Brewster, guest blogger
Google Maps did not do too well for us on Sunday. The first negative impact of the day happened when we were trying to find the rendez-vous for my basketball team at about 7:03 in the morning. We had the address for where we were supposed to meet as a team, that was sent to us by e-mail. We showed up at the location, and it was just a parking garage. I felt like there was a chance that this is where my team was, but my hopes weren’t too high. When we passed through a mechanical gate, I silently knew that this was not the place. I thought, “Oh boy. How is this gonna work out?” for the first of many times that day. I started to got a sick feeling in my stomach, and wanted no part in this situation. I just wanted to show up, at the right place, at the right time, no problems. Fortunately, Mom recognized a father of a kid on my basketball team. Even more fortunately, he spoke good English. We followed him to the correct parking lot where the rest of my team was. We drove to the game in a caravan no problem.
After I played in my game (a close loss, 46-43) Mom had a field trip planned in another Provence town. This one was Orange, a town on the Rhône river, and also the site of one of the oldest Roman amphitheaters in Europe.
It was unique in that it was the only amphitheater with the acoustic wall still fully intact. However, as we would come to find out, we would never actually see the acoustic wall due to renovations. 
When we left my basketball game, I was upset about our loss. We almost got lost (Google Maps’ second negative impact), trying to get on the highway to Orange. We were driving along and Mom was telling a story about how she and Sadie got stuck in a traffic jam with some kind of protesters when they went for coffee before my game. The protesters were wearing bright green mesh vests. I was only half listening, and I didn’t think anything of it until we came across what was apparently the exact same protesters in the exact same spot on the road. They were stopping cars, and asking people to roll down their windows to explain whatever they had to explain. So we had no choice but to wait patiently, for 10 or so minutes. We got through the people, and started on our way to Orange which was about a half hour drive from where my basketball game was, 60 minutes from our home in Aix.
When we left my basketball game, I was upset about our loss. We almost got lost (Google Maps’ second negative impact), trying to get on the highway to Orange. We were driving along and Mom was telling a story about how she and Sadie got stuck in a traffic jam with some kind of protesters when they went for coffee before my game. The protesters were wearing bright green mesh vests. I was only half listening, and I didn’t think anything of it until we came across what was apparently the exact same protesters in the exact same spot on the road. They were stopping cars, and asking people to roll down their windows to explain whatever they had to explain. So we had no choice but to wait patiently, for 10 or so minutes. We got through the people, and started on our way to Orange which was about a half hour drive from where my basketball game was, 60 minutes from our home in Aix.
After our neat field trip & tour of the Roman theater in Orange, Mom had one more thing she wanted to see, the City Hall. We tried to navigate with google maps to to drive there, but it turns out that the City Hall was in a total pedestrian area.
We drove slowly through the narrow streets, and I couldn’t stand it. I was paranoid about going down a one way street the wrong way (which may have happened once or twice), and so I was flustered trying to help get us there. The maps had some nonexistent roads, and I got so stressed that Mom just parked and walked there with Sades. She let me know when she got back that I didn’t miss much. When we got back on the road, the maps had us going home in about an hour and change. It was 2:05, no big deal. Home by 3:10, 3:15, right? Nope.
We drove slowly through the narrow streets, and I couldn’t stand it. I was paranoid about going down a one way street the wrong way (which may have happened once or twice), and so I was flustered trying to help get us there. The maps had some nonexistent roads, and I got so stressed that Mom just parked and walked there with Sades. She let me know when she got back that I didn’t miss much. When we got back on the road, the maps had us going home in about an hour and change. It was 2:05, no big deal. Home by 3:10, 3:15, right? Nope.We drove past a Roman arch and then headed to the A7 highway which is our way home.
In Europe, there are a couple of different types of freeways: 'A' freeways are typically 4 or 5 lane highways with tolls, similar to interstates. The 'D' highways are smaller, still with tolls, and the 'N' highways are barely even highways. When we were pulling into the roundabout, we saw more green mesh vets. Oh man. The entrance to the A7 was completely blocked with barricades and people, all wearing green vests. There was no way we were getting on the A7 there.
In Europe, there are a couple of different types of freeways: 'A' freeways are typically 4 or 5 lane highways with tolls, similar to interstates. The 'D' highways are smaller, still with tolls, and the 'N' highways are barely even highways. When we were pulling into the roundabout, we saw more green mesh vets. Oh man. The entrance to the A7 was completely blocked with barricades and people, all wearing green vests. There was no way we were getting on the A7 there. We had to take a different exit off the roundabout, and kept driving. We crossed over the A7, and there were plenty of cars driving, so we figure that we just have to find a different on-ramp to the A7. We pulled over on some country road, and Mom and I each looked on our phones for a different route. The most frustrating thing is that Google Maps showed that the road/on-ramp was closed, but the directions STILL took us through those closed roads. And almost every on-ramp to the A7 was blocked. So it was almost impossible to figure out a way back home, since the A7 was pretty much our only option.
