October 9, 2023
Talk about security! I thought we would get a key from a receptionist and go to our room in a hotel. Not so. We were registered at Les Suites Du Cours in Aix-en-Provence, which we thought was a hotel – but discovered later that in Aix, at least, a hotel is a type of townhouse in the center of the old city, they used to be houses of the wealthy. Our hotel room turned out to be an apartment.
Let me start in the beginning when we received instructions on how to access our “self-registration” where we would be staying tonight. Although we had the street address, the instructions on how to enter our accommodation from the travel agent came the day Kathy drove from St. Remy to Aix-en-Provence, about an hour’s drive.
I was surprised; I expected a hotel with a lobby and a receptionist. Not so. We received an algorithm on how to enter this place via ten successive emails that mirrored a five-page manual on entering this place, the latter also sent via email!
Challenged by digital codes and fobs and keys in the instructions, I was apprehensive about our arrival; what if we could not follow the instructions and were left on the street with no receptionist? Although we had a phone number, what if they do not work at night or not at home? And would my French be good enough to communicate with them?
When we arrived at the address with two backpacks, after being lost for three hours, we faced a large, ornamental door, shown in a picture on the five-page instruction manual. The door at our address was in the middle of outdoor cafes, with people occupying all the tables, oblivious to the new arrivals.
So, we started by punching in the four-digit code to open the ten-foot-high historical, ornamental, heavy door; it clicked and we pushed it inwards. The door was very heavy with springs so strong that I had to lean into it to keep it open. Total darkness awaited us inside the twenty-foot-long vestibule, and I fumbled to find a light switch, indicated by three lighted dots on the wall ten feet away from us. We searched for the mailboxes, as instructed, opened the door, and looked up the next code to open the number 5 mailbox, our apartment number. We punched another four-digit code a few times with no success until I realized that the star after the four digits was part of the code and not the end of the instructions. Two sets of keys fell out of the mailbox for our next set of doors.
A fob was attached to both sets of keys and one of the fobs opened the next door, leading to the staircase and the elevator. This part of the building was also totally in darkness but by now we knew to look for the light switch. With only our backpacks, we decided to walk up the stairs instead of using the elevator even though the twenty-foot ceiling made the stairs long. The instructions were that only one person and a suitcase could be in the elevator at one time, and yet another key to use it. At any rate, our apartment was only on the second floor, we reasoned, and Kathy was worried she might get stuck in the ancient elevator.
Having reached the second floor, we tried to use the old-fashioned elaborately molded key to open the large, ten-foot-high ornamental door. We were tired and the key was obstreperous, it would not work. I was unsure whether I put it in the right manner and twisted it around in all directions. Finally, I banged on the door in frustration, expecting someone to be around to help us or tell us to get out of there but nothing happened.
Then the realization struck us that in France, the second floor is actually on the third level. The ground or first floor is the “rez-de-chaussee”. So, we hauled our baggage up to the next floor in the dark again since the lights worked for a short time only and we had to find the next switch on the next level. This time the old key worked. Finally, we arrived in our “hallway”, but it was pitch black again, and fumbled in the dark to find a switch.
In this hallway, several double doors faced us which, I thought would lead us to the kitchen, bedroom, etc. I heard voices behind one of the doors so I went there and burst in to let the intruders know that we reserved this unit. American voices greeted us in a friendly tone, and they said that they had reserved this unit for five days and our apartment must be behind another door opening from the “hallway”.
Three apartment units opened from this hallway and we, apparently, reserved one of these but we did not see numbers to indicate which one. Each unit had a set of double doors in front of the locked door units themselves – the unit number itself was a small number on the inner door, not visible from the hallway. The ornamental double doors, we speculated, were probably the original doors to be kept for historical purposes, and the inner doors, where our keys worked, were modern, lockable ones.
I was embarrassed for bursting in on the American visitors, apologized, and went to another door in the hallway where one of the keys on the second set of keys worked. Finally, we arrived at our apartment. The “hallway” served three apartments; I mistook the word hallway for our apartment’s lobby.
Once we settled into our bright place, we engaged in a friendly discussion with the neighbors and imbibed a glass of wine to calm our frazzled nerves, I reflected on the amount of security installed here. We needed two digital codes, a fob, and two keys to enter our apartment! Was this necessary? Is this overkill? Is the crime rate in France high? I did not know. But I thought the five barriers to mount to enter an apartment were beyond the pale. But perhaps when you get used to this system, it becomes simple. At any rate, we felt secure to leave our passports in the room when venturing outside.
Now you might think this entrance to occupy your hotel/apartment was frustrating, irritating and unnecessary. It was. But at the same time, to me, it was a puzzle to solve. It was fun. I used to do sudoku and now I do wordle. The satisfaction of solving puzzles was similar to solving this real-life puzzle to get into our accommodation.
andrasthehun.ca 