So a few nights ago, to get into the mood, we watched Passage to Marseilles, one of the most colossally-awful movies ever made. It has almost the same cast as Casablanca (except Ingrid Bergman and Paul Henreid), was made maybe the next year, by a legendary producer and director and composer ...but Bogie is just not all that convincing as a French intellectual/journalist, the story is told through five or six embedded flash-backs, and the rest of the main cast, Claude Rains, Peter Lorre, Sydney Greenstreet, et al., appear embarrassed by the war-propaganda script; which well they should have been. I mention this, anyhow, just to give reference to the title of this blog entry.
We found a campground near Marseille and spent a day or two packing, researching storage possibilities, transportation, etc. The weather had turned awful, but by this time we had already drained the tanks and winterized the camper. Our last couple days were busy but chilly. At length, we got everything arranged and everything done, even found a home (the Guardian) for our houseplants, Rosie and Venus, and, Saturday morning, boarded a plane to Frankfurt, connecting to a flight to Dulles, then to Orlando. We arrived in Mickey Land very early Sunday morning, courtesy of Lufthansa and United (smooth flying, no problems, even got upgraded for the Orlando leg), exhausted, but happy to be back in the US of A for a while. Norm and Marie met us at the airport. I'll detail our immediate plans in the next entry, then probably go to Intermission.
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Passage to Marseille, 1944 |
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Passage from Marseille; the Marseille airport, main Halle, Saturday morning, February 13 |
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