The lads taking a shower in Antigone
Now don't you go pulling the plug out Fred. This water's just the right depth!
The Place Royale Du Peyrou - I'm the King and we're not having anyone else up here!
Doing the tourist thing aboard the Montpellier "Petit Train"This morning, we watched in amazement as the man and his wife boarded the train, complete with two suitcases, a brief case and half a dozen bags of shopping.
“Do you think he reckons that this is the TGV to Paris?” asked Jean.
I had to suppress a giggle and I turned my attention to the group of men next to me who were busy putting up a series of small tents. We weren’t at the central railway station in Montpellier; we were in the Place de la Comedie, waiting for the little tourist train to depart at 11am, and the tents were being prepared to house the upcoming Artisans Fair which will be held from this coming Thursday until the end of the weekend.
The “Petit Train” that trundles around the centre of the ancient city is a very pleasant way to see some of the narrow streets and excellent viewpoints, but it still didn’t explain why our fellow passengers had so much luggage. I suppose this was their last bit of sightseeing before heading back home, and I must admit that we had all chosen the perfect day to be tourists.
The first thing I noticed when we got off the tram at Corum and started our regular walk through the Esplanade Charles De Gaulle, was that everything has changed colour. The trees are fast turning yellow, and with a slight nip in the air, most of the inhabitants of the city have changed from their summer plumage into rather more dark drab colours. The students only wear black from what I can make out, and everyone else had on a jacket or a thick jersey to ward off the autumnal chill. The open air cafes under the trees weren’t doing any trade at all and the regular coffee drinkers had moved into the Place where the sun warmed the clientele as did the strong sweet coffee.
The little train pulled away on time and I pressed the English audio guide to my ear in order to bone up on what I was seeing. Nothing! The ticket office man had assured me that I didn’t have to do anything, but I realised that I actually had to press a button every time the French commentary started up. Consequently, I was still finding out about the egg-shaped Place de L’Oeuf while everyone else was halfway up the hill.
The frustrating thing about the tour is that the carriages all have a roof, and this stops you from seeing the most interesting bits. It’s all very well to be at street level, but the view is mainly of shop fronts with the occasional glimpse down side streets. My aunt, who was a great historian, always told me never to look at old buildings at street level, but to always admire them from the second storey upwards. This is where the real architecture is, but short of craning my neck and risking having my head knocked off by a passing stone wall, I had the feeling that I was missing an awful lot.
Never mind. The sun shone, our feet had a rest, and the bits of information were interesting. Clearly the driver had a few favourite points of his own along the way, and he paused outside a little bakery and hollered for a “pain au chocolat”. This gave him the chance to point out to his passengers that this was the best bakery in town, and I have the feeling that his breakfast didn’t cost him much. The taped commentary pointed out a particular gateway through which could be seen an historic staircase, and as we approached, the solid gates opened as if by magic, and an elderly lady stood back to reveal the aforementioned staircase before shutting the gate again firmly as we trundled off. I wondered if they phoned ahead or she just listened for the rumble of the approaching train, but she was bang on cue.
One of the best viewpoints in Montpellier is at the end of the Place Royale Du Peyrou. This is the sandy area with little other than an equestrian statue in the middle and a sort of folly at the far end. Apparently the king decreed that nobody should have any sort of monument higher than his, thus ensuring that the good people of Montpellier had a jolly good vantage point to view their city and the mountains beyond in the years to come.
We did the odd jobs that needed doing, one of which was to purchase two new batteries in order to bring Ralph the blue plastic bird back to life. He was obviously in need of having his pacemaker upgraded but I think he is feeling a bit post-operative at present, because we haven’t had much of a chirp out of him.
“Do you think he reckons that this is the TGV to Paris?” asked Jean.
I had to suppress a giggle and I turned my attention to the group of men next to me who were busy putting up a series of small tents. We weren’t at the central railway station in Montpellier; we were in the Place de la Comedie, waiting for the little tourist train to depart at 11am, and the tents were being prepared to house the upcoming Artisans Fair which will be held from this coming Thursday until the end of the weekend.
The “Petit Train” that trundles around the centre of the ancient city is a very pleasant way to see some of the narrow streets and excellent viewpoints, but it still didn’t explain why our fellow passengers had so much luggage. I suppose this was their last bit of sightseeing before heading back home, and I must admit that we had all chosen the perfect day to be tourists.
The first thing I noticed when we got off the tram at Corum and started our regular walk through the Esplanade Charles De Gaulle, was that everything has changed colour. The trees are fast turning yellow, and with a slight nip in the air, most of the inhabitants of the city have changed from their summer plumage into rather more dark drab colours. The students only wear black from what I can make out, and everyone else had on a jacket or a thick jersey to ward off the autumnal chill. The open air cafes under the trees weren’t doing any trade at all and the regular coffee drinkers had moved into the Place where the sun warmed the clientele as did the strong sweet coffee.
The little train pulled away on time and I pressed the English audio guide to my ear in order to bone up on what I was seeing. Nothing! The ticket office man had assured me that I didn’t have to do anything, but I realised that I actually had to press a button every time the French commentary started up. Consequently, I was still finding out about the egg-shaped Place de L’Oeuf while everyone else was halfway up the hill.
The frustrating thing about the tour is that the carriages all have a roof, and this stops you from seeing the most interesting bits. It’s all very well to be at street level, but the view is mainly of shop fronts with the occasional glimpse down side streets. My aunt, who was a great historian, always told me never to look at old buildings at street level, but to always admire them from the second storey upwards. This is where the real architecture is, but short of craning my neck and risking having my head knocked off by a passing stone wall, I had the feeling that I was missing an awful lot.
Never mind. The sun shone, our feet had a rest, and the bits of information were interesting. Clearly the driver had a few favourite points of his own along the way, and he paused outside a little bakery and hollered for a “pain au chocolat”. This gave him the chance to point out to his passengers that this was the best bakery in town, and I have the feeling that his breakfast didn’t cost him much. The taped commentary pointed out a particular gateway through which could be seen an historic staircase, and as we approached, the solid gates opened as if by magic, and an elderly lady stood back to reveal the aforementioned staircase before shutting the gate again firmly as we trundled off. I wondered if they phoned ahead or she just listened for the rumble of the approaching train, but she was bang on cue.
One of the best viewpoints in Montpellier is at the end of the Place Royale Du Peyrou. This is the sandy area with little other than an equestrian statue in the middle and a sort of folly at the far end. Apparently the king decreed that nobody should have any sort of monument higher than his, thus ensuring that the good people of Montpellier had a jolly good vantage point to view their city and the mountains beyond in the years to come.
We did the odd jobs that needed doing, one of which was to purchase two new batteries in order to bring Ralph the blue plastic bird back to life. He was obviously in need of having his pacemaker upgraded but I think he is feeling a bit post-operative at present, because we haven’t had much of a chirp out of him.
I think I know how he feels. Even sitting down and being a tourist is a pretty exhausting pastime and I think an early night might be on the cards.
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