win-win situation.
Well… maybe it was the cold, the rain, the bleak winter atmosphere… but when I arrived, Bordeaux just didn’t feel as magical as I’d hoped. Sure, summertime here is probably absolutely enchanting… but beggars can’t be choosers.
Right now, I’m the beggar… and this is the only time I had.
I walked everywhere in historical, downtown Bordeaux and saw every point of interest I could. I strolled down the Rue De St. Catherine, Les Puces de Saint Michel, the Rue des Remparts and the Rue Notre-Dame. I wandered through the Marché des Capucins, as well as admired the Porte Cailhau, the Place de la Bourse and the Monument aux Girondins.
But something felt off.
My heart wasn’t in to it.
When I get to that point, I know it’s time to go home.
Anyway… onwards and upwards…
I’m not trying to play the victim… nor am I wanting to wallow in self-pity… but the excessive combination of too much bread, cheese and wine WITHOUT enough water or exercise… was leaving me feeling like a total blob.
And when I start to feel like a blob, I start feeling really down… and then I get even more nitpickity than usual.
Take my Bordeaux accommodation, for example.
Now THIS is good…
I tend to keep a running list… sometimes mental, sometimes written… of what makes a hotel room great… and what makes it not so great. There are always little details that can add a touch of magic or convenience… and then there are things that scream, “We don’t care, we just want your money.”
And… of course… because it’s me and I’m rarely satisfied, there are also plenty of things that drive me batty.
This place ticked almost ALL of the wrong boxes:
👎🏻 They used a lockbox… and I hate lockboxes. They give me anxiety that either I won’t be able to get in, or they’ll break while I’m fumbling with the code… or the little black switch inside.
👎🏻 The walls were plain white… not exactly a dealbreaker… except white shows wear & tear more than any other colour. And these walls? Filthy. Manky, actually.
👎🏻 Zero colour, zero artwork, zero personal touch.
👎🏻 There was a coffee maker… but no coffee pods, no sugar, no creamers. Just four teabags and a box of instant decaf. That’s just cheap. A small selection for guests would have been a simple touch. Hospitality!
👎🏻 My personal favorite: There was graffiti on the windows. Strange, but true.
👎🏻 The bed wasn’t made. They just left the sheets out, and I had to make it myself.
👎🏻 There was no shelf in the bathroom… just the top of the toilet to place your toiletries.
👎🏻 The sink was ridiculously small and too close to the wall, making it impossible to wash my face without soaking myself.
👎🏻 There were no hooks. Nowhere to hang a jacket, towel or facecloth.
👎🏻 Only one wine glass. Wait… what??? And it was tiny. Come on, people. This is Bordeaux.
👎🏻 The wine opener was one of those flimsy plastic ones where you have to drill in and heave the cork out.
👎🏻 No shelf or hanger in the shower for soap, shampoo, or conditioner.
👎🏻 No toilet paper holder. The TP just sat on the floor. Is that not odd?
👎🏻 The shower smelled rank.
I was all set to leave a scathing review… and then I broke the key in the front door lock. F&@k…
What was with this sudden wave of bad luck?
It’s all karma from complaining about the silly rental car and this crappy room. I’ve never broken a key in a lock before… at least not that I remember. I was horrified. It didn’t happen due to force at all. I just turned it… and it just softly broke, like fresh bread.
There was no straining or snapping.
Nothing.
So… now my anxiety for using lockboxes has expanded to using keys too.
Great.
The owners were not impressed. Of course they weren’t. These are the same people who couldn’t be bothered to provide a proper corkscrew in a Bordeaux rental. They could hardly be the type to be thrilled about hiring a locksmith to redo the front door because of a clumsy tenant.
Me.
The first message I got… after flooding their inbox with frantic messages was:
“Je suis désemparé d’apprendre que vous avez cassé la clef.” / “I am distraught to hear that you broke the key.”
Distraught??? Yikes.
These are also the same people who had previously messaged me, threatening: if I didn’t leave the place spotless, they’d charge my credit card €65.
The second that key broke, I went straight into my online banking and locked all my credit cards.
In the end, they were surprisingly reasonable about it… so far, no outrageous admin fees coming my way. I think I’ll hold off on that scathing review… for now.
Don’t travel with me… all I do is grumble. I’m less of a travel writer and more of a travel whiner. People, transport, accommodation, food… I hit them all.
Perhaps I’ll start a new blog… or rename this one!
~ The Cranky Compass
~ The Pessimist's Passport
~ Whine & Wander
~ Miserable Miles
Bwahahahaha… I love it.
Onwards and upwards… again…
Comments