This is the fourth in the series about the pursuit of my dreams. Check out the previous ones here:
It’s Electric
I arrived in Paris at 12:30 on July 27th. It was unseasonably cold and wet. Little did I know that these grey skies were an omen of the adversities I’d experience in the weeks to come. But I paid no attention to the weather and proceeded to baggage claim to collect my checked luggage and oversized bike box before heading to the car rental office. I made a special note that the luggage carts were free in Paris versus the $6.00 I paid at the Portland airport and put a mental check in the box For France.
I’d been strongly considering buying an electric car so I thought this would be a great opportunity to test one out. I needed something large enough to fit my 150x88cm bike box and the VW ID.4 fit the bill perfectly. I put down the back seats, slid it in, and threw on top my large backpack, large bag, full-size pillow, and two fashionable hats. In the passenger’s seat went my overstuffed day pack. My original plan was to stay with my friend Samba in Paris for a night or two but during my layover, I considered the size of the car, its contents, the idea of driving around Paris, trying to find parking at his apartment near the Eiffel Tower, and the dangerous prospect of leaving my bike in the back and possibly having it stolen, and changed my plan. With the excitement of a child, I set the GPS for an address in Loctudy, a small seaside town near the end of Brittagne, 617 km away, where I would visit my friend Yveline and her husband. Between the sheer volume of cars, construction, and accidents, on top of the wet roads, it took two hours to get out of Paris. That childlike joy was quickly replaced with the anger of a road-raged adult.
The car only had a 375 km range, so I’d have to charge it at least once on my 617km journey to visit my friend in Bretagne. Somewhere just outside of Le Mans, it was down to 20% so I went to the Super U supermarket to charge it. According to the map, there were a lot of options. But it was dinner time, and I hadn’t eaten since the muffin served for breakfast on the plane so I thought I’d get some food, water, use the bathroom, and re-energize myself for the remainder of the trip. It should have been a seven-hour trip plus a couple hours to charge the car. But thanks to the Paris traffic, I still had 4.5 hours (340km) to go, plus charging time. Granted I’ve never driven an electric car before but logic would say that the process would be: go to the charging station, wave one’s credit card, plug it in, and wait for the charge to complete. Ummm…no. Or at least that’s not what it seemed to be. While generally, I can read French okay, sometimes there are words I don’t know, so the instructions were of no use to me. It seemed one needed a special fob, or to download an app and upload your credit card, or something more complicated. I hadn’t bought a SIM card yet so anything requiring Internet was a no-go. I went inside to customer service to see if there was a prepaid card or something that I needed to be able to use it. The girl was unfamiliar with how the charging stations worked, thus she was no help. I wandered around the store, bought some water, used the toilet, and went to another charging station location. No luck. I went to a third. Still no luck. Somehow I ended up at the Super U again and this time there was a car parked at one of the chargers. I was in luck! I waited for them to come out so I could ask them to help me.
It was a couple, maybe in their mid-40s. I spoke in my rusty French and asked them if they could help me use the charger. They did what I’d done but it didn’t work. It started to drizzle. They tried doing more things and it still didn’t work. I handed over my phone to the man while the woman called the service number on the station. Nothing worked. At this point, more than half an hour has gone by. They told me to follow them to another charging station. This one used the car’s charger. We plugged it in and tried, again without success. But now we couldn’t unplug the charger from the car. It was locked in and we didn’t know how to unlock it. After about 10 minutes of struggling with it, the wife looks it up on the internet. We had to hit the unlock button on the key. AHA! So simple!! We unplugged and went somewhere else. The third one we got working but the charge time was over 6 hours. NO! They unplugged it and we went to a cinema. They plugged it in. After more struggles, I offered to pay them cash and they used their charge card. They agreed. It was now 9:20 at night. They’d spent over two hours helping me. They estimated the cost to be approximately 40 euros ($45). I went into the cinema to look for an ATM but there wasn’t one. I only had dollars so I gave them $100. They wanted my address to send me the change but I refused. I was so very grateful for their help, it was worth every penny. They gave me ten euros back as it was all the cash that they had. I accepted it as I’d spent the only 20 I had on the toll road. I snuggled up with my pillow and took a nap. An hour later I was fully charged and ready to go.
I hopped on the toll road. After a couple hours, I was getting tired and decided to exit. I pulled up to the booth, it was 12.50. I waved my credit card to get through. REJECTED! In disbelief, I tried again. Nothing! OMG! I looked in the rearview mirror but nobody was behind me. At least I didn’t have that pressure. Then I remembered the 10 euro from the couple. Thank GOD! What would I have done without that? The Universe was looking out for me in its own odd way. I pulled into a parking lot near a campground somewhere, grabbed my pillow, and slept again. At 3:30 I woke up, wide awake, and decided to continue on my way. I’d be at my friends’ house in time for breakfast if all went well. However, the Universe had other plans. I was quite surprised at how quickly the car battery depleted. Two hundred kilometers later I pulled into a town called Ploërmel because the battery was at 25%. It was about 6:30 in the morning. I went to an ATM and got Euros. Across the way, local vendors were setting up in the town square for the farmers market. I wandered among the trees and medieval buildings as the early morning light crept through. I listened to the clanks of tables and tents put together and the local French dialect being spoken amongst the men while the smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air from the open door of the boulangerie and mingled with the sweet scent of fresh crepes being made at a food cart. Occasionally the church bells clanged in the distance. I smiled and breathed deeply knowing that this would be my new life. Despite all the setbacks, I was excited about my future in France.
