I thought a lot about Peter Mayle, who wrote such a
beautiful description of life in Provence, today.
It was another great night. I am starting to wonder if
Viking would notice if I were to take the couch with me when we leave.
Probably. But I slept well, waking at 4 for a potty stop. I
discovered at that time that the ship was rolling pretty good, but I decided
to ignore it, went back to the couch and slept so late I didn't even hear
the person delivering our breakfast. As Walt and I were getting ready
for the day, we both agreed that we are really missing Mike on this trip.
Kind of made me, briefly, a little teary.
Our excursion today was called "Cassis and France's Seaside
Scenery" and described an idyllic "cruise through a network of magnificent
canyon-like inlets--geological marvels of southern France and visit one of
the most beautiful wineries of Cassis."
First of all, there was no winery visit, unless you count
driving past several wineries a "visit." I will admit they were
beautiful, and the guide was very knowledgeable about the vegetation (I
think she pointed out every pine tree in Provence).
But she had zero social skills. When we arrived at our
destination on the outskirts of Cassis (pronounced "Cassee," we were told)
she said "let's get off the bus" and then took off in the direction of town
while many of us were still on the bus. She never took a head count,
so wouldn't have a clue if anybody was missing. By the time Walt and I (and
Linda and Bob, along with some others) were on the sidewalk, our group was nowhere to be seen.
We headed in the direction we hoped was correct.
Char finally told the guide that she had left several people
behind, so she stopped and waited. Then when we got into town, she
started her spiel about the history without the "quiet vox" (the sound
system that lets the guides speak in normal tones and everyone hears through
their individual earpieces). When someone asked her why she wasn't
using the quiet vox, she got petulant and said nobody had given her one, and
went on speaking in a normal voice while those of us in back missed
everything she said. She finally discovered that, surprise, surprise,
she had the equipment after all, so she used it after that. I don't
know how she expected to speak to us all without it on the small boat we
would be riding out onto the ocean, when we were spread out all over the
boat.
When we all had our quiet voxes set up, she told us that
this fountain would be our meeting place at the end of the day.
And then we all walked down the narrow street toward the
water. It was far longer than the "short walk"
that had been
described. The tour description said that we were supposed to ride a
small "road train" but that shuts down in September. Nobody mentioned
that little bit.
It really is a beautiful port and reminds me
very much of a larger version of Portofino (I love being able to
"place
drop")
Before we got on the small boat, our guide told people where
they could find restrooms, since there was no room for one on the boat, and
she never told them they would need to pay to use the facilities.
Several people found themselves without money to pay to pee!
On the boat, she spoke continuously, which would have been
informative if the captain weren't ALSO speaking (in French) at the same
time--and I know enough French to know she was not translating what he was
saying, but was giving her own spiel. It finally bothered me so much
that I just turned off my quiet vox so I missed all of what she was saying
because she didn't seem to realize that the captain was also speaking!
However, all that off my chest, the cruise
was...uh...shall we say "an adventure." We were going into three of
the "calanques little fjords of Cassis, inlets of the Mediterranean lined by
spectacular lime cliffs. At first it was lovely, the wind in our hair
and the mountains behind.
It was beautiful, looking at those limestone cliffs, one of which had
a nude beach. "Naturalists," she said they call them here.
Looking at the beach and the water, I decided they probably didn't swim.
I can't imagine getting from the water back to the beach without endangering
some "dangly bits."
(We were a little too early. The guys were just
disrobing and didn't appear in full frontal nudity until we were too far
away to take a picture).
As we got farther out to sea, the water got rougher.
"This is nothing," said the guide as the boat dipped and rose and dipped
again, water spraying over the bow. In my heart of hearts, I knew it
was OK, but it did make us gasp many times! However, when we turned
into one of the calanques, things calmed down and we could appreciate the
limestone cliffs.
(Note the water drops on the lens from the sea spray)
The guide told us that this was the kind of
quarry that Jean Valjean might have worked in. Gives a better feel to
Les Miserables (which she pronounced with the English pronunciation
of "the miserables" which seemed strange!) As we were coming out of
the 3rd calanque, I was trying to remember if we were exploring three or
five of them, praying it was three. It was. We were all relieved
to be heading back to Cassis and dry, non-moving, land!
There was a wine tasting next, but the shop
was too small to hold all of us, so half went in first while the rest of us
wandered around trying to find something to snack on. Linda hoped to
find gelato, but was unsuccessful, so we went into a pastry shop and got
something to eat, which we brought to the town plaza. Walt and I got 6
macarons for 8 euros.
Finally it was our turn for the wine tasting,
which was fun.
I wasn't enamored with the wine, necessarily
(and drank very little) but they had some paper thin salami that I fell in
love with. We were there about 15 minutes, I guess and tasted 2 whites
and a rosé. I don't think
anybody bought any. But it was fun.
Then we started on the long uphill road back
to the bus. Linda found her gelato, but it was too late to get any.
(Too bad we hadn't found it earlier. I
would have MUCH preferred gelato over the macarons!)
It was a long drag up the hill and I came in
last, and must have looked bedraggled because the bus driver, seeing me turn
the corner and head up the last few feet, started the bus and came down to
meet me instead. We gave him a special tip for his thoughtfulness, and
I got to use merci mille fois instead of a regular thank you!
The drive back to Toulon took us through more
vineyards and I thought of Peter Mayle again and his farm and vineyard in
Provence. I can see why he loves it so much.
Char wasn't feeling well, so didn't join us for dinner, but
we enjoyed our time with Bob and Linda. We couldn't believe it when we
found out Bob used to run a model train store, is a model train enthusiast,
and that Linda's late husband was also a model train enthusiast.
If only Mike (who loved model trains) had known that last year!
We ended the evening in the Star Lounge with a show that was
advertised as "Songscape--an Operatic Fantasy." It was cute, fun,
clever, and almost no opera, but everyone seemed to like it. My
favorite, of course, was the Major General's song from "Pirates of Penzance,"
Though I didn't like it that the guy did a kind of
Step-and-Fetch-It version, complete with rolling bug eyes. It seemed
demeaning and I don't know why he did it that way. He's an amazingly
talented musician with a great set of pipes. The show was mostly show
tunes with a few pop tunes (like Bohemian Rhapsody) thrown in. And
there was a strange, but very good duet which combined "Nessun Dorma" from
Turandot and "I Don't Know How to Love Him" from Jesus Christ
Superstar.
I should also mention, for my technical daughter, that the
backdrop was amazing, used all clever projections, static and moving, and I
know it's cheating, but this was fabulous (and enabled them to do a pretty
spectacular looking show on a shoestring). I particularly liked the
scene for the Nessun Dorma duet.
The comments from the audience exiting the theater were
glowing, so who cares that there was almost no opera in this "operatic
fantasy" whatsoever. It was a fun show by a cast of seven extremely
talented performers. (But the critic in me feels the need to point out
where it went wrong! Busman's holiday.)
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