Sunday 22 May 2016

A comfortable 14h 40min flight landed us in San Francisco. US immigration recently introduced fast access with passport scanners like the ones we have had in NZ for several years. Sylvia slipped through with ease on her US passport. I was thinking maybe third time lucky but not so… my ticket gets the big cross on it. After 20mins in a line I make it to the ‘do not speak to me’ immigration guy. Asking why I always get the cross he said “suck it up man your name’s too common, the guys that designed the system were no good!” At least I know now why.

We took the Bart train the 30 mins into the city getting off a short stroll from the ferry building. Strolling along the wharf edge towards Fisherman’s Wharf the place was full of people. Numerous restaurants line the piers along with market stalls, bars and entertainment. As we get opposite Alcatraz Island just about every business has Alcatraz incorporated into their name. Dozens of sea lions lie on pontoons, watched by a hundred or so people on the pier.

A Chinaman plays a one string harp with a speaker in a plastic bucket to amp up the noise. Skate boarders and beggars hold their spots. “Let’s be honest! I need money for weed” says one guy on his sign. “This broke ass nigger needs money” says another.

We pass a WWII submarine and merchant ship tied alongside. Arriving at Fisherman’s Wharf it is packed with people, many queuing for food especially crabs.

Further down the old cable car trams now run as a tourist attraction. I had ridden these in town in the eighties so we flagged the hour plus wait for trip.

There are few Europeans in the streets as we stroll back to the ferry terminal along the street. Interestingly less than half of the eight hundred thousand plus population here are white Americans. Asians make up 33% followed by Hispanics and others pushing it out to 56%. A big change from 1940 when whites made up 95% of the population.

Monday 23 May 

Touching down in Mexico City just after 5am, the immigration process was quite quick. A driver was waiting with a sign and in 45 mins delivered us to the Gran Fiesta America Hotel near the Chapultepec gardens.  After dropping our bags in our room we headed up the VIP dining room on the 16th floor. Here there is a stunning view out over a huge park. After a short sleep Sylvia headed off for a store tour.

Around noon I headed out into the park. Paseo de la Reforma, a main road, heads through the beginning of the park. Alongside the road is a display called Balon (golden ball). Hundreds of large soccer balls line the footpath, painted and decorated in different ways.

I crossed the busy road looking for a way into the western part of the park but all gates were closed. A know down the road I found a street heading west and soon access to the park – well a small part of it anyway. Varying statues dominated this park. Groups of old people sat at tables around the park playing cards.

Eventually I found a track leading to the main park. Finding the entrance to the Zoo I was stopped at the gate. My three Spanish words, “ola senor and gracias” were not much help. With me smiling helplessly and the guard using a large range of sign language, all but drawing his gun, it was established that everything is closed Monday.

Chapultepec Park is apparently, at 640 hectares, the largest city park in the Western Hemisphere. As I was to discover the accessible park is considerably less than that. As I strolled south I had a pidgin English chat with the navy armed guards (one took his magazine off his M16 to show me the live rounds) on the gate of a large fenced off area containing the president’s pad.

Further on I crossed an over bridge looking into a military compound. Along with a couple of locals I watched a parade underway for a while until a security guard came and told us to bugger off. Luckily he didn’t see me take a pic.

I wandered through bumper boat lakes then a fitness area including a running track. Crossing another set of roads the park became a wilderness surrounded by a high fence. I think the area once contained a reservoir. As I continued south on the foot path alongside the fence large houses with security fencing overlooked the scruffy park on the other side of the road.

I passed an equestrian facility. I approached the gate hoping to take a look. Not understanding a word the guy was saying it was still very clear I wasn’t welcome. At around the eight km mark I finally reached the end of the park. Heading north along the road on the west boundary alongside a high wall there were more unwelcoming equestrian places. This was followed by a huge cemetery with large tombs running a couple kms along behind the wall. Crossing an over bridge I had a view back to the city, just at the boundary of the wall of smog constantly surrounding the city. On the way home I passed a huge adventure ground complete with roller coaster.

The evening we spent in the VIP lounge on the floor above us enjoying food and drink. Just to the west there is a fourteen lane road that is constantly packed with traffic while we are in the bar.

With somewhere between seventeen and twenty two million people in this city (depending on what you read or who you talk to) I now realise why when flying in here the city is so vast. There are few high rise apartments.

