On Friday morning I didn't really have time to go and see anything, so I just took my time packing all my goodies and stuff and getting ready to leave. I ate breakfast for the last time, then gathered my things and headed off to the train station. I think there had to have been some kind of miscommunication when the guy at Information told me how to get to the hotel in the first place, because I just went across two streets, and followed one street all the way down to the station; it wasn't difficult at all. I got there early, so I ended up sitting on the platform for a while.
I had been slightly worried, because I got an email that morning saying that there was a train strike in France, and so there were possible problems with the trains. When my train going to Lille didn't show up until ten minutes or so before it was scheduled to leave, I was really starting to wonder. I actually think that train was just a Belgian one, however, since all of the announcements were in Dutch, and I didn't understand a word.
When I finally got to Lille, I had a two-hour wait until my train to Paris, so I got myself a sandwich for lunch and hung out in the station. The train to Paris was a TGV, which was fun. I like riding in them, because you can tell that you're going really fast and it's just fun. Once in Paris Nord, I again had to cross the city to get to the other train station. The Métro has apparently also been undergoing strikes, so there were certain lines (especially for the RER) that were closed, and about one train in five wasn't running. The one thing that was annoying was that the automatic ticket machines don't accept paper money; only bank cards with chips inside or change. When I discovered that, I had to find the window and buy one with the bills I had. The train was also very crowded; I'm sure because of the strikes.
When I got to Paris Montparnasse, the station that serves Tours and the western area, I had another wait of about an hour before I was able to get on my train. It was very crowded, and I'm sure some of the people were on there because their other trains had been canceled or delayed because of the strikes. There was a guy in my seat, who I had to ask to move, and then the guy sitting next to me slept the whole way. I literally think he went unconscious the second we started moving. Again, it was a TGV, so I got some reading done and watched the scenery for the hour or so it took to get to Tours. I ended up getting home even before the family had started dinner, so all I had to do was join them.
There were two new people: Anika, a friend of the family who is Swedish but teaches French and lives in France now; and Tess, who is a new student from Korea, and is living in Luzé's room since Luzé left. All of the other Concordia students were off traveling still, so the house was very quiet, which was nice. I unpacked some, got myself more organised, and settled back into the house for the weekend.
Showing posts with label paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paris. Show all posts
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Hallie In Bruges
I had to use this title, again, obviously, because it's not like the joke with the movie is ever going to get old. >.>
Today, I woke up, showered, dressed, and went down to eat breakfast in the hotel (I had another croissant with butter and honey, and some blackcurrant applesauce). Then I went back up to pack all of my stuff, since I had to check out. I left my luggage with the hotel, and went out to explore for my last few hours in Chartres.
The second I stepped out the door, I realised that the cathedral bells were ringing, in a just constant cacophony. They rang for at least a full half hour; from 10:30 to 11:00, calling all the people to Easter Mass. It was kind of bizarre to walk through the streets and see everyone heading in the same direction, but mostly just because I wasn't going. I wandered around and took pictures of all of the churches; it did seem like all of them had people attending, so the cathedral doesn't get everyone. I had a lot of fun on my walk; I went through little side streets and less-commercialised parts of the town. I also got to meet the first and second friendly cats I've ever met in France! I swear all the cats (in Tours, at least) are nervy and scared all the time. But I met a white-and-gray cat that let me pet him and seemed really nice, and then he wandered off and I followed after. I found him again, cornered by another gray cat, and I chilled them down. Once he'd wandered off again, I introduced myself to the gray cat, who turned out to be very nice too.
I also wandered along the river Eure for a while, which is the one that passes through part of the town. Around noon, when the church services let out, the bells started ringing again and sounded for another ten minutes. It was around then that I decided I should find somewhere to eat lunch. I went into one place that told me they were full, and most of the others were all closed. Usually things are closed on Sundays in France, and this was Easter on top of that, so it wasn't really surprising, but I was starting to get worried. Then I found an awesome little hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant, kind of hidden away on a side street. I'd actually seen them yesterday and thought about going, so I was glad to get the chance.
