We pass a currency exchange place where Patrick can exchange dollars for Euros; and later regret we did not stop here and wait in line for the transaction.
Don and I worry more about finding and communicating in Spanish for the rental car. The Spanish I learned while watching cowboy movies and Dora the Explorer. Our focus is on finding the rental car location and completing that transaction. Alamo/Naciones has an English-speaking clerk and the information for our reservation. We decline to add more drivers for an additional 60 Euros/day/driver. We relax a bit because we do not have to take a shuttle; the car is on the bottom floor of the airport parking garage.
We find the correct car, a black Volvo V60 with a diesel engine. Don adjusts the seats and mirrors. The ignition system is different from the LeSabre and Grand Prix we drive. The key is inserted in one place, the start button is separate, and the brake must be engaged before the engine starts. We needed some help from the attendant with the process; but then, we go through this adjustment period no matter from what airport we pick up our newer model and different make rental car.
We hit the road with our Google map directions, and we soon learn those directions are inadequate. I sometimes have trouble with the Google directions in new cities in US when the road I’m on remains the same and Google starts calling it something else. The street names may be correct but the signs are marked differently. I also have trouble interpreting signs that carry too much information for me to process as fast as I need to do.
We follow the signs to Barcelona, and then, with luck, start to follow the Ronda del Litoral because this highway keeps the port and Mediterranean Sea within view on our right side.
Finally, we follow signs to the A-7 to Girona. We figure out the AP7 is the same highway with toll plazas. We can easily follow the continuation of our route out of Spain past Figueres, La Jonquera, and into France where the AP7 becomes the A-9.
We were surprised that we did not have to stop at the French border and show our passports; for once in our travels, we were stopped at the California border and had to declare we had no agricultural items before entering.
These toll roads use more of my Euros than the 17 Euros still in my possession from our last European trip. I am glad Don and I got Euros and the Visa Travel Debit card from AAA before we left home.
The scenery was beautiful on the drive; but we did not see any places to pull off the highway for scenic views and photo opportunities. Later in France, we realize the signs that direct us to Aires de “different location names” are similar to what we would call rest stops. At some others, there are fuel, restaurants, and gift shops. We stop only for the WC as we want to arrive at our villa destination as soon as possible.
We arrive at the villa more than 24 hours after we left Lewisburg. I am exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that makes me feel sick to my stomach and unable to function if I don’t get some sleep immediately. As soon as I claim our bedroom from the five available, I lie down for some sleep while Patrick and Don head to the butcher and bakery shops for the first time. I just need a nap to feel refreshed.
I want to take a walk in the opposite direction from the two shops. The street name is Rue de Terrain des Sportes, and the satellite view from Google maps shows a field that looks like a soccer field. I hope this field might be as busy with games as Lewisburg’s soccer fields on Saturday afternoon in the autumn. We did not see any games being played there. A few children ride their bikes past us. Here are vineyards across the street from the village's sports field and playground, rather like the way Lewisburg's park is across the street from the cornfield.
We walk back toward the shops and turn into a different narrow street that is also paved from building to building. We feel a bit uncomfortable because we are not sure if we are on a street or a private property. Some young boys kick a soccer ball around a fountain with potable water. At a picnic table, a group of adults were eating and drinking. We do not know if this table was for a café or some private gathering.
We are hungry at 4:30 PM, which is before the butcher and baker have their evening hours (5-7 PM, 1700-1900) so we drive to the closest seaside towns, Gruissan and Narbonne-Plage, to look for restaurants. We find closed restaurants. Many restaurants shuttered their businesses at the end of tourist season. The others will be open for their dinner service at 1930, 7:30 PM.
We return to Armissan to buy our evening meal from the butcher and baker. We buy roast pork slices to make sandwiches and pizza slices from his deli section. From the baker we buy slices of lemon-crème filled cake for our dessert.
There is internet access at the villa so we can use Don’s computer, which he brought to upload his photographs, to check our emails for messages. I sent an international text and received a stateside reply, just to make sure my Mobal phone worked.
Then we sleep until the windstorm wakes some of us. We shutter the windows that were making the most noise. I wake again at midnight after 3 hours of good sleep, and I feel good. The moon is full, and its light makes a beautiful landscape, even with a lot of wind. I write for three hours until I am ready to return to bed.
Click Armissan and Grussian, France for more photos of this day.