Tuesday 24 May 

After a short stroll through the park I arrived at the path leading up to Castillo de Chapultepec. At 2325 meters above sea level this, the only Royal castle in the Americas, has quite a history. Built for a Spanish general in 1775 it became a military establishment, then the home of emperor Maximillian I. Then it again became a military fort, captured by the US Marines in a bloody battle in 1847 where six cadets aged 14 to 16 fought to their death after the rest of the Mexican army had buggered off. More recently it has been an observatory (that must have been before the smog) and is now a really well done museum. With grand lawns, several huge sweeping marble staircases and rooms opening out on to the surrounding balconies it is a relaxing place to wonder around. The doors are open onto the balcony with each room roped off with a sign in Spanish, I presume explaining the different themes in each room. There are a number of firearms on display, in particular a number of variations of the Gatling (early multi barrelled machine gun).

Back down the track a little way there is the Galeria De Historia, Museo del Caracol. This building spirals down as you walk from exhibit to exhibit. Most exhibits are clay figures in scenes rolling through the history of Mexico. It’s a pity AJ wasn’t here as interpreter as again this is all in Spanish.

Wednesday 25 May 

We woke to an extended view over the city as heavy rain had washed some of the smog out of the sky.

At 9am a driver and a guide picked me up at the hotel and we headed out into the heavy traffic. Our first stop was Templo Mayor, a bunch of Aztec ruins in the middle of town.

Next was the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Here there are a bunch of churches, the oldest of which has a significant lean on it. Apparently this is a big problem in the city as a long time ago the area was a lake and it is hard to find good foundations to build on. Hence there are not many old tall buildings here. Thousands of people flocked into the square in the middle of these churches, some in costumes, others just coming to pray. The area is famous for the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, who apparently appeared here many years ago. There is a painting of her behind and under the altar of the new church. There are so many people that come to see this that one has to stand on a conveyor to look up at the painting.

Back in the van we headed north out of the city – the traffic had died off now. At one point I spotted on the hillsides thousands of colourful small houses stacked in close together. These are apparently squatters who have built illegally; by the looks of it there are way too many to tear down.

Well out into the country we arrived at the Teotihuacan Pyramids to clear blue sky overhead with the wall of smog well south of us. Our first stop was a shop that made jewellery “out of real silver”. They also carved stone and had a big cactus plant that tequila comes from. I got to drink the sweet liquid from the centre and was shown a version of paper used centuries ago, along with a needle and thread that also come from this plant.

A short drive had us at the moon pyramid, built around 200 BC and abandoned like the rest of them in this part of the world about 750AD. These ones were discovered in the late sixties, uncovered and are still in the process of being restored. This complex is quite large stretching probably 3ks. The moon pyramid faces down the length of the complex with the sun pyramid off to the west side facing east. Apparently this was the religious part of a community at its peak holding some two hundred thousand people.  When unearthed after a thousand plus years of nature taking it over it basically had to be rebuilt. I am sure the cost has been more than recovered from the millions of visitors. It’s a bit of a pity NZ didn’t have a few people rocking around two thousand years ago building stuff out of stone.

Gacov, the guide, has a well-rehearsed English patter  on what took place here, some of which I understood. I discovered asking questions was not an option as his English was totally rehearsed. He bailed back to the van leaving me to stroll up the structures and look around.

Next was the El Jaguar for lunch – a great buffet as various drummers and musos wandered in to strut their stuff. With nice gardens and good food it was a pleasure to visit.

No! We are not done with pyramids yet. Templo de Quetzalcóatl is the smaller one of the three at the southern end. This area had apparently been the local market area. They are still digging and restoring around here. Lots of the stone is now held together with concrete. There is a plant at the back and they wheelbarrow or bucket it in. This was the most interesting part of the site.

The drive back to town was relatively painless as we beat the rush hour and missed the massive teacher’s protest that was apparently about to happen.

When Sylvia turned up after a long, hard day at the office, we took a stroll around the area and found a great Mexican place where we enjoyed some delicious tacos.

Thursday 26 May 

Altar a la Patria is a statue erected in honour or the six boy soldiers who defended to their deaths the Chapultepec Castle. One wrapped himself in the flag and jumped (it’s a big drop) from the castle to prevent the flag falling into US hands. From this memorial runs Paseo de la Reforma. This Boulevard was built for Emperor Maximillian to give him good access from his castle to the city.

A morning stroll down here revealed the first part in the park is a walkway displaying art.

Then one hits the real world – the traffic is bumper to bumper. I waited to cross at the lights. The green walking man started flashing but the cars just kept on coming until a policeman blowing on his whistle and waving a baton eventually brought them to a halt.