There were two other families there when I went in, which was a little awkward for me, being alone. The place appeared to be run by an Indian man, and a younger man who was probably his son. They were very welcoming, and I ordered the established menu. My entrée was lamb kebabs, and came with a piece of nan and three different sauces: mint, sweet banana something, and something else that was really spicy. I really liked the mint. Then my main dish was shrimp curry with basmati rice. For dessert, I got two little balls of mango sorbet, and then I finished the whole thing with a cup of tea with milk. My favourite parts were the little details; the dishes all had lotuses and red-and-gold elephants painted on them, and they brought out the bill in a little box that looked like it should be used for jewelry. But the food was really good, and the two men were friendly.
After I ate, I wandered back through town and sat for a bit in front of the cathedral, just enjoying my day. Then I went back to the hotel, got my luggage, and went over to the train station. I was about an hour early, but that was okay; the train came just as it was starting to rain, so I was able to get a good seat and get out of the weather. I discovered that the train had electrical outlets, so I was able to plug in my computer and put my pictures on it, getting them off the camera! I was kind of paranoid about having it out, though, so I put it away when we left. It was also kind of funny; I realised I'd forgotten to compost my ticket in the station, so I spent a decent amount of the trip mentally practicing my "I'm a stupid girl American; what's composting? *innocent stare*" routine. Funnily enough, though, there weren't any control people on the train; probably because of Easter. I got to Paris just fine (and apparently went through the town where Versailles is on the way), and got off at Gard Montparnasse. I've been through there before, on my way to London, so I went down to the Métro to go to Gare du Nord. I bought my ticket from the automatic machine, since I recognised the lady at the booth as being the same one from last time, and she was mean. XP
The trip to the other Gare was uneventful. When I got there I had about an hour to waste until my train was supposed to be there. I had thought about leaving my luggage somewhere and wandering in Paris for a bit, but I found out that they basically charge you for two days no matter how long you leave your stuff, and that didn't seem worth it. So I went back into the station and tried to find somewhere to sit. There weren't many places; I ended up on the back end of a round metal pole thing that I think was intended to stop trains if they come in too quickly, but at least it was a place to sit. There was a girl sitting near me reading "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand; I was intrigued, so I started talking to her. Turns out her name was Callie, she was from Spokane, Washington, and she was studying in Amsterdam! We had a pleasant little conversation while we were waiting, since our trains were leaving at the same time, and then got on our separate cars.
I was lucky enough to have no-one sitting next to me on the train, so I spread out a little and was very comfortable. It was kind of funny; they did all announcements in Flemish, then French, then German, then finally English. The first time I heard it I thought the Flemish was English and was wondering why I didn't actually understand any of what they were saying; I ended up getting my information from the French, since it was just easier, lol. They apparently have also started providing WiFi internet on the trains, which I was pretty excited about, so I plugged in my computer, turned it on, and went and bought internet for the whole trip. It wasn't long before I realised the catch; something about the way the train was going meant that the electricity would cut out every few minutes, which, of course, killed my poor battery-less computer and meant I had to restart every time. I was starting to get pretty damn frustrated with it by the time we got to Brussels; so, of course, at that point they turned off the electricity completely. *sigh* Bizarrely, though, the entire way from Brussels to Bruges the electricity behaved itself perfectly. I dunno what was up.
