A week in Provence

Never having been on a guided tour before I was somewhat apprehensive and excited about what was going to happen. Things couldn't have worked out better. Our guide, Sandra McGill from First Editions, was like a border collie - herding us up, nipping our heels and packing us with information as we explored this region.
We left our house at 5am and caught the 7am train to King's Cross and then toodled on over to St Pancras where Sandra waited for us. She shepherded us onto the Eurostar. Unfortunately I was seated going backwards and to avoid a vomit comet one of the chaps opposite (who became good friends) offered his seat to me.
As we hurtled through the countryside and then into a tunnel I immediately thought (wrongly) as we came out the other side - this is France. Wrong. I forgot to mention that before we got onto the Eurostar we had to go through Customs. I was looking at the x-ray photos of the baggage going through and thought 'what the hell is that?'.
It was a square object with what looked like a wire coming out of it. They said to Kees 'what is in your luggage?'. He replied 'food'. 'Anything else?'. 'Batteries and an earpiece'. The next thing a giant of a man called Kees over and pulled on some gloves (Kees went a bit pale at that point) and started to empty his bag of food.
It turned out that the cheese we were taking is organic and the wire piece which fits on my iPod was next to it. Situation sorted I thought. But no. Next a swab of his entire bag and I thought 'please Kees don't get stroppy as those gloves are going to go somewhere the sun don't shine'. Luckily we got through, now thoroughly embarrassed by our food products (some things I find difficult to get in France such as oat biscuits etc) we slunk to the train.
At Lille we then went on to the TGV which went so fast I felt like I was flying. We travelled through some monotonous countryside and then suddenly half-an-hour before arriving in Avignon the whole scenery changed. Mountainous, rugged rocks , olive trees, sunshine! Then we were transferred to our strangely named hotel (The Hotel Bristol - never found out why) which was set in the centre of Avignon - perfect for cafes, shopping, people watching and just mouching around.
We were then warned about Albanians, Gypsies, beggars, pickpockets and the shine began to rub off! On entering our room and suspecting Albanians under the bed, Gypsies waiting to tell our fortune instead we found the most comfortable of beds, a beautiful bathroom and a TV!
Luckily we were at the back of the Hotel because one person who stayed at the front said the noise was continuous - cars, road sweepers, drunks, road cleaners, dustbin emptiers, cafe leavers and police sirens kept her awake for most of the night.
Breakfast was a delight - eggs, cold meats, cheeses, French butter, croissants, pain au chocolat, cereals, fruit, coffee, yogurt and the friendliest of staff (am I in France I thought as most of those who serve are surly and scurrilous).
Our first trip was to Aix-en-Provence and after that I can't remember because it was a whirlwind of a tour. We went to Luberon, Orange, Les Baux, Chateauneuf du Pape, Gordes, Camargue, Uzes, Pond du Gard and Arles. What was so wonderful that being winter most of these places were almost empty.
Our guide Sandra's knowledge on Roman history, French history was limitless. Sandra was a quietly spoken Aberdeenshire woman in her sixties who had been a self-employed tour guide for 41 years and she had the energy of six people - charging about finding those who had got lost, translating for those being ripped off in markets and cafes.
Of course, we had free time to wander and wander we did. I wandered a bit too much and ended up with blisters the size of sausages (I had left my wandering shoes at home) and had to stay on the coach for the last couple of tours because by this time I was ready for Lourdes.
The only negative was the cost of food in restaurants. For a mediocre meal around £15 each, for an okay meal around £20 each, for a good meal £30 each and for an exceptional meal £50 each. Coffee, hot chocolate, tea or beer was £3 and a Croque Monsieur (toasted cheese and something sandwich) in a cafe was £8.
However Kees and I developed a plan - we went to markets and purchased all our fruit and veg that didn't need cooking, Vietnamese food, local breads, cheeses etc and made delicious meals in our hotel room. Kees was a bit alarmed in Carmargue when he was about to buy a sausage and I told him it was donkey meat - he put in back.
Preferring vegetarian food in France is illegal in France - it seems to insult their sensibilities to the point of a revolt - so we frequented Moroccan restaurants to dine on couscous and Vietnamese to have noodles with tofu.
The weather was amazing - we had one overcast day which was when we visited the Camargue but all other days were full sunshine - the last day the temp rose to 18 celcius and we basked in the sun outside Avignon TGV station. Unfortunately an electrical power failure meant our TGV was 4.5 hours late and, boy, did the train driver put his foot down.
Then an announcement came that all passengers would receive compensation ... seems that if the TGV is 30 mins late and you are travelling more than 100 kms you get your money back. Not only that they sent around picnic boxes which contained pate, couscous, lentil salad, chocolates, crackers, cheese, a bottle of water, coffee and free magazines.
Sandra, in the meantime, was booking us into a hotel in Lille as we didn't think we would make the last Eurostar (21.01 - how ridiculous!) but somehow we did. We arrived at St Pancras, rushed over to King's Cross and this is when British Rail showed its true colours. Firstly we had to find a member of staff - there were about six million police standing around (so that'w where they all are) but no staff.
Eventually we found a very laid back platform clerk who was fending off passengers questions 'where's the train for Hoxton, is this the train for Finchley, how do I get to the tube' and trying to make sense of all the traffic on his walkie talkie. Our was standing on the correct platform but it hadn't been allocated its destination so we couldn't get on it.
This was the last train to King's Lynn of course. I sat on my suitcase and thought 'Welcome to the UK. Have a nice day' and then a drunk staggered over and called me 'Princess'. After about 20 mins a driver was found and our train headed off. We went through all the stations and I thought 'this is too good to be true' and it was.
At Ely we were chucked off the train (now 1.20am) onto the noisiest, coldest, smelliest bus ever and eventually arrived in King's Lynn at 2.45am. No apologies, no reasons given, not even a mouldy cheese sandwich. Then a wondrous thing happened as we walked to the car a bird burst into song at 3am - it was a tiny brown bird with the loudest of song and that made all the British train system fade into nothingness and I stood and listened to its song for 10 minutes - a greeting and a true blessing.