Street sweepers with their witch’s brooms sweep away amongst the cars. I have a funny vision of them getting to and from work on their brooms in formation. There are fountains and statues at some intersections. Streets weave on and off the boulevard at all angles.

Further down the street there are a number of photos portraying something that went on here in 1914. Funny I thought these type of Mexicans only existed in the movies.

Turning down a side street I find it blocked off by police with riot shields. I turned a few streets later to find I was behind the shields. In this area I discovered a massive dome type structure with a lift inside to go up and view the town. Unfortunately it was not open. The police presence around here was intense like they were waiting for some real action.

The area surrounding where we are staying is supposed to be the safest in Mexico. By the number of police and security guards around I am not surprised. Even in the park police were lurking behind trees and on street corners. It would have to be a pretty dumb bandito to try anything around here.

I took a detour through the back streets back to the hotel. There is no one sitting around like you see in a lot of cities in this part of the world. Streets are tidy and clean and people look like they are on the move with a mission.

Around 1pm a Uber guy picked us up and drove us to the airport using an app called Waze, which somehow works out the fastest route through the thick traffic. At one intersection the driver had to kind of push his way through traffic on a red light to get across a blocked intersection. We made it to the airport in good time.

At check in Mickey Mouse and that bloody duck appeared again. My US ESTA visa number didn’t come up when the helpful man scanned my passport. He asked me if I had the ESTA number on me. For years I carried a piece of paper with it taped in the back of my passport. A US immigration bloke tore it out last year telling me I did not need it. I got a new passport and a new ESTA late last year. I did write the number down but did not stick it in. They gave us a Wi-Fi code to look it up after explaining it was there on Sunday wasn’t going to work. No luck on-line it seemed to have evaporated into thin air. I went through the long, six-page process of applying online for a new one. Getting to the end it told me I already had one and applying for the new one would cancel the old one and may take 72 hrs. A gamble had to be taken. Dreading the thought of being stuck in Mexico I pushed go. It gave me an application number, which the guy on the check in accepted. We raced to board with a slight hold up at security. Someone must have passed out some ‘fxxk with Roger James’ pills this morning.

A huge thunderstorm delayed the flight for over an hour so right now it looks like a night in Houston. That’s if immigration lets me in as my big thumbs on the iPhone have changed my first name to Riger!!

I am writing this as we go. We finally got our take off turn. The pilot gunned the engine brakes on hard to gain maximum thrust, like he didn’t want to miss our chance to get airborne. As the Equipo Embraer climbed steeply we bumped around as though on a very rough road. Eventually the air settled and food was served.

Then “this is your pilot speaking. Houston control has told us the weather is too rough to land so we are going to fly around in circles for the next 55 mins. I just have to check the fuel, (I look to the wing waiting for him to climb out with a stick) then we may divert to San Antonio.” What’s more it’s quite fine up here.

There wasn’t enough fuel on the stick so we now sit on the terminal at San Antonio refuelled and waiting for the weather to clear in Houston.

Monday 16 May

Arriving at 7am after the 11.5 hour flight from London, Sylvia headed for the rather dingy Cathay arrivals lounge where she spent the day waiting for her connecting flight to NZ. I jumped the speedy airport express and in 30mins was in a taxi heading to long time friend Pat’s place. Taxis here don’t take cards so the poor driver had to take me to a money machine after i handed him a card to pay. After dropping my bag at Pats I went for a stroll.

Hong Kong can best be described by saying they drive on the left but walk on the right. Heading into the wet markets where the locals get their food it’s utter chaos – raw meat hanging unrefrigerated, the smell of rotting vegetables and raw fish.

In spite of Pat leaving excellent instructions on how to bus and train to his work I decided to walk. On the stroll to the ferry terminal I encountered major construction work with guides standing around to direct one through the detour route. A quick ferry trop to Tsim Sha Tsu with its flash Rolex and Tiffany shopsturned into normal cheap shops not too far down the road.

It was interesting to note that all the shops are grouped together. You get a block of toy shops then kitchen and so on. So if you want to buy a big pot you have about six big pot shops all together.

The streets are jammed with cars, the footpaths with people. The pace is slow. It’s a constant effort to avoid the head down people with eyes glued to there mobiles. A few kms out the ground starts to rise, the footpath intertwined with merging motorways; at one stage it runs out so a dash across the road and over barriers is required. The road heads up around the west side of Kan Shan Country Park. Here monkeys run along the guard road on the edge of the foot path. One I watch steals some food from a rather angry iguana.