When I got into Bruges it was already about 9pm. I found the train information desk, and asked the man there (in English; I don't know any Flemish...) how to find the street where my hotel was. He gave me a map, and told me to go out, turn left, and go through the park. Now, I was a little worried about going through a park in a foreign city in the dark, so I kind of went around it instead, and quickly discovered I was on the wrong street. *facepalm* I eventually worked my way through to find the right street, but I came out in the middle of it, and didn't know which direction to go for the hotel. I went all the way down to one end, feeling ridiculous carrying all my luggage in one of the big shopping/restaurant districts, and finally had to go into one of the other hotels and ask. The lady there must've sensed that I was a little frazzled; she seemed a little put out that I wasn't coming to her hotel, but pointed out which direction to go. Eventually I found the Hotel/Restaurant t'Putje, and went in. It was again a little awkward, since I evidently went in the entrance for the Restaurant and not the bit where the concierge's desk is. One of the waiters pointed me in the right direction, and *finally* I managed to check in.
The lady at the desk was very sweet, though; she said that they'd been expecting me, and were starting to wonder if I was coming at all. I explained that I'd gotten lost, and how, and she agreed that it was a shame. She checked me in, and took me to my room. The Hotel apparently has parts in two different buildings; the one with the restaurant, check-in, and breakfast room, and the other with the actual rooms. She was kind enough to explain how to pronounce "Putje," which apparently means a "little well". I thought it was cute, but I'm partial to wells. I'm in Room 40, which is conveniently on the first floor. The room itself is huge; with the bathroom, it's larger than my dorm rooms at Concordia. It's got a huge bed made from two singles pushed together (with intimidating white bed linens), a minibar/refrigerator and safe, two closets with full-length mirrors, and free WiFi (although I had to call to get the code). The bathroom has a full bath, toilet, and sink, and a heater/fan that's apparently on a motion sensor and makes the whole room warm as summer. Along with the regular shampoo and shower cap, they also gave me a shoe-shining towel, a hairdryer, and two tall glass glasses, presumably for use with the beverages in the minibar. I also have enough towels to last a week; I really hope they don't change all of them every day; that would be a huge waste.
I spent a little time getting settled and chilling out from my evenings travails, and enjoying using the internet without sporadic electricity shorts. I realised at around 20 minutes to 11pm that I hadn't eaten, and didn't feel like going out and trying to find a restaurant with such a narrow window left, so I did something I've never done before: I ordered room service! Since the hotel is associated with a restaurant, they brought me some pretty fancy lasagna and a basket with, like, six big slices of bread. With that and one of the orange juices from the minibar, I ended up probably saving money and never had to leave my room. I was pretty pleased.
Anyway, it's late. Tomorrow I'm probably going to get myself a proper map and start to get oriented in Bruges. I've got five whole days to see the sights, so I'm not in too much of a rush. :)
Today, I woke up, showered, dressed, and went down to eat breakfast in the hotel (I had another croissant with butter and honey, and some blackcurrant applesauce). Then I went back up to pack all of my stuff, since I had to check out. I left my luggage with the hotel, and went out to explore for my last few hours in Chartres.
The second I stepped out the door, I realised that the cathedral bells were ringing, in a just constant cacophony. They rang for at least a full half hour; from 10:30 to 11:00, calling all the people to Easter Mass. It was kind of bizarre to walk through the streets and see everyone heading in the same direction, but mostly just because I wasn't going. I wandered around and took pictures of all of the churches; it did seem like all of them had people attending, so the cathedral doesn't get everyone. I had a lot of fun on my walk; I went through little side streets and less-commercialised parts of the town. I also got to meet the first and second friendly cats I've ever met in France! I swear all the cats (in Tours, at least) are nervy and scared all the time. But I met a white-and-gray cat that let me pet him and seemed really nice, and then he wandered off and I followed after. I found him again, cornered by another gray cat, and I chilled them down. Once he'd wandered off again, I introduced myself to the gray cat, who turned out to be very nice too.
I also wandered along the river Eure for a while, which is the one that passes through part of the town. Around noon, when the church services let out, the bells started ringing again and sounded for another ten minutes. It was around then that I decided I should find somewhere to eat lunch. I went into one place that told me they were full, and most of the others were all closed. Usually things are closed on Sundays in France, and this was Easter on top of that, so it wasn't really surprising, but I was starting to get worried. Then I found an awesome little hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant, kind of hidden away on a side street. I'd actually seen them yesterday and thought about going, so I was glad to get the chance.
