Trainus Interruptus - or: Bonus Time in London

 Going to jump way out of order here. I know I still owe you the rest of my time in Kerry (I haven't even started on all the fun stuff!), and the highlights of the last couple of weeks in London. But for right now, I'm going to tell you about this morning, because UGH. 

Long-time readers may recall a short trip I took to London during college, in which the first day was A Day That Will Live in Infamy. It actually wasn't that bad, if I were to lay it all out, but it was just very frustrating and tiring and everything seemed to go out of its way to go wrong. This morning has been a bit like that, though it is finally looking up. 

After several days of dithering about perhaps cutting my trip a few weeks short due to the skyrocketing Covid numbers over here, I finally decided on a middle ground of heading to the relative isolation of the countryside for a week and then heading home a week earlier than planned. I was supposed to take the train from London to Windermere today to start the final leg of my European jaunt. It was all going well - I got all packed up and checked out of my London hotel without incident, walked the few blocks to get to the train station with direct service to Windermere, and the train station at Windermere is only a few blocks from my inn. No transfers, no taxis, no nonsense. So smooth and simple. 

Well, no. 

Apparently there is some sort of "severe weather" event going on somewhere along the tracks, and all of the trains going to Windermere have been canceled. The workers at the station kept assuring me that my ticket will work tomorrow, but well, the ticket isn't really the concern! Having no place to sleep tonight is the concern. My place to sleep tonight is over a hundred miles away! 

I spent about an hour trying to find a cheap hotel that wasn't a hostel dorm (not willing to go that route during the pandemic). That wasn't working. I tried finding hotel rooms in Preston, the furthest town the train was actually going to. Shockingly devoid of any places to stay whatsoever. I finally remembered that I have travel insurance, and surely this sort of thing must be covered. Couldn't get anyone on the phone since apparently they keep US business hours, and my not having a place to sleep tonight was not deemed an "emergency." But I was finally able to dig up a copy of my policy, and confirmed that there is indeed coverage for up to two nights of "trip delay" reimbursement. I found the absolute perfect place, just a few minutes walk from the train station and cheap enough to qualify for full reimbursement. One room left. I pulled away from the screen just long enough to double check the conversion rate of pounds to dollars, popped back in literally less than 90 seconds later, and in that time someone snuck in and booked the room out from under me. 

Can I just tell you, in case it isn't already immediately obvious, a last-minute booking in London for a Saturday night, especially when there are probably several hundred people all in exactly the same boat as me, is not easy to come by, nor is it cheap. I tried two more hotels that were less conveniently located, but still "affordable" (a laughable usage of the term by any other standards). Again, they were sniped while I was trying to book them. I finally ended up in a pretty posh place that is over the reimbursement limit in the heart of the West End. Hopefully my insurance reimburses me for part of it, because this was literally the best I could do! But I finally just went for it before even something that expensive was no longer an option, and even if my claim somehow gets denied, hey, that's what the emergency savings is for. Emergencies like having nowhere to sleep! 

Still more drama trying to get to the hotel, lugging my enormous backpack the whole way. For some reason the Euston Underground was temporarily closed for about 15 minutes, and security guys were blocking all of the entrances, and it was just this chaotic crush of people. I had my mask firmly in place, which of course made me a sweaty mess, and kept causing my glasses to literally slide off my face and onto the ground if I so much as glanced at the floor. Took over 20 minutes to just get to the Tube (for reference - the Euston train station and the Tube station are one and the same, just above ground vs below ground. I didn't have to walk anywhere, all I had to do was go down). I had the good sense to wait for the second train that was literally a minute behind the first, which the entire backlog of people packed onto, and I was able to just float over to a seat on the next one. 

And once I finally got to the hotel, I was too early for check in and my glasses fell off TWICE as I was trying to offload my bags for the porter to stash. I also didn't know it at the time, but my hair was sticking out in about eight directions, and as previously mentioned, I was a sweaty mess. I did not feel up to snuff for a swanky hotel. 

