正文
你试过在法国南部自驾旅行吗？说说我的笑话，分享在那儿自驾的快乐。
十年前，我去法国西南比利牛斯山脉北部边界的小镇Pau出差，第一次尝试租车。下了飞机之后才发现是手动档的车。当时南部自动档的车还很少见，也许是法国人酷爱运动，觉得自动车不好玩儿吧。以前我开过六年手动车，SUV兴起之后，也换了自动的。心想咱今儿就是旧梦重温，再过过手动档的瘾。然而，车发动起来后，没走几步就趴那儿了。试了几次，车呛得吓人，也没挪出停车场。眼看天色渐暗，只好跟那辆车白白了。我把租赁协议扔在了钥匙保管箱里，叫了一辆出租。
五年后，早春二月的时候，我去法国中南部普罗旺斯一个叫Saint-Tulle的小镇出差，拜访公司在那儿的办公室。Saint-Tulle在马赛的北边，距离有100多公里，没有火车，出租非常贵，所以我计划从马赛机场开车。由于有了以前的经验，我订了一个自动挡的车。听从老板的建议，我还要了一个GPS，引导我穿越法国乡村。这也是我第一次使用GPS。一切似乎都很容易，也很顺利，我降落在马赛，在机场拿到车和GPS。一位年轻的法国姑娘给我讲解了如何使用GPS，以及如何进入收费公路。我把GPS吸在挡风玻璃上，开始了从马赛到Saint-Tulle 100公里的单人远征。
没多久，一位女士以她独特的英国口音开始用陌生的字眼从GPS里指挥我，比如，“院子”（yard，英码）和“熊权”（bear right，稍微靠右）等等。除了英寸、英尺和英里，我没用过其它英制单位，也只知道有“人权”（human right）。不久，她提到了收费公路。当时我正在绞尽脑汁计算一个“院子”有多长，没听清她问的是进入还是避免收费公路。未加思索，我按下“是”键。出乎意料，车子没有进入收费站，而是去了旁边的小路。我才意识到听错指令了。要不要调头回去呢？犹豫不决之际，我就被普罗旺斯美丽的乡村包围了。那是二月初托斯卡纳的太阳，还是贝多芬的田园呢？我太幸运了，两者都有了。忘了收费公路吧！
跟着GPS，我走近一个小镇。突然，一个奇怪的警报声响了起来。我环顾四周，身后没有警车呀。警报声再响起来时，我明白了，是雷达探测器，于是放慢了车速。渐渐地我喜欢上了GPS女士，开始信任她的指挥。感谢老板让我的旅程如此顺利。
穿过无数小镇之后，出现了主要道路和环形岛。第一个环形岛似乎有五六个路口。进入了环形岛后，我双手握着方向盘，紧紧盯着GPS的方向标，盼望GPS女士尽快告诉我从哪个出口出去。然而，方向标变得太慢了，GPS女士也不出声了。至少有四个选择，我从哪儿出去呢？转了几圈之后，我决定在忘了从哪条路进来之前，在四个出口里选一个。没想到，刚一离开环形岛，GPS女士就大声命令到，“重新计算”。我马上意识到，错了。好吧，调头回环形岛重新开始。
傍晚天黑之前我抵达了目的地，最佳西方（Best Western），美国连锁旅馆。
第二天是星期天，我出去探路。一切顺利，我找到了办公室，确保星期一能按时露面。在回旅馆的路上，不知道按了哪个按钮，GPS女士问我，要不要避免收费公路？哈，这回我听懂了。不知道是不是太高兴了，我按了“否”键。你猜怎么着，这回车进了收费公路，那儿本来应该是我前一天出来的地方。也许是周末，车辆稀少，收费亭也没人。趁着周围没车，我向左打了个U弯儿，发现自己就在收费公路的出口处。别问我入口和出口怎么都通着呐，这是法国人的事，而且还是法国乡下人的事。很快，我又意识到，天下没有免费的午餐，得付费。幸运的是我有欧元，还是大票子。因为我可怜的法文还不足以看懂要交多少，就给自动收费机喂了十欧元。值得庆幸的是，收费机吭哧、吭哧地吐了一阵子, 倾其所有还给我好多零嘣子！兴奋之余，我也没忘了拿收据。
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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