There were two other families there when I went in, which was a little awkward for me, being alone. The place appeared to be run by an Indian man, and a younger man who was probably his son. They were very welcoming, and I ordered the established menu. My entrée was lamb kebabs, and came with a piece of nan and three different sauces: mint, sweet banana something, and something else that was really spicy. I really liked the mint. Then my main dish was shrimp curry with basmati rice. For dessert, I got two little balls of mango sorbet, and then I finished the whole thing with a cup of tea with milk. My favourite parts were the little details; the dishes all had lotuses and red-and-gold elephants painted on them, and they brought out the bill in a little box that looked like it should be used for jewelry. But the food was really good, and the two men were friendly.
After I ate, I wandered back through town and sat for a bit in front of the cathedral, just enjoying my day. Then I went back to the hotel, got my luggage, and went over to the train station. I was about an hour early, but that was okay; the train came just as it was starting to rain, so I was able to get a good seat and get out of the weather. I discovered that the train had electrical outlets, so I was able to plug in my computer and put my pictures on it, getting them off the camera! I was kind of paranoid about having it out, though, so I put it away when we left. It was also kind of funny; I realised I'd forgotten to compost my ticket in the station, so I spent a decent amount of the trip mentally practicing my "I'm a stupid girl American; what's composting? *innocent stare*" routine. Funnily enough, though, there weren't any control people on the train; probably because of Easter. I got to Paris just fine (and apparently went through the town where Versailles is on the way), and got off at Gard Montparnasse. I've been through there before, on my way to London, so I went down to the Métro to go to Gare du Nord. I bought my ticket from the automatic machine, since I recognised the lady at the booth as being the same one from last time, and she was mean. XP
The trip to the other Gare was uneventful. When I got there I had about an hour to waste until my train was supposed to be there. I had thought about leaving my luggage somewhere and wandering in Paris for a bit, but I found out that they basically charge you for two days no matter how long you leave your stuff, and that didn't seem worth it. So I went back into the station and tried to find somewhere to sit. There weren't many places; I ended up on the back end of a round metal pole thing that I think was intended to stop trains if they come in too quickly, but at least it was a place to sit. There was a girl sitting near me reading "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand; I was intrigued, so I started talking to her. Turns out her name was Callie, she was from Spokane, Washington, and she was studying in Amsterdam! We had a pleasant little conversation while we were waiting, since our trains were leaving at the same time, and then got on our separate cars.
I was lucky enough to have no-one sitting next to me on the train, so I spread out a little and was very comfortable. It was kind of funny; they did all announcements in Flemish, then French, then German, then finally English. The first time I heard it I thought the Flemish was English and was wondering why I didn't actually understand any of what they were saying; I ended up getting my information from the French, since it was just easier, lol. They apparently have also started providing WiFi internet on the trains, which I was pretty excited about, so I plugged in my computer, turned it on, and went and bought internet for the whole trip. It wasn't long before I realised the catch; something about the way the train was going meant that the electricity would cut out every few minutes, which, of course, killed my poor battery-less computer and meant I had to restart every time. I was starting to get pretty damn frustrated with it by the time we got to Brussels; so, of course, at that point they turned off the electricity completely. *sigh* Bizarrely, though, the entire way from Brussels to Bruges the electricity behaved itself perfectly. I dunno what was up.
