American Adventure in Calais

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

My buddy Dave came down to London late Sunday to watch the last day of the tournament and have a few pints. Monday was a bank holiday in England, so he stuck around and we drove down to Canterbury to see the cathedral and just pass the time. He dropped me off, afterwards, in Dover for the 18:40 ferry to Calais, France.

None of the ATMs in Dover would spit out euros for me, but I was able to get 61 euros from the Bureu de Change on the ship. With my 13 euros left-over from Portugal last year I figured I had just enough to buy a ticket from the TGV station to Paris. Only problem was that the bus from the Calais ferry port to town had stopped running three hours before I arrived.

A quick call and 50 euros got me a taxi to the TGV station, but it had closed one minute earlier. I hopped out of the car ready to sleep in the grass bordering the parking lot when the driver told me that there was no ATM inside the station.

"Where is an ATM?"
"In Calais City"
"How much to Calais City"
"23 Euros"
"Crap ... ... ... merde!"
"Exactly.", the driver says back to me with a sly smirk

Back in the car, he rips down the road towards town stopping only once the meter has ticked off my last euro. He points to the right telling me to use the town center station to get to Paris through Lille at 06:00. Across the street is a cheap hotel. Down on the corner is a working ATM. Maybe the ATM works for him, but when I give it a try both my cards are rejected.

I'm down to the lint in my pockets and hundreds of miles from Paris.

I take a deep breath and head back to the hotel. Hopefully they'll take credit cards. Hopefully they'll take mine.

A quick question to the timid clerk behind the desk reveals that they take CCs. He swipes mine and I hold y breath waiting for his apologetic rejection. An eternal ten seconds later the machine shoots out a short slip of paper. He examines and hands it to me without saying, "I am sorry, but ..."

Sorted!

Now that I have a room to drop off my heavy bags - the bed is an unimportant incidental - I can settle my mind.

Nervously jingling my last 0.53 euro I wander around the empty town praying for an ATM that won't reject me. Twenty minutes later I've got 300 euro in my pocket and a confident smile of accomplishment on my face.

All important problems are inconsequential when you have enough money.

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Tuesday morning, I'm sitting on the patio of a restaurant waiting for the 12:39 TGV direct to Paris, which contrary to the Lonely Planet guide book leaves from Calais City station, I see a woman crossing the street with her two dogs. A sun-faded red BMW stops short at her feet. She angrily swats the car's hood with her rolled newspaper then walks on.

I am in France.