Joie de Vivre Moment #3 - French Parking Meters

As in America, French parking meters can be found in parking lots and on streets. Ubiquitous, right, no big deal? Pay for your parking spot, and off you go. 

I've used these boxes at home in Oregon many times. They make sense and they work. I've witnessed French people using their parking meters with deft and ease, so I felt confident I would be just as adept when my turn arrived. How hard could it be?

I was about to find out.

High in the hills overlooking the Dordogne River, Tom and I accidentally stumbled upon the medieval town of Domme, France, designated one of the nations Les Plus Beaux Villages de France (The Most Beautiful Villages of France). In our little black rental car we motored up the hill on winding, tree-lined roads. Arriving on the hilltop, slowly creeping through narrow streets between ancient golden-stone buildings and under 14th century arches, we delighted in each vista unfolding before our eyes. What a view! So enticing was the village, we decided to explore on foot, maybe grab a bite to eat, check out the Dordogne River from on high. 

Locating a well-maintained gravel parking lot, we pulled in. Having visited France before, including the two weeks under our belt this trip, I easily located the raggedy, kind of sticky-looking gray box designed to gather parking fees. 

Stepping out of our car, cross-body gray travel purse securely slung around my torso, I briskly walked to feed the machine at the edge of the lot, Tom behind me putting his keys into his pocket, neck craning at the medieval village looming above. He quickly caught up, euro coins in hand.

At the box, a couple about our age fiddled with the machine, looking a bit flustered. A card seemed to be rejected. Then, cash was rejected. The woman spoke rapid French to the man, who in turn looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. "Je suis désolé." (I'm sorry.) "Pas de problème," I responded with an understanding smile. (No problem.) The couple stepped back in frustration, discussing what to do. 

So, I tried. I had the same problem. Not only did the machine refuse my payment methods, it wouldn't go back to the main menu.

A young German couple stepped forward, sniffing a bit haughtily as if they could show up these old people. Nope, they couldn't get it to work, either.

Immediately another lady appeared at the box. She tried, and failed. Then, as if inspired from within, she tried a new and very deliberate order to button pushing. It worked! She smiled a huge smile, took her ticket, then showed the first couple exactly what she did. They allowed me to observe over their shoulders. Success!

Walnut Cake in Domme

Tom's and my turn. We carefully pushed the buttons in the same order, added our information where needed, placed our euros into the slot, a confirmation showed on the screen and a printed ticket popped out. 

I spontaneously cheered, the way Americans tend to do. Instead of feeling the ire of the staid French for my Yankee outburst, I was pleasantly surprised when the couples who'd joined us in attempting to decode the box smiled, laughed, and waved their hands in the air with me. Some clapped in support. When multiple languages are spoken, gestures naturally increase. Other tourists heading for the meter enthusiastically smiled, pulled into our happy energy. One French man high-fived me, an act that seemed to thrill him. It certainly surprised me. His wife grinned and nodded. I can imagine him bragging to his friends about it. "I high-fived an American today!" Well, maybe not. 

A joyous moment! All those merry people from different parts of the world, speaking different languages and yet, today we were conquerors. Together. Over the parking meter. Huzzah!

To their relief, Tom and I helped the next couple, hapless victims of Monsieur Malevolent. As we backed away and began meandering up the road, we noticed the couple we'd just helped eagerly showing another lady the ropes. 

A joie de vivre moment! In that simple act of paying for parking, a dozen people, intently focusing on a fussy meter, enjoyed a bond of victory and celebration - even serendipity - uniting us in a silly, jolly sliver of time.  

As Tom and I strolled the lumpy cobblestones of Domme that afternoon, we happened upon our new acquaintances here and there. Eye contact, then friendly warm smiles were shared, with winks and knowing looks. What fun this added dimension provided our exploration in the stunning village of Domme!

For me, it's about the people. Precious kind people. 

"The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines." ~~ Charles Kuralt

All the photos but the first one are mine, taken in Domme, France. All rights reserved. Enjoy!