When I got into Bruges it was already about 9pm. I found the train information desk, and asked the man there (in English; I don't know any Flemish...) how to find the street where my hotel was. He gave me a map, and told me to go out, turn left, and go through the park. Now, I was a little worried about going through a park in a foreign city in the dark, so I kind of went around it instead, and quickly discovered I was on the wrong street. *facepalm* I eventually worked my way through to find the right street, but I came out in the middle of it, and didn't know which direction to go for the hotel. I went all the way down to one end, feeling ridiculous carrying all my luggage in one of the big shopping/restaurant districts, and finally had to go into one of the other hotels and ask. The lady there must've sensed that I was a little frazzled; she seemed a little put out that I wasn't coming to her hotel, but pointed out which direction to go. Eventually I found the Hotel/Restaurant t'Putje, and went in. It was again a little awkward, since I evidently went in the entrance for the Restaurant and not the bit where the concierge's desk is. One of the waiters pointed me in the right direction, and *finally* I managed to check in.
The lady at the desk was very sweet, though; she said that they'd been expecting me, and were starting to wonder if I was coming at all. I explained that I'd gotten lost, and how, and she agreed that it was a shame. She checked me in, and took me to my room. The Hotel apparently has parts in two different buildings; the one with the restaurant, check-in, and breakfast room, and the other with the actual rooms. She was kind enough to explain how to pronounce "Putje," which apparently means a "little well". I thought it was cute, but I'm partial to wells. I'm in Room 40, which is conveniently on the first floor. The room itself is huge; with the bathroom, it's larger than my dorm rooms at Concordia. It's got a huge bed made from two singles pushed together (with intimidating white bed linens), a minibar/refrigerator and safe, two closets with full-length mirrors, and free WiFi (although I had to call to get the code). The bathroom has a full bath, toilet, and sink, and a heater/fan that's apparently on a motion sensor and makes the whole room warm as summer. Along with the regular shampoo and shower cap, they also gave me a shoe-shining towel, a hairdryer, and two tall glass glasses, presumably for use with the beverages in the minibar. I also have enough towels to last a week; I really hope they don't change all of them every day; that would be a huge waste.
I spent a little time getting settled and chilling out from my evenings travails, and enjoying using the internet without sporadic electricity shorts. I realised at around 20 minutes to 11pm that I hadn't eaten, and didn't feel like going out and trying to find a restaurant with such a narrow window left, so I did something I've never done before: I ordered room service! Since the hotel is associated with a restaurant, they brought me some pretty fancy lasagna and a basket with, like, six big slices of bread. With that and one of the orange juices from the minibar, I ended up probably saving money and never had to leave my room. I was pretty pleased.
Anyway, it's late. Tomorrow I'm probably going to get myself a proper map and start to get oriented in Bruges. I've got five whole days to see the sights, so I'm not in too much of a rush. :)
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Train Fail
Saturday was my last day in London, so I got up early so that I could experience the one thing I had missed so far: Westminster Abbey. I managed to get down to the Westminster Tube station without any problems and got my ticket to go inside the Abbey. They don't allow photography, but I got an audio guide and wandered around (I was very surprised to hear Jeremy Irons introduce himself as the voice of the audio guide, but it was also pretty awesome). I also went up into the Shrine of King Edward the Confessor. It's not open to general tourism, but they let small groups inside for prayer sessions led by one of the priests. I mostly just wanted to see the shrine, so I pretended. The Abbey itself was beautiful, of course. My favourite part was the Poet's Corner, where they have tombs and memorials to various writers (including Shakespeare, Lewis Carrol, Robert Browning, and a dozen others, including my favourite: W.H. Auden). I did sneak a couple pictures (like one of Edmond Halley's memorial) before I left, and wound my way out through the ever-present souvenir shop. I figured I had left with just enough time to get back to Katie's house, finish throwing my stuff together, and come back in to the train station.
Unfortunately, it didn't prove to be that easy. When I got back to Totteridge & Whetstone, the only trains arriving were going on the wrong track (via Charing Cross rather than via Bank, which was what I needed). Without any other real choice, I got on the train anyway, and figured I'd get off and switch trains at some point. Unfortunately, no good opportunity presented itself until I got to Euston station, which is huge, and I switched to the Victoria line to get to King's Cross/St. Pancras. By the time I got there, I had basically figured that I would be late, but I ran through the station anyway, hoping. I managed to get there right as the train was departing, and felt like I was going to cry from running through stations, freaking out, and having it confirmed that my train had, indeed, already left.
