Journal Entry: More Train Shenanigans

This was the worst day by far. And it’s raining too, but at least I didn’t get caught in it. I hate Paris. More specifically please send me back to the endless fields of grapes.

The train ride was bad. But let me back up. After I checked out of the hostel, I missed the gas station where I was going to get gas. I pulled into a different one, but the streets are all one way, so I couldn’t go back. I got a bit lost. Then once I found the station parking, I couldn’t find the Avis spots. 

I filled it up!

The paint was almost worn off the pavement, but I finally saw them. Then when I went into the station, I saw on the board that there was an electrical problem between Toulouse and Carcassonne, so the trains were delayed/cancelled. I might be on the six o’clock news here, as there was a guy from France 3 walking around interviewing people.

I stood in line, and found the Avis office is unsigned, and on the front right side of the station. Then the girl told me to go to catch the bus to Narbonne as I had a layover for the train to Paris there. 

I missed the bus. But then I stood in line again and they said the train I was supposed to be on was okay. I waited but they all said they were still delayed so when a train came in and was marked “Narbonne” I went up to Information and asked if I should get on it, and the lady said yes. So I ran, and made it just as it was leaving. 

I caught the train in Narbonne no problem. The train ride from Narbonne to Paris was horrid. No dead body this time, though I could have killed the fat pig of a man sitting next to me. He was probably 350 pounds, and didn’t even try to keep to his seat. [Note that I used to be quite fat, but I tried my best to not invade other people's space.] And he smelled and kept coughing without covering his mouth. And he was ugly. And I don’t mean just physically. His soul was ugly. 

I spent €5 on a yogurt and water, just to sit in the dining car and get away from him.

I got to the hostel okay. The restaurant was really busy. I wanted to eat there, but all the tables were reserved. When I finally got a table, no one waited on me. I was irritable from the train ride so that might have colored my perception of things. 

Normally the bar has a good vibe, but when I arrived it was horribly crowded with large school groups

 I finally went to the store and bought a small bottle of wine from the Pays d’Oc!!!! Yum! It was only €2.75 or so. I also bought a sandwich from the place down the street from the hostel. “Poulet avec fromage.” And they asked me if I wanted it hot. They meant spicy. It wasn’t that spicy. Not like the place in Marseille. 

My writing sucks. I blame the wine and that I want to go to sleep. 

Good night.

Journal Entry: Paris, Descent into the Underworld

We woke up at 8am. Breakfast was bread and cereal. These people seriously need to learn the joys of breakfast tacos. One of the Australians we met last night asked me to help him book his ticket on the SNCF website. You have to put Great Britain as your country or it won't work with the English version. It's quite retarded in that way. The other two Australians have checked out which is too bad. In their place are two annoying French people, a couple. They were cuddling on the bed. PDA. Get a private room, srsly. Seriously I mean. Too much IM'ing for me I suppose.

Then we had the adventure of finding our way to the correct station for the Catacombs. We finally did, but I wasted a metro ticket because I didn't realize I could use the same one changing lines. It's not at all like any other metro I've ever used before.

The signs, as usual, were quite ambiguous for the Catacombs. There was one outside the metro station, but then no more. I stopped in a McDonalds to get a diet coke. It was €3 and didn't have ice. It was cold though, but I'd like a bit of ice in my drink. I then stopped in a "Tabac" shop and asked the shopkeeper where the catacombs were. He, I'm sure, realized I didn't speak much French and replied in English and pointed down the street. I thanked him, (despite the stereotype, people in Paris are a LOT nicer than in other cities this size, like London and New York) and we went in the direction he said and sure enough we saw a long line for them.

My sister in the catacombs

Turns out they can only have 200 people in there at once because of the emergency exits, they don't accommodate many and there's not a lot of room down there either.

We had to wait about forty five minutes, but it was well worth it. It was over 100 steps down and I got dizzy going down them, as it was a spiral stair case. Then we had to walk down a very long twisty corridor. After a while we came to the bones. So many people, or rather, what once were people. They used to be buried in a mass grave, I think the info said, but were dug up and interred in the catacombs because of disease. Back in the 19th century, people would go down there with only candles. I think that's damned crazy. It was very interesting at any rate.

When we climbed the 83 steps to get back to the world of the living, it was raining. It had been sunny when we went in. I told V. we were like Persephone, descending into the underworld and causing winter. I did think it was interesting that one of the wells was named after the River Lethe.

An American couple from Indiana that we had been talking to in line before going in, came out right behind us. They helped us find the Metro station (one comes out in a different place). She had been reading Rick Steves, so knew all about it.

"Il est quelque fois plus avantageux de morir que de vivre."

"Croyez que chaque jour est pour vous le dernier." -Horace

Luckily it didn't rain much, we found the metro station and took the line for the Eiffel Tower. The second bank of ticket machines wouldn't take our tickets, even though we hadn't gone anywhere with them. A metro worker helped us out and let us through.

The Eiffel tower is ugly. We spent too much time looking for a post office. Then we ate a late lunch. Pizza at a place across from the Eiffel Tower metro stop. It was a bit much, but very good. €13 for pizza and a drink. The cheese was especially delicious.


Then we walked to the Museé d'Orsay. By the time we got there, it was too close to closing time to justify €8 for admission. They close at 6pm, but clear the galleries at 5:30 and it was after 4:30 by the time we got through the line. I'll have to see it some other time.

So we checked out their gift shop. Everything was overpriced. Then we walked over to the Louvre and saw the glass pyramids. It was very nice. We're going there tomorrow.

Then we went shopping on a street by the Louvre, mostly tourist crap. I bought a shot glass for Tommy (our IT guy) and some key chain bottle openers for the guys at work.

We went back to the hostel. I got a sandwich from a boulangerie/patisserie just down from the hostel. It was only €2.90. I sat down in the café downstairs, and V. ordered fries and a soda and I ordered a glass of wine from the "Pays d'Oc", where we had just come from. Did I mention I love the Pyrenees? It was only €2 because it was "happy hour".

My left leg has a charlie horse in the calf muscle. Too much walking and climbing to mountaintop fortresses. Shower, bed. I miss Andy. I wish he could have come with me, but he'd hate traveling like this.