Day 7 - Sofia to Paris to Orleans

Sofia to Paris to Orleans

Wedesday, 8th June

The taxi ride to Sofia airport wasn't very pleasant. The driver was a massive brute of a man, who seemed a little pissed and openly smoked inside the cab. Our conversation was somewhat limited and he seemed most concerned and amused that I had partaken in the liquor of choice from Plovdiv.

The airport itself is very grim and lacking in pretty much everything you'd expect from an international airport. There were already 50 or so passengers crashed out or sat waiting for the check in process to begin, in three hours. 

I found a quiet spot and laid on the floor and managed to get a bit of shut eye.

Trying to get some shut eye at Sofia airport

When check in did begin there was utter confusion as to which line to get in and everyone was poised ready to leg it to the counter when the light came on. After some started getting checked in anyway, and everyone had joined that queue it became apparent that all the desks were open to both flights leaving early as they were both with WizzAir, the cheapo Hungarian airline that is expanding rapidly according the message from the owner in the in-flight mag.

I must admit I had one of my "calm down, don't get angry" moments as the guy sat next to me got out this iPad looking thing and started to listen into the pilot's conversation. It was very loud but if the thought had crossed your mind "why would he being doing that?" it had mine too. I had dutifully turned off my mobile phone and kindle (such a threat to aircraft security that) and here was the passenger sat next to me, apparently hacking into the pilots' communication with the tower. His "app" also had a map of the airport and the "t" word did enter my mind, I have to admit. This continued almost up to take off, with not of the crew seemingly bothered in the slightest. I bit my tongue.

He got it out again once we'd taken off, but not to listen into the pilot, just to see our location. I asked him... "Is that the river Danube down there" and he was able to reply "yes, it's where Serbia is divided from Romania". I felt pleased with myself and asked another "so, what IS that you have there?" He told me is was a device for professional pilots and that he was one, for the Bulgarian air force.

Is that Chantilly down there?

I did get some sleep on the plane before we arrived at the less than impressive Beauvais airport north of Paris. Amazingly there was nowhere to pick up a SIM card from the terminal building so I went on to pick up my car - a Citroen. That went smoothly and I managed to get the sound system to connect to my mobile via Blutooth so I could listen to all the pod casts I'd fallen behind on on the way south.

My first stop was the town of Beauvais itself. I thought I'd pop in and pick up a SIM from there. I parked the car putting enough euros for 15 minutes, which I thought would be enough. Then I went to the Orange shop to find it full of quite old people queuing for service. After ten minutes with no progress in sight I gave up and went back to may car. I didn't actually NEED the SIM yet anyway. I could use WiFi on the service stations, like I'd done in Bulgaria, right?

So, off to Paris. I thought a suitable football-crazy way to start Euro 2016 for me would be to go to the Henri Delaulay trophy road show which, I had learned, was going to be on at the Gare du Nord, where we used to arrive at from England on the train. Good plan, eh?

The first thing that frustrated me was that there seemed to be no service stations on the road from Beauvais to Pris, some 75km. I ended up going to a KFC so I could get a GPS tracked map to follow. That in itself was disappointing. I usually don't turn my nose up to "finger licking good" chicken. My dear old mum loved it so much I used to bring her a box every Sunday when she was at Hempton Fields nursing home. I am sure this wasn't the reason for the stroke that killed her. But I doubt she'd have liked the one I bought from northern Paris - Kentucky Fried Gibblets. Anyway, I did manage to use their WiFi to get a decent map of how to get to Gare Du Nord. 

This part all went rather well. It's so impressive that the GPS can track your movements even when you do not have a data connection. Even when you miss a turn off, it remembers your route and GPS know where you are so you can get back on track.

The furthest distance between cars in Paris, it seemed

Miraculously, I found a free parking spot 100m from the station so, at this point, I was feeling pretty happy. Any minute now... another selfie with the famous trophy behind me!

"Desole!" said the armed police man as he told me the exhibition had been cancelled due to a security alert. Oh well. So much for that (crazy) idea. Now, onto my next destination... Orleans. All I needed to do is cross Paris and head south west. Follow any signs to Bordeaux, Lyon and Orleans and I'd be right.

This was the daftest part. To imagine I could do this at the best of times, with a fully functioning SatNav, would have been crazy but armed with no local knowledge and a mobile phone that needed wifi to update was insane.

I should have to Chantilly (where the England team are based) instead. Hind sight is always 20:20!

It took about three hours to get to the right side of Paris though bumper to bumper slow moving traffic. No chance of getting out to park and find WiFi but the map I'd downoaded from KFC was still of some use. I must have missed the turn off for the A10 to Orleans ten times before I eventually was pointed in the right direction. Even then it nearly ended in tears as a van driver right next to me (in the left lane) cut right across me (in the right lane) to turn right while I was going straight onto the A10, nearly causing a crash.

At last, cruising down the A10. In a couple of hours I'd be in Orleans, I thought. But suddenly Murphy's law reared it's ugly head and the whole three lane intersection leading to Bordeaux and Orleans was closed. No warning and no diversion signs (not immediately anyway). I was being forced to go to Rennes instead.

I stopped at the first service station for a coffee and to calm down where I bumped into a couple of Glaswegian football fans. I avoided the temptation to scoff at their failure to qualify and endured a very detailed account of why Rangers should never have been fined and how, when they sue to Scottish FA for damages it will destroy them.

Eventually, I did get to Orleans, about 4 hours later than I'd hoped. This did NOT disappoint. What a magnificent city it is. I only had a few hours but I managed to see quite a few things including the amazing cathedral and the Loire which looked very high.

I had a fabulous simple meal of chicken in a red vineger and onion sauce and potatoes before sloping off back to the car that I'd parked in a car park in the town center. I loved Orleans so much I was tempted to stay a night but instead I decided to put the seat back and get a bit of shut eye.

Delicious chicken and potatoes in onion and red vinegar sauce

All gone except three bones ... and a metal clip!

When I woke up (about 2 am) I headed south to Bourges where I had originally wanted to spend some time, instead, I ended up parking in a motorway service station and resuming me sleep.

Aljice

Marseille