My introduction to France did not go well. It came as part of the five countries in ten days trip that Dave and I undertook with his son who was interning in Germany at the time. We had already driven up the Rhine and spent time in Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxemburg before heading into the Alsace-Lorraine region of eastern France. Anything that could go wrong did. It rained; I got hurt; we had plumbing and mechanical problems.
Injury in France Changes Our Trip
We were spending the night in Metz, a really cute town that we had settled on with help from one of the travel books we had brought along. Things started out really well. We enjoyed a delightful meal at an outdoor café on the main square. It was April so the evening was getting chilly and we decided to grab jackets from our hotel room before going to an Irish pub for an after dinner drink.
Our hotel was right across the road from a beautiful church made of limestone that took on a golden hue when lit up at night. I stopped to take some photos of the church while Ben was going to run up to our room for the jackets. Dave had gone across the road to toss Ben the room key when disaster struck.
I had finished taking photos and was going to cross the road to Dave. A car was coming down the street and stopped to wave me across. My first step off the curb was a doozy. I didn’t realize that it was a double-curb so twisted my ankle and went sprawling into the street. In the process, I lost my camera which went skittling across the cobbled street toward Dave. My ankle really hurt and I was struggling to get up so yelled for Dave. He had missed the whole incident while he was tossing the key to Ben. He turned; saw me sprawled in the street with the car not too far away and thought I had been hit by the car! Thankfully not.
Dave helped me up and we hobbled up two flights of stairs to our room. Then he and Ben, with no knowledge of the French language, tried to convince the desk manager, who spoke no English, to give them some ice. In France, they do not give up ice readily and the desk manager was not about to give a couple of crazy Americans ice for drinks. They somehow convinced him that they needed the ice for my sprained ankle and it was forthcoming. Once they had propped up my ankle with ice and given me a laptop to play with, the two of them went to the Irish pub.
That was Metz. The next day we were going to try and find my family’s ancestral town of Olsberg before heading to Strasbourg. I was ensconced in the back seat so I could keep my ankle elevated. We had no GPS and just could not find the right way to Olsberg. Quickly abandoning that plan we made our way to Strasbourg where things deteriorated into a series of comedic episodes.
Pizza at the Bookie Joint
We had no plan and no reservations in Strasbourg. We arrived in town and were driving along what seemed like a major road looking for hotels. We must not have been in the right part of town for hotels but we happened upon the Kronenbourg Brewery. Ben was excited about the opportunity for a brewery tour so we parked across the street and the two of them went in to see what was available. They ended up making an appointment for the next morning at 10:00.
At this point, we were hungry for lunch (it was about 2:00 in the afternoon). We found a sandwich shop and decided to give it a go. The place was like a U.S. sports bar with TVs all around. The featured sport was horse racing. There were only a handful of people in the place. We sat down and a server came to our table. We asked for sandwiches and were told they were not serving those anymore. He offered up pizza instead. Not sure what ingredients or sizes were available, we were struggling to actually order one. The man invited us out back to check out where the pizzas were being made. Dave and Ben followed him outside to an old, rusty, grill-type pizza oven and chose a pizza. This was the world’s worst pizza!
A man at the next table tried to converse with us about the horse races. We didn’t understand a word he said but he had a betting sheet. The few people in this establishment would periodically go to the bar where we supposed they were placing bets and collecting winnings. Of all the places for lunch in France, we had managed to stop for lunch in a bookie joint!
Where is Petit France?
After our interesting lunch experience, we needed to find a hotel. We found one on a circle not too far from the main train station. Our room was on the fifth floor. Thankfully the hotel had an elevator but it was an old cage elevator and was really small. The room was actually pretty big with a double bed for Dave and I and a twin bed in the corner for Ben. It was painted a delicate pink color – really macho for the guys.
I had been reading and realized that our hotel was not too far from an area in Strasbourg called Petit France and convinced the guys that this was where we wanted to go for dinner. It had started raining (the only rain on this entire trip) and my ankle was really hurting. The guys decided to go find a place to eat and then one of them would come back for me so I wouldn’t have to walk too far in the rain. They were gone for a long time and all I had for entertainment were episodes of The Simpsons in French. When they finally returned, they had grocery bags with wine, beer, fruit, cheese, bread and chocolates. They had failed to find Petit France and decided we would picnic in our room. After being cooped up and bored, I was less than pleased.