The people at the Eurostar were fantastic, however. They took pity on me, and the first guy I talked to wrote on my ticket that I had showed up about five minutes earlier, to give me a little more leeway, and sent me to the ticket office. The guy there did some checking around and managed to get me a seat on the next train, when I explained that I hadn't known when I was supposed to be there and had been late. I kind of suspect that he thought I was younger than I am, judging from the way he spoke to me, but I wasn't about to complain. He told me that since I would miss my connection in Paris, I would have to talk to the SNCF people directly and try to get on the last train of the night. But to help me more, he put a "magic stamp" (his words) on the ticket that basically said that I missed my connection because of another train, not through my own fault. That wasn't technically true, but he gave me the stamp anyway to be nice.
Going through security went fairly quickly, and I got my second train-travel passport stamp. When I got to the Eurostar lobby, the train for Lille was boarding, so I sat down to wait. It was then that I experienced the most bizarre thing: while I was sitting there, they were reading announcements in both French and English. And when I heard the French, a huge wave of relief washed over me, and I felt almost weak. I hadn't realised until that point just how draining it was to constantly listen to British English. As much as I love the language and watch the BBC and was looking forward to London, the entire time I was there I felt somewhat distanced. In France, my accent might show me to be a foreigner, but I still feel included in the culture and language and am still accepted so long as I try to speak French. But in England, although American English was certainly suitable for communication, I still felt like and proved myself to be an outsider every time I opened my mouth.
Maybe it was just the exhaustion from running and stressing and the relief of being on a train - any train! - back to France, but my strange euphoria just increased every time I heard French, spoke French, and even when I used Euros to buy myself a simple dinner on the train. (The Eurostar has two "dining" cars; I got a BLT sandwich, a bag of chips, and an Orangina.) The seat next to me was empty, so I put up the arm rest and curled up across both seats to sleep for a good chunk of the trip, and also started organising my receipts and figuring out just how much my London adventure had cost me.
We got to the Paris Nord train station at the exact time the train I was supposed to take was leaving from Paris Austerlitz, so there was no hope of me catching it. So I took my time getting to the Métro and crossing Paris. I found myself loving almost everything I encountered: the ever-so-distinctive smell of Paris, the fact that the people I saw ignored me, that the Métro itself was dirty and the cars were old, the brief glimpse I saw of the Eiffel Tower all lit up for the night, and the little theme song that plays on constant loop in every SNCF train station. When I found the platforms at Austerlitz I went and talked to the man in the information booth. Without hardly looking at me he told me that it would be perfectly fine if I took the last train to Tours; I think the fact that I mentioned the stamp might have had something to do with it! I settled in on one of the seats in the station and prepared to wait the three hours until 10pm, when the train would leave. Fortunately, I had a book.
When the platform for the train was finally displayed on the board, I made my way over there. Unlike almost every other time I've taken the train in France, they had set up barriers and were actually checking people's tickets before they let them go on the train. The man glanced at my ticket, seeming confused for a moment, but when I explained briefly he nodded and let me through. By this point I was cold, exhausted, and wanting nothing more than a bed I could call mine. I kept myself awake by reading on the way to Tours, and finally arrived sometime between 12:30 and 1am. Then I dragged myself and my luggage back to the house, still kind of euphorically pleased by things as simple as French drivers' respect for pedestrians and the fact that I knew where I was going without thinking. I managed to find my keys after a panicked moment of not remembering where I'd put them, and unpacked just enough to be comfortable before I snuggled into my bed.
It's not quite home, but for that night, it was close enough.
