Farewell to Eastbourne: Part Two

Sadly, I probably won't see the UK for a while. I loved my stay there and hope to return, but for now I'm back in France with @michelios visiting his family before we head to Morocco for the next several weeks.

Why Africa? Well, the main reason is the joy of seeing a continent I never, ever thought I'd set foot on. Secondly, the weather there at this time of year is quite optimal for me, given my health issues with lupus. And third, Michel's previous experiences there showed Morocco to be a wonderful place to stay with low cost of living relative to other countries. Times are hard for me right now with finances, and essentially being a homeless person, I am always looking for ways to live that I can afford on a fixed income. Morocco seems perfect, at least for a while.

In all the posting I did about Eastbourne, I never showed photos of the place we stayed or talked much about it. I often felt sad about that because it was such a cozy, homey place for us that it deserved more than a passing mention. But while I was comfortable disclosing the neighborhood, I didn't want to give too many details about where I was living for that time. I can talk about it now, though, and explain all the reasons I will miss it so much.

Marine Court Holiday Apartments is the pink building nestled between Hotel Iverna and a Grade Two listed historical building in the photo above. Formerly a fisherman's house, it has stood here in this row for centuries, part of the original "Sea Houses" built directly facing the beach in the seventeenth century.

Great Personalities, Living and Dead

I've written about "Ye Olde Bakery" before, which can be seen to the far right in the above photo, past the white building.

The bakery comes complete with a famous Eastbourne ghost, who paid us a visit herself on two occasions while we stayed. She's reported to have a strong dislike for the French invaders who stormed those shores many years ago, so it's no surprise that she may have taken issue with Michel. He is as French as French can be, and if she heard him talking in that thick French accent of his, hoo boy. She was probably loaded for bear.

However, I have to say she was very polite when she showed up in our flat and not scary at all. She was, as folklore holds, dressed in black as she often did in life, and completely harmless. I had two personal encounters with her, quite unique experiences, and the dogs reacted to her presence as well. She has so much influence over the physical environment that it is very easy to tell when she's there and when she's not--she will get your attention for sure! It was an honor to meet her, and I hope I see her again some day.

The living people I met at Marine Court impressed me just as much. The Airbnb was hosted by Didi and Jo, who are incredibly welcoming and friendly. I enjoyed every chance I had to speak with them. Ownership of the building changed hands during our stay and because of this, I'm not sure that Didi and Jo will remain as hosts. But I met the new owners as well, and they were equally delightful. I'm quite sure the renovations they plan will make these apartments the place to stay on Eastbourne's seafront. I simply cannot say enough good things about our time there.

And Then There's the Fox

No stay of mine anywhere would be complete without some form of bizarre wildlife encounter. Just as the raccoon moved into my house in Virginia, a red fox decided he liked the dogs well enough to come calling every night around two a.m., sometimes scratching on the window, sometimes barking. Yes, foxes bark. Make no mistake about that. LOL

The video above isn't very good quality, but what can I say...I was out in my jammies at three in the morning with a cell phone. It was dark. And I did manage to record the little guy for posterity. I will miss him. But I have to admit that it's nice being able to sleep through the night without a two a.m. wakeup call.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Milo went with me on a final bus trip around town to take care of last minute errands. He never liked the buses much, but on this very last ride, he had a blast. Two little girls befriended him and spent their entire time on board petting him and talking to him. Milo was in heaven.

Our last Monday in the U.K. was spent in a whirlwind of activity. First, I had to take "The Coaster" bus to Brighton to pick up the van we rented. Why a van? Because we acquired so much stuff while we were there that it took a van to haul it all. Rolling chairs. A room divider. Crockpot. Blender. Blankets. Pillows. A clock. Half a ton of interesting-looking rocks from Eastbourne beach. Yeah. The list is long. At least the scenery from the bus was gorgeous. I wish I could have taken more pictures, but I didn't get to move to a seat with a good view until somewhere around Seaford, where I snapped this one.

After that, a day of packing and a long night of driving. Up the coast we went, all the way to Folkestone where we took the Eurotunnel back to France. I've written about the Eurotunnel before and it doesn't change much from trip to trip, so I'll spare everyone a reprise. We managed to get a good night's sleep Monday night but were up with the chickens the following day to take the van back across the channel. It was my final hoorah in the U.K. for quite a while, I suppose.

Take a Car to Take a Ferry to Take a Train in a Monsoon

Leave it to us to stand there holding ferry tickets during the worst storm of the season. Yep, that's how it goes.

Michel and I turned the van into Europcar in plenty of time to avoid overcharges. But after that, we were on foot. Trust me when I say that neither of us was happy about it. Temps were near freezing. Rain lashed the coast, some of it stinging when it hit because it had turned to ice. Waves in the channel were splashing high on the sea walls and every vessel in the harbor was rocking back and forth like rubber ducks in a bath full of babies.

So now is when I'll take a moment to provide some unsolicited advertising for Europcar. They deserve it.

I've had a couple of nasty encounters with Europcar employees during my time in Europe so jerks definitely do exist on their payroll, but I have to say those individuals must be the dregs of the hire pool and do not represent the typical experice one might have with this company.

This rental was the best experience yet. Not only was the Brighton staff exceedingly helpful in resolving an issue when I picked up the van, but the Dover staff was so insistent that we not walk to the ferry port in that awful weather that they dispatched an employee to drive us there. Then, not only did he drive us to the harbor, he delivered us right to the front door with explicit instructions on how to check in painlessly and avoid further headache. Europcar, I think I love you.

We took the ferry back to France because it accomodates foot passengers. I'd never ridden a ferry before so I didn't know what to expect. I was in for a pleasant surprise. The boats are like miniature cruise ships. They have bars and restaurants and lounges, shops and everything else you might never expect on a routine Channel crossing.

But the weather really was bad, and it affected the routes. We ended up on a different ferry than we expected because the one we originally booked was cancelled. The docks were so dangerous for pedestrians in the driving rain and powerful wind gusts that the bus driver drove us right onto the deck in the belly of the ferry so we wouldn't get blown into the sea. As large as it was, the ferry wallowed like a tub toy in some very rough seas, so it's a good thing neither Michel nor I get seasick.

We eventually made it safely to Calais and disembarked without incident. Again, a bus transported us from inside the ship to the terminal so we wouldn't get blown off the docks. But then came the next horrible realization: due to ferry delays caused by the weather combined with the limited train service offered while French engineers carry on with the strike, we had missed all the evening trains back to Michel's family home more than an hour south.

Oh, la, la.

Calais in a Hurricane

Yes, I do think the weather was due to a hurricane somewhere out in the Atlantic, but I'd be hard pressed to tell you which one. I just know that more than a mile walking through wind strong enough to blow me backward and stinging, pelting, freezing rain was enough to turn me completely against Calais...at least for one night. I then had to climb four flights of spiraling staircase without my service dog to help. It was the nearest hotel Michel could Google up on his trusty phone and it's not like we could be picky. At least the rooms were clean and had a view directly into the neighbor's apartment.

Of course I got sick. I woke the next morning with a screaming sore throat and a head full of congestion. But thankfully the rain had stopped, and by daylight we discovered that the Calais gare was very close by. We caught the next train out. I spent the next three days snugged in bed with little Paige curled up next to me under the covers and my faithful service dog sleeping like a boss on the floor beside. Mission accomplished. The U.K. is behind us, Africa ahead. More adventures to come!

Read Part One here.

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