Europe 2003 - Part 14: The Road Trip to Calais

The last afternoon was jubilant - Abu as usual was just standing around and eating grapes. The most hilarious phrase in existence from Abu “Dont problem, Happy Birthday” will be immortalised on a tshirt that me, Mark, Gaz and Kunal will print and wear in the UK. That night we went to a riverside after dinner near Villefranche (we “tried” a disco the night before which was a little shandypants) and made a giant fire. Vincent’s guitar was unfortunately bashed by a couple of people who sat on it in the dark, so my only source of music died. Here we whiled away hours until it got very cold and we went back to our very old house for our last night there on my creaky bed and no toilet. We had to, yes, poo outside which we did. Up late the next morning, the four of us packed up and had a celebration dinner in the farmhouse. Despite other people’s opinions, I admire Jean (the farmer) for his general good nature and humanity, he was a Frenchman to the core (can’t take that away!) and big-hearted. In the afternoon, tours of a nearby town followed and we sorrowfully did our hugs and goodbyes. I had just been paid, hundreds of euros. Muhahahahaha.

Our plan was simple - get to Lyon on the train and book a classy luxury hotel. We ended up at the Ibis and managed to steal all the towels, I nabbed two mugs and bowls and Mark drew a big horse and cock with “Dont problem, Happy Birthday!” captioned on the bathroom mirror. We had a nice evening at a Chinese restaurant downtown, checked out the youth hostel and retired. In the morning, Gaz casually suggested renting a car instead of taking the train to Calais, and that he could drive on the right hand side (from Texas days). With this understanding, we booked a car and anticipated an awesome 2 day road trip to Calais. Kunal wanted to find an internet cafe, as did I. But get this - WE DID NOT FIND ANY. Are these people ancient? Has the internet not reached France? This annoyed me a lot - no internet cafe near central station in the second largest city in France. The streets and bars were all empty last night. Or have we just chosen a bad time to come to Lyon, maybe it’s city holiday time? We returned to get the car. Unfortunately, they told Gaz he hadn’t held his UK license for long enough at the last moment. The task fell on me to drive the car. And I had never driven on the right side road system before! What ensued was a Class A adventure for me, and I’m sure - for my 3 passengers!

It took a while getting used to opposite side driving. We lumbered out of urban Lyon, I was getting stressed about how wierd it was, and there must have been a few near misses with cars at the beginning lol!. In our Fiat Punto, Gaz next to me, giving me advice from his American driving days. I drove and drove, gaining confidence through long, beautiful roads, rolling countryside and endless fields and stopped at a random village. Since the autoroutes were toll taxed, we went via smaller roads. Around evening time, I passed a set of traffic lights and saw two vehicles with flashing police style lights pull in front and behind me. People pulled out and I noticed the guns in their belt holsters. They were plain clothes policemen and women, and claimed I jumped a red light and became fairly aggressive. Eventually we lightened up after they took a good look inside (I would say that is the only reason they stopped us, as I know I didnt jump no red light). My mind was briefly jolted by this and then by the fuel gauge descending fast to E. When we finally found a 24h petrol station near Wassy, our bank and credit cards wouldn’t validate and we waited for somebody to else to come and paid him cash for filling us up. More small road driving, asking around at hotels and we reached party hip Reims, which was a very cool town. On the way there, a speed camera flashed me, and I expect Hertz to get in touch with me for the punishment if it was a real snapper! The sunset was orange like the outer fire of hell, which we observed while I drove around like a loon in search of a lake that we saw road signs for. We never saw the lake, so Gareth has taken the liberty of naming it “the lost lake of France”, an adventure worthy of Indiana Jones.

Mark was annoyed silly by the rudeness of a guy at some hotel reception. We returned to the car, went through to Laon and slept in the car under some railway bridge somewhere. It was uncomfortable, and tough, but we did and my neck muscles died. I woke up again at 6 a.m. and everyone else woke and I began driving again, all bleary-eyes and road-trip happy. The sunrise was glorious through vast cornfields as I stepped on the throttle to reach Le Touquet and Boulougne-sur-mer. At Calais, we parked and walked around, and found an Auchan hypermarket and stocked up on cheap French booze into the car. The car heavy now, I dropped the car at Calais East Terminal and we bought a just in time ferry ticket. The lady in one of the car hire counters was so nice I couldn’t help watching her. What a hottie. Mark bought porn. I said goodbye to the Fiat Punto that couldn’t manage any more than 140 kph. (I tried!).

It suddenly struck me that I had driven almost one thousand kilometres across France for two days, on the wrong side of the road. And as quietly as I was driving, I smiled when I remembered these two days which didn’t really have a day or a night.

The white cliffs of Dover emerged from under the porn I was reading, and I knew home was atop the white cliffs in the green and pleasant land. I presented my British passport in Dover, and I was asked (since I am not white) whether I was British or not, and I laughed “Yes!“. My dad brought his big Land Rover down to Dover and picked us all up to spell the end for my trip, and for this Europe travelogue. I thank you for reading and hope that you live the dream and seek the dream. Because we only live once chummy.

Get on the road, open the windows, floor the throttle and let the wind do the talking.