Unfortunately, it didn't prove to be that easy. When I got back to Totteridge & Whetstone, the only trains arriving were going on the wrong track (via Charing Cross rather than via Bank, which was what I needed). Without any other real choice, I got on the train anyway, and figured I'd get off and switch trains at some point. Unfortunately, no good opportunity presented itself until I got to Euston station, which is huge, and I switched to the Victoria line to get to King's Cross/St. Pancras. By the time I got there, I had basically figured that I would be late, but I ran through the station anyway, hoping. I managed to get there right as the train was departing, and felt like I was going to cry from running through stations, freaking out, and having it confirmed that my train had, indeed, already left.
The people at the Eurostar were fantastic, however. They took pity on me, and the first guy I talked to wrote on my ticket that I had showed up about five minutes earlier, to give me a little more leeway, and sent me to the ticket office. The guy there did some checking around and managed to get me a seat on the next train, when I explained that I hadn't known when I was supposed to be there and had been late. I kind of suspect that he thought I was younger than I am, judging from the way he spoke to me, but I wasn't about to complain. He told me that since I would miss my connection in Paris, I would have to talk to the SNCF people directly and try to get on the last train of the night. But to help me more, he put a "magic stamp" (his words) on the ticket that basically said that I missed my connection because of another train, not through my own fault. That wasn't technically true, but he gave me the stamp anyway to be nice.
Going through security went fairly quickly, and I got my second train-travel passport stamp. When I got to the Eurostar lobby, the train for Lille was boarding, so I sat down to wait. It was then that I experienced the most bizarre thing: while I was sitting there, they were reading announcements in both French and English. And when I heard the French, a huge wave of relief washed over me, and I felt almost weak. I hadn't realised until that point just how draining it was to constantly listen to British English. As much as I love the language and watch the BBC and was looking forward to London, the entire time I was there I felt somewhat distanced. In France, my accent might show me to be a foreigner, but I still feel included in the culture and language and am still accepted so long as I try to speak French. But in England, although American English was certainly suitable for communication, I still felt like and proved myself to be an outsider every time I opened my mouth.
Maybe it was just the exhaustion from running and stressing and the relief of being on a train - any train! - back to France, but my strange euphoria just increased every time I heard French, spoke French, and even when I used Euros to buy myself a simple dinner on the train. (The Eurostar has two "dining" cars; I got a BLT sandwich, a bag of chips, and an Orangina.) The seat next to me was empty, so I put up the arm rest and curled up across both seats to sleep for a good chunk of the trip, and also started organising my receipts and figuring out just how much my London adventure had cost me.
We got to the Paris Nord train station at the exact time the train I was supposed to take was leaving from Paris Austerlitz, so there was no hope of me catching it. So I took my time getting to the Métro and crossing Paris. I found myself loving almost everything I encountered: the ever-so-distinctive smell of Paris, the fact that the people I saw ignored me, that the Métro itself was dirty and the cars were old, the brief glimpse I saw of the Eiffel Tower all lit up for the night, and the little theme song that plays on constant loop in every SNCF train station. When I found the platforms at Austerlitz I went and talked to the man in the information booth. Without hardly looking at me he told me that it would be perfectly fine if I took the last train to Tours; I think the fact that I mentioned the stamp might have had something to do with it! I settled in on one of the seats in the station and prepared to wait the three hours until 10pm, when the train would leave. Fortunately, I had a book.
When the platform for the train was finally displayed on the board, I made my way over there. Unlike almost every other time I've taken the train in France, they had set up barriers and were actually checking people's tickets before they let them go on the train. The man glanced at my ticket, seeming confused for a moment, but when I explained briefly he nodded and let me through. By this point I was cold, exhausted, and wanting nothing more than a bed I could call mine. I kept myself awake by reading on the way to Tours, and finally arrived sometime between 12:30 and 1am. Then I dragged myself and my luggage back to the house, still kind of euphorically pleased by things as simple as French drivers' respect for pedestrians and the fact that I knew where I was going without thinking. I managed to find my keys after a panicked moment of not remembering where I'd put them, and unpacked just enough to be comfortable before I snuggled into my bed.
It's not quite home, but for that night, it was close enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)