Arrondissement de Nîmes

It is not easy travelling on an extended overseas holiday when you have pets at home. After all, they don’t seem to be able to look after themselves. Not only do they require feeding, dogs also need daily walks and cats need to have their every wish catered for. Fortunately there exists a particular kind of nomad called the “housesitter”. These people have adopted a gypsy lifestyle, whereby they exchange free accommodation and utilities in return for caring for pets that have been deserted by their globetrotting owners.

We have used the services of several different housesitters in the past and have found that the arrangement was mutually beneficial to all parties concerned. We had assumed the same thing would apply this time, after all we had driven all the way down to Geelong to meet the potential sitter, many months before we were due to leave. We even introduced her to the dog that she would be looking after. We had no reason to believe that things would not go well.

As it turned out the arrangements seemed to be going well for the two and a half weeks we have been travelling for. For the first few days we even got sent emailed “happy snaps” showing how well the cat and dog were being looked after. Even when the communications started to slow down, we assumed that all was going well. You can therefore imagine my surprise when I got a short message saying that the housesitter had decided to immediately pack up and leave. No warning, no opportunity to make other plans – she had just packed her bags and gone, leaving the pets in an empty house. Even more surprising was the way she ended her message with “have a happy holiday”.

To say that this constituted something of a curveball would be an understatement. We then spent much of the morning on the phone trying to put alternate makeshift plans into operation. We have never heard of a sitter acting in such an irresponsible way before, but there was little we could do about it when we were on the other side of the planet. When Maggie’s sister arrived at our house to see what had happened, she found that not only were the animals left unattended, but the front door had been left damaged, the airconditioner was broken, the washing machine had been moved and some towels had been taken. I suppose under such circumstances we should have been glad that she had not stayed for the full two months as I don’t think the house would have survived. I guess we have learned to be far more selective in our choice of any future potential house sitters. In the meantime we will have to somehow get by with “Plan B” for the next 6 weeks.

Since today was going to be our final full day in Aigues Mortes, I did not want the entire time there to be spoilt by the unwelcome news we had received. We had already decided that we should all visit the ramparts that surround the city. These fortified walls extend around the full 1.7 km perimeter of the old city and certainly would have posed a significant obstacle for any would be medieval invader.

If we had been aged between 18 to 25 years of age we would have been able to get access for free. For some reason the ticket seller would not believe that I fell in that age range and charged me the full price of 8 Euro. There was no concession for old Australians at all, even if our ancestors had helped rescue France from destruction in both world wars.

Once we climbed the stairs to the top of the imposing main tower I had to admit that it was worth every cent of the admission charge. The views out over the surrounding flat marshes were magnificent. In front of us we could see the long canal that our boat had followed to reach the city. I then spent the next 90 minutes walking the entire length of the ramparts. At irregular intervals the walls are punctuated by a succession of larger constructions. These were used for various functions, including chapels, prisons, forts, etc. The sheer amount of material and effort that had gone into the construction must have been incredible.

By the middle of the afternoon I was feeling tired and returned to my room at the Chez Carriere. Our room was situated next door to Gael and Gerry’s. For some reason Gerry seemed to have an inordinate amount of difficulty unlocking their door. Every 30 minutes or so we would hear a prolonged ritual of clanking, banging, key turning, often punctuated by a period of loud cursing. Just when you thought that they had finally opened the door, it would start all over again. I am sure that it would have been easier to make a hole through the 5 metres thick stone ramparts, than to turn the key in Gerry’s lock. Although I tried to instruct him on the correct technique for opening this sort of lock, it was obviously a skill that he never managed to master. To the contrary, he actually seemed to get noisier with each successive opening and closing.

Although we had no such difficulty with our lock, we did manage to almost shake the building from its foundations several times when we accidentally let the door slam shut. On such occasions I think the resultant bang would have been audible in Paris. In spite of these minor hiccups, the hotel really was a fantastic place to stay. The rooms were clean and comfortable, the air conditioners worked well, the location was perfect and the manager was delightful.

Tomorrow we will be bidding adieu to Aigues Mortes as we undertake a gruelling all day train odyssey to take us to Nevers to begin the second part of our cycling adventure. After a three day break, I am sure that all our team is very eager to get rolling again.Read more