Sunday, July 6, 2014

Huis Clos

Oh, mes amis, where to begin? While Arles was a gentle introduction to the land of Southern France, Montpellier is quite another story altogether. To disclaim: I intend to bitch mercilessly in this post. Next post will be more balanced, be assured.

Yesterday, after an epic wander (to allow our apartment hosts to fix the toilet that had gone awry?!), including a hardy dinner and much booze, we headed back to said apartment to be abused for 8 fucking hours, by the moronic "guests" of a nearby house party. You know my stance on the house party, yes?

Perhaps I should begin by advising that I chose our lodgings with the most careful detail, eschewing price and cool features for the listing omnipresence of the phrase "quartier tranquil". Non-smoking was also consideration, what with my North American propensity to judge those who mistreat others by exposing them to carcinogens.

Here's my perspective: Don't disrespect those around you. You wanna smoke, go ahead - just don't make it non-stop, @20 packs in one night (it was a large party, people) across a close courtyard. You wanna make noise - well that's where I'm going hard ass. Shut the fuck up. I do not care to listen to you drunkenly sing fucking Miley Cyrus at 4 am. Your plaintive, inebriated shrieks of ennui do not amuse me and even less so for their entitled, adolescent mien.

I swear to God, I wanted to get on the phone and call everybody's mother. And then take them all out.

Now, this would be bad enough, if not for Scott's hideous bout of emergent food poisoning (we think it was food poisoning) which worsened throughout "the night that precluded sleep". At a certain point, we had to close the windows to protect our sanity from noise and smoke, which, of course led to near heatstroke. Let me tell you, these were some delightful conditions under which to puke up one's guts (in the most visceral of ways) for 2 hours, after 5 hours of abdominal distress.

I was very worried, to understate the matter, transfixed by thoughts of how we'd get ourselves to a hospital in the wee-hours of Saturday night in an entirely Catholic country. There isn't a pharmacy open today. I couldn't help but think: Fuck. This guy is 50 years old, not some teen with a gut of iron. (Note: In all ways but the digestive, my husband is a pillar of strength and youthful vigor which is why, when it comes to the stomach, he seems like such a mess. Not to mention, that he decided (against my vehement wishes) to eat a half-roast chicken (gnawing at the bones) purchased at a kiosk at an outdoor food market, earlier in the day. FWIW, my concern was not germs, but politesse. It's gross to eat a chicken with your fingers under the aqueduct.)

(On an amusing note: At the kiosk, Scott nicely asked the rather-attractive server to cut up the chicken into small pieces, to walk with, whereupon she looked at him derisively and said: Perhaps you'd like me to eat it for you too? Ah, those cultural stereotypes die hard.)

I have to be honest, after this night from hell, my faith in a) outdoor food markets and b) the French way has been shaken. At one point Scott sick-whispered that he desperately wanted to go home. He's since revised this perspective and has even eaten a couple of pain au chocolat. But I have to say, Montpellier's charms aside, it's going to be never before book travel to this part of France again. Bad weather keeps people inside with the doors closed, thereby encouraging them to impinge only on their own life-expectancies with alcohol poisoning and second-hand smoke.

Scandinavia in December is suddenly starting to look good.

19 comments:

  1. So sorry that your evening was dreadful. Since Montpelier is a university town, perhaps it's more universal bad student behaviour than a French thing? Hopefully Scott will feel better soon and you can both get back into the groove.

    FYI - I spent my 5Oth BD in France - living vicariously through your trip, so crossing my fingers that it gets better. We didn't get sick but my husband hit a street post in the rain and pulled the bumper off the rental. Traveling is not without its stresses.

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    1. It could be that, for sure, though we're not in the student quartier. Mind you, the loud ones are most definitely of that age-group, so maybe some richie kid is crashing in his parents' apartment.

      I can imagine how stressful it would be to have an accident while traveling. I try not to drive, if possible, cuz (while I have a license) I don't have a car and driving isn't my normal thing.

      I promise to get cheerful in my next post, and to tell you some fun facts about this place.

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    2. It's your trip, your blog - I too would be tres ennerve et fache if I'd paid good $ for a place to stay and a bunch of louts partied hard next door. Food poisoning was the piece de resistence.

