France & Catalonia Spain
April 2000
Tour Guide Duties
Rewritten in 2015
Tour Guide Duties
Rewritten in 2015
This was not your average trip to Europe. I sell European equipment and this was a dealer trip to visit manufacturers in Paris, the outer environs around Paris and Saint-Étienne. And I was the tour guide . . .
Twenty-one Americans. One Canadian. Fourteen dealers. Seven wives. One child. Planes. Trains. Taxis. Buses. With only my wife to help me. Yes, it was stressful. Aiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee . . .
As a reward if we survived, I planned five days at the end - in Catalonia, Spain to decompress.
Twenty-one Americans. One Canadian. Fourteen dealers. Seven wives. One child. Planes. Trains. Taxis. Buses. With only my wife to help me. Yes, it was stressful. Aiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee . . .
As a reward if we survived, I planned five days at the end - in Catalonia, Spain to decompress.
Paris
This was our second trip to Paris. The two of us had done a dry run for this trip - with the same factory visits - in July of the previous year - 1999. See "Go to France" he said . . .
3 nights in Paris
3 nights in Saint-Étienne
2 nights in Paris
--
2 nights in Barcelona
1 night in Tarragona
3 nights in Baix Emporada area
To say that it was an exhausting event is a gross understatement. I was kept hopping answering questions, dealing with problems, translating and generally making twenty two people happy - most of whom had never been to Europe before. The hotels were strange, the meals were strange and they could not speak or read the language. When I quickly discovered that multiple taxis were a nightmare, I ordered buses. When someone disappeared, I looked for them. The phrase 'like herding cats' is very apt. I found pharmacies for people. Restaurants. Washrooms. And on and on and on . . .
One story that illustrates my torture . . .
We had finished a tour of Versailles and we gave everybody an hour of free time. The bus was very visible in the front parking lot of Versailles when the agreed meeting time approached. Everybody came back and cheerfully got on the bus . . . except for George Wong. Somebody had seen him wander into the town area. We waited. And waited . . . he was now twenty minutes late with a bus load of cranky people. And then . . . way down the hill . . . I saw him coming out of the downtown area and crossing the street. And then . . . rather than turning up the hill to Versailles and the waiting bus, he turned the wrong way. I had to run down the long hill yelling his name to finally get his attention. From that moment on, he was commonly known as Wong Way George. Politically incorrect to some degree perhaps but . . .
And that was only one incident . . .
But when all was said and done THEY had a great time. Everyone enjoyed themselves and many - to this day - say that that was one of the best trips that they have ever been on. Mission accomplished!
3 nights in Paris
3 nights in Saint-Étienne
2 nights in Paris
--
2 nights in Barcelona
1 night in Tarragona
3 nights in Baix Emporada area
To say that it was an exhausting event is a gross understatement. I was kept hopping answering questions, dealing with problems, translating and generally making twenty two people happy - most of whom had never been to Europe before. The hotels were strange, the meals were strange and they could not speak or read the language. When I quickly discovered that multiple taxis were a nightmare, I ordered buses. When someone disappeared, I looked for them. The phrase 'like herding cats' is very apt. I found pharmacies for people. Restaurants. Washrooms. And on and on and on . . .
One story that illustrates my torture . . .
We had finished a tour of Versailles and we gave everybody an hour of free time. The bus was very visible in the front parking lot of Versailles when the agreed meeting time approached. Everybody came back and cheerfully got on the bus . . . except for George Wong. Somebody had seen him wander into the town area. We waited. And waited . . . he was now twenty minutes late with a bus load of cranky people. And then . . . way down the hill . . . I saw him coming out of the downtown area and crossing the street. And then . . . rather than turning up the hill to Versailles and the waiting bus, he turned the wrong way. I had to run down the long hill yelling his name to finally get his attention. From that moment on, he was commonly known as Wong Way George. Politically incorrect to some degree perhaps but . . .
And that was only one incident . . .
But when all was said and done THEY had a great time. Everyone enjoyed themselves and many - to this day - say that that was one of the best trips that they have ever been on. Mission accomplished!
Catalonia Spain
Barcelona
While they were heading home from CDG, we boarded a plane for Barcelona, Spain. I must admit that I was a beast for two days. We hated Barcelona. Our hotel in the Barri Gòtic area was less than desirable but it sufficed for a couple of nights. We road the subway and saw the tourist sites and we didn't get mugged on Las Ramblas . . . Hooray! Maybe it was the tension from the week babysitting or maybe it was the cool and damp April weather but we just didn't warm up to the city. We eagerly left Sunday morning to pick up a rental car at the airport which we would drop on leaving. As we saw Barcelona disappear and the beautiful countryside of Catalonia appear, everything seemed to get better. We wound through some wine country on secondary roads aiming south to Tarragona, where I had booked a room at a big seaside hotel overlooking the beach and some Roman ruins. Speaking of things Roman, we saw the rare double aqueduct briefly on our drive in. And I distinctly remember embarrassingly stalling the manual car several times on the steep road in front of the hotel . . .
Tarragona
This was Ground Zero for our understanding of Spain's quirky opening/closing times. If you have been to Spain - particularly outside of main tourist centers - you know what I am talking about. Everything closes for a mid-afternoon siesta. Restaurants may stay open until 3pm but virtually everything else closes about 1pm. And then they gradually reopen after 5pm with restaurants only coming alive at around 8pm. You will see where I am going with this shortly . . .
