Yesterday we decided on lunch at a rather swanky auberge in the hills (the Alpes Maritimes, if you prefer) above Nice. Probably would cost over 100 euros--foie gras, you know, fine wine and all the rest. We would treat ourselves to a little luxury. Figured it would take half an hour to get there. Auberge was in Colomars, village so small it was hard to find on maps. Trouble was we hadn't been there in years and years and I wasn't too sure where it was. Road started to climb. Hairpins began. Road soon two car widths wide, had to slow way down to pass. Precipices to one side. Guard rails sometimes absent. Colomars failed to appear, road kept climbing, and I began to hear it from my passenger. Not much gas in the car, and in France on Sunday gas is hard to find. Plenty for the excursion we had planned, not for these mountains. Road still climbing. Gas needle begins descending in convulsive lurches. Still no Colomars. Red light comes on. Passed through other villages. Streets empty. No gas station. Our reservation was for 12:30. We had been driving over an hour and were now very late. Suddenly my passenger noted that the dashboard clock, always correct in the past, read 2:10. How could that be? Who changed the clock? Suddenly it dawned on us. Daylight saving came to France last night. It must be that. The clock changed itself automatically, God knows how. Signs for Colomars had begun to appear but the red light was blinking. My only thought was to get down out of the mountains and get gas. We coasted in neutral down to the flat, drove slowly along the river and finally found a gas station open. I filled up, and we checked the correct time: nearly three o'clock. I called the restaurant on my cell, but they would no longer take us. This late in the afternoon probably no restaurant would. This finished swanky restaurants for the day. What do we do now? We drove along beside the Var. We passed a few brasseries and lesser restaurants all closed. Of course we could just go home. My passenger commented drily that she really wasn't looking forward to cooking today. A sign caught our attention: McDonalds. There are now about 500 of them in France. Not our cup of tea at all. We had never been to one, but at this hour there was nothing else. I pulled in. We waited online, received our burgers in a paper bag and water in a paper cup. It cost 11 euros. We sat there munching away. That was the end of our "swanky" Sunday outing. With a brief laugh my passenger said: "If our children hear about this, they'll put us in a nursing home."
4 Comments
8/11/2015 03:54:45 am
This is very much a work in progress whenever I find out about one who is more beautiful than any of these I will add her and kick out number ten Thanks for sharing the informative post.
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10/8/2015 01:46:27 am
You dont always get what you want.
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11/5/2015 08:35:35 am
read blogs on Mondays. So it should encourage blogger to write new write ups over the weekend primarily.
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