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  2. Aaargh, (or. . . Oh la Vache!) I hope all gets better very soon. btw, I'm pretty sure we had pharmacies open in Bordeaux on Sunday, altho' I could be wrong. . . My guy came close to fainting one day, and it does feel exceptionally vulnerable to wonder how one would cope with all that stuff in another country. In fact, I thought about it one day when we were out running and I realized not only did neither of us have a phone, but I didn't know the address of the house we were staying in, nor did I know how to call 911. Which isn't 911 there. Of course, considerable eye-rolling ensued on my guy's part. Never miss an opportunity to worry, says I.
    Looking forward to the cheerful, but meantime, I think you're doing a great job of marshalling your annoyance and fatigue and anxiety into your writing.Really, all that stuff is part of travel.

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    1. Yesterday it was like nothing I'd ever seen. Not a thing was open but some restaurants (and not a ton of those). It was like Paris on a Sunday, in extremis. Or like Toronto in 1977.

      I was totally freaking about not knowing the 911 equivalent!

      I am not well-traveled in my adulthood. Between other priorities and having traveled my ass off as a kid (and never liking the pace and the unknown), I eschewed it for a long time.

      I mean, I return to the same freakin' hotel rooms, when possible, just to feel stability when I'm out of my element. But I'm trying to grow!

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  3. Oh my, I wish that the rest of the trip will be much much better. Food poisoning + noisy party nearby should not be a part of a birthday present.
    PS I know that's irrelevant, but I love your language and sense of humor (plaintive, inebriated shrieks of ennui - what a colorful description for drunken wails).

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    1. Oh, me too M! And thank you for your lovely comment. I'm so pleased to know you enjoy the writing. xo

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  4. Scandinavia is a nice place - we are not rude to tourists. And we do not have loud outdoor parties in December, I can assure you! And December is Christmas all around - come by some time. :-)

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    1. Oh, I know! I love documentaries about your part of the world. It's GORGEOUS. My next trip to Europe, which may be a couple of years away given that I have some renovations I must do (house needs some work) will be to Denmark, Sweden and maybe Norway too!

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  5. Hell's teeth! I do hope he's feeling better and things pick up again for you. I remember being stranded in Switzerland once with very little French. It sucks!

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    1. It's tough - but our French is ok. I mean, Scott is fluent and I can definitely get by. It's when you get exhausted and freaked out that speaking in another language (about things you don't generally know the vocab for) is totally frightening!

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  6. I've been enjoying your travelogue, especially your eloquent descriptions of the various, ahem, cultural differences. I hope health and quiet have now been restored.

    On the pharmacy bit: there should have been a pharmacy open even on the weekend. They take turns and the list is usually published in the local paper. Not that most tourists would know or have easy access to this info.

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    1. Thanks A! My blood pressure has returned to normal :-) I didn't know that about the pharmacies. Thanks for that info!

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    2. Thanks A! You'll be pleased to know that my blood pressure has returned to normal :-) And thanks for that info about pharmacies.

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  7. Oh my !
    I live not very far from Montpellier, and I must admit that your depiction of the house party sounds very familiar ... Although local people are nice and well-meaning, they do have huge issues with civic spirit and boundaries.

    And the 911 equivalent is :
    - 15 for medical emergencies ("SAMU")
    - 112 (global european emergency number) for accidents, fires, burglaries ... anything that would need the intervention of the police and/or the firemen.

    If the person can move, you can go to the nearest hospital and its "urgences" department (the E.R), even on Sundays :).

    Although, of course, I'm not sure you can get an English-speaking spokesperson.

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    1. Rose: You are a wealth of information. Thank you! The person who rented the apartment to us said that parties "never happened" - but she didn't convince me. I could tell that there was a serious party culture. You don't go for 8 hours unless you know you're going to get away with it.

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    2. OTOH, it may have been a "post-bac" party : on the 4th of July, high-school student got the result for "bac" (baccalaureat), their first "big" examination, that basically ends high school and grants them entrance to college. It's a rite of passage, so to speak. There is no such things as prom nights in France, so post-bac parties usually happen at home, in the house of the most sympathetic parents ... Annoying, I know, but the person who rented the flat to you may have been truthful.
      I have a very vivid memory of my upstair neighbor's daughter post-bac party, but it was a single occurence.

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    3. Rose - that resonates entirely. Lord, I bet that's just what happened. But it was super noisy on the second night too - just ended at 3 am vs. 6 am. Admittedly, it was a bit less raucous and smokey, but it's not like it was a totally isolated thing. Mind you, on the Monday, it was totally quiet.

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