As promised, I’m slowly tickering away at the computer; attempting put together a smattering of stories from this past week, and I’m finding it difficult to choose... So much has happened that feels newsworthy! Okay, okay... where to start... Right! The train ride: that was an adventure (you can read some mild sarcasm into that if you would like).
Okay. Confession: I bought a Eurrail Pass (it’s essentially a company that sells days of train travel, instead of individual tickets, to American tourists. The idea is that you can pre-purchase your means of transportation in advance, all in the same place, and save a little money while you’re at it) and as it’s a ticket sold for European trains by an American company to Americans... no one here knew what it was. Naturally. So, after consulting a variety of people at the University and church, and turning up zero information (not much is available on the internet, as well... FYI) I headed down to the train station to try to figure out how to use the dang thing. Well, that and I needed to find out when trains left from the station, and to make a reservation... and to clear up the rumors I had heard, reguarding station closures, that had been circulating the University (França was very much open! Well.. media distancia was having some work done. But, the international lines were not affected... whatever). Point being: I had to take care of some business at the station, and looking things up online was just not cutting it. So, I played hookie on one of my classes (unintentionally... it took way longer than I expected) and chatted with a woman from RENFE at Estación de França (lisp at will... go ahead! try it. It’s fun). I had done enough research with the timetables and at the national french railway website that I wasn’t entering the ring a total moron, but I still knew zip about trains and even less about my pass. So, when I told the woman behind the window that I wanted to go to Avignon Centre, and she said “you can’t”... I was a wee bit surprised. “What?!... look... it says here (flipping wildly through internet print outs and timetables) that I can go from Barcelona to Montpellier to Avignon Centre... I want that train.”
Ignoring my somewhat extensive research and well-founded thesis on the timetables of April 4th, she replied: “Our train only goes to Narbonne. You’ll have to take a bus from there. Sorry.”
*exasperated sigh* (Ironically, “tranquila” was scrolling on one of those digital light up boards above my head. RENFE must be accustomed to this sort of conversation.)
“Can I use my pass on the bus?” *pushing Eurrail pass towards her*
“I don’t know” (of course not!) “You’ll probably have to buy a separate ticket.”
*meeeh!*
“Okay, don’t worry about it. Just give me a reservation for the last stop and I’ll figure it out from there”
“The last stop is in Montpellier. You can’t catch a train from Montpellier to Avignon.” *pushes her own print out towards me*
“What?!” *looking dumbfoundedly at my timetables and maps* “Well, in any case... I’d like the reservation for the train until it reaches Montpellier.”
“I think it would be wiser if you reserved until Narbonne” (this is where a mixture of translation from Spanish to English and from spoken language to type takes something away from just how richly exasperating this whole business was turning into. Just imagine me when I’m on lack-of-sleep mode and stressed out about trying to figure out an unfamiliar process through trial and error... and ACTION!)
“Okay... fine... Narbonne it is then... And, can I have a return trip, please?”
“From where?”
“Montpellier”
“You mean, Narbonne?”
“...Sure”
*flurry of ticket stamping, collecting money, etc.*
Man! This was turning into a nightmare! I looked at my map (provided by the rail company) and began to stress. Montpellier is only one hour away from Avignon, according to Eurrail, but Narbonne is a good three... maybe more. And it’s smaller. *sigh* this was going to be an interesting experience, at the very least.
That night, I went home and consulted the online timetables again. Surely I could get from Montpellier to Avignon! They have daily trains running... and it’s current!
I decided that it wasn’t worth worrying about. If I had to spend the night in Montpellier... well... I would just bring some cash along for a hostel... and then I would walk to Avignon if I had to! But I was going to get there somehow!
A few weeks passed, and then it was time to head off to the train station (França) to visit my friend. I was so excited the night before that I literally could not sleep. Having worried that I wouldn’t wake up to my alarm clock, the other extreme occurred: I didn’t sleep... at all... and ended up looking at my clock when it finally sounded like, “6 A.M. ... What else is new?!” (apparently I’m a mildly cranky person when I haven’t slept well).
I gathered my things (yay for light packing!), showered (...wait... did I? hmm...) and then headed out the door. As the sun rose about the miles (kilometers) of apartments, I found myself walking the streets of Barcelona alone. The normally bustling avenues and plazas were suddenly deserted and peaceful. Whoa! too much of that and I was going to fall asleep before I got to the station... Luckily, I made it without a problem. As I approached the station, I noticed a huge line snaking its way out the door. Dang it! The station WAS closed and this was the riot in response... Actually, no... it simply hadn’t opened yet, and people were waiting to board the train. That didn’t stop the negativity from running through my mind. haha!
I had been informed by my booklet that I needed to validate my pass: which basically means I had to get it stamped with the first date of travel so the rail lines would know when my last date of travel was up. Kinda sets limits in case there are cheaters. So, while I was standing in the line, some Americans began chatting in front of me. They were about my age and carrying (of all things) Eurrail passes. I asked them if they knew anything about the passes, and listed off a few questions that had still been unanswered. A little late, seeing as I was set to travel within the half hour, but I wanted the information anyways. They had as much info at I did, so we began to chat about other things. Finally, our passes were stamped (by the same woman who sold me the reservation), our things were passed through the metal detectors, and we entered the main garage. Wow! França is a huge station. I looked at the screen and walked over to the TALGO train *insert reference to Harry Potter here*
I found my assigned seat (window, holla!) but it was already occupied by the man who had a reservation for the aisle seat (boo...). Soon after I sat down, the train began to roll. I kept looking wistfully at the window seat, and eventually caught the attention of the man. I addressed him in Spanish, asking him if I could have the window as this was my first train adventure to France, and he graciously and happily agreed. He actually wound up being very friendly. He was a teacher from Andalucia who had come to Catalonia, met a nice girl, fallen in love, and stayed. He mentioned that he was also studying English but had few chances to practice. So, from that point on we spoke an interesting dialect of Spanglish. OH! and in reference to a former post. I showed him the gift that I was bring to my friends, and he totally approved. He actually knew the owners of my favorite cafe, and drank Anna de Cordanue with regularity after Sunday fútbol games. Oh! how some things never change across cultures.