The Bathtub Incident
Our room had a private bath with the cutest and deepest little bathtub I had ever seen. I thought a bubble bath would soothe my ankle. Ben was still sleeping as I climbed into this little tub. The bath was lovely. Dave came in to take pictures and when he was done I pulled the plug to empty the tub – uh-oh! As the tub drained, the water was coming up a drain under the sink and was flooding the bathroom.
Dave grabbed a towel and was trying to mop up water and wring it out into the toilet. He was concerned that the water would make its way down to the floor below us. It was a losing battle. Deciding that he needed a plunger he went out into the hallway to find someone on the cleaning staff to help. He found an older woman who was apparently a maid. His attempt to explain what he needed involved a charades game demonstrating how a plunger is used which came across as an obscene gesture. I’m sure this maid was horrified but she did finally follow him back to our room.
While Dave was gone, Ben had woken up and jumped in the shower to prepare for the brewery tour. In this bathroom, the shower was a hand-held deal that you used in the little tub with no shower curtain. Well, Dave went barging into the bathroom with the maid in tow and quickly realized that his naked son was totally exposed. He tried to shield Ben while showing the maid the water on the floor. She finally understood our problem and provided a plunger.
Dave continued to try and clean up the bathroom with the plunger and towel. Ben was fretting that we would be late for the brewery tour. We hadn’t yet had breakfast and I’m a coffee girl who gets a headache if I don’t get my morning caffeine. The hotel didn’t offer breakfast so we didn’t even know where that would come from.
Stuck in the Elevator
By the time we left the room, we were already late for our brewery tour. We piled into the little cage elevator with all our luggage and started down the five floors. We got half-way to the fourth floor when the elevator shuddered to a stop – oh no! We pushed buttons and the elevator lurched down again but stopped about six inches above the fourth floor. I noticed a card stating the weight limit for the elevator. Knowing what I weigh and what Dave weighs and guessing at Ben’s weight, I knew we were in trouble. No amount of button-pushing could get the elevator to move anymore. Because we were off kilter from the floor, the doors wouldn’t even open. That’s when we saw her.
The maid who had been recruited by Dave to help with our plumbing problem came walking down the hall. We started begging her to open the elevator doors. When she realized who we were, she couldn’t help fast enough (I’m sure she just wanted us out of her hotel!). Dave and Ben along with some of the luggage got out of the elevator. I, with my sore ankle, was not about to walk down four flights of stairs. However, with just my weight to bear, the elevator made it the rest of the way without incident.
Trouble on the Tour
We had no time for breakfast so headed straight to the brewery where we joined up with our tour half an hour late. I did my best to keep up with my bad ankle. The tour ended with a tasting in a large bar area. Dave and Ben were excited. I was cranky as I had not had breakfast or coffee and it just seemed wrong to me to be drinking beer before coffee.
We were each given a small glass and were told we were entitled to three tastings. Our tour guide, and now bartender, was a young, cute, little, blond French girl who spoke English fairly well. She poured us each our first beer (some breakfast!) and we went over to a table. I’m not really a beer drinker and was still upset about not having breakfast so donated my other tastings to the guys.
They finished up their first beers and wanted their second. The “bartender” was at one end of the bar chatting with some people and not paying any attention to them. So, they decided to pour their own and came back to the table. Ben was ready for his third before Dave was and she was still not at the tap so he went to pour his own a second time. This time she noticed, and was not happy about it. She scolded Ben something fierce and refused to let any of us have any more. He was chastened and a little angry since he had only done it because she was not manning her station.
We were so ready to leave France behind. Dave and I decided that France had moved low on our priority list for any return trips to Europe. We visited a number of countries before returning to France seven years later. And, when we did, it was wonderful!
Future posts will relay stories from that trip. In the meantime, if you are interested in France, check out this new blog about a Chicagoan who recently relocated to Paris, adventureslivingineurope.com.