A couple of hours into the journey the road starts dropping down to the Shi Tin and Shing Mun River area. Here high rise apartments rise with a back drop of the jungle on the hills behind. A huge sewerage plant is nestled in the gully. The foot path descends steeply to the flat land at the bottom. “Moments like these i do wonder just how long my knees are going to last”

The last 5ks are flat, the last two or so along the banks of the smooth waters of the river. The foot and bike ways are wide with lots of activities including line dancing and board games being played out along the way.

Arriving at the Hong Kong Sports Institute i was greeted by Pat. Pat is the Scientific Conditioning Manager at this huge complex which trains elite athletes for both the Olympic and Asian games. Apart from all the normal sports they also train jockeys Karate, Kung Fu and fencing athletes. Pat and I did karate together through the eighties, he was also an instructor at the then Institute of Sport, the gym I went to. Much more funding is put into sport here than in NZ with elite athletes being paid quite well. Unfortunately photos were not allowed.

After a tour of of the many areas we caught the train and bus back to town. We had missed the rush hour but it still seemed a pretty packed train to me. Back in town we visited a few local bars where Pat was greeted with a big smile and handshake. We dined at Beef & Liberty on Wing Fung St where i had the best burger i have ever tasted, along with a nice bottle of Pinot.

Tuesday 17 May

Pat kindly had organised a late start so we strolled up to his local breakfast place. It’s amazing to observe the construction going on around here. They seem to build in places one would think impossible. Tall buildings being renovated have bamboo scaffolding running twenty stories plus high.

Pat headed off to work and I took an east-bound tram to check out the city. After covering not much distance in an hour of the same scenery (tall buildings with small shops at the bottom) l headed back.

I found a temple at the top of Stone Nullah Lane. Here people came to do their thing by lighting large bunches of incense, kneeling and shaking them, before distributing them in various parts of the temple.

This old lane apparently used to be a river running to the shoreline at the bottom. It is full of small engineers, sheet metal, mechanics and other work shops. A BMW sits on the street outside one shop bonnet up and injectors removed. Space is at a premium in this town.

As I write this we are about to land in Auckland. I actually have quite a bit of work to do before Sylvia and I leave for Mexico and the US on Sunday.

Friday 13 May

Hotel Mercure in the town of La Grande Motte was in keeping with the town “old and ugly”. Having cooked our way through the night I asked the guy on reception if they could take a look at the aircon. “Air conditioning either all on or all off” came the reply. “Not summer yet so all off”. We commented that the room was very hot. “Open the window” was the response. There is no opening window “Open the door”… at that point we gave up!

Situated on the Camargue, a large river delta, famous for its pink flamingos, white horses and black bulls, grapes dominate the land here and wild poppies dot the fields.

La Grande Motte apparently was the brain child of Charles de Gaulle in the sixties, the idea being to stop the less well-off people of France spending their money in Spain. The whole town was designed by Jean Balladur, who claimed to have got his inspiration from the pyramids of Central America. Having just checked out a few of those pyramids I don’t see the likeness.

Eight thousand locals in the town get two million visitors a year, most during the summer. According to Google de Gaulle even sent a bunch of agents in here to get rid of the mosquitos.

If you are in one of the boxes looking out over the long white sand beach to sea I’m sure it’s a nice place to be.

After a lazy morning we took a 160 km drive southwest and visited the mediaeval city of Carsassonne. The Romans first threw this place together about 1000AD.

Various people occupied it including the Trencavel Dynasty, one of the most powerful families in France. Pope Innocent III called for a crusade against the heretical types living here and in 1209 the fort was besieged and overthrown. After the siege the outer wall was built making it impenetrable.  For quite a while it guarded the border between France and Argon (Spain) until France moved its border further south. After that it fell into disrepair until in the early 1800’s the architect Violl-le-Duc came along and spent years restoring it. Now a UNESCO world heritage site it has shops and restaurants and is an exciting and interesting place to visit. The views over the surrounding town and countryside also enhance the experience.

Saturday 14 May

Using Apple’s “places nearby for breakfast” to guide us we strolled along the long, white, sandy beach. It turned out most of the places listed on the app for breakfast didn’t open until noon. Maybe being a holiday town breakfast here is lunch.

Driving seventy km northwest we arrived at a magnificent structure. Described as the greatest bridge ever built in classical times, Pont du Gard is 360m long 50m high and on three levels.

