Unlucky Travelling

On Friday Dale and I finished painting the bedroom, or at least got as far as we could before running out of paint, then turned to the trim and hallway to keep ourselves busy. When we finished the second coat on Monday it looked fresh and bright downstairs, which concluded our short and pleasant working life in France.

Saturday was Adrien’s eighth birthday. We woke to about ten kids running around the house and enjoying a Star Wars themed party. That night Alexis and Ami had invited their English neighbours, who had just arrived, to an aperitif. Aperitif is essentially appetisers and a catch-up. The older couple was fun to chat to, and wished us luck on our next adventures.

Hiking to the chapel

On Sunday it was France’s mother’s day, so Alexis got us all out of the house to finally hike up to the chapel and let Amy have a break. The day was half grey and half sunny as we hiked the proper route through the woods, followed by the yellow fields and the footpath to the cathedral on the hill. Dale ran on ahead, leaving Adrien and I to race after him, trying to stay hidden. Alièna picked a wide variety of colourful wild flowers for her maman. At the old chapel we paused for a snack, then the kids livened up and suggested a game of tag, the church’s door representing safety. They called the person who was “it” the “loup,” or the wolf. Afterwards we walked to a tiny old village that looked stuck in the 1800s, where baby ducks, chicks, and dogs, all wandered the roads together. Alièna had been hoping to see her friend’s horse, but we patted a different stocky black horse instead. Apparently that type of horse is typical to the region.

The old village

On Monday Amy offered to call the hostel we stayed in in France on our behalf because we had been charged twice for our stay. We even contacted our bank, who told us there was a charge on the chip reader, then a manual charge hours after we had left the hostel. In the end Amy decided Alexis should do the talking in case they were trying to pull one over on us and a true French accent would scare them. To our relief, the tactic worked. Our other issue was with the Eurolines website. We thought we had to book our first bus ticket before upgrading to the bus pass, but in the end we only booked a bus ticket and had to do the rest in person. Amy convinced the office over the phone to give us half of our money back, which was better than losing a full 60 euros. That night as I was showering the kitchen started leaking everywhere. It turned out the plumbers had not originally glued the pipes together well and they had come undone under the floor. Our luck wasn’t doing us any favours. Nevertheless, got to enjoy a dinner of savoury crepes, called galettes, followed by dessert crepe filled with sugar and lemon or nutella. The kids gave us big hugs to say goodbye as we washed the dishes one last time.

On Tuesday we said goodbye to the parents who had been our wonderful hosts. Alexis said, “Maybe see you in California!” where they are from, and Amy drove us to Toulouse, where we made it just in time to book our tickets before the two hour lunchbreak. We promised her a good review—a great one she will get!—and said goodbye. We bussed all day with baguettes from home. We arrived in Barcelona late to find that 360 Hostel was booked for the wrong dates. Thankfully they called around on our behalf and sent us to a hostel near Sagrada Familia. The bad new is they only said it was around there. Two hours and a breakdown later, in which I seriously considering sleeping outside, we finally found it. St. Jordi was a nice but noisy place, though we both crashed. Surprisingly, our late returning roommates were incredibly considerate and quiet.

Sagrada Familia at night

The next day we took our backpacks and walked all the way to the bus again to book our train tickets to Marseilles for that same day, eating nectarines along the way. Luckily there was room on the bus late that night, so we went to the market, getting lost along the way and more and more sore and exhausted. However, the market was worthwhile. We spent under 20 euros, our daily food goal, at the same market we went to with Danielle and Tank. We got dry and cold meat pockets and delicious strawberry coconut smoothies. For lunch we bought meat and cheese in a cone, a baguette that we ripped apart with our hands to eat chunks off, as well as a huge water bottle, two large cones of sweet fruit, and a box of chocolate chip cookies. We walked down La Ramblas to the beach, where we were kicked off the beach chairs because they cost 6 euros per person. We found a spot on the sand for our one towel, and stayed there reading and eating until the sky darkened ominously and even the vendors started to disappear. By the time we reached Barcelona’s Arc de Triomph we were met with a tropical rainstorm. Thanks to Ireland, I was equipped with an umbrella in my purse. Desperate for a toilet and some internet to book our Rome hostel, we ended up settling in the bus station, where we immediately booked the wrong dates for the hostel again. Dale couldn’t believe his idiocy. We were both exasperated, but there wasn’t much we could do about it since we had no where to charge the laptop, camera, or phones.

Before the weather turned

When the bus arrived that night we were ready for a nap, our shoulders aching from lugging our bags so far all day. But it didn’t look like luck was on our side once again. We were stuck at the back of the bus between a guy who reeked of smoke, and a bountiful lady who didn’t want to move her feet off of the third seat so Dale would have someplace to sit. We had bought ourselves neck pillows (and candy) just before departing, which was the only pitiful comfort we had for the trip. I managed to sleep, waking up at least once an hour, but Dale did not. The bus was constantly stopping to let people off and pass through toll booths. Dale had to keep pushing the big lady’s feet away from himself. Then, when we arrived in Marseilles, customs officers came on board with a dog and since Dale and I were stuck with the smeller the whole ride, we were pulled aside for questioning. Luckily the lady we spoke to could communicate in English, searched our bags, asked just a few questions, then let us go.

We stopped at the MacDonald’s in the station for some food, but were unable to find an outlet for the laptop. When we went to the Eurolines booth, the lady told us we needed to go to the actual office, which was closed. It looked like everything was closed for some kind of holiday, which meant that not only was our hostel booking in Rome wrong, there was no way for us to get there until Saturday anyways. I paid 50 cents to throw on the dress I wore yesterday and brush my teeth in the washroom, then we stepped outside. The sky was a nice blue, and I was wowed by the view of the cathedral on the mountain. With no camera, I was sad that we couldn’t capture it. With a little confused wandering, we finally set off in search of a tourism office, which was also closed, then found the ocean port. It was a long rectangle of clear blue water with hundreds of sailboats docked along the sides and a market with a mirrored covering in full tilt on our left. We sat for a while and just watched, remembering just how long Marseilles has been a port city. When we were ready, we tried another MacDonald’s, then found a Starbucks with internet and outlets. Needless to say, our food budget is already broken today. On the plus side, we managed to call our hostel in Rome and rearrange the dates. Now we have to find a hostel in Marseille for a few days so we don’t have to consider sleeping outside again, as well as keep our fingers crossed that there will actually be seats on the bus to Rome on Saturday. As soon as we can dump our belongings at a hostel I think we will be hitting the beach for some glorious nap time.