CHIAVARI – Italy - The decision
to take the train to Paris was easy to make. I like traveling by train in
Italy, and besides if I went from Chiavari to Nice, in the south of France, I
could spend some time there and still be in Paris on Friday afternoon. It sounded like a plan to me. The truth of
the matter was that whichever way I went to Paris, which was my final
destination, it was going to require spending a night in either Pisa, Milan or
Nice and Nice won.
Gare de Nice Ville - Train Station in Nice, France |
I can’t count the number of times
I have traveled to Nice by train. It was practically my home away from home
back in the day when I was an illegal immigrant trying to stay one step ahead
of the carabineri. Just to maintain a quasi legal status I had to periodically
leave Italy and re-enter. With a new entry stamp in my passport, I was then
legal to stay in Italy, but only for tourism. As a tourist I was not supposed
to open a bank account or rent an apartment, and most of all I was not supposed
to work. In reality I did all three.
Since I was living in the Genoa
suburb of Nervi, France was the closest country I could get to. So every three months I would pack my black
leather traveling bag and take the train from Nervi to Nice. Two hours to the
French Italian border, then ½ hour to Nice, passing the one and only
ultra-glamorous James Bond, Princess Grace Monte Carlo, Monte Carlo along the
way.
The Royal Castle in Monte Carlo |
As time passed I started exploring
some of the small towns near Nice like: Canne, of film festival fame; Saint
Paul de Vence, an artist’s colony set in a small Medieval village in the
Maritime Alps; and Grasse, where the French perfume industry got its start. But
Nice was always my favorite destination so the idea of going back there, even
for a short visit, was definitely appealing to me.
But now things are a little more
complicated. Because of an on-going dispute between the French rail company and
the Italian rail company, there are no direct trains to Nice any more. I was
going to have to go from Chiavari to Genova, change trains and go the the
French/Italian border town of Ventimiglia. From Ventimiglia I would have to
change trains again for Nice. Not really a problem, just a pain in the butt.
What I could do though, was buy a ticket from Chiavari to Nice. That was good. But
not to Paris. For Paris I had to buy my train ticket in Nice.
Nice is really Nice |
And that was when I almost got
arrested. I had just bought my ticket to Paris and was walking out of the Nice
train station when I spotted the Accqueil/Information Desk. You see, I have an
article that I occasionally re-sell about being in Nice, breaking my foot and
having my leg encased in a cast at the Emergency Room of the Lady of the Rocks Hospital in downtown
Nice. http://thisitalianlife.blogspot.it/2012/12/life-travels-with-ginny.html Because my leg was in a cast my poor cousin Ginny began going round and
round from one Accqueil/Information to another Accqueil/Information desk trying to get a wheelchair for me as I certainly
couldn’t carry bags and hop up and down stairs at the same time. It’s a nice
article, I have sold it several times, but what I don’t have are photos of the
Accqueil/Information desk at the Nice train station. So I took out my little
camera and started snapping away.
It was then that I was accosted
by the Accqueil/Information lady who growled at me and started making
threatening moves toward my camera. She actually grabbed it out of my hands and
started frantically pressing buttons in an attempt to delete the photos I had
just taken. She was very upset, more upset than the situation actually called
for, and when she couldn’t delete the photos she shoved the camera back into my
hands saying something, in a threatening tone of voice that I
understood to mean that I should delete the photos immediately.
The Casino in Nice, France |
I have never deleted photos on my
camera. I don’t know how to do it. I really don’t. As I tried to explain that
to her, she was getting more and more frustrated and kept reaching over and
trying to press more buttons. Her face was bright red and if she could have
justified bopping me on the head I’m sure she would have. But in the crowded
train station with hundreds of people as witness to my non-aggressive behavior
it was not a good idea and I could see her re-thinking her options.
She thought my non-compliance was
due to not understanding French, but I understood perfectly, I just couldn’t do
what she wanted. She, the person in charge of information at the train station,
was the one who didn’t understand. She finally called over one of the guards
that guard the entrance to the train tracks, asking him if he spoke English and
telling him about my egregious offense. The guard came over, he seemed calm and
reasonable. I told him I didn’t know how to delete the photos and handed him
the camera saying if you know how to do it, go ahead, be my guest. I’ve sold
the article several times without a photo of the Accqueil desk, and I’m sure I
can do it again.
Nice is a very glamorous city |
He did manage to delete the photos
and totally ignoring her he told me that photos of
the Accqueil Desk are not allowed – even though there is no sign saying that –
and that she could have called the police and had me arrested. Did I believe
him? No. And even if she did call the police would they have come to arrest a
tourist who doesn’t speak French for taking photos of the Welcome/Information
Desk? Not likely.
If the unpleasant experience
dampened my spirits they were quickly revived with a stroll through my favorite
French department store, Galleries LaFayette. The next morning I was sitting in
First Class on the TVG heading for a fun weekend in Paris, and that poor woman
was back sitting in the Information booth welcoming visitors to Nice in her own
inimitable way.
The object of my affection - Galleries LaFayette Dept. Store, Nice France |
I still don’t know what the fuss
was all about, but Nice is a major tourist destination on the French Riviera, a
great place to visit and you would think they would hire someone for the
Information desk of the train station who not only speaks English, but has a
kinder, more gently approach to people visiting the city. What do you think?
..and that is a perfect example why I would never visit France!
ReplyDeleteno matter what Paris is still my favorite place in the world .Since the FRENCH REVOLUTION French people are somewhat arrogant but if one speak their language thy become much more accommodating.
ReplyDelete