I was quite excited to tramp around in the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Tarraco - most of which had been overbuilt in medieval times of course - but a well-preserved amphitheater remains in front of the modern city on the beach. There was also a good archaeological museum in the old quarter of town that was definitely on my list.
After a quick walk around the outside fence of the ruins, hunger pangs took precedence so we decided to come back later and we walked into the town core and had a nice lunch. And then we returned to the ruins. And . . . and . . . they were closed for siesta. Closed? WTF? It turns out that on Sunday, off-season, they close at 2pm for the day. And, of course, they were also closed on Monday. Crash. Burn. Fail. DISAPPOINTED! Since we were leaving for the Costa Brava area Monday morning, so we were totally screwed. My first ever chance to touch the history of real Roman ruins and they were closed. And to throw salt on the wound, the museum shared the same hours. In fact, everything in the medieval quarter seemed to be closed. I won't go on and on here about what this news did to my still-fragile mental state after the overload of the week before. I sat bitterly on our balcony - with its amazing sea view - staring down at the closed amphitheater below for a very long while. So close . . .
I was quite excited to tramp around in the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Tarraco - most of which had been overbuilt in medieval times of course - but a well-preserved amphitheater remains in front of the modern city on the beach. There was also a good archaeological museum in the old quarter of town that was definitely on my list.
After a quick walk around the outside fence of the ruins, hunger pangs took precedence so we decided to come back later and we walked into the town core and had a nice lunch. And then we returned to the ruins. And . . . and . . . they were closed for siesta. Closed? WTF? It turns out that on Sunday, off-season, they close at 2pm for the day. And, of course, they were also closed on Monday. Crash. Burn. Fail. DISAPPOINTED! Since we were leaving for the Costa Brava area Monday morning, so we were totally screwed. My first ever chance to touch the history of real Roman ruins and they were closed. And to throw salt on the wound, the museum shared the same hours. In fact, everything in the medieval quarter seemed to be closed. I won't go on and on here about what this news did to my still-fragile mental state after the overload of the week before. I sat bitterly on our balcony - with its amazing sea view - staring down at the closed amphitheater below for a very long while. So close . . .
Around the Costa Brava
But Monday was a new day. We headed north on the autostrada bypassing Barcelona with the mountains and hills of northern Spain unfolding all about us. A turn east at Girona brought us to our destination: Baix Empordà - the inland area of the Costa Brava.
This was the early days of Internet-inspired travel research and I had really 'looked' around the area for activities and accommodations. I had settled for a B&B in a tiny village - Palau-Sator or similar - a couple of miles from the coast. We found it without problems and we checked in but once we were shown the room, we looked at each other and said: "I don't think so . . ." Not that it was bad, but it was small with little privacy and dinner was "When momma got home and made spaghetti or something . . . " Hmmmmm. Three nights of this? I don't think so . . . We had spied a really, really cool stone village a few miles back so we drove over to see if there might be a hotel alternative. And yes, there was. We booked it and sheepishly doubled back to check out of the B&B.
The really. really cool village was Peratallada. It was a tiny maze of cobbled streets and stone buildings that seemed to be transported straight out of medieval Spain. It was the kind of place that you expect to meet knights in armor clanking around a corner. Our hotel - La Riera - was perfect for us. Made of stone - of course - with an attached restaurant built in an old stable. Now THIS was more like it. The stress and the disappointments of the last ten days started to dim in the Catalonia haze . . .
For the next two days we toured the area. The painted houses beside the river in Girona. Ceramics shopping in La Bisbal d'Empordà. The mixture of Greek and Roman ruins at Empúries. The seaside vistas at Sa Riera. The very strange Dali Museum at Figueres. The Iberian ruins of Ullastret. Not to forget spooky walks around Peratallada at night. Meals at La Riera and at a restaurant in Palau-Sator. Lunches in Girona and Figueres. We loved it all. Ahhhhhhhh . . .
We will return to Spain. And we did. See Searching for Moors
This was the early days of Internet-inspired travel research and I had really 'looked' around the area for activities and accommodations. I had settled for a B&B in a tiny village - Palau-Sator or similar - a couple of miles from the coast. We found it without problems and we checked in but once we were shown the room, we looked at each other and said: "I don't think so . . ." Not that it was bad, but it was small with little privacy and dinner was "When momma got home and made spaghetti or something . . . " Hmmmmm. Three nights of this? I don't think so . . . We had spied a really, really cool stone village a few miles back so we drove over to see if there might be a hotel alternative. And yes, there was. We booked it and sheepishly doubled back to check out of the B&B.
The really. really cool village was Peratallada. It was a tiny maze of cobbled streets and stone buildings that seemed to be transported straight out of medieval Spain. It was the kind of place that you expect to meet knights in armor clanking around a corner. Our hotel - La Riera - was perfect for us. Made of stone - of course - with an attached restaurant built in an old stable. Now THIS was more like it. The stress and the disappointments of the last ten days started to dim in the Catalonia haze . . .
For the next two days we toured the area. The painted houses beside the river in Girona. Ceramics shopping in La Bisbal d'Empordà. The mixture of Greek and Roman ruins at Empúries. The seaside vistas at Sa Riera. The very strange Dali Museum at Figueres. The Iberian ruins of Ullastret. Not to forget spooky walks around Peratallada at night. Meals at La Riera and at a restaurant in Palau-Sator. Lunches in Girona and Figueres. We loved it all. Ahhhhhhhh . . .
We will return to Spain. And we did. See Searching for Moors