While I waited for the market to start, I stopped in a couple TABAC shops in search of a SIM card to purchase but neither had any. I began to feel defeated. I hadn’t eaten since the plane so once the market was open for business I bought a slice of morbier cheese and a wedge of some other creamy, herbed cheese. I bought four different kinds of olives, pickled garlic, and a baguette. The cheese guy also suggested another TABAC shop to purchase a SIM card. I went there and had success. Then I found a bench next to the church where I sat and enjoyed the first food I’d had in 20 hours. An elderly man working nearby saw me eating alone and said, “Bon Appetite.” I thanked him and smiled, knowing how important food and companionship are to the French and that they will often say that when encountering people eating alone. Another check in the mental box For France.
Eventually, I took a seat at a tea shop and had a lovely cup of chai, used the internet to message my bank about the credit card (I’d been off-line since my arrival in France), talked to my new neighbor about my struggles, sent a WhatsApp message to my friend, giving her a hopeful arrival update of lunchtime. It was 10:00 and I had only 1.5 hours to drive after I charged the car. I also attempted to replace my SIM card, without success. One step forward, one step back.
While I was in the air, Alex had taken control. He had called the bank that ‘she’ had started working with (as I would find out later, the bank opened a file on me on July 18th), and talked with the banker who agreed to work with us/me directly. They told him the documents they still needed. They were the ones I’d sent to Julia the previous week. I forwarded them immediately. Also, the business plan would need to be approved by an accountant. “Julia should know that,” he said. I tried to recall how many times he’d said that about her. Four. Four times. Four separate occasions since I’d hired her.
He had a friend who was an accountant and would look at it. He also said that he explained the situation to the bank and they would talk with me directly. I could terminate the contract with MEA since they failed to get the loan in time. With glee, I immediately sent off another stern email. I did not need to use a broker who was incompetent and failed to do her job. Her fee was 8,000 euros and I was glad I hadn’t paid her anything!
The day was getting on so I moved my car to a charging station in the parking lot near the town center. My plan was to do as I did before: offer cash in exchange for their credit card use. Unfortunately, there weren’t any other cars around charging. I went back into town, walked around then back to the car. There was a van with writing on the side parked there now! I waited for him to return. I’d also found some open wifi at a bank on the corner across the street. I could be in the shade, use the wifi, and keep an eye on the parking lot, all at the same time. I felt good things were coming my way. After 20 minutes or so someone approached the van. I approached him. I asked him if he could help me but because it was a business van/credit card, he couldn’t. I then asked him about my phone. I said I needed wifi to set up my wifi account so together we walked to the Marie (a government building in every town) as there would be wifi there. But there wasn’t. Even better though, was a French man who spoke fluent English and was eager to help a damsel in distress. Actually, he was a traveler, just returned to his hometown after five years in Australia and NZ, and wanted to give back as he’d received so much help during his travels. (Travelers are the BEST!) He took over from the van man, created a hot spot on his phone for me to use and, after an hour of our lives were wasted trying to get the SIM card to work, it was discovered that it’s not compatible with the US. In France, when one gets a SIM card one must enter their name, DOB, country, and passport number. So I hopped in his car and he took me to the Orange store, the biggest phone service company in France and through much of Europe. A SIM card cost me ten euros and the month-long plan 20 euros. When I get a permanent residence and sign up for a one-year plan it will be 12 euros per month for everything.
He took me back to my car and I drove to another charging station as the chargers there were not working. I couldn’t get them to work at the next station but I was sure that my card was now working as the bank had sent me a message that it was. I called my new friend and bribed him to help me. I’ll pay you cash AND take you to dinner. While I waited for him to arrive, I slept. He got it working but the car said it would take over six hours to fully charge. NO!!!!! Surely that can’t be right?! I didn’t believe it but just in case, we drove to another station that the GPS said was much faster. It also said six hours. SHIT! We plugged it in and it started charging. Yay! He refused dinner as he was going to his aunt’s house later for food and drinks so we went to his mothers’ house, where he was living, and had a beer and great conversation. Two hours later he took me back to my car. It said I still had four hours to go. It was now 8:00 at night. He offered to let me stay at his home but I really wanted to get on the road. I called my friend to see if I could arrive very late. She said I was very welcome. She’d leave the light on and the door unlocked. She told me where my room was in case she’d gone to bed already. I charged the car for another 2.5 hours. There was enough to get me there. Exactly 36 hours after my plane touched down in Paris, I arrived at my first destination.
The Raw Me 