I did it. 10 days, 4 countries, 5 cities.
It makes me tired just to think about it.
Right, so I have returned from winter break and it was AWESOME. Met some of the coolest people, saw some amazing places and sights, and walked around in a lot, a lot of snow. Like I said, awesome.
More to follow once I have sufficiently showered (bless you hot water and a razor), laundried(anything and everything in my suitcase, regardless of if I wore it-it'll smell like I did), unpacked (it's amazing the stuff you accumulate traveling across Europe for 10 days), and of course- slept (the people we met were too interesting for us to bother with something so insignificant as sleep, and those 6am trains didn't help either).
done and done.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I'm a girl from the suburbs. I don't belong in the suburbs.
(Long) Explanation: The suburbs of Paris are not nice, someone un-PC would call them ghetto. And so they are.
I realized yesterday that I had still not received my Eurail pass for the trip I am going on tomorrow, and without that, I could not travel to all the countries I am going to without buying full-fare tickets (blech.) So this morning, I called UPS France, and they so kindly told me that my pass was just sitting in a parcel center in France, that they had tried to deliver it 6 days ago, but since they didn't have the code to get into my building, they just gave up, didn't try to contact me. Sure, just ignore that "Express Shipping." It's probably not important anyway.
So, I decided to ignore all the things I needed to do today, like getting things for my trip and going to a group meeting, just so I could go out to the UPS center to get my pass. The lady I spoke to on the phone said she could order it to come to my apartment tomorrow, but no guarantee it would be there by the time I left in the afternoon. She also gave me what sounded like detailed directions to get there, not a problem, right?
Wrong. I was supposed to take the Metro to a certain station where I can catch a train out to the particular suburb and then take a bus from there to the industrial area, where I "walk a little bit down to the end of the street and UPS is at the end." False.
Metro, obviously no problem. Do that multiple times daily. Train, simple. Done it before. Bus- it wouldn't be difficult, if I hadn't gotten on going the wrong direction. I ended up spending 2 hours riding the bus around the neighborhood. Well, I got some reading done. Not like I needed to read New Moon. Again. I became friends with the bus driver though. I had thought that the bus would end up going back the opposite direction, or in some semblance of a circle, like they do in Austin. Nope, at the end of the line, he simply turned around and said, "C'est tout." I was like, what? "That's all?" But I have no more money! Well, too bad, I had to get on a different bus and go the opposite direction. Awesome. No problem, really.
The problem came when I got off the bus, and I was supposed to "walk a little bit down the end of the street," but the street was nowhere in sight, and I was in a NOT good area of town. Like a scene from a movie. I started walking in one direction, but turned quickly when I saw some heavily graffitied tents and a barbeque pit with fire- straight out of the slums from Batman. I actually found a lady to ask for directions (in this industrial area, it was 99% male). From my broken French, I understood "go under bridge, turn right, then right again." Turns out that's NOT exactly what she said. I had to go back by the fire pit, which I literally ran by, and kept going till I got to a round-a-bout, which had 5 streets coming off it, none of which was the one I needed. At this point, my fear for my life turn into anger at the UPS people and the people of La Courneuve for not labeling their streets correctly. My temper's been a little short this week, due to a series of unforeseen events.
After some more wandering, I found the "Lotissement Industriel," or the Warehouse District. YAY! Now I only had to walk about another mile, according to a map (!) that I found, and I would be there. I definitely did not belong in this neighborhood. It was all workers, and they would look at me as though I had two heads. Not the usual leering that I used to in Paris, but simple staring, like "what the hell is that young, pale red-headed girl doing HERE?" Yeah, I was wondering the same thing myself. By the time I found the warehouse/shipment center, which by the way was gated off and I had to go through Fort Knox security just to get my package, I was livid, like shaking mad. You know how I can get a little angry sometimes. And the security guards had the nerve to laugh at me when I walked up to the wrong entrance? Not after taking one look at my face.