We spent 15 minutes trying to come up with an alternate route, but every time, the directions sent us through a blocked road. Meanwhile, Sadie was curled up under her blanket in the back of the car, reading. She hadn’t said a word the whole time. I was so envious of her. It’s so relaxing to know that there’s nothing for you to do, so you just relax and let other people figure out your situation for you. However, that was not the case with me. I had to help us find a way home. We thought maybe we could go through Avignon, a town we visited for a weekend with my Aunt Mara back in September. Avignon was super cool, but I never intended for us to return. However, to get to Avignon, we had to pass through the same roundabout with the protesters back in Orange.
We pulled up to the traffic at the roundabout, and it looked like there were way more people protesting. People are U-turning left and right, but as Mom and I figured out, we were pretty sure this was only way home. A young lady smoking a cigarette knocked on our window and told us in French that we needed a green jersey to pass through the roundabout. I translated and told Mom that, and she asked how we could get one. The lady replied, “You can buy them.” Mom then asked if she has any to sell, and she said no. Also she added, “L’autoroute, elle est bloqué aujourd’hui. Tout l’A7” So, basically, there was no way through this roundabout, and the highway was blocked today, all of the A7. Another lady came up to us, wearing a Detroit Tigers baseball cap. She spoke better English, and asked us where we’re from. Mom replied, “We’re from America.” The lady immediately responded, “You’re American?! Well just say so to everyone, and they’ll let you pass, no problem!”
Finally, some good news. So Mom started driving forward, yelling out her window, “Je suis américaine! Je suis américaine!” Everyone started cheering, except for this one man, who stood in front of our car. He pulled his own vest, and gesturing that we needed one to pass through, which we didn’t have, and apparently couldn’t buy. Thankfully, someone shouted “Décales-toi!” which means “Move over!” and he did. We were on our way, not on the A7 towards home, but headed south towards Avignon. We knew that we could most likely get home, no problems.
We crossed the Rhône river, and for a second popped into Languedoc, another French state. We passed through Avignon, and pulled over in a parking lot, to make sure that we could indeed get home. Sadie was fast asleep and had been for 20 minutes. We had all had an early morning, waking at around 6:30 for my basketball game. Long day! And, it wasn’t even over.
We confirmed that we could get home, although our ETA was about 5:00 PM. We drove back into Provence, and started driving on some very pretty roads.
No highways yet, just country roads with little towns along the way. Sades woke up, refreshed from her hour long nap. I once again was jealous. But, we started having good conversations and spirits were high. Mom had just had a conversation on the phone with Dad, who, immediately after he hung up sent us a link to an article about the protests. Apparently, they were protesting the raise of diesel gas prices, that had gone up by about €1.15. Around 1,100 protests were happening, and there were 230,000 something participants. Mayhem. 63 people arrested, one dead and a lot of inconvenience. All over France, they were blocking autoroutes, wearing green vests, and making people buy the vests to pass. Crazy. Mom and I talked about how this would just be so outrageous if this happened in the US. It most likely wouldn’t be very effective.
No highways yet, just country roads with little towns along the way. Sades woke up, refreshed from her hour long nap. I once again was jealous. But, we started having good conversations and spirits were high. Mom had just had a conversation on the phone with Dad, who, immediately after he hung up sent us a link to an article about the protests. Apparently, they were protesting the raise of diesel gas prices, that had gone up by about €1.15. Around 1,100 protests were happening, and there were 230,000 something participants. Mayhem. 63 people arrested, one dead and a lot of inconvenience. All over France, they were blocking autoroutes, wearing green vests, and making people buy the vests to pass. Crazy. Mom and I talked about how this would just be so outrageous if this happened in the US. It most likely wouldn’t be very effective. Anyways, we got on the D7N, and at some point it merged with the A7, around Salon-de-Provence. Finally!! The A7 that we had been searching to get on for a good two hours. Mom and I had a conversation about if it was possible that the protesters to block an entire highway. I thought that it would be improbable for that to happen. Not five minutes later, we drove up to a toll booth. I remarked that if protesters did want to stop a highway, the toll booths is where they would do it. When we came closer, my heart skipped a couple beats — there were more green vests! I thought they were going to check and see that everyone had their green jerseys that they bought to support the protest - obviously what we didn’t have. As it turned out though, everyone was cheering and honking.
Mom asked, “What’s going on?” I looked around, and when Mom pulled up to the toll booth, there was no power and the mechanical gate was up and open. “There’s no tolls. They must’ve turned off the electricity,” I said. “Great!” said Mom. We drove through, without paying, and Mom gave two honks. 15 seconds later, Mom and I both saw sirens out the rear-view mirror. We both tensed up. Mom asked if I was sure that we weren’t supposed to pay tolls. “I mean I think so, because the power was out and they all were cheering,” I said. “Okay,” replied Mom. As it turns out, it was an ambulance with their sirens on, and not a police car coming to pull us over for not paying tolls. Wow. Close one. But, more importantly, we were basically home! Yay! That’s the story of my experience with the French Diesel Protests, and those damn green vests.
- Brew