Spring Returns to Montpellier--And a Passport Gets Lost!

 

Classic photo of Montpellier on an overcast spring day: the Arc de Triomph with the spire of St. Anne's.

               Springtime (again!) in Montpellier

It’s our fourth year in Montpellier and thus our fourth spring. While it was hardly unexpected, we came back from our Jordan trip to find spring in full bloom (as it were). We so very much appreciate the longer—and warmer!—days that spring brings. Not to mention, of course, the plants greening up and growing out!

What made this spring special was that we had visitors from the States! We were very pleased to welcome our friends Nancy and Richard. We’ve known them for a long time in California, although now they live in Vermont. Montpelier, to be exact. (And how cool is that, to be visited by friends from “one-L Montpelier”, Vermont, while we live in “two-L Montpellier”, France!)

Richard and Paula in Montpellier (the one with two Ls).

Nancy and Paula enjoy the gardens at  Place de la Canourgue in Montpellier.

We of course spent a long time catching up, but the real fun in visits like this is to show friends around, to show off where we live. We settled on a trip to Saint-Rémy-en-Provence. We’ve been to this town several times and always find it delightful. It’s also quite near the medieval village of Les-Baux and the Carrières des Lumières, an abandoned quarry that now houses an amazing, immersive show of sound and lights, where images of classic artists are projected on the walls and floor.

The theme at the Carrières des Lumières  was From Vermeer to Van Gogh, Dutch Masters.
Here we see  a much more than life-size "Girl with the Pearl Earring"

Maybe this is what it's like to be a flower in a bouquet?

We are immersed in famous images!

They got a "thing" with bicycles in Provence! A classic scene in Saint-Rémy.

We’d been here before (here’s the blog of a previous trip), but were happy to go again. It’s classic French, an archetypal provençal town (a town in the south, in Provence). Saint-Rémy also has a wonderful market, but it turns out that’s on Wednesday, and we were there Saturday. Since we missed the big market, we figured we’d head over to Arles for their Saturday market, which is always amazing.

 

Oh, Saint-Rémy is getting cutesy with their downtown decorations!

Amping up the "cute factor" in St-Remy.

Richard, indulging his passion for street photography.

Richard and I check out a restaurant. How many tables does it really have?

Our arrival in  Arles. Ah, we were so innocent then, before the Lost Passport!

Paula does a bit of street shopping; that's the Roman Arena is in the background.

Richard at the market in Arles.

Arles is another classic provençal town, a bit larger than Saint-Rémy. As it turns out, we were not able to explore it as we wanted to, because tragedy struck. Well, it was hardly a fatal blow, but disturbing none-the-less: Nancy lost her wallet! Which lead us—forced us—to consider… what happens when you lose your passport while traveling?

I try my hand at street photography in Arles.

         The Saga of the Lost Passport

It all started while we were visiting Arles. We’d just left the famous Arles market: block after block of vendors selling all manner of fruits and vegetables and prepared foods, clothing and household items, toys and games. Nancy was pleased to have found some gifts for the kids back home; Richard was happy to find such rich territory for his street photograph. Done with our shopping, we left the market and were making our way deeper into the city when Nancy suddenly exclaimed, “I don’t have my wallet! My passport! My credit cards!”

Uh oh, I though, life has suddenly gotten far more complicated…

Nancy recalled using her card at the market, so we immediately headed for the booth where she’d made her last purchase. Ah, but the market ended at 12:30, and there were now few vendors left, just finishing their packing up. No one had seen anything. 

The wallet was gone.

Next stop: report the loss to the police station, conveniently located right across the street. But, this being lunchtime on Saturday, it was closed.

Still, we rang the bell and were welcomed by a woman who listened to our sad tale and let us in. Her first comment was, Call the bank, cancel the cards! Then, contact the American Embassy and report the lost passport.

We sat in the relative quiet of the police station and Nancy called her bank. It turns out cancelling cards when you’re travelling abroad is harder than we’d thought! She was to spend considerable time talking to various bank and credit card officials explaining what had happened.

Next: police report. We figured that would be important for the embassy, and the banks, and… oh, the airline!

Dealing with the embassy wouldn’t be too much of a problem. After all, people lose passports all the time, so there must be a procedure in place. It was the plane ticket that was the big concern.

See, Nancy and Richard had a flight home to the US on Monday night. Today was Saturday; the embassy would be closed until Tuesday morning (Monday was a holiday, yet another one in a country famous for its number of holidays). They needed a passport for Nancy by Monday night in order for her to leave for home. What to do? And just to add a touch more spice to the mix, the person who did police reports would not be in until 2PM (after lunch!), so we would need to return.

We left to regroup and strategize. After a bit of wandering we found a pleasant café and seated ourselves under a huge spreading micocoulier  (a very common tree in the south of France). After a round of coughing and choking (it was early spring, and micocoulier are famous for their excessive pollen), we discussed the lost wallet while refreshing ourselves with cups of tea. Nancy kept talking to credit card companies; I called the number I’d been given for the police lost and found. Wait. Someone turned in an American passport? Yes, do call me back with the name!

Elation all around our table! We’ve been saved! Then the phone rang. Yes, an American passport, but not in Nancy’s name. Our mood sank even lower…

Two o’clock rolled around, and we headed back to the police station; Nancy and I were led upstairs where we gave the information for the police report and returned with a couple of typewritten pages, evidence that she had, indeed, reported the loss to the police. There wasn’t much more to do, so we returned to Montpellier.

From the privacy and comfort of our apartment Nancy kept making phone calls, and by evening she’d convinced the banks to shut off her accounts. Richard researched the US embassy in Paris and found that the special entrance for those who’d lost passports would be open at 8AM on Tuesday. Now, all that was left were the plane tickets, which needed to be arranged after the passport was secured.

Paula then had a brilliant idea: call the travel insurance office—they might have an agent who would help. Nancy did, and remarkably quickly, a flight was found—and booked by the agent—out of Paris, with the bonus of a $660 credit!

Nancy had been very keen to see the Sea (the Mediterranean), and Sunday was going to be a beach day. But with still much to do—finding a hotel, getting train reservations back up to Paris, and a myriad of other little things—and with the sword of the lost passport hanging over our heads, none of us was particularly relaxed Sunday morning!

Mid-morning Monday we accompanied our friends, all packed and ready to travel, on the 20-minute walk to the Gare Saint-Roch, the Montpellier train station. That afternoon they were in their hotel in Paris, just a short walk from the embassy. By Tuesday morning Nancy had her emergency passport in hand, and they could relax and spend the day sightseeing. They flew home the next day, back to Vermont and their home in the “one-L” Montpelier.

In the end, it all worked out, as we knew it would, but there was still some cleaning up to do: Nancy needed new credit cards (and all that entails with updating auto-pay services), and had to supply the travel insurance company with endless receipt copies (she did eventually get reimbursed for most of the extra travel expenses). The real cost, though, was the loss of time, and the experiences they’d hoped to have, but didn't.

So, lessons learned: First: Always buy travel insurance! Second: Know how easily you can be distracted by sights and sounds in a foreign country, and DON’T leave your valuables unattended—something that “at home” wouldn’t be so potentially consequential!

Post Script: Weeks later, Nancy got word from the Arles police that her wallet had been returned, with all it's contents, and they would be sending it to her in Vermont!

 

Seen on our way out of Arles. There's that bicycle thing again...

Well, spring has passed, and we’re now deep into the hot, humid unpleasant Montpellier summer. We’re dealing with that by leaving! We’re currently on vacation in the mountains of Northern Spain. We'll be talking all about that soon...