An International Story of Trespassing, a Spiky Fence, and a Shaky Escape
Villefranche-sur-Mer, France
It was a glorious day. I’d taken the bus from Nice to Villefranche-sur-Mer to walk the coastal path and wander through the town. After a little shopping, a nice lunch, a chat with a couple from North Carolina (him) and Colorado (her), I was ready to find the bus stop to take the 30-minute ride back to Nice. It was uphill all the way from the seaside to the commercial area where I’d gotten off the bus, but it was quiet, with the rare car or person on my path, so I didn’t mind the climb. Partway up the hill, there was a parking space with four cars overlooking a beautiful view. I stopped to take a photo.
Overlooking the harbor of Villefranche-sur-Mer
A man with a backpack, probably mid-twenties, approached me and asked if I was from there. I said no, just visiting. He pointed up the road and said there was a man up there who was stuck and he couldn’t help him. I looked, but didn’t see anyone. He was speaking in a mix of English and French, so I wasn’t sure I was understanding him correctly. I thought he was trying to say someone was lost. I shrugged my shoulders and said I’m sorry, I’m not from around here, I can’t help. We both continued up the street and I asked where he was from. “Brazil,” he said. I hadn’t given much thought to the lost guy, thinking he’d gone on his way.
Suddenly I heard a voice yelling, “Help me! Help me!” I looked up above the bushes topping a stone wall and saw a young Asian man yelling and waving his arms. The man sounded desperate.
“The gate was open and I walked through to see the view and take some pictures. It shut, and now I can’t get out.”
He appeared to be standing on some type of roof behind the bushes. Through a gap in the bushes, I could see a black iron fence with pointed tips. The fence was embedded in the stone wall surrounding the property and went all the way through the bushes.
I walked up to the gate and saw that it would be difficult to climb. I don’t know how long the Brazilian had been trying to help him, but I imagine I did all the same things he did. I pushed the buttons on the gate. I tried random codes like “1234” and “0000.” I pushed a button I thought might be a call button. Nothing.
Two cars came by with French couples in them. They both shook their heads and then drove on.
I walked back down the street from the gate to the spot where he stood on the roof. He would tentatively put a foot up between the spikes of the fence, as though he were going to jump. Then he’d put his foot back down, making whimpering noises.
I suggested he try to call the police. “My phone is Korean and it doesn’t work here. I knocked on the door, but no one is coming. I don’t understand why the gate was open and then it closed!”
I considered calling the police with my phone, but I wondered if he would be arrested for trespassing. This was clearly a residence. I couldn’t imagine why he thought he could walk through the gate to take photos. There must be some way out.
The Brazilian, on the outside looking in.
The Brazilian tried making some suggestions in French. The Korean said “I don’t speak French! What am I going to do? Please help. Oh, help me!”
The Brazilian got him to throw his backpack and shopping bag down to him to free up his hands. They’d clearly come to the conclusion that he would have to jump. The Korean managed several times to get both feet between the spikes and crouched atop the fence, but only for a few seconds. Then he would step back to the security of the roof. “These points are really sharp.”
The distance to the ground probably wasn’t more than nine or ten feet. I was thinking my son could have made the jump without even thinking about it, but this guy was so nervous and shaky that I really worried he would lose his balance and impale himself.
I went back up to the gate, trying to see a better spot for escape. It seemed that he’d have a shorter jump if he went to a spot farther up the road, but there was no shed to climb to get him to the top of the fence. When I looked back down to them, they’d made progress.
I could see the Korean on the outside of the fence, hanging halfway down. I don’t know how they got him into that position, but I saw him push off and land on the street. I rushed down.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“But you’re not hurt?”
The Brazilian smiled and said, “He’s just hurt emotional.”
The Korean didn’t look at me or the Brazilian, who had been the biggest help to him. He just looked down at his body, in disbelief that he was in one piece. He twisted to look behind him at the tail of his shirt, which had a five-inch rip in it.
“I should have taken off my shirt.”
He gathered up his belongings, continuing to mumble about the gate and wondering why it was open. I told him the owners had probably left right before he got there and the gate just hadn’t closed yet. “But why was it open so long?” It was as though he blamed the gate for his predicament.
He turned and walked on down the hill, still not looking at us. He didn’t thank the Brazilian for his help. He now seemed to be consumed with the rip in his shirt. After he rounded the corner, the Brazilian and I looked at each other and laughed.
“Well, you did a good job,” I said.
I asked his name, and he started to say “Pedro,” before remembering that I’m American. “Peter,” he said. I told him I’d been to Brasilia in 1998 and loved it. “Brasilia! That’s where I am from.”
We parted ways at the top of the hill and told each other to have a good journey.
Tips & Recommendations
Duh…don’t trespass on private property! You never know what kind of trouble you can get into.
Before traveling, check with your mobile carrier about options for international calling plans or do some research on how to pick up a cheap phone at your destination. As an example, Nerd Wallet has a simple roundup that includes phone plans, local SIM cards, and saving money with airplane mode.
My Phone Plan: When I’m traveling for a week to 10 days, I keep my phone on airplane mode and only turn on cellular coverage when I need navigation or reservations. Then I’ll pay the $10 for 24 hours that Verizon charges me for TravelPass. I usually only need cell service for a couple of days. For this 30-day trip, I paid $100 for Verizon’s International Monthly Plan. As it turned out, I probably would have paid less with the usual TravelPass. I rarely need navigation around Nice and I use the Wi-Fi in my apartment for most of my planning needs.
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I traveled to France for 30 days in September and October of 2024 to see what it would be like to “live” internationally. The plan was to stay in Nice, spend time writing, and find out what happens when you’re not pressed to see every significant site in seven days.