Two thousand plus years ago a bunch of Romans stacked up the stones to create a viaduct to carry water to the town of Nimes.

Still in good nick, although no longer carrying water as the water race on either side disintegrated long ago, it is now a major tourist attraction. There are walks to do through olive groves scattered through the local bush. Restaurants and bars sit alongside the river below the bridge along with a prehistoric cave.

On the way back we came across the Camargues Gardoise. Situated on a road in the middle of a swamp this too was built by the Romans. We believe it was some form of toll gate.

The day ended with a tasty meal at one of the many waterside restaurants surrounding the local marina.

Tuesday 10 May

A stroll around Metz revealed a solid beauty.

This place was kicked off by a bunch of Celtics some three thousand years ago. The Romans rocked up in 52BC and made it one of the biggest and most prosperous cities in the region. It became part of France in the mid-1600s. In 1870 France had a scrap with Germany who ended up owning this region until France took it back in 1918 as a war prize.

Amongst all that they stuck up a cathedral with 42 meter high vaults and 6500 square meters of stained glass.

Being Gothic there is no gold or fancy stuff in side. Like most European churches it took over three hundred years to build.

The town is well laid out with wide streets and solid stone buildings, some surrounding large parks. The large stone railway station was built by the Germans in the late 1800s.

I picked up a rental car from Avis around noon after struggling to find one. “I must learn to book in advance online”. Just under an hour north east of Metz I arrived at Fort Hackenberg. It had been a bit hard to establish timings for tours etc. as info from the net and the local tourist office were at odds with each other.

On arrival I used my one French word “bonjour” and a few hand signals and the guy pointed to a sign saying English tours at 2.15pm.

The car park faces a concrete bunker about 30 meters long and about 10m high with a few gun slots. Quite deceptive in what lies behind.

At 2 a bus load of mostly old US people turn up and a very friendly guide lady with great English begins the tour. In a room just inside the entrance she explains the layout of the complex at 1.6km wide and nearly as deep the diagram is deceptive as our experience begins.

Off we go down a large tunnel to inspect the magazines. This place is bloody solid – the Germans proved that when they piled most of the ammo left into a magazine threw it in and blew in to as the retreated from Paton’s advancing army in 1944. The blast didn’t even collapse the magazine let alone the tunnels.

We strolled around the complex, visiting kitchens, generator rooms, fuel tanks, water tanks, dentist rooms, doctor rooms, engineering work shops and much more.

Next were the four museum rooms.

Back out in the main tunnel we boarded one of the original trains powered by an electric engine.

After a noisy kilometre plus ride passing many tunnels along the way we arrived at the northern part of the complex. There is no access to the eastern wing as it is too dangerous to enter. A hundred and forty plus steps up a spiral staircase lead us to the main gun. This disappearing turret with its two 135 short barreled howitzers still works. Our guide gave us a demonstration. They don’t however get to fire the guns anymore. There is a nuclear power plant just down the valley!! The guns were supposed to have a range of 6200 yards. There were several other pop up turrets in the complex containing 75mm guns.

A short distance away is another 135mm gun that shoots out through a wall protected by a heavy steel shutter when not being fired. A fire control system similar to that used in ships is used to indicate elevation and direction.

A device for releasing hand grenades sits on the wall – our guide gave a demo of how it works.

We went outside through a nearby door to find ourselves on a hill surrounded by turrets of various sizes – some for observation, some for mortars and others for close quarter engagement with machine guns.

A stroll across the top of the hill revealed a side of the complex that was a bit shot up. Apparently as Paton’s army advanced up the valley an enthusiastic bunch of seventeen Germans engaged them with the three 75mm guns causing a fair bit of grief to the advancing army.

Apparently a French chap who had escaped from German capture and had worked here, pointed out that the guns could not traverse very far to the left. Paton’s boys set a couple of 155mm howitzers up on a hill a couple of miles away and blew holes in the walls right by the guns. It was at this point the Germans buggered off. Not before, as mentioned earlier, trying to blow the place up,

The Maginot Line was named by the media as Andre Maginot presented the project in Parliament at the end of 1929. France was worried after the WWI experience that the Germans might attack again. The real inventor was Paul Painleve, a mathematician and left wing politician. Constructed between 1929 and 1939 it consisted of some six hundred forts stretching the seven hundred kilometres along the French border from Luxembourg to Switzerland.

