“The time has come,” the walrus said, “to talk of other things. Of shoes, of ships, of ceiling wax, of cabbages. And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings. Calloo callay! No work today! We’re cabbages and kings.” And then the walrus said it was time for me to FINALLY tell you about my Christmas break extravaganza. Also known as my Christmas break shitshow. Pardon my French (that word is not French. And I actually don’t understand that saying.), but after you’ve read this post, you will well understand why it’s called a “shitshow.”
After my classes ended on Thursday, December 16, I hurried to my room to finish packing for the upcoming 2 weeks in which I would be going to Barcelona for 4 days, Strasbourg for 2 nights, Brussels for 2 nights, Strasbourg for 6 nights, and Paris for 2 nights before heading back to Belley and back to the daily grind. Having heard time and time again from Jennifer how glorious Barcelona is and had also read a post by one of my friends that mentioned how superior the city is. So I was pretty excited to be getting out of dodge.
I was also particularly happy to be leaving on Thursday as a massive snowstorm was expected to begin on Friday. I was nearly patting myself on the back for scheduling a flight that would leave early enough for me to miss the snow. Too soon. So, anyway, I got on the bus and train no problem. It was crazy crowded on the train, though. Considering it was about 2pm on a Thursday. But anyway, at Bellegarde (where the train breaks into Évian-les-Bains, Genève, and one other place), it emptied out, and I got a seat to myself. I also kind of passed out because Jennifer had called me at 6am to ask me if I could please check in for her online since she missed her tram, which would mean that she’d miss her train to the airport, which would mean she might end up missing the check-in window. Because I’m so giving, I obliged. Sadly, though, since I had class at 8am, I couldn’t fall back asleep. Anyway, I got off the train and wandered around the supermarket in the Geneva airport for a bit before finding a snack (wasabi peanuts) to keep me occupied for the 2 hours before my flight’s check in would open. Because, of course, the timing of every form of transport in my life is such that nothing is convenient.
So I read some Frankenstein (stolen from the English cupboard at the lycée) and ate my peanuts until it was 5:00 and time for me to check in. I was the eighth person to check in for my flight. I went straight to the waiting area and started doing what the area is