I'm out of toothpaste!

"I can't believe this!," I said to my travel bud.  We had spent the night in Vernon, France, near Monet's Giverny Garden. And I needed to get the taste of the Russian army marching through my mouth overnight brushed away.  I was able to get a little, no more than the essence of toothpaste, out of the old Colgate tube and that had to do the job. And it did, sort of.  Normally I'd have gone down to the local Wal-Mart and got a new tube.  But, no...this was France and no Wal-Mart. I was sure we could find some somewhere. We asked the lady of the bed and breakfast at which we were staying where to go and she said there was a store nearby.  At least I think that is what she said.  My travel bud understood the particular version of the English language she was speaking much better than I did. 

So away we went in our search for toothpaste.  The sign over the storefront said, "Villafrance Marche", and through the windows I could shelves of neatly stocked goods.  I found a selection of things in toothpaste like tubes.  Upon one of the tubes was the word "dentifrice", I thought this probably had something to do with teeth and unless it was adhesive for dentures, I was in luck.  I had horrible thoughts of getting hemorrhoid medication by mistake.  We picked up a few pieces of fruit and headed for the checkout counter. After paying for the goods, which was a lengthy process due to my ineptness in counting Euros, we found that the store did not provide bags for your purchases.  Later, we found this was not the case in all stores. Service was friendly and courteous at Villafrance Marche.

Actually, this emergency, if it can be called that, allows insight into local culture. Only by doing things the locals do can you gain any insight into their culture. Many times we have seen tour buses with loads of tourists stop at an attraction, tour it with their guide and leave after a visit to the gift shop, of course.  They never see anything except what they are shown. We, on the other hand, tend to get of the trodden path.  In non-English speaking countries we rarely eat at a restaurant that has a menu posted in English. We haven't eaten anything unrecognizable, yet, but the food in the Dominican Republic was debatable!

We traditionally use bed and breakfasts for lodging.  The homes seldom have more than three rooms for guests and this leads to a closeness with your fellow travelers. Breakfast conversation is always interesting.  An Israeli doctor extolling the virtues of Minnesota's Mayo Clinic or why it's extremely dangerous hunting mountain goats in the Alaskan mountains.  We've found our hosts to be founts of knowlege on local lore. We would never have seen the Durham, England cathedral had it not been for one of our hosts. Nor would we have found the site of Hadrian's Wall. Unfortunately, no one told us to be aware of sheep dung.  Sometimes there is an immediate connection to our hosts. Once our hostess was a widow lady who shared her experiences with my travel bud (aka wife) who had experienced the same loss. And I can ne'er forget enjoying a breakfast of kippers overlooking a loch in Scotland while our host presented his collection of musical instruments that he played.

While our favorite mode of transportation in rural areas is the automobile, driving in large cities in the British Isles or on the continent can be a less than good experience.  We favor public transportation in metropolitan areas. Buses, trains, subways, and trams are for us.   Not only are these methods less expensive than taxis, but you get to meet interesting  people that way.  On the early morning train from Paris to Vernon we saw a band being formed.  At each stop another musician with his instrument would get on board.  Eventually there was a group made of two accordions, a saxophone,and a trumpet.  They played in the doorway, and a girl in her early twenties slept through the entire performance.  While on a bus in Edinburgh, I found myself seated beside an elegant elderly woman who extolled the virtue of Barack Obama at great length. Although she was charming and I delighted at her Scottish brogue, I bit my tongue for fear I would cause an international incident. And another thing about the city bus transit, you can get a really good tour of a city if you find the right bus. One caveat, beware of extremely crowded conveyances, I once found a twelve-year-old's hand in my pocket on the Paris Metro.

Travel seems much richer when you get a bit off the beaten path and get to know the local folk a bit. Unusually meaningful and lasting experiences can be found there.  And yes, I have missed some opportunities, such as not dancing with the natives in Homer, Alaska.  But maybe next time.