France in a Car
By H. G. St. M. REES MORE people than ever are touring France by road this year, many of them making the experiment for the first time. The Spectator some weeks ago published an article on motoring abroad by an acknowledged expert, but the experiences of a family party of four quite new to French roads may possibly have their interest for other readers about to " do France " themselves. The tour was in April. Plans for it began in January, and the always fascinating study of maps and routes was pursued with such diligence that by the time we started I could have recited the towns en route to Nice, with alternative roads and distances in miles and kilometres between our proposed halts. I qm sure that this close study of the map beforehand (and what better than the Michelin Guide ?) helped us considerably, although we found road-signs excellent and only once, on leaving Toulon, really lost our way. In any case, planning is an exciting occupation, and it is easier to alter prearranged plans than to improvise in an emergency.
• The A.A. saw us safely on to the night ferry from Dover to Dunkirk, the route we had chosen as giving us an extra day.
Dunkirk docks are well sign-posted and have need to be. But we wound our way without difficulty between blitzed sites on either hand, making for the road through Cassel to Bethune. Our objective the first day was Chalons-sur-Marne, about two hundred miles away, so at Arras we stopped to buy food for our picnic lunch. We had previously decided our method of subsistence. This being our first free-lance venture, we used the Autocheque service, so that our bed;' breakfast and dinner were already paid for What we had left was for our lunch and for spending on all the things that one spends money on in France. By arranging lunch this way we saved at least 30s. a day between us. A restaurant or café lunch with wine will average about 10s. each. Picnic lunch for four healthy appetites worked out over the whole trip at 12s. 3d. per day.
For this we got rolls, cheese, fruit, patisserie and one of the many savoury meats obtainable from the charcuterie. Fromage de tete (a brawn made from pig's head), pâté de campagne, boiled ham, terrine or slices of various kinds of saucissons all had their turn. And, of course, wine every day. In the hotels few wines under 200 fr. a bottle are worth drinking, whereas a bottle can be bought from a shop for 90-100 fr., variable in quality but never poor.
Vin rosé in particular is of remarkable consistency, and we usually bought this, especially in its own district, Provence. In the wine districts one buys the lockl wine, and at Pouilly, on the way back to Paris from the south, a bottle of Pouilly ordinaire at 100 fr. is a good bargain and tastes all the better for the reflection that it has cost but Is. 10d. When you buy wine from the shop, remember to take an empty bottle with you or you will be charged anything up to 20 fr. for the flacon.
The hotels, where we usually spent one night only, were with one exception very good. A kindly welcome, good food and running water in the bedrooms met us everywhere. The two-star class was our choice, and in two hotels we had a private bathroom with our double room. Where the accommodation was more modest, we were more than recompensed by the dinner at night and even more so by the hot croissants, butter and confiture that we ate for break- fast. A word about butter. If you buy picnic lunches, take your own butter from England. In France it is 6s. per lb., and there is not much to be seen.
When you get away from the northern part of France with, its pot-holed roads and broken pave, the going is much easier. With good straight roads we did an easy 300 miles the second day to Les Abrets, and the third day saw us through Grenoble, over the mountain passes of the Basses Alpes and into Grasse, a few miles from Nice. Here we were so enchanted by the town and by the Hotel Muraour (an almost unpronounceable name) that we stayed three days, and then, after visits to Nice, Monte Carlo and Italy, at whose frontier we spent two hours out of eight going through the customs, we set off along the road to Marseilles. At St. Maxime I realised that I had left my book of travellers' cheques on the counter of the bank at Cannes.
Here was a situation. We were too far from Cannes to turn back and catch the bank still open and the French telephone inspired me with terror. Que faire ? At this moment, as though to prove that providence watches over careless mortals, a magnifi- cently mustachioed Frenchman crossed the road in front of the car.
There was no mistakhrg him ; he had been in the bank at Cannes that morning. My wife insisted that I seek his aid. I stopped the car and approached. Did M'sieur speak English ? For my French was certainly not the language in which to explain my foolishness. M'sieur spoke English perfectly ; had English friends staying with him ; loved the English ; what could he do for me ? Well, he did it. He spent twenty minutes speaking to the bank manager on the 'phone. He agreed, yes yes, the English are stupid and careless, yes, but the cheque book must be forwarded. And it duly was, to the Paris branch, where I picked it up on my arrival. And M. Simon passed out of my life with a graceful gesture and my blessing.
A lazy day along the coast to Bandol and then the remains of Rome in Provence—Arles, Nimes and le Pont du Gard. A night at Avignon with its mediaeval ramparts still encircling the old papal capital, the Palais des Papes and, in the Palais, the lofty austerity of the chapel. This latter has to be heard to be believed ; if you get the right guide he will sing first one note, which circles round the high stone vault and comes back as pure as when it left his mouth , then three or four notes in harmony which return to the ear perfectly blended. Finally, he will intone for you part of the Office, and the effect is indescribable. The empty interior is a wonderful sounding-board, but one would like to see it filled once more with the rich hangings and vestments and to hear plain-song echoing round the walls.
Another two days through the Rhone valley and Fontainebleau brought us to Paris, where we were to learn what high prices meant. But first we wanted to learn the lay-out of the city. I suppose it has often been said before, but I advise the newcomer to Paris to make straight for the Eiffel Tower, ascend to the top and spend twenty minutes studying the aerial view with the help of the painted maps on the ceiling above each window. After doing this, we at any rate had no difficulty, and easily found all the places within reasonable distance that we wanted to see.
Our foreign allowance, jealously guarded for this moment, was now used more freely. One or two luxury meals to prove what Paris could do, hat (feminine), souvenir presents for the children and half a bottle of cognac or liqueur each, and we were off again for Boulogne and Dover with two travellers' cheques still intact. We had covered over two thousand miles in our 1946 10h.p. car without more trouble than a slow puncture on arrival at the dock- side at Boulogne. Our petrol (unrationed and giving a better mileage than the home product) had cost us f13 4s. in English money. We had not been able to take our full allowance of foreign currenpy, for within the preceding twelve months my wife and I had spent half of ours on a sea-trip to Sweden. But we had had a marvellous holiday, we had seen and done what we wanted to and we-still had money to spare. Which only goes to show that with careful spending the present allowance will do very well for a fortnight if one's tastes are simple and if de luxe hotels and similar indulgences are avoided.
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