Sensing that he traveled with some regularity, I asked him for some advise about which station I should get off at. He was getting off at Narbonne and had never seen a train to Avignon on the boards before. He had, however, traveled once to Montpellier and had noticed that it acted much like a major hub for the south of France. Okay. I was convinced. I wasn’t going to get off of the train until Montpellier, even though I only had a reservation until Narbonne. Heck. I bought the pass. I figured it would cover that. So. Stay is what I did. The further the train got from Barcelona, the fewer people lingered in the car, and when we finally crossed the boarder into France and the Catalan-Spanish-French announcements switched to French-Spanish announcements, I knew I was finally close to my upcoming adventures and getting to see my friend. Excitement filled me! ...so much for sleeping on the train.
The end of the line came all too quickly and I exited the train into the station. When the announcements had switched to French first, I had found it to be novel (as I could simply wait for the Spanish in order to understand) but this... was... different. I was suddenly thrown into a language that I did not understand... at all. Now... granted I had taken about two years of French in school and knew enough Spanish to read written French, but people tend to no speak in sentences like “avez-vous un crayon?” and “ou est le bain” (useful BTW... one of those phrases I’m rally glad stuck... and, for you french speakers... I’m sorry if it’s spelled incorrectly. “A” for effort?).
After disembarking from the train, the wild-eyed look that can only be described as a mixture of bewilderment, confusion and “totally lost” etched itself onto my face. I began to circulate the crowd of fellow travelers hoping someone would take pity on me... or at least be nice. I had heard many scary stories about the French from other students at UB, and was a bit frightened at the prospect of disturbing one long enough to find my may. Much to my surprise, everyone I encountered was extremely nice... I mean REALLY REALLY nice. The first family I stopped not only pointed me in the direction of the information center in the train station, but actually found an employee to accompany me. Once within the center, several workers approached me and rapidly began asking me questions in French. After a meek response of *blank stare* “umm... parlez-vous anglais?”, unexpected pity swept across their faces and they began to chat amongst themselves. Finally, a few associates gathered around me and began giving me advise in English and handing me several papers. We mutually decided that the next train to Avignon Centre would depart in roughly three hours. They gave me more schedules, the number of the train, information on where to find what platform it was departing from, invitations to return should I get lost and wishes for luck on my journey. I thanked them heartily and then stepped out into the main lobby for the station.
Well... I was in France in a city I had ever seen before, and with three hours to kill. Exploration sounded like fun. After locating a public telephone and purchasing a card (yet another adventure involving a very nice Frenchman and a line of patient people who looked like they felt sorry for me), I called up my friends to confirm when I would be arriving in Avignon. After that, I cinched up my suitcase, balanced my bag on the other shoulder and headed off to the old part of town to snap a few photos. Holy cow! It’s SO beautiful there. Time flew by, and before I knew it, I was running in the general direction of the station (thanks to a very expressive Frenchman’s response to “Ou est le gare?”) to catch my train. The train was stuffed to the rafters with people, but after a few stops, a seat opened up for me to sit down. I knew that Avignon Centre was roughly one hour away from Montpellier via train, but fifteen minutes into the ride I began to worry about which station to get off at. I looked anxiously around the train. Everyone was speaking French. It was the first time that I have felt totally immersed into a culture and language I did not know. Now, when I arrived in Spain, granted I went through culture shock, but it was nothing like this moment. I could understand Spanish when I arrived and had the ability to communicate with people around me... but I couldn’t even eavesdrop here!
I finally mustered up some courage and turned to the woman seated next to me. “Avignon?” I asked in a high-pitched squeaky voice. She must have read the large neon sign blinking wildly about my head screaming “foreigner”, as she smiled and replied “non”... nothing else. *phew!*
Another half an hour passed by and I received a tap on the shoulder. I turned to the woman seated next to me and she slowly said “Avignon Centre” and pointed up to the intercom system that was crackling a mixture of static and French. We both stood up and I croaked out something resembling: “Merci.” At that moment, a very short elderly lady stood on her tip-toes and reached into the rafters to retrieve her bags. They looked quite heavy and I became suddenly worried that she would hurt herself in a luggage avalanche. I threw my hangs into the air to catch the bags and said (more loudly than I intended to, and in English) “Here! Let me help you with that!”. You would think I had sent a shock-wave through the train, as suddenly everything went silent and all the eyes in the car were suddenly on me. The elderly lady smiled and said something to me in French. *Blank stare* *eyes shift from left to right* ... “umm... Parlez-vous anglais?”. The people formerly occupied with their palm-pilots and phones began to laugh... at me. The woman shook her head no, still smiling, and giggled a little.
The train stopped, and I waited to get off. Someone who had been watching me struggle, stopped in the aisle and motioned for me to pass in front of them. I thanked them and then stepped off of the train. I barely had a second to look at my surroundings when my eyes locked on my friend. He was standing there looking exactly the same and smiling. Any regards I had for the sanctity of the French language environment evaporated, and I ran over screaming “Oh my gosh! I haven’t seen you in FOREVER!”
We exchanged an American greeting (awkward hug) and a more European greeting (awkward kiss on both cheeks) and then headed towards where his family was waiting.
So there you have it. I had survived a trip solo, and was now with good friends (who spoke the language of the area). Though it had been somewhat of a challenge from the get go, people were incredibly helpful and kind. I sensed that it was going to be an excellent week.
