An Artist and A Mini in France

Last year I treated myself to a Mini for the month of September for scooting around Southern France. The occasion? I had been awarded a Fellowship at VCCA in Auvilliar, FR. What a great decision that car turned out to be.

My first hurdle was finding Budget car rental at Gare d’Austerlitz. I finally found the mezzanine that had all of the typical car rental companies but there was no Budget storefront. After some walking and asking around I found a little handwritten sign taped to a wall in the back of the Hertz Rental Store. No kidding.

Standing in line was eternal and my fears erupted to thoughts of did I bring all the necessary paperwork? What if it really isn’t reserved? How would I make the trip work otherwise?

A side note: In 2018 I also attended another artist residency in France but only 90 minutes to the East of Paris. Car rental was not even considered. I ended up being so isolated. I wanted to hop in and explore my surroundings. Hence, here I was standing in line.

Finally with keys in hand I headed to the elevator. The car was in the underground parking lot. Just take an elevator and go down. Simple? Not. Spooky? Yes.

To make it just a bit more involved I had 3 suitcases, a 42” x 6” diameter tube and a purse hanging off my shoulder. Just like the beds in Goldilocks, there was a large, medium and small. It was a ridiculous sight to see me piling this all together and inching my way through airports and train stations and now to the bottom floor of a mega sized underground parking lot that was somewhat deserted. Hmmm.

The decision to bring so much was over calculated. I had a computer which turned out to be useless with little internet speed to power what I needed to do. I had prepared 5 canvases and 4 drawing papers. That decision turned out to be an excellent one. They were all safely rolled in the tube. And then there were all of the other things to make all of that work with supplies and shoes and clothes and brushes. I’m blushing now thinking of all that luggage. But hey, I had a car and there was room to take what I needed. No regrets.

The challenge to find, get familiar with the car and remember how to shift and find the reverse was a small hurdle compared to the weaving I did to drive out of there and make my way through Paris. I took all of the wrong turns and Siri could hardly keep up with my maneuvers. The traffic was insane and then there were the Autoroutes. I think my adrenaline was pumping so hard though my veins that I could hardly hear myself think. After a couple of hours I relaxed enough to know I was going to make it to Auvilliar sometime that night. This small village is a hour north of Toulouse. However, I had a small complication. I had a welcoming dinner awaiting me with invited guests that support the residency. A table of eight expecting their newest fellow to arrive. Oh my. The time that it took for me to navigate to this point was definitely underestimated.

Thank God my phone was on and able to help me with directions although I didn’t know how long I would have that signal. For that possibility I had printed out a sheaf of Google Maps. The fallacy with that? How do you drive like a wild French woman and read a map. Oh the deliciousness of traveling alone.

Getting gas and paying for tolls was somewhat a hit or miss affair. It’s still a mystery to me. And figuring out the kind of fuel to get was nerve-racking especially with my rental car papers that said how I could ruin the car putting in the wrong type. This blog will not inform you on how to make that easy. Basically I held my breath during the arduous process.

A note about the Autoroutes: I learned there is a speed limit. After I relaxed, I dared to play with my speed and upon exiting a tunnel I had my picture taken. A brilliant white flash! My mind went wild and I searched for red lights in my rear view until I started enjoying every inch of the scenery.

I made it. The dinner was out of this world as well as the company. What merry souls I found waiting for me with a feast to boot.

I used that car almost everyday. I discovered little villages with incredible art venues with new found friends. I drove myself to a nearby lotus farm to sketch all day for many days. I went to Bordeaux and tasted wine with makers. I drove to Barcelona and met up with my son. There were so many priceless adventures.

In the end the total cost with gas was around $800. That included a $40 speeding ticket for which they conveniently charged me, a month later. It was definitely more than I would of spent on trains or planes but I knew exactly what it meant to me. It was the cost of freedom.