So I get my pass (finally) and make it out of the industrial area, by the way I saw where they service the double-decker tour buses, if you were wondering. I still have a little problem of I have no money and I don't want to walk back to the train station. Well, some rummaging around in my purse produced a small miracle- a 10 € bill! And when the bus pulled up, it was the same bus driver and his friend from earlier. We all started laughing when I stepped on. When the driver's friend asked me if I was on holiday out there, I wanted to ask who on earth would holiday in that forsaken place? But I instead explained, in French I might add, that I was studying in Paris.
But what would this afternoon from hell be without one more thing, right? So when I get back into Paris, into the largest Metro station, I have to walk from one station to another, all underground, of course. Of course, there are usually the assistance of the walking escalators, or whatever they're called. But no, these of course are all turned off/not working. And it's rush hour. So everyone in Paris is in this station, and I'm trekking a mile or so across the stations to get to my line. Let's just say I was practicing my breathing excercises to keep myself from screaming at this point. But at least now I know- for my next Eurail pass, order it at least a month in advance, in case UPS decides to be idiots again, so that I can just wait for them to deliver it to me.
Whew, that took it out of me a little. Like therapy. And I'm still procrastinating packing...something about packing for 10 days in a tiny suitcase is not appealing.
I realized yesterday that I had still not received my Eurail pass for the trip I am going on tomorrow, and without that, I could not travel to all the countries I am going to without buying full-fare tickets (blech.) So this morning, I called UPS France, and they so kindly told me that my pass was just sitting in a parcel center in France, that they had tried to deliver it 6 days ago, but since they didn't have the code to get into my building, they just gave up, didn't try to contact me. Sure, just ignore that "Express Shipping." It's probably not important anyway.
So, I decided to ignore all the things I needed to do today, like getting things for my trip and going to a group meeting, just so I could go out to the UPS center to get my pass. The lady I spoke to on the phone said she could order it to come to my apartment tomorrow, but no guarantee it would be there by the time I left in the afternoon. She also gave me what sounded like detailed directions to get there, not a problem, right?
Wrong. I was supposed to take the Metro to a certain station where I can catch a train out to the particular suburb and then take a bus from there to the industrial area, where I "walk a little bit down to the end of the street and UPS is at the end." False.
Metro, obviously no problem. Do that multiple times daily. Train, simple. Done it before. Bus- it wouldn't be difficult, if I hadn't gotten on going the wrong direction. I ended up spending 2 hours riding the bus around the neighborhood. Well, I got some reading done. Not like I needed to read New Moon. Again. I became friends with the bus driver though. I had thought that the bus would end up going back the opposite direction, or in some semblance of a circle, like they do in Austin. Nope, at the end of the line, he simply turned around and said, "C'est tout." I was like, what? "That's all?" But I have no more money! Well, too bad, I had to get on a different bus and go the opposite direction. Awesome. No problem, really.
The problem came when I got off the bus, and I was supposed to "walk a little bit down the end of the street," but the street was nowhere in sight, and I was in a NOT good area of town. Like a scene from a movie. I started walking in one direction, but turned quickly when I saw some heavily graffitied tents and a barbeque pit with fire- straight out of the slums from Batman. I actually found a lady to ask for directions (in this industrial area, it was 99% male). From my broken French, I understood "go under bridge, turn right, then right again." Turns out that's NOT exactly what she said. I had to go back by the fire pit, which I literally ran by, and kept going till I got to a round-a-bout, which had 5 streets coming off it, none of which was the one I needed. At this point, my fear for my life turn into anger at the UPS people and the people of La Courneuve for not labeling their streets correctly. My temper's been a little short this week, due to a series of unforeseen events.