The Hackenberg Fort was one the first, largest and most sophisticated. Like the rest of the forts it was handed over to the Germans with guns and ammo and intact when the French surrendered on 25 June 1940. Some French troops stayed on to train the Germans on the guns and fort equipment. For anyone with the slightest interest in war, guns, tunnels and innovation I highly recommend a visit to Hackenberg.

Wednesday 11 May

A month ago I was having a beer with a bunch of mates in downtown Auckland. I was introduced to a guy called Tone the Bone. I mentioned I was going to northeast France and he recommended a visit to Verdun.

Seventy odd kilometres west of Metz is the highly decorated town and First World War battle ground of Verdun. In the early part of the war the French moved many of its soldiers and armaments away from the region to strengthen other fronts. With a number of forts built facing the then German border it was thought it unlikely that this area would be attacked.

Hearing this the Germans secretly amassed in the border forests artillery, supplies including cement and building materials and all the rest of the food, ammunition etc. needed to support one hundred thousand soldiers.

On 21 February 1916 the Germans opened up with a 10 hour artillery barrage firing over a million rounds. At the end of the barrage the German troops moved forward expecting little or no resistance. They got that wrong. The scrap went on for three hundred days with around (depending on which place you visit) three hundred thousand killed on each side. Apparently there were more people killed here than wounded.

Just like other parts of the Western Front the conditions were atrocious.

The addresses in the local tourist books and the GPS in the car wouldn’t work for me so as with yesterday I got the lat/long from Wikipedia.

My first stop was The Douaumont Ossuary.

There I watched a movie on the battle then climbed the tower to look over what once was devastated farm land and forest. Thousands of crosses grace the fields below with the view extending out over forest which has created a wooded sanctuary over the 100 kilometre red zone where nine villages were wiped from the earth.

In one part of the cemetery there are some round top wooden grave markers, these are for the Muslims.

In the crypt under the Ossuary lay the bones of around one hundred and thirty thousand unidentified soldiers from both sides. These can be viewed from small windows in the stone foundations.

Next stop was the Verdun Memorial. This doubles as a museum. Well presented with a great range of artefacts from both sides. In parts one walks over glass under which lies imitation mud scattered with all sorts of war memorabilia.

Next just 3ks down the road was Fort de Vaux. Like many forts in the area it was built in the late eighteen hundreds after the 1870 French German war.

Here I was handed an IPod type device, which contained an excellent commentary on the battle that raged for months until the Germans finally captured the fort. Communications severed, a signal lamp was used to communicate with a local fort. When that was destroyed by a shell, pigeons were used. The last pigeon to leave the fort, weak from disease and gas attacks, carried a message ending in desperation with “this is my last pigeon”

Gas carrying shells are on display. It appears this relatively small complex was at times shelter for hundreds of men.

Next was Fort Douaumont. A cornerstone in the Verdun defences it was captured by the Germans a few days into the battle. A sergeant snuck in with half a dozen men and caught the French crew napping. Not a shot was fired. Interestingly this 1880s fort has a number of disappearing guns which from the outside look the same as the ones at Hackenberg. The internal mechanisms are way more cumbersome though.

Someone had stuck a flyer on my car for Logis Hotel Le Village Gaulois. The flyer made the place look quite good. The helpful staff at Fort Douaumont made the phone call and booking for me. In the flyer the Logis Hotel looked very good. In reality I can highly recommend one does not stay there.

Thursday 12 May 

The drive to the town of Verdun took me past the American cemetery where over 14,000 US soldiers lie. Situated under a hill in Verdun is a huge fort, La Citadelle, which was built in the mid -1800s and contains a maze of tunnels. Only a very small portion is open to visitors.

On arriving a group of us were lead down a short tunnel where we mounted a nine seat cart. This automated machine then took us on a journey through a number of displays, stopping every now and then to look at a number of holograms, where officers argued and acted out their orders. Eventually we dismounted and walked through a memorial area where the eight unknown soldiers were gathered before being sent to Paris for burial. This would be the ideal place to visit first as it gives a good overview of the 300 day battle of Verdun.

The drive back to Metz was fast and easy, rolling along at 130kph most of the way. Dropping the rental car back at the station was to say the least amusing. There were four barriers to get to the car park. With my “bonjour” and Pidgin French I eventually made it through all four, with no doubt much frustration for the poor bugger on the other end of the intercom.

Three hours on a faster train through some lovely French farmland with bright green and sometimes yellow pastures, had me in Basel Switzerland. A helpful bus driver even hopped off his bus and helped me get the bus ticket to the airport. After a flight to Paris, then another to Montpellier arriving at 1030pm I was met by Sylvia.