It was a rough crossing for my first experience on a big open body of water, and one I would not soon forget. The 2 American G.I’s whom we met on board the ferry and gave us some “sea rations” that they had brought to eat from the base during their getaway. They actually tasted pretty good. The rocking, rolling and constant motion put my equilibrium in a tail spin, so I really did not enjoy the trip. The voyage from Dover to Boulogne-sur-Mer seemed to take forever. This voyage is longer than the trip from Dover to Calais, as Boulogne-sur-Mer lays a little to the west of Calais. I was to find out that this first experience of sea sickness was not isolated case and I would experience it on many occasions, but at least now there is medication I can take to enjoy the ride.
We checked into a youth hostel, only to find out that besides 2 fellows from South Africa, 2 fellows from India and one well travelled guy from Japan, we were the only guests. We joined the 2 South Africans for a drink.
In the morning we found out that the Indians and Japanese guy had left for London, so we went into town with the 2 South African guys, Kubus and Peter in their car. It was a 1949 something – I don’t know the make but it was very small… and old, not much bigger than a Mercedes Benz Smart Car. (In the snowman picture you can see the car parked half way up the hill.) We went down to the coast and watched the surf rolling in from the English Channel. The wind was howling and it was cold, so although interesting to see for the prairie girls, it was far too blustery and bitter so stand and admire the power of the sea.
The four of us moved on to another youth hostel in northern France in a little town called Montreuil –sur-Mer, not too far down the coast. Montreuil was a sleepy medieval town on the coach road from Calais to Paris. Victor Hugo set "Les Misérables" in Montreuil as it has a medieval charm. Another claim to fame was the Citadelle built in 1567; military engineers had constructed a bastion along the walls, earthworks, and a new Citadelle on the weak point, where there was a gentle slope to the river. The purpose was to keep the invading Spanish at bay. Only two entrance towers remained of the old medieval castle and the youth hostel was located in the nearby soldier’s quarters. The hostel was called “La Hulotte” they had a youth club and we enjoyed a night of dancing with all of the French guys we met there. I still have the handmade post cards I got from the hostel host at Montreuil-Sur-Mer hostel depicting the old “Le Chateau Royal”
Adjacent to the youth hostel there was a tennis court. A little cool for a game of tennis, but we had other ideas for this snow covered court. The boys from South Africa had never built a snowman before, so with our suggestion they set out to build a snow man. We had suggested the traditional method of rolling the snow, but they had other ideas and the result was a bit surprising, including a bench that was used to prop up this 6 foot wonder.
We had now spent a few days hanging out with these guys and we were getting to know them, or so we thought. They suggested that we could travel to Paris together and share the gas. We were concerned about how the four of us and our luggage was going to fit in that little car for a longer ride, but alas it was not to come to pass. After a little disagreement at our small New Year’s Party/ping pong tournament the white nights disappeared in the dead of the night. We awoke on New Year’s Day 1969 to find that our ride had left without us, so now we had to suck it up and get out on the road and hitchhike like we had planned.
We went to bed early that night so we could get on with our adventure the next day, well aware of the warning that had been given to us in London, by my cousin with the Canadian embassy, of the demise that can happen to young girls travelling in Europe. We heard – we did not listen. It took us 2 rides to get to Paris and we arrived, at the Youth Hostel from hell, at about 1 PM. Gee that was easy!
The food in this hostel was crappy. I guess I though, France = good food, NOT here! We went to bed early and then “the” most horrific awakening I have ever or likely will ever have in my life. Out of loud speakers came this blaring noise, which went on and on. It sounded to me like German marching music at about 9 out of 10 on the volume control. From a dead sleep, on a bad meal this was not fun.
We did a day of sightseeing on what was to be our last day in Paris, of course first on our list was the Eiffel Tower. We met three Spanish guys as we climbed to the second level on a cool partly cloudy day. They were studying French and it was lots of fun to hang out with them attempting to comminicate to the guys in their limited English. As we were playing tourists in Paris, we met a guy from Calgary and a brother of someone Mary knew. He took us to the Sir Winston Churchill Bar for a drink. The Sir Winston is situated on Rue de Presbourg next to the Arc of Triumph. It is the oldest pub in Paris and was not as trendy in 1969 as it is today.The traffic in Paris was astounding, at least for me. Standing on the street by the traffic circle at the Arc of Triumph and feeling the vibration of the Paris Metro beneath my feet, the dizzying movement of the vehicles, the horns honking as the drivers jockeyed for position in this, at one of the world’s most famous traffic circles was fantastic, and made such an impression on me that I can recall it very vividly even today.
This was a short visit to Paris, but a memorable one.