But I was able to finally remove the massive literal weight from my shoulders, and wander around Leicester Square for 45 minutes - there was a little Christmas market set up in the middle of it! I wandered through a protest in Chinatown, saw the movie theatre they held all of the Harry Potter premieres at (and sadly did not go inside in deference to the lack of vaccine and mask mandates here), and found a side street that consisted entirely of Italian restaurants. And now I'm finally in my room, and it is darling. Cool view over the rooftops of London, a robe and slippers, and a big squashy armchair. 

Not entirely sure what the next day or two shakes out like. If the ice or whatever it is clears overnight, then I'm going to continue on as planned and take my train up to Windermere and enjoy a week of hiking around in the Lake District. If trains are cancelled tomorrow as well, I think I'll just heed the Very Loud message from the universe and move up my flight home. Off to research Covid testing centers in case I need to do that! 

Heading Back

Officially on my way back to Paris! I was extremely nervous about driving to Houston for my flight, and actually practiced getting onto the proper freeway twice in advance. And then this morning, I was totally stressed out, as usual. I'm at the airport now, awaiting my flight to Atlanta, which will then take me to Paris. Alternating being stressed out and excited.

I think the thing I am most dreading is the long flight, actually. I'm not positive of the exact definition of a red-eye, but I think this qualifies: it leaves at the perfectly reasonable time of 6pm, but arrives at 8am. Which will be 1 or 2 in the morning for me, with an entire day ahead of me. And I got up at 4:30 this morning (my alarm was for 5, but I kept waking up from nerves and the fear that I had overslept). And I generally don't sleep on planes. I've brought sleeping pills and an eye mask with me,  so hopefully that might work some magic. I have a window seat all the way there and all the way back. That will help- flights always seem longer when I don't have a window seat.

I think I land in Paris in a little over 12 hours. First stop: bread. Well, actually, first stop is probably getting to Laura's place and dropping off my stuff, but then: bread. And cheese.

And the Eiffel Tower tomorrow night.

Au Revoir a Paris

Though I've been back for a month, I still actually have several remaining updates for you. Tonight, I'm feeling strong enough to tackle my last days in Paris. They were significantly harder that I was expecting. Not in terms of getting packed up and to the airport- that actually went swimmingly (for the first time ever!). But actually mentally coming to terms with leaving. I didn't realize until it was winding down how much Paris had come to mean to me. I grew up a lot there. And it's just so darn gorgeous, with so much history and magic.

The second to last night, I was exceptionally melancholy. I went down to the Seine that evening, after cleaning my room and packing all day. I started at Notre Dame, and spent the rest of the night walking over to the Eiffel Tower on the Right Bank. Melancholy really is the best word to use, and it didn't help that it was one of the most ridiculously photogenic nights ever created.

Take a look. None of these have had their coloring altered in any way, btw.

*whimper*

Things perked up significantly on my last full day, however. Because of all the time spent packing and cleaning on Thursday, I was able to spend my last Friday in Paris enjoying Paris. I could have gone on a mad sprint around to all of my favorite haunts on last time, but I opted for the slow and localized. I could only have one destination: le tour Eiffel.

I went to my boulangerie (the best bread in Paris), and picked up une tradition (better than a standard baguette), then to my local supermarche for the best goat cheese and an icy Limonata (my drink indulgence of choice. For normal people, insert your favorite wine when you imagine this scenario). Yes, there are supermarches and boulangeries near the Eiffel Tower, and they have very good products. But I needed my baguette for my last day. And I had me a picnic lunch under the Eiffel Tower.

Lunch with a view!

Then, I did something that I never planned on doing. I blame my father- he talked me into it.

I climbed the Eiffel Tower. 

And, incredibly foolishly, I actually did the first leg of it via the stairs.

