Impressions of Montpellier - 1 June 2008
With my last day in Montpellier on my own, before the arrival of my final visitor, I reflected on some of the things that make Montpellier specifically, and France in general, special to me.
One only has to talk to people in general about France and the French to be aware that there’s a vast difference in the way in which they’re perceived by the English. I don’t know what your view is, but here are my impressions of the area of Provence after a month living there at close quarters with the local people.
Languedoc is a fairly poor region. Where the unemployment rate in France generally is 12% at the moment, it’s 18% in the Languedoc. This means that there are quite a few (mostly young) people standing or sitting around in the City – on the pavements, in door ways, etc. They’re often in groups and often with a variety of, usually large, dogs (because they get an extra allowance from the Government if they own a dog). Having said that, one might expect that the dogs would be in poor condition, but this isn’t the case. Neither is it the case that the unemployed people look ill-kempt, or underfed, or dirty. They seem very happy and are usually talking amongst themselves in an animated fashion. Or busking.
They greet you as you pass by and I never felt threatened by them. Sometimes one of them would come up and ask for money but if you declined, they took it in good part and I never felt hassled in any way.
One thing I noticed quite quickly was that it was hard to find any fat people or any who weren’t smartly dressed. In fact, anyone who was overweight really stuck out (no pun intended!).
Another thing I noticed was that there were very few grumpy people and if an occasional waiter in a café was grumpy, it was so noticeable that one felt compelled to ask if he’d had a hard night (it was actually only one man)!
Perhaps because the region is fairly poor, the quality of the pavement surfaces was really quite bad and it’s wise to watch where you’re walking. The roads aren't well surfaced either, or very flat, because when it rains, large puddles develop quite quickly!! Although there’s a penalty for allowing your dog to foul in public places, it doesn’t appear to be well monitored and one quickly learns to side step appropriately. There are, in fact, an inordinate number of dogs on leads – many more than I’ve seen either in New Zealand or England and they’re quite frequently on the trams, buses and trains.
Lots of French people smoke. It’s forbidden in buildings now so they all smoke in the outdoor cafés, as they walk around and in the inevitable building entrance ways.
All the central areas of Montpellier are a mass of cafés and it was impossible to tell when breakfast finished, lunch started and finished or dinner began. They’re full all day every day and in the pouring rain the café owners quickly put up shutters and blinds to keep the weather out and they seem even fuller. Quite when anyone works was hard to determine!
If you ride a bicycle you seem to have some innate kind of right of way – on the pavements, across the squares, the wrong way up one way streets – everywhere in fact. I was riding very quietly behind an elderly couple on the pavement of a one-way street – going against the traffic – and couldn’t pass because the pavement was too narrow. When the pavement eventually widened, I approached to pass them quietly so as not to alarm them. As soon as the woman saw me she said – ‘Sorry - you should have rung your bell’!! I was very surprised! Sally and I had the greatest difficulty cycling across L’Oeuf – Place de La Comédie – on the afternoon of a ride to the ocean at about 3.30. It was alive with people and we had to weave our way around everyone going in different directions. But as soon as anyone saw us, they quickly made way for us – most mysterious!
Talking about bicycles, I discovered that it’s very easy to hire a bicycle for a half day or a day for 1E or 2E respectively. For this you pay cash and leave identification – your driving licence or passport - as security. However, if you’re French and have a French Bank account, you can take out a season ticket for a bicycle which allows you to have 50 trips for 10E!! A huge advantage! There are lots of bicycle ‘stations’ all round the city. You can pick up a bike by the railway station for example, ride it to any of the other ‘stations’ within the city and leave it there. If it's within an hour, your 50 trip ticket isn’t clipped so there's no charge. Or you can ride off into the sunset, picking up the bike at 8.30 a.m., and bringing it back by 8.30 a.m., the next day. They then clip your card for one unit. 50 units is probably enough for a very long holiday!
Many people cycle to the ocean, as Sally and I did on our last day. The three quarters of an hour it took us to cover the 11km to Carnot is only a little longer than it takes to go by bus, because the bus stops quite often.
I find it hard to imagine how anyone could find the French unfriendly or unhelpful. Many people have said that the French are ‘difficult’ unless you speak French. I don’t think this can be universally true. We met a 'bikie' (Ducatti not Harley!) and his friend coming out of a patisserie near Millau just as Bub turned to me and asked me in English what I was going to choose for lunch. The bikie was from Doncaster and immediately thought he’d be helpful. ‘We’ve got a lovely roll each’, he said, gesturing towards us with his baguette brimming with ham and cheese – ‘just point and smile’.
I’d made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t speak any English with the French and wouldn’t ask them if they could speak English. They were unfailingly kind and helpful when I got stuck and, by dint of various explanations, managed to work out what word I was looking for, would provide it and spell it for me so that I could add it to my growing dictionary. On one memorable day – the day Bub left by plane for England – we’d discovered that there was a strike which involved all the buses. When we reached a car park beside the bus stop for the airport bus, we saw a long queue of people waiting. We’d planned to leave the car there so that Bub knew exactly how to drive to the airport without getting lost – but I worried about these people who didn’t seem to be aware that no bus would be coming and who might, consequently, miss their planes. Plucking up my courage, I approached the queue and told them that there was a strike and that it might be advisable to take taxis. They probed me with questions about how I knew and whether it would be for the whole day. Who knows whether I got it technically ‘right’ or not, but before long, taxis were drawing up and the queue had disappeared! I felt very chuffed.
Two other bits of inside information were interesting. Spending time with Jacqueline at La Grande Motte, Bub and I soon found out that the French jay walk, often quite close to approaching cars! Jacqueline urged us on and said that it was only the English who waited at the lights!! At lunch we went Dutch and as we contributed our 12E each I found that my purse was empty of change.
I asked Jacqueline what contribution we should all add for the tip and she was horrified. The French don’t tip she told us – ‘the English tip but the French know better’!! And that wasn’t just for the menu of the day – that was for à la carte too.