The road to Nice

Day 8
So...the new, improved plan was to leave Avignon in the morning, drive to Nice, drop off the God-forsaken rental car, and hop on a train to make the short trip to Monaco. The first part went fine: we got up, loaded the car, and took off. The second part went fine too: the drive to Nice was easy and uneventful and pretty. Besides the fact that we had another mosquito trapped in the car with us, things were ok. So far, so good.



The third part is where things started to go awry. We got lost again. Well, we managed to find the Avis Rental Car place at the airport, but since it was Sunday, they were closed and unable to help us. We used our directions, our map, made phone calls to Avis in the States, calls to Bill, and help from police officers and gas station attendants. Hours ticked by, and our limited window of time to make it to Avis before closing time was melting away. Stress levels reached all time highs.

Finally, just ten minutes before closing time, we managed to find the train station and the Avis right next door. The system for returning a rental car was this: drive the car up to the very top floor of the parking garage, leave the car, carry down all the luggage down many flights of stairs, and cross the street to the Avis office. The parking garage, like everything in France, was an exceptionally tight squeeze. The ramp was more like a spiral staircase than a ramp. I've mentioned before about the poor turning radius of the Citroen, but I think I failed to mention that malfunctioning clutch. The parking garage was the last hurrah for that dying clutch. By the time we got to the top floor and parked, smoke was pouring out of the car. As luck would have it, the car behind us as we drove up the garage was an Avis attendant, and he was quick to blame us for the faulty car. We ignored his chides as we unloaded the car.

We dragged our luggage, backpacks, purses, and now two cases of wine down countless flights of stairs. By this point, the wheels on Avery's suitcase had broken off and it too had to be carried. Something had to give. Thanks to us, it was someone's lucky day. We just couldn't carry it all anymore, so we ended up leaving an entire case of wine on the sidewalk by the train station. The wasted money wasn't more than a fleeting thought. By that point we were so tired, frustrated, and just plain mad that we didn't care one bit.

It was no surprise that the Avis guy was a real jerk down in the office, but we turned in the keys and left with nothing more than his admonishment. We were so thrilled to be rid of the car, we could have danced a jig in his stupid office.

At the train station, we bought our tickets and proceeded toward the platform. It, of course, could only be reached by going down, then up, more stairs. It was only the desperation to get on the train that gave us the strength to carry those four heavy suitcases down and up those stairs.

Once we arrived in Monaco, we felt like our luck had changed. Unfortunately, we weren't quite finished with our bad luck spell. It seems that the place where we exited the train station didn't have taxi service. (We didn't know that there was more than one exit until days later.) All we knew was that no matter how long we stood there, no taxi would stop for us. We walked several blocks, but no luck. We finally stopped a police man, who informed us that taxis in Monaco don't stop if you try to wave them down. You must call them, and preferably from a taxi stand. Well, since we weren't close to one of the TWO taxi stands in the whole country, we decided we'd have to try calling them to come pick us up. First, we tried calling our hotel and asking if they'd call a taxi to pick us up. "That's impossible!" is what we were told by the concierge with the thick French accent. "Impossible??" we said. "Yes!" he said. "We only call taxis to come here. We can't send a taxi to you!"

Our next step was to go into a bar across the street and see if they'd call us a cab. Well, they couldn't, but they did give us the number to a cab company. But, when we called, I got a recording that said that all the taxis in Monaco were in use and to try back later.

It began to look like we would just have to sleep on the street corner. But we kept trying, and eventually, a couple of hours after getting off the train, we managed to get a taxi to pick us up.

We finally got to the hotel, and we felt like truly, things were going to improve. Our hotel was fabulous, and we decided we might never leave again.