Now, for many, this would not be a foolish move. In fact, the line is significantly shorter, and the fare cheaper. These are what got me to forget my Blinding Fear of Heights, which is always further exacerbated by Scary- Usually Open- Stairs, up until I was handing my ticket to the guys. The bright side of being so utterly terrified on the way up was that my adrenaline kept me from realizing exactly how fast I had powered up exactly how many stairs, so I didn't realize how hard my heart was pounding until I had been on the first level for several minutes.

I wised up and paid to upgrade to an elevator pass for the ride to the second level, and just plain ruled out the ride to the third level. Ain't never gonna happen.

My first view upon creeping to the edge of the first level

My general thoughts on being that high up

Trocadero from high up!

Contrary to popular conception, the Eiffel Tower is not, in fact, grey.

Trocadero from even higher up!! I get dizzy just looking at this picture...

I live roughly a smidgen to the left of the ginormous black thing

That evening, I went to Trocadero. I stayed for the first sparkling of the evening, at 10pm. At that point, I turned to leave. I got about 10 feet, then turned around to look. Looked for 5-10 minutes. Okay, now it's really time to go. Got maybe 25 feet, dodging a pushy vendor. Turned to look and get another picture. 15 minutes later, still standing there, I gave in and called my mom. 

[Not-So-Quick phone explanation: Upon arriving in Paris, we were all required to buy French cell phones. And, obviously, minutes for said phones. We were fed horror story upon horror story of how ridiculously expensive minutes are in France, how you should only ever text so you don't run out of minutes within the first week, etc. etc. So I bought the 50-euro plan. This got me 50 euro worth of minutes, plus an extra 15 minutes! 50 is the first level at which you get the bonus minutes. So I go about my semester, texting away. I even did some out-of-country texting when I was in Scotland and Greece. The last week, I finally figure out how to check on my balance. Turns out I have 5 days to use up, wait for it: 51.45 euros worth of minutes. I think they may have overstated how much coverage costs in Paris. So, I got to call home a couple of times! Terribly exciting =D]

She made the very obvious and clever point that I didn't have to leave. I could stay for as many hours as I deemed necessary! I could sleep on the plane the next day. So I hung around at Trocadero for over two hours. There was even some sort of figure roller skating world championship going on at the base, which made for some good between-sparklings entertainment. Thanks, Mommy!

Amazingly, none of these pictures come anywhere near to capturing the extreme dark grey-blue of the clouds, and the incredible contrast it made with the Eiffel Tower

For whatever reason, I really love the image of traffic roaring past the Eiffel Tower. I got a dozen versions of this picture each time I went at night. 

10pm sparkling

11pm sparkling

My final morning went very smoothly. I was able to pack up and leave without any difficulty. I was at the airport nice and early (aided by my wonderful friend and foyer-mate Vanessa, who helped my wheel my two gigantic suitcases to the RER station). And though it didn't thrill me to leave, I was able to instead look forward to Iceland and being home, rather than mope (too much). 

There was a nice symmetry to my arrival in Paris and my departure that helped me see how far I came in just four and a half months. It was rainy, I came in on the RER and I made sure to leave via RER. I wore my leopard print trench coat. But this time, I could speak to people. I knew which stops to get on and off at. I knew how to deal with the weirdos in the stations. 

I am so incredibly grateful for my time in Paris. I learned so much about the world and myself. I do find myself missing it frequently, even as I immerse myself in all of the things I missed about home and the USA. I'll be back with a few final updates (I still haven't shown you all of the gorgeous gardens at Giverny!), and of course, check back anytime you hear that I am jet-setting again!

Mother's Day

Well, it's Mother's Day over in the US (Mothers' Day? No apostrophe?), and I'm still here. Here's a look at my wonderful mother and myself on a few of our own travels...

