Day Trip to the Beach: A Tragedy in Three Acts.

ACT I - The Plan

My mother was in town last week. It was her first trip to Montpellier so I was very excited to show her our new town. I also wanted to use her visit as an excuse for a day trip. Many friends (who all have cars) have been asking if we have been to Sète (pronounced like a “set” of tennis). When we say “no” they are confounded. “You HAVE to go to Sète.”

I researched the town and once I saw pictures I understood why we needed to go. Just look at this place! It looks like Paris had sex with Venice.

The coastal town is situated around 37 km (23 miles) southwest of us and it turns out it is one of the most popular destinations in our region of Occitanie.

We’ve mentioned before that Roberto and I aren’t really beach people, as in sit-on-the-beach-all-day-getting-a-tan-and-sand-in-all-your-bits people.

However, I love walking and dining seaside as much as the next person. And the seafood in Sète was said to be outstanding. I decided we should go on Friday, mom’s last day. According to my online research, it would take us two stops on the tram (which is less than five minutes from our door) and then 20 minutes on a train direct to Sète. Easy peasy!

I also researched restaurants and came up with this cute little place with over a thousand five star reviews: Miam's d'ici et d'ailleurs (Miam’s from here and elsewhere). I called and made a reservation for three people at 1pm. The monsieur told me 1pm at the latest. (The restaurant closes at 2pm, so 1pm is their last seating).

a picture of the cod at Miam’s (from Trip Advisor)

ACT II - The Quest

We planned to leave home at 11am and give ourselves a whole two hours for the 35 minute journey, just in case. But Roberto and I got caught up in a conversation with our neighbor about whether or not he might want to sell us his tiny studio right next door to our apartment*.

But no worries! We still had an hour and a half to get there. As we walked to the tram I checked my Apple map and it said to take the brown line to the train station. A brown tram was just pulling in! We rushed and jumped on. Within seconds I had a bad feeling. We were not heading southwest but southeast. We quickly disembarked at the next stop and grabbed a tram going back to where we had started. My kind mother said, “It’s the same as missing an exit on the highway. Just a quick u-turn!”

We returned to our home station, Corum, and I figured out that there are actually TWO brown lines, the #2 and the #4, and we had gotten on the wrong one. A blue tram pulled in and I knew for a FACT that this one went straight to the train station. Roberto and I have taken it many times. We boarded and I relaxed.

Until we seemed to be heading southeast AGAIN. WTF? I started to perspire now. I was trying to talk to Roberto about what the hell was happening when two sweet old French women informed me that the blue line has been rerouted due to construction? Security? A cow on the tracks? (I couldn’t understand all their French). I did understand that they were telling me that we’d better get off the tram and walk.

Merde. We disembarked again. I checked the map. Roberto helpfully pointed out that we were now further away from the train station than our apartment was and that if we’d just walked from home we would be there by now. I gave him death eyes.

We started marching toward the station. Somehow the entire walk managed to be in the brightest rays of the sun. It was 12:15pm and our lunch reservation was at 1pm. “No problem!” I kept saying. “We’ll get to the station by 12:30 and we can still get to our reservation in time.”

After a sweaty 20 minute walk we arrived at the station, and I was grumpy. The setbacks were ALL being blamed on me (to be clear, no one blamed me. I just knew in my heart that Roberto and my mother were seething with resentment at my poor planning).

I rushed to a ticket machine and purchased three round trip tickets to Sète: €50. The schedule online said the trains left every 20 minutes or so, so we started searching for the next one. But here’s the thing - NONE of the departure signs included a train to Sète. “No big deal,” I thought. “Sete is probably not the final destination and so the train is listed under a different town!”

We just needed to figure out which town. I searched for an information booth. I told mom and Roberto to stay where they were while I ran around the station. I could no longer handle their nasty remarks and judgmental snarkiness (Again. Neither of them said anything nasty or judgmental. But I just knew they wanted to).

The guy in the snack booth told me where the information desk was. I ran back up the escalator and discovered a long line, but there were two people in uniform standing at the doorway. I asked, S’il vous plait, où est le train à Sète? (Please, where is the train to Sète?) They seemed to say, “There isn’t one.” Obviously, I was having translation problems. I showed them my tickets. Again, they said, “There is no train to Sète today. There is a bus. It takes one hour.” I gave them the death eyes.

I waved my tickets in their faces. Alors pourquoi les machines me vendent des billets?(Then why did the machine sell me a train ticket?)

The man shook his head and shrugged. La machine ne comprend pas ce qui se passe. (The machine does not understand what is happening.)

If we got on the bus at that point we would miss our lunch reservation by a solid hour. Yes, we could just wander around instead and admire the beautiful sea. But I was finished. Sète could f*ck itself.

Act III - The Denouement

Comment obtenir un remboursement? (How do I get a refund?)

Attendez dans cette file (Stand in that line.)

Even better.

The woman at the desk wanted to know why I wanted a refund. Because, uh, these are tickets for a non-existent train? But don’t I want to get on the bus that is just outside? No lady, I do not. I’m hot and hangry. The moment has passed.

As she gave me my refund, I asked about the canceled trains. Are there never trains to Sète on Fridays?

Bas non, madame. C’est à cause de la construction et de la sécurité (Why no. It is because of construction and security.)

Ahhh. So this is an aberration, and therefore NOT MY FAULT, which is all that really mattered.

I slowly walked towards Roberto and Mom to tell them the bad news: no train to Sète today. No glorious walk along the seaside. How about a nice lunch of fish at a local restaurant? They agreed happily, not bitter or scarred at all.

On the way to the restaurant we saw a few streets closed off for la flamme. The Olympic flame was scheduled to come through Montpellier in three days time. The penny finally dropped. OH. The construction and security were all in preparation for the flame! The tram and the train had been affected by the frickin’ Olympics. Super duper NOT MY FAULT.

We had a very mediocre fish lunch. I had alcohol. My mother talked about how my father used to get very stressed and defensive when plans went awry, but especially when he was the one that had done the planning.

I have no idea why she told this story. I am not like him AT ALL. And my plans did NOT go awry. I was RIGHT about the trains, the trams, and the schedules. It was the French who were WRONG for not posting any information about the changes. I did not drag Mom and Roberto all over the city for nothing. It was the OLYMPIC COMMITEE.

Here is video of the Olympic flame passing through Montpellier last week. I blame the torchbearer personally for our terrible morning.

Will we ever make it to the magical city of Sète? Only time will tell. First I have to get Roberto to stop hounding me about my mistakes that day (he has said not one word). Wish us luck!

Jusqù’a la prochaine fois! (Until next time)

Carolyn & Roberto

*more on the possible purchase of the tiny studio in a later post

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