After some more wandering, I found the "Lotissement Industriel," or the Warehouse District. YAY! Now I only had to walk about another mile, according to a map (!) that I found, and I would be there. I definitely did not belong in this neighborhood. It was all workers, and they would look at me as though I had two heads. Not the usual leering that I used to in Paris, but simple staring, like "what the hell is that young, pale red-headed girl doing HERE?" Yeah, I was wondering the same thing myself. By the time I found the warehouse/shipment center, which by the way was gated off and I had to go through Fort Knox security just to get my package, I was livid, like shaking mad. You know how I can get a little angry sometimes. And the security guards had the nerve to laugh at me when I walked up to the wrong entrance? Not after taking one look at my face.
So I get my pass (finally) and make it out of the industrial area, by the way I saw where they service the double-decker tour buses, if you were wondering. I still have a little problem of I have no money and I don't want to walk back to the train station. Well, some rummaging around in my purse produced a small miracle- a 10 € bill! And when the bus pulled up, it was the same bus driver and his friend from earlier. We all started laughing when I stepped on. When the driver's friend asked me if I was on holiday out there, I wanted to ask who on earth would holiday in that forsaken place? But I instead explained, in French I might add, that I was studying in Paris.
But what would this afternoon from hell be without one more thing, right? So when I get back into Paris, into the largest Metro station, I have to walk from one station to another, all underground, of course. Of course, there are usually the assistance of the walking escalators, or whatever they're called. But no, these of course are all turned off/not working. And it's rush hour. So everyone in Paris is in this station, and I'm trekking a mile or so across the stations to get to my line. Let's just say I was practicing my breathing excercises to keep myself from screaming at this point. But at least now I know- for my next Eurail pass, order it at least a month in advance, in case UPS decides to be idiots again, so that I can just wait for them to deliver it to me.
Whew, that took it out of me a little. Like therapy. And I'm still procrastinating packing...something about packing for 10 days in a tiny suitcase is not appealing.
Monday, February 2, 2009
So We Broke Into A Mental Hospital...
This is my journal entry from January 23, the day we toured Avignon, Les Baux, and St. Remy:
Today we (Jess and I) had a tour of the Avignon region. What a day for it. It started out raining, and when we arrived at the train station from Paris, there was no one to pick us up for our bus tour. Turns out there are 2 train stations, and we were supposed to know the difference? False. In the car, an 8-passenger can, were the two of us and a couple from Taiwan. Not too bad, except that the most interaction we had with the couple came when the man offered up some sort of honey-candy (bleh.).
First off was visiting the Pont du Gard, a Roman aqueduct built in the year 50 A.D.. 50! Impressive. It was beautiful, as I love Roman architecture, and the fog/mist of the day created a great backdrop for our pictures. In these pictures, we learned that we could actually take our coats off and not have the same picture as every other we've taken. Postcards? Check.
After that, we went to this little pedestrian town called Les Baux. So cute and quaint, but empty. Seriously, where are all the people? There were only a few shops open, but one of them was this cookie/candy shop. Basically heaven. The owner let us try an olive with chocolate in it/chocolate covered olive (?) for free. Surprisingly delicious. We also each bought 4 or 5 cookies, a little overpriced, but so good. I overdid my blood-sugar limit a little with those cookies plus the sugary drink I had had earlier at the train station. It seemed like a good idea at the time. We also went to a little shop with homemade soaps from the region-smell so good. Lots of lavender used as it is the Provence region. The area is also known for its olives and olive oil. The whole town was really cute, some remnants of an old castle, and the land is owned by the Grimaldi family, the royal family from Monaco. Lots of pics of empty alleys that are typical small town European. Cute. Quaint. Foggy/misty.
