正文
你試過在法國南部自駕旅行嗎？說說我的笑話，分享在那兒自駕的快樂。
十年前，我去法國西南比利牛斯山脈北部邊界的小鎮Pau出差，第一次嚐試租車。下了飛機之後才發現是手動檔的車。當時南部自動檔的車還很少見，也許是法國人酷愛運動，覺得自動車不好玩兒吧。以前我開過六年手動車，SUV興起之後，也換了自動的。心想咱今兒就是舊夢重溫，再過過手動檔的癮。然而，車發動起來後，沒走幾步就趴那兒了。試了幾次，車嗆得嚇人，也沒挪出停車場。眼看天色漸暗，隻好跟那輛車白白了。我把租賃協議扔在了鑰匙保管箱裏，叫了一輛出租。
五年後，早春二月的時候，我去法國中南部普羅旺斯一個叫Saint-Tulle的小鎮出差，拜訪公司在那兒的辦公室。Saint-Tulle在馬賽的北邊，距離有100多公裏，沒有火車，出租非常貴，所以我計劃從馬賽機場開車。由於有了以前的經驗，我訂了一個自動擋的車。聽從老板的建議，我還要了一個GPS，引導我穿越法國鄉村。這也是我第一次使用GPS。一切似乎都很容易，也很順利，我降落在馬賽，在機場拿到車和GPS。一位年輕的法國姑娘給我講解了如何使用GPS，以及如何進入收費公路。我把GPS吸在擋風玻璃上，開始了從馬賽到Saint-Tulle 100公裏的單人遠征。
沒多久，一位女士以她獨特的英國口音開始用陌生的字眼從GPS裏指揮我，比如，“院子”（yard，英碼）和“熊權”（bear right，稍微靠右）等等。除了英寸、英尺和英裏，我沒用過其它英製單位，也隻知道有“人權”（human right）。不久，她提到了收費公路。當時我正在絞盡腦汁計算一個“院子”有多長，沒聽清她問的是進入還是避免收費公路。未加思索，我按下“是”鍵。出乎意料，車子沒有進入收費站，而是去了旁邊的小路。我才意識到聽錯指令了。要不要調頭回去呢？猶豫不決之際，我就被普羅旺斯美麗的鄉村包圍了。那是二月初托斯卡納的太陽，還是貝多芬的田園呢？我太幸運了，兩者都有了。忘了收費公路吧！
跟著GPS，我走近一個小鎮。突然，一個奇怪的警報聲響了起來。我環顧四周，身後沒有警車呀。警報聲再響起來時，我明白了，是雷達探測器，於是放慢了車速。漸漸地我喜歡上了GPS女士，開始信任她的指揮。感謝老板讓我的旅程如此順利。
穿過無數小鎮之後，出現了主要道路和環形島。第一個環形島似乎有五六個路口。進入了環形島後，我雙手握著方向盤，緊緊盯著GPS的方向標，盼望GPS女士盡快告訴我從哪個出口出去。然而，方向標變得太慢了，GPS女士也不出聲了。至少有四個選擇，我從哪兒出去呢？轉了幾圈之後，我決定在忘了從哪條路進來之前，在四個出口裏選一個。沒想到，剛一離開環形島，GPS女士就大聲命令到，“重新計算”。我馬上意識到，錯了。好吧，調頭回環形島重新開始。
傍晚天黑之前我抵達了目的地，最佳西方（Best Western），美國連鎖旅館。
第二天是星期天，我出去探路。一切順利，我找到了辦公室，確保星期一能按時露麵。在回旅館的路上，不知道按了哪個按鈕，GPS女士問我，要不要避免收費公路？哈，這回我聽懂了。不知道是不是太高興了，我按了“否”鍵。你猜怎麽著，這回車進了收費公路，那兒本來應該是我前一天出來的地方。也許是周末，車輛稀少，收費亭也沒人。趁著周圍沒車，我向左打了個U彎兒，發現自己就在收費公路的出口處。別問我入口和出口怎麽都通著呐，這是法國人的事，而且還是法國鄉下人的事。很快，我又意識到，天下沒有免費的午餐，得付費。幸運的是我有歐元，還是大票子。因為我可憐的法文還不足以看懂要交多少，就給自動收費機喂了十歐元。值得慶幸的是，收費機吭哧、吭哧地吐了一陣子, 傾其所有還給我好多零嘣子！興奮之餘，我也沒忘了拿收據。
Driving in South France with GPS (1)
- My solo voyage from Marseille to Saint-Tulle -
Have you ever tried to drive in South France? Let me share a few stories of mine and see if you will laugh.
Ten years ago I had my first try in Pau on the northern edge of the Pyrenees, Southwest France. Back then cars with automatic transmission were rare as the French loved sports and did not include automatic cars in their leagues. I thought I could handle a manual car as I had one for six years. However, after choking the rental car several times in the parking lot at the airport, I gave it up. I left the rental agreement in the key drop box and took a cab instead.
Five years later, I made a business trip to a small town called Saint-Tulle in the heart of Provence, south central France, and planned to drive from Marseille airport. With the earlier experience I booked an automatic car. Taking my supervisor’s advice, I also reserved a GPS to guide me through the French countryside. Everything seemed to be easy and smooth, I landed in Marseille and picked up the car with the GPS at the airport. A young French girl showed me how to use the GPS and how to get on the toll road. I sucked the GPS on my windshield and began a 100-km solo voyage to Saint-Tulle, where my French colleagues worked. By the way, this was my first time to use a GPS.