Guadeloupe (French West Indies), 2008

Spring Training in Peoria, AZ, 2010

Grand Canyon, 2010

Spring Training in Peoria, 2010

Oceanside, 2010

Washington DC, 2010

Washington DC, 2010

I love you, Mom! I'll be seeing you soon =)

As Long as the Train Itself...

…this post is. As long as the train itself, this post is. Very Yoda. Or perhaps Shakespeare on a particularly saucy day. Well, here it is:

Writing to you from the train! Well, sort of. I’m writing this on the train, I will post it once I am safely ensconced in the hostel I am staying in tonight, before I transfer to the hotel with Katie and Clarissa tomorrow night. I was so incredibly nervous last night and this morning, even though I knew I had taken care of all I could take care of. The snags, I guess, were as follows:

a)    I am so used to printing my own tickets that I automatically clicked the option to print my Eurostar tickets at home, forgetting that I have no printer. I need to learn the cyber-cafes around here. Now, most US travel places have no problem with letting you click this then actually print at the station, but this time it was a bit of an issue. I don’t know if it is a French thing, a European thing, or just a Eurostar thing, but if once I clicked that fateful little box, if I couldn’t print it on my own, I had to get to the station early and have an actual person print it for me, for a small fee. So I did that, but it was still a huge cause of anxiety.

b)   No printer also means I couldn’t print itineraries and confirmations and the like, but I countered this by copying everything, including directions to my hostel from my Underground stop, into a notebook.

c)    I don’t know how to call my bank and tell them that I am going to be in the UK for a few days, so I’m just going to withdraw a chunk of change as soon as I get there, and sort out unblocking my card, if indeed they do block it, when I get back to France and can have my program director help me. I had hoped to withdraw the money in Euros while in Paris and then exchange it at the train station in London, but the lady who printed my tickets apparently had to go through quite a process, because it took her ages, and then security was slow, so I had to tear down the platform to get to my train.

d)   And of course, I cleverly booked a train that left at 6:43 am. On the other side of Paris from me. Caught what I believe was the first Metro of the morning, at 5:37am. Now, I’ve been getting up earlier these days, but the bump I made to 6:50am earlier this week was still feeling a bit too early. But then I ended up waking up 30 minutes before my alarm anyway.

e)    And finally, I always go into panic mode when I do international travel (puh, always- this is only my second time flying internationally without my mom right there, helping me get everything together). Domestic travel is significantly less, unless I am moving. Then it is terror like none other.

Everything is going pretty swimmingly so far. I’m hoping to find a UK adaptor and a padlock somewhere near the train station in London, as I can’t locate my UK adaptor (leaving me to suspect it actually resides in the greater Seattle area), and my hostel highly recommends (in bold, capital letters) to bring my own padlock. I looked in three likely stores yesterday, no padlocks to be found in Paris. But I can actually comfortably ask about things like this once I get to London, because they speak English!!! So excited. Also planning on hitting up a drugstore to see if they stock Nyquil. Just in case another cold hits me in Paris. Granted the drugs the pharmacist gave me worked pretty well, but sometimes a girl just wants to knock herself out with Nyquil and go to sleep.

Still quite dark outside, so my window seat is not doing much for me- OOO! Windmill!! I could see the outline of a windmill. That was cool. A modern, pointy one, but still. I can also faintly see some buildings, and of course I can see the lights of the French strip malls, which really kind of amuses me.

….

I think dawn is approaching. Just in time for us to shoot under a tunnel and do really painful things to my ears! Yowch. Well, we’re back up, which is good. I didn’t think we’d been in here long enough to already be in the Chunnel… I can now see outlines of trees a little ways off. Not the cool uber-French cypress trees, for the most part, but I’ll see those in a few weeks when my program takes us to Marseilles. Which, I found out yesterday in my history class, is in the South of France! Yay geography. I was just stressing over needing to get into the South of France (probably doesn’t need to be capitalized, but there you go), and for whatever reason I though Marseilles was sort of… middle to upper eastern area. Not so, as it turns out. It’s the oldest city in France, settled by the Greeks as a point of commerce pre-Roman invasion.