Our last stop on the tour was to some more Roman monuments and the mental hospital Vincent Van Gogh stayed at in Saint Remy for a year. The Roman monuments were such: an archway and a mausoleum. Nice pics, but nothing too special compared to everything else we see daily in Paris, etc (I know, I'm spoiled). A walk down the lane was to the mental hospital thought, with reproductions of some of Van Gogh's work lining the path. Emphasis on reproduction. Like from my printer. The sun decided to make a last effort at this point, thought, and provided a nice opportunity for a picture over some mountains in the distance through the mist. Since it's January, the original (aka: tourist) section of the hospital is closed, so we were just supposed to see is from down the lane, through gate. Try again. A walk up to the gate provided a look through, and I realized that a door on the side was not as locked as it perhaps should have been. Curiosity got the better of us (and our cameras), and a few seconds later we were enjoying taking pictures of the place Van Gogh actually stayed. Of course, then a worker came to lock up, and our tour guide realized we were inside- basically, we walk quickly back out the door, only mildly ashamed (if that).
Side note: That night, after traveling to Marseille, we had a delicious meal. Marseille is a port town, and so the seafood is amazing. What it is really known for is the Bouillabaisse, or fish soup, and our creepy hotel receptionist told us that "if you don't eat it, you don't come to Marseille." Oops. Guess I never actually went then. It's because they also told us that good bouillabaisse cost about 25-30 euro per person, and I am a broke college student. Sorry about that. We did try the seafood though. Jess and I wandered around the restaurant area of the Vieux Port and found a cute place to eat, where we ordered a ham and cheese pizza and spaghetti with prawns. These were full-size, head-attached, delicious shrimp. Basically, yum!
The following 2 nights in Marseille, we had McDonald's. Also amazing, but for different reasons. I've now eaten McD's 3 times since I've been in France, which is oh, about 3 times more than in the past 10 years. It's just SO GOOD (and cheap)!
Also: That cute cookie and candy shop in Les Baux was not family-owned like we thought. Nope, it's actually a chain store, which we've now also seen in Marseille and Aix. Fantastic.
Today we (Jess and I) had a tour of the Avignon region. What a day for it. It started out raining, and when we arrived at the train station from Paris, there was no one to pick us up for our bus tour. Turns out there are 2 train stations, and we were supposed to know the difference? False. In the car, an 8-passenger can, were the two of us and a couple from Taiwan. Not too bad, except that the most interaction we had with the couple came when the man offered up some sort of honey-candy (bleh.).
First off was visiting the Pont du Gard, a Roman aqueduct built in the year 50 A.D.. 50! Impressive. It was beautiful, as I love Roman architecture, and the fog/mist of the day created a great backdrop for our pictures. In these pictures, we learned that we could actually take our coats off and not have the same picture as every other we've taken. Postcards? Check.
After that, we went to this little pedestrian town called Les Baux. So cute and quaint, but empty. Seriously, where are all the people? There were only a few shops open, but one of them was this cookie/candy shop. Basically heaven. The owner let us try an olive with chocolate in it/chocolate covered olive (?) for free. Surprisingly delicious. We also each bought 4 or 5 cookies, a little overpriced, but so good. I overdid my blood-sugar limit a little with those cookies plus the sugary drink I had had earlier at the train station. It seemed like a good idea at the time. We also went to a little shop with homemade soaps from the region-smell so good. Lots of lavender used as it is the Provence region. The area is also known for its olives and olive oil. The whole town was really cute, some remnants of an old castle, and the land is owned by the Grimaldi family, the royal family from Monaco. Lots of pics of empty alleys that are typical small town European. Cute. Quaint. Foggy/misty.
Our last stop on the tour was to some more Roman monuments and the mental hospital Vincent Van Gogh stayed at in Saint Remy for a year. The Roman monuments were such: an archway and a mausoleum. Nice pics, but nothing too special compared to everything else we see daily in Paris, etc (I know, I'm spoiled). A walk down the lane was to the mental hospital thought, with reproductions of some of Van Gogh's work lining the path. Emphasis on reproduction. Like from my printer. The sun decided to make a last effort at this point, thought, and provided a nice opportunity for a picture over some mountains in the distance through the mist. Since it's January, the original (aka: tourist) section of the hospital is closed, so we were just supposed to see is from down the lane, through gate. Try again. A walk up to the gate provided a look through, and I realized that a door on the side was not as locked as it perhaps should have been. Curiosity got the better of us (and our cameras), and a few seconds later we were enjoying taking pictures of the place Van Gogh actually stayed. Of course, then a worker came to lock up, and our tour guide realized we were inside- basically, we walk quickly back out the door, only mildly ashamed (if that).
