Pas de Calais
With Hannah's birthday yesterday I had to think of some adventures we had together. And since travelling seems to get more difficult again, I thought of starting all over again and write some more stories.
I hate the war zone of the fireworks on new year’s eve and always try to spend it in places where fireworks are not permitted. So for a week around new year 2014/2015 we rented a house in the Somme area in France. Fortunately, in France, private fireworks are not allowed and so we were looking forward to a quiet change of the year.
The rented house was in a little village close to the baie de somme. Since the location was quite remote and I still always try to take the train I had to rent a car to get there. Fortunately, in France, you can rent a car at the station in even minor towns. In this case, the next rental location was Boulogne-sur-Mer. We had to change trains in Lille and took the last TGV. In France, they are very strict in keeping their working hours. The arrival in Boulogne sur Mer was too late for the rental agency. Nevertheless, they announced that the car key would wait for us in the office of the station master.
Change of trains in Brussels
Hannah's new TGV friends
the cold station of Lille Europe
waiting for a car in the station of Boulogne sur Mer
On monday at daylight, the bleak surroundings of the station of Boulongne sur Mer became obvious
It was a dark, cold December night, when we arrived. The few other passengers had quickly disappeared. I found the office of the station master in the station building and asked for my car key. He opened a drawer and took out an envelope containing some paperwork and a key. Then he looked at me. He said, well this car is for somebody with the typical French name Dupont. So probably this was not the car for me. There was no other key in the drawer. I showed him my reservation, but to no avail, he did not have another key. He comforted me with the revelation that this happened more frequently with this rental agency in Boulogne sur Mer. There was also no possibility to call them. Outside office hours nobody would answer. It was Saturday night and they were bound to be open again Monday morning at 9. The station master recommended to take a taxi and get it reimbursed by the car rental agency.
So we pulled our suitcases down across the station hall and out into the frigid air of the station square to the taxi stand. There was no taxi. Apparently all of them had left after our, the last train, had arrived. But there was a long list of phone numbers. So I started calling, anxious for a quick answer, because the battery of my phone was about to die. In short, no one took up the phone for most of the numbers. In some cases there was an answering machine and I left a message. Nobody ever called back. One guy answered in person, but he was on his way for a weekend getaway in Brussels.
Meanwhile an icy drizzle had started and we retreated into the station hall, where some other lost souls had found refuge. None of them looked like a train passenger. From there I called my friends, with whom we had planned to share the house. And indeed, a couple had already arrived. Eventually they agreed to take the car and come and pick us up. But with the icy drizzle it would take at least an hour to drive the 80 km to pick us up at Boulogne sur Mer.
So I sat with my little girl in the cold, but protected station hall and waited. At 11 pm, the station master came and kicked everybody out. He also told us that Dupont had not showed up to pick up his car. Since he did not give us Dupont’s car key, we had to go outside into the icy drizzle again and wait for the friend to arrive and get us.
We had waited for much longer than an hour and nobody had arrived. Meanwhile my phone’s battery was at its end, but fortunately little Hannah had her brand-new portable charger, which she had got as a Christmas present and was very proud that she was able to help her daddy. Nor did she seem to mind to have to wait in the cold…. Another adventure.
Eventually my phone started ringing. It turned out that my friend had sent her husband to pick us up. However, when he wanted to exit the motorway, he was not able to pay since he had forgotten his credit card. His bank pass did not work and the machine did not accept cash. He was stuck at the payage and could not get anywhere. He also could not call anybody because he spoke no French. She recommended us to take a taxi to the exit of the motor way to bail him out. However, of course, there was no taxi. She proposed to call the police and ask for help or advice.
So I called the police and told my story. They answered that there was no way to get out of the motorway without paying. And that, unfortunately, they were unable to come and drive us to the motorway exit. However, there would always be a taxi available at the main square of Boulogne. That was about 2 km away. I was about to start walking and take the first hotel room available on the way. I called my friend to ask what to do. She complained that we could not let her poor husband freeze to death at the motorway exit. So we started pulling our suitcases through the soggy snow when a lone car pulled onto the station square. It was my friend. Some Samaritan had had pity with him and had paid for him at the motorway. So we got our ride.
The church of our village in the morning
the village main street
The next morning I called the head office of the car rental company responsible for the whole of France. They could not do anything. I had to wait for Monday. Then I finally got hold of their local office in Boulogne. They had some excuse and told me that the car would be ready for me to be picked up if I would come during office hours, from 9 am to 12, and 2 pm to 5. Fortunately, at daytime there was a little local train and after changing in a place called Etaples-Le Touquet I eventually arrived in Boulogne and got the car.
The romantic little station of Hesdin
The modern equipment did not help: manwhile the train service to Hesdin has been stopped
The station of Etaples-Le Touquet seems to be unchanged since the time of Jean Gabin in "La bete humaine"
Eventually we were able to enjoy a week in this area, which was in the front line of the mass murder of world war I, but is, with its beautiful old fashioned towns and villages, the wide tidal flats of the coast line, quiet countryside with long alleys of poplars, abbeys and warm hearted brasserie’s, a fantastic place to pass a getaway in winter.
The main street of St. Valery sur Somme
in the streets of St. Valery
The harbour entrance of Le Treport at low tide
the cliffs above Treport
one of the mainy staircases 
view of town from the cliffs
Some impressions of the villages around the Baie de Somme
Many of the houses are abondoned
sometimes the inside looks like the owners just left a short while ago
Abbaye de Valloires
the countrysides offers great opportunities for walks
Inside the cathedral