Hahaha, I can see semi-trucks on the highway next to us. It never ceases to amuse me when I see things that seem so very big and American over here. Like the truck commercial I saw the other day. Did you know that Volkswagen makes trucks? It was like one of those Chevy commercials, with dirt and Real Men. And of course, they have dirt here, and I’m sure they have Real Men who do Real Manly Jobs, but it totally doesn’t jive with the image of the cute provincial French worker, or the assumed disdain for American machismo.

Oooo, string of cypress trees in the distance. It’s that weird dusty blue light on everything now, so I can see detailed silhouettes of things a ways away now, but not much color. Yaaaay countryside! I’m glad I have a view of some before the inevitable descent into darkness. Sort of the point in taking the train! I can only assume that the train that left 30 minutes later was much more expensive… what else would I have been thinking??

When I flew to Dublin a few years ago (close to two years- just a few weeks from now, I think), I went by way of France. What I’m seeing now connects up very nicely with what I saw on the plane- which is to say, very little. Outside of the big cities, France is pretty open. Lots of wide plains and farmland and the like, dotted with adorable little cities, all with their adorable little church. Of course, I’m also seeing a more industrialized area, as train tracks tend to run through such warehouse and train yard type areas.

Farmland is so cute. Aha! Successfully avoided ear pain at another small tunnel- I was yawning as we entered. Note to self. (In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t so much a structured blog post as it is a stream-of-conscious as the train rolls down the track.)

Hmmm. That may be it for scenery for a while- nope, I lied. Back up top.

I’m a happy girl now. Plenty of light, and lots of little farmhouses right off the tracks. A tad foggy, but still an excellent view. My only issue right now is food. I actually packed food- part of the baguette I picked up last night, spread with peanut butter and Nutella. But a) I have no water, so it’s pretty sticky and dry to eat, and b) I’ve reached that point of hunger when I’m actually almost nauseas and unable to eat. Which just seems plain silly, from an evolutionary standpoint. But it usually subsides in a bit, and I’ll go for it then, water or no water.

Little teeny windmill! Spinning away madly. Looks like it just powers the little teeny town it ws in the middle of.

It’s very peaceful out here. I’m pretty much a city gal, or at least a moderately-sized town on the proximity of a city gal, but out here I can really see the appeal of moving out into the country, getting a cute little house with a little vegetable garden. And a few geese, I feel like there are geese involved. Daily walks or bike rides (faire une promeade ou faire une promenade a velo) to the little patisserie/boulangerie (need to find out what, if any, difference there is between those two) in town.

Hmm. We are slowing down some, but I know we aren’t making any stops. I wonder if this means we are approaching the chunnel. The fog has gotten heavier, so is seems reasonable to assume that we are near the water now.

Passing through a train station (but not stopping), and I can see some soldiers. This is something interesting I have noticed in France- there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to where they show up, but every couple of days I spot a group of three soldiers. They are in army combat gear, and they carry machine guns. Like, big, epic, war movie machine guns. While wearing berets, and strolling the streets of Paris or hopping on the Metro. It’s interesting. The seem to take the place of a standard police presence. Though I did see a little squadron of riot police a few weeks back, though I couldn’t for the life of me find the riot. (Alright, I didn’t go searching for it, but there was no noticeable disturbance that I could see, and I did look around.)

This might finally be The Chunnel. Which means I can finally turn to my West Wing DVD and not feel guilty! View or West Wing- it’s a win-win.

…

And we’re up! This must mean I’m in England!! Where it is veeeery foggy.  Back to The West Wing. You know, I remember the Chunnel part of the train ride taking a lot longer when we traveled from London to Paris in 2005.

And as it turns out, the train ride from the Chunnel into London is also short, so I must dash! When this posts, I should be safely ensconced in my hostel.