Side note: That night, after traveling to Marseille, we had a delicious meal. Marseille is a port town, and so the seafood is amazing. What it is really known for is the Bouillabaisse, or fish soup, and our creepy hotel receptionist told us that "if you don't eat it, you don't come to Marseille." Oops. Guess I never actually went then. It's because they also told us that good bouillabaisse cost about 25-30 euro per person, and I am a broke college student. Sorry about that. We did try the seafood though. Jess and I wandered around the restaurant area of the Vieux Port and found a cute place to eat, where we ordered a ham and cheese pizza and spaghetti with prawns. These were full-size, head-attached, delicious shrimp. Basically, yum!
The following 2 nights in Marseille, we had McDonald's. Also amazing, but for different reasons. I've now eaten McD's 3 times since I've been in France, which is oh, about 3 times more than in the past 10 years. It's just SO GOOD (and cheap)!
Also: That cute cookie and candy shop in Les Baux was not family-owned like we thought. Nope, it's actually a chain store, which we've now also seen in Marseille and Aix. Fantastic.
Just Call Me Harry
I absolutely love trains. Love them. And they're not even exactly what I thought they would be (as nothing portrayed in movies ever is, duh). I, of course, was picturing cute little compartments to sit in and privately watch the scenery with my friends. False. More like nice, comfortable airplanes (not that those exist, but then again, I've only ever ridden coach). Seats 2x2, with little pods of 4 facing each other and a table in the middle. Those are my favorite. I especially love riding the opposite direction than the train is going; I don't know, it's just something about going against the way you're supposed to that is appealing. This works out well, because Jessica likes to ride the way the train IS going, make sure her equilibrium is right. I love that trains are (mostly) quiet. People don't (aren't supposed to) talk- most people sleep, read, listen to music, or just sit. It really is lovely. But the best thing I like about trains is simply putting on my iPod, listening to The Weepies, and staring out the window. So we've only been in France so far, but we've covered a fair bit of it, and it's gorgeous. It makes me so pensive, and then makes me want to write. I've filled quite a few pages in my journal just sitting on trains and thinking about our travels, etc. while listening to chill music. The following are three short entries from the very first train I took:
January 23
Green. Beautifully green, softly rolling hills, reminiscent of Tolkien. It is just before sunrise in the French countryside outside of Paris. Every so often there are dots of houses, lit from those waking to the new dawn. "Living in between sunset, and sunrise." Yeah, I'm OK with that.
What? Like, What? It still hasn't hit yet. We pass by a flock of sheep on a hill, followed by what appears to be a many-hundred year old farmhouse. And everything, including the picturesque small towns we pass, is covered in the perfect gray fog. "Your hands are cold"- type morning mist. Beyond incredible. And I am sitting on a train(!), taking in all the sights.
Note to self: don't sit on train cars with babies. Probably be safe to avoid kids too.
January 23
Green. Beautifully green, softly rolling hills, reminiscent of Tolkien. It is just before sunrise in the French countryside outside of Paris. Every so often there are dots of houses, lit from those waking to the new dawn. "Living in between sunset, and sunrise." Yeah, I'm OK with that.
What? Like, What? It still hasn't hit yet. We pass by a flock of sheep on a hill, followed by what appears to be a many-hundred year old farmhouse. And everything, including the picturesque small towns we pass, is covered in the perfect gray fog. "Your hands are cold"- type morning mist. Beyond incredible. And I am sitting on a train(!), taking in all the sights.
Note to self: don't sit on train cars with babies. Probably be safe to avoid kids too.
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