A Couple of Days in France - Boulogne

    The three of us set out around four in the morning to drive to the ferry port in Dover. Dusty had the unenviable job of having to drive on the left in England, then on the right in France in a right hand drive vehicle. I think the driving was harder for him coming home because we returned to England late in the day, so he had to switch sides of the road yet again, and this time it was dark. Dusty managed the driving changes like a champ, he always does.

    The car ferry was three levels with various shops, restaurants, arcades, gambling rooms, and seating areas. Big J and I, felt right at home in the video arcade, and started playing shoot ‘em up games straight away. None of us are gamblers, so we left that part alone. The duty free shop was nearly bare, and the deals weren‘t impressive. On the ferry ride home, at one of the many restaurants I ordered a lamb curry, a “Rogan Josh“. It was good, better than the curry I ate at a fancy Indian restaurant back in England. We were never able to see the white cliffs of Dover, coming or going. It was foggy leaving England, and dark coming back.

    In Boulogne, our very first project was to find the hotel we had booked online, a three star, named Hotel Alexandria. Dusty had visited Boulogne many times, but not recently. He said the town had grown a lot, and he had always come in on a private sailboat way at the opposite end of the waterfront. So, we drove in circles for a while. Dusty always insists we are not lost, because “we don’t do lost“. Dusty is great to travel with because nothing fazes him; and he always knows east, west, north and south.

    After a few passes through town, we parked the car to narrow our search to a few square blocks. We asked two young guys passing by, but they had never heard of it. Once we found the hotel, we realized we must have passed it by, over and over. At check in the desk clerk explained that the parking garage was around the block and next to a Chinese restaurant. Along with the room and garage keys, she wrote down a pass code to open the overhead door.

    If the garage were not being used for parking, it would make a great dungeon. As you drive in, there is a steep descent into a dark, damp, dingy, space. The ceiling is so low that most American trucks or SUV’s wouldn’t clear it; Big J’s head nearly touched the ceiling. We snatched our luggage and hurried out of there, happy not to have met any resident rodents.

    After dropping off our luggage in the room, we set out walking to explore. It was raining and cold, and I was the only one of us that was decked out for the weather. I planned ahead this time, and wore a pair of boots borrowed from Dusty’s mum, and an authentic Antarctica jacket, borrowed from my mom. Since I’m a Florida girl, I don’t own much in the way of winter clothes -- exactly one pair of shoes that cover my feet, and those are my sneakers. 

    We walked through the old town to the fort, and then back down the hill another way. Then we stopped in a coffee shop to warm up. To me the look of Boulogne is completely foreign and European -- tall old worldy buildings towering above narrow winding streets. The differences from one place to another is what I like -- the different look, different customs, and different languages. After living in Japan as a military brat, and then returning to California, the sameness of it all made me feel like the whole of the United States was one immense military base. This was the beginning of my love of travel.