
Well, the road trip started fairly uneventfully...

... albeit with two hours sleep and leaving an hour late, but P1 and I managed to meet P2 at Dover docks to exchange some goods before boarding the ferry to Calais.

Anyway, a drive down the French freeway and we made it to Paris by 6pm. Two hours later, several near crashes and some very frayed nerves, and we made it to our hotel in Paris.

P1 had warned me of Parisian driving, which I promptly ignored, saying that people had said similar things about driving in London, LA and New York and I had yet to be fazed. However, Paris is a different matter. With five lanes merging into two, no lane markings on the road and a crossroads with no traffic lights (or at least, no one obeying the traffic lights), combined with a cluster of very dented cars, caused me to wonder whether the Chrysler's roadtripping life was soon to end.
But we survived. Only to realise that the petrol gauge was reading '0'. Fortunately, a gentle slope downwards to the hotel and only a small number of red lights meant we made it to our destination. Obviously, a trip to the Eiffel Tower was required to celebrate...

... which resulted in a torrential downpour and a broken camera (courtesy of P1). So we drowned our sorrows in an Italian dinner and some Californian wine.
2 comments:
Exactly what kind of goods did you exchange before going through customs?
You took the words out of my mouth!
Post a Comment