John Edward Cooper’s Notes

DAY 1 - ARRIVAL IN AIX-EN-PROVENCE


Aix-en-Provence

On arrival at your destination airport, you should retrieve your cases and make your way through customs to the Arrivals Hall where you will be met by our Tour Manager. Please bear in mind that they may be travelling on the same flight and so could be the last to arrive.

Please note, that in order to operate this tour successfully, all clients may not necessarily be travelling on the same flight. This will not affect the overall content of your holiday.

The coach will then take you to your hotel in Aix-en-Provence, where we stay for the duration of your holiday (transfer time: from Nice approx. 2½ hours, from Marseille approx. 1 hour).

Hotel details:
Hôtel Aquabella
2 rue des Étuves 13100 Aix-en-Provence
Telephone: 00 33 4 42 99 15 00

Tonight, will be a free evening. On arrival you will be asked to book dinner in your hotel on two evenings to suit you, depending on availability.

The four-star rated Aquabella hotel and Spa is a delightful converted 18th century townhouse, beautifully located next to the old town with literally a part of the surviving medieval wall forming the hotel’s boundary. It’s a veritable oasis of calm in the historic centre, set in a large private garden featuring its own olive grove - a real luxury in an urban setting, plus a stunning heated swimming pool. Its light filled restaurant overlooks the gardens, serves an extensive buffet breakfast, and evening meals. The hotel boasts both internal and external bars and a spa. Rooms are extremely comfortable and tastefully decorated, air conditioned with safe satellite TV, minibar and private facilities.

According to Janet’s holiday journal: “The alarm went off at 5.15am. I had a good sleep, thank goodness. It was sunny out (but cold!).”… I decided not to take with me both computers (the “new” Samsung, and the Asus), just the Samsung; so after shutting it down I put it in my rucksack. I added the WD Elements HDD. Because of its references to the Camargue (as “the Kamarg”), which we would be visiting, I packed Michael Moorcock’s The Jewel in the Skull.

Count Brass, Lord Guardian of the Kamarg, rode out on a horned horse one morning to inspect his territories. He rode until he came to a little hill, on the top of which stood a ruin of immense age. It was the ruin of a Gothic church, and its walls of thick stone were smooth with the passing of winds and rains. Ivy clad much of it, and the ivy was of the flowering sort so that at this season purple and amber blossoms filled the dark windows, an excellent substitute for the stained glass that had once decorated them.
 On his rides, Count Brass always came to the ruin. He felt a kind of fellowship with it, for, like him, it was old; like him, it had survived much turmoil, and, like him, it seemed to have been strengthened rather than weakened by the ravages of time. The hill on which the ruin stood was a waving sea of tall tough grass, moved by the wind. The hill was surrounded by the rich, seemingly infinite marshlands of the Kamarg—a lonely landscape populated by wild white bulls, herds of horned horses, and the giant scarlet flamingoes so large that they could easily lift a grown man.
—The Jewel in the Skull, beginning of the first chapter

Not only that, because the books were small, I packed also the other three volumes of The History of the Runestaff series and indeed the three volumes of The Chronicles of Count Brass series. The computer’s power supply went, with the mouse, plug adapters for European sockets, some cables, and a three-way plug adapter, in one of the suitcases, which we then padlocked and strapped up with brightly coloured straps, one around horizontally and one around vertically. (I think I’d shaved yesterday evening and the shaver and shaving mirror had already gone in the case.) I wound up the wall-clock in the front room. Janet gave me the cheque for £363 that she had written (£165 each way, plus 10% tip), and after G— B— rang the doorbell at 7.30am, one of the first things I did was to give it to him. Suitcases and other bags were loaded onto the minibus, and we set off. We went along the A180, M180, M18, M62, M60, and M56. We made rapid progress for the most part, only being slowed down a couple or so times in the latter part of the journey by traffic congestion, and only being forced by that to stop once.


Google Maps: Home to Manchester Airport

We arrived at Terminal 2, ca.10.15, and found our way into the hall that deals with baggage drop for Jet2. There was a Riviera Travel representative in the hall, but he was only there to provide guidance to people booked on their “singles” holidays.


My boarding pass


Our assigned seats on the Boeing 737-800 on the outward flight
(shown in yellow)

After that, we headed for Security: the queue for that was fairly long but not excessively; our hand luggage got through without being pulled over for inspection; I was taken aside, though, for a brief random test where I was wiped with a piece of cloth which was put into a little machine. And so we got airside, just after 11am. After a brief, typical bout of indecision on my part, we went to the Upper Crust cafeteria, where I had a Stella Artois and a toasted “Firecracker Chicken and Chorizo” baguette and Janet had a Sprite Zero lemon and lime-flavoured soft drink. Janet wanted to buy something for lunch from Boots. She was particularly looking for something in their “Shapers” range but, not finding anything at all branded thus, she concluded that “Shapers” must have been discontinued. She did make a reluctant selection of one of the other items on the shelves; but when we turned to look at the checkout there was a large queue there, and since it was nearly 12.20pm, the time stated on the passes for boarding, she put it back and we hurried off to the gate number given on the “Departures” screen: “22”. There was a delay to boarding: “Boarding Group A” were invited first; then when “B and C” were invited, just after 12.40pm, we joined the line. The aircraft started moving in reverse, 13:18; was taxiing, with pauses, 13:26–13:31; and took off, 13:32 (so, ca.½-hour late). There was a patchwork of green fields, many of them bordered by trees, before we went up through cumulus formations. No-one sat in the window seat, so after the “fasten seat belt” signs were dimmed, I moved over to that with a space between us. At 14:08 (BST) I looked out and all I could see was plain blue above the horizon and plain white below. Later, the solid white was broken in the middle by hazy cumulus. I read some of The Jewel in the Skull. When the refreshments trolley came by, Janet had a Sprite Zero, and I a bottle of sparkling Harrogate water and a half-length “can” of “salt and vinegar” Pringles. At 15:55 (CEST) the descent commenced to Nice Côte d’Azur Airport. We were told that the temperature there was 20°, most welcome after our chilly start to the day. A hazy landscape of fields and mountains appeared below, through scattered cumulus clouds. At 16:07 all that could be seen was a continual bank of cumulus. At 16:14, our breaking through under the clouds revealed that we were passing over a coastline much indented with bays and promontories, including where mountains sloped down to the sea. We banked left to be parallel to the coast. Ahead, to the left — so, at “10” or “11 o’clock” (as some say when giving the direction relative to their forward position) — I saw snow-capped peaks. We banked left again, 16:20; I thought we were about to cross back over land, but we turned again to go along the coast. The two, parallel, northeast–southwest runways of Nice Côte d’Azur Airport are in fact bordered by the sea on the southeast side and at both ends. We landed at 16:24, and at 16:29 stopped taxiing. That’s when my jotting of times ceased, because I needed to retrieve our carry-on luggage from the overhead storage, get in line to disembark, etc. We got through passport control, baggage reclaim, etc., without problem or delay, and saw Riviera signs in the Arrivals Hall carried by two people: a man and a woman. I did jot down a time then: “ca.17:00”. The woman was “Lorna”: she was Tour Manager for the “singles” party. (We did encounter her and her party once or twice, e.g. on a boat trip.) It was the man who would be managing our Timeless Provence “Signature Tour”. I said “Bonjour!” and he replied “Bonjour!”: at that stage I didn’t know that he wasn’t French. It was with a south-eastern accent that he spoke to us when we were all together: he was Chris Brown, from Canterbury. When our party moved off, Janet was still in the loo; but he gave clear and unambiguous directions about precisely where they were going. Once we were all aboard the coach, he handed out a “welcome” document:


Click to enlarge this and other images.

There were also to be two evening meals out and one lunch, and he handed out sheets on which we were asked to state our choices.




“Your Itinerary” states: “On arrival you will be asked to book dinner in your hotel on two evenings to suit you”; but it turned out, in fact, that all that was required, was to book dinner on the morning of the day when one wanted to have it. We were given four vouchers, one for each person to hand over on each occasion. There were 20 of us; and this was the first such “Signature Tour” to be organised and run. Chris introduced the driver, who would also be our driver for the week. The name sounded like /mi•ka•ɛl/, so may have been “Michaël”. We proceeded along the “autoroute A8”, passing by Cannes and Fréjus (the latter name known to us from the DVD The High Road, recorded at the Roxy Music “Avalon tour” concert there on 27 August 1982). The snow-capped mountains that I’d noticed on our descent were the Alpes Maritimes forming the border between Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur and Italy. On the way, dark clouds gathered and there was heavy rain, with lightning and thunder a couple of times. Tomorrow, we would meet in the morning at 8.30am, when we would be going to the Camargue and Arles, and eating out in the evening. On Wednesday, for the walking tour of Aix-en-Provence, we would meet at 9.00am, and there’d be lunch at 12.15pm. There was mention also of the Pont du Gard and Avignon trip on Thursday, and of going to the Luberon Mountains on Friday, but no meeting times were given. Saturday would be a free day, but in the evening we’d all be going for a meal out. On Sunday we’d be going to Cassis. We arrived at our destination, ca.7.15pm. Here, it was dry and sunny, but somewhat cool. The coach couldn’t go as far as the hotel entrance, so we got out in Boulevard Jean Jaurès, crossed at a light-controlled pedestrian crossing, and proceeded ahead along the short Rue des Étuves to the hotel entrance on the right. Previously, we have experienced delays checking in at hotels abroad because passports have had to be produced and forms filled in; but here, we were very efficiently just given a card with two plastic key-cards attached, and sent on our way.





We learned that we would in fact be able to use the first two of our vouchers in the hotel’s restaurant, called L’Orangerie, this evening. So before we left, we booked a table for the restaurant’s opening time: 7.30pm. We’d requested a room with a walk-in shower, but this first-floor[i] room had a shower over a bathtub. Also, the W.C. was in a small room adjacent to the bathroom, not in the same room. So the shower arrangement was not suitable for Janet, because she feared falling; and the W.C. arrangement was inconvenient for me… to clean myself. The staff on reception were very friendly and accommodating: when Janet told them that we’d requested a walk-in shower, they replied that although all such rooms were fully booked for tonight, one could be made available for us tomorrow. They did warn us, though, that such rooms were furnished with a double bed, not twin beds as our present room had. Janet assured them that this was not an issue.

[i] The floors in French have the same numeration as in British English; so “first floor” (“second floor” in U.S. English) is “premier étage”. The numbers on the buttons in the ascenseur and its automated voice confirmed that for me. What I would have called “rez-de-chaussée”, though, was announced as “niveau zéro”.

So we went for dinner, later than the booked 7.30pm but not much later. There was a menu for Riviera Travel guests on the table.





I had a 500ml glass of Heineken “bière pression” @ €9. In fact, I think I had two — €18: ouch! I had the “veal tartar”, “lamb shoulder” and “strawberry tart”, all in pretentious, “pictures on a plate”-style but very appetising and tasty nonetheless, produced by almost an army (I exaggerate somewhat!) of chefs dressed in white uniforms with toques blanches on their heads in the kitchen (situated behind a serving counter near the entrance). Janet skipped starter and had “roasted duck” — but it was so rare that she said it was still quacking! She disliked all the blood on the plate, but ate the meal because she was so hungry. She had the “assortment of… fresh fruits”. We didn’t have the drinks put on a tab; we paid for them in cash before we left. “It was after 9pm before we returned to our room,” Janet wrote, “and I could only unpack what we required for the night and morning. What a pain!” I had a shave using the just-liberated shaver in the (as almost without exception in hotels) inadequately lit bathroom. Its “Europlug” fitted into the electrical socket there. Something that I’d been concerned about, was whether our European adaptors would fit in the French sockets; but they were similar to “Schuko” sockets, except that, instead of having earth contacts at the top and bottom they had a male earth pin projecting from the back of the socket. “Finally,” Janet concluded, “I gingerly had a shower (I’d asked for a rubber mat to stand on) and was in bed, at last, at 10.55pm. [John] was already asleep. A long day!”

[Tuesday 16 May 2023]