Today’s guest post has been submitted by community member Shaun Sandy. I have known Shaun since I was 17 years old. He is one my nearest and dearest friends in the world, and I am so glad you have an opportunity to see just one of the many things that make him so amazing.
Sometimes getting small details (or large facts) wrong can preserve a memory far better than had all gone to plan. I have proven this on often, and without calamitous repercussions.
This short tale is an example of the truism that I refer to. My wife and I were married very nearly 10 years ago and I had it set in my mind that the French Rivera was the place for a honeymoon, and being one fond of italics and prone to act on impulse (a bit), I set about arranging an unforgettable holiday, I went to town and booked sight-seeing trips, visits to wineries, perfumeries, out of the way places and restaurants. I am very fond of restaurants and wanted to get the most interesting ones I could find booked and on the list.
We flew out from Gatwick airport on a rainy English morning and landed a few hours later in the wonderfully warm, sunny and friendly city of Nice, which is yes… very nice, aside the dog poop every 10 paces’. I find the French in that part of France love their handbag size dogs, but they don’t pick up after them. I digress; we were booked in to a hotel in Cannes, which I had arranged a transfer to. So with not much time to absorb Nice we were off to Cannes, which really isn’t very far.
We arrived at the fantastic Hotel Gray d’Albion (highly recommend staying here, if you’re in that part of the world.). Got the bags unpacked and went for drinks and a late lunch on the terrace. The afternoons’ golden light drew in and we went for a walk through the older part of the town and along the beach. That sounds more romantic than it actually was, the old town is great, but the beaches are all unofficially owned by the hotels, and they put ropes around their chosen sections. So the walk was more of an obstacle course come hurdles event. As the sun began to sink, my thoughts turned to the very interesting restaurant I had booked.
The evening closing in as we headed back to the hotel.
We’d head back to the hotel, get changed and stroll to the restaurant (The Brasserie Flo). The Brasserie Flo is actually a theatre that has been converted into a restaurant, with the stage converted to a kitchen. The stage has been sealed off by a sound proof glass wall, so you can see what is going on, but don’t get the noise and steam accumulating at your table. Interesting concept.
The Brasserie Flo
Back at the hotel we changed and in our dinner best, headed down to reception where my idea was to get walking directions from a knowledgable local.
Walking to the desk I confidentially asked the receptionist the way to the Brasserie Flo.
“Monsieur, will you be going by car?” said the helpful guy.
The world started to move slightly from under my feet, my idea of an easy amble to a local eatery started to crack around the edges.
“How long would it take to walk there?” I asked.
“Walk, ah well Monsieur zat would not be a good idea.” Came his reply. I slipped further toward panic, as the cracks in my imagination became chasms.
“Well, how should I get there and how long will it take?” I humbly asked, with a clearly ignorant tourist look on my face.
“Let us see the schedule for za TGV, Monsieur, and zen I will be able to tell you precisely.”
Now bear in mind, I am trying desperately to be the hero of my new wife’s dreams, so this scrambling for a TGV timetable plays out as just part of the evenings plan. I don’t at this point know what a TGV is, but the acting put on made it look like old hat, and part of the plan. I’m still telling myself that.
(I discovered that the TGV is a train network in France, and that the trains are very quick.)
After consulting a guide, the guy from reception looked up and said with a calm air about him,
‘If you are quick, there will be a train in 7 minutes from za station, straight to Nice If you miss zat, you will be waiting for one hour. Za trip she takes 15 minutes”
A number of things registered in my mind at that point, in sequence they were, I’m so glad this guy speaks English, Nice, 7 minutes.
So the reservation was for 8, it was now 7 ish, no option but to get the next train.
This wasn’t going to be a romantic stroll; it was a charge as fast as high heels would carry my wife. The station is uphill from the hotel and the best part of a mile. No time for cabs, split and run was the only option.
So we found ourselves running up hill in our best clothes for a train that until that moment I’d not heard of, going back to the city we’d left 4 or so hours earlier. We did make the train and I can say that the TGV trains are the best I have been on. We also then made it to the restaurant on time. Great meal and brilliant evening.
Shaun with his new wife Maria.
Would I take it back and work all of the details out beforehand, never!