Before long, a lady with her distinct English accent started commanding me from the GPS in unfamiliar words like yards and bear-right, etc. Soon enough, she said something about a toll road. Did she say enter or avoid, I could not tell. As I was still trying to figure out how long a yard was, without any hesitation I pushed the “Yes” button. To my surprise, the car did not enter the toll plaza but went to a side road. Before I realized what happened, I was surrounded by the beautiful countryside of Provence. Is it Tuscany Sun or Pastoral in early February? Lucky me, I had them all for myself. Forget the toll road!
Following the GPS, I approached a small town. Suddenly, a strange and alarming sound set off. I looked around but did not see any police car behind me. When it happened again, I figured out they might be just radar detectors and slowed down. I began to like the GPS lady and trusted her commands. Thanks to my boss for making it so easy for me.
After I maneuvered through numerous small towns, there came main roads and roundabouts. On the first roundabout, however, the GPS slowed down and did not compute the direction fast enough. There were more than four roads to choose from. After taking a couple of rounds on the roundabout, I decided to take a chance before I forgot which road I came from. After I left the roundabout, the lady apparently instructed, “re-calculating!” I realized that I was wrong. Alright, let’s turn around and get back to the roundabout.
Finally I made it to my destination, Best Western, the American hotel chain before sunset.
The next day was Sunday, and I set out to locate the office and make sure Monday I would be able to show up okay. All went well, and I found the office. Then I headed back to the hotel. Not sure which button I pushed, in the middle of the return trip, the GPS lady asked me again if I wanted to avoid the toll road. While I was happy to get her question right this time, incidentally I push the “No” button. Guess what, the car entered the toll plaza, where I should have exited on way here. It was Sunday and there were no people around to ask for help. I made a quick U-turn to find myself at the exit. Do not ask me how the entrance and exit all at the same place. It is a French thing and in the French countryside. Immediately I realized that there is no free lunch, and I need to pay. I had euros but in big denominations. As I could not read how much I should pay with my limited French, I fed the auto booth with a ten-euro note. Fortunately, it made change for me, perhaps after dumping all it had, and I even managed to pick up my receipt!
Ten years ago I had my first try in Pau on the northern edge of the Pyrenees, Southwest France. Back then cars with automatic transmission were rare as the French loved sports and did not include automatic cars in their leagues. I thought I could handle a manual car as I had one for six years. However, after choking the rental car several times in the parking lot at the airport, I gave it up. I left the rental agreement in the key drop box and took a cab instead.
Five years later, I made a business trip to a small town called Saint-Tulle in the heart of Provence, south central France, and planned to drive from Marseille airport. With the earlier experience I booked an automatic car. Taking my supervisor’s advice, I also reserved a GPS to guide me through the French countryside. Everything seemed to be easy and smooth, I landed in Marseille and picked up the car with the GPS at the airport. A young French girl showed me how to use the GPS and how to get on the toll road. I sucked the GPS on my windshield and began a 100-km solo voyage to Saint-Tulle, where my French colleagues worked. By the way, this was my first time to use a GPS.
Before long, a lady with her distinct English accent started commanding me from the GPS in unfamiliar words like yards and bear-right, etc. Soon enough, she said something about a toll road. Did she say enter or avoid, I could not tell. As I was still trying to figure out how long a yard was, without any hesitation I pushed the “Yes” button. To my surprise, the car did not enter the toll plaza but went to a side road. Before I realized what happened, I was surrounded by the beautiful countryside of Provence. Is it Tuscany Sun or Pastoral in early February? Lucky me, I had them all for myself. Forget the toll road!
Following the GPS, I approached a small town. Suddenly, a strange and alarming sound set off. I looked around but did not see any police car behind me. When it happened again, I figured out they might be just radar detectors and slowed down. I began to like the GPS lady and trusted her commands. Thanks to my boss for making it so easy for me.
After I maneuvered through numerous small towns, there came main roads and roundabouts. On the first roundabout, however, the GPS slowed down and did not compute the direction fast enough. There were more than four roads to choose from. After taking a couple of rounds on the roundabout, I decided to take a chance before I forgot which road I came from. After I left the roundabout, the lady apparently instructed, “re-calculating!” I realized that I was wrong. Alright, let’s turn around and get back to the roundabout.
Finally I made it to my destination, Best Western, the American hotel chain before sunset.
The next day was Sunday, and I set out to locate the office and make sure Monday I would be able to show up okay. All went well, and I found the office. Then I headed back to the hotel. Not sure which button I pushed, in the middle of the return trip, the GPS lady asked me again if I wanted to avoid the toll road. While I was happy to get her question right this time, incidentally I push the “No” button. Guess what, the car entered the toll plaza, where I should have exited on way here. It was Sunday and there were no people around to ask for help. I made a quick U-turn to find myself at the exit. Do not ask me how the entrance and exit all at the same place. It is a French thing and in the French countryside. Immediately I realized that there is no free lunch, and I need to pay. I had euros but in big denominations. As I could not read how much I should pay with my limited French, I fed the auto booth with a ten-euro note. Fortunately, it made change for me, perhaps after dumping all it had, and I even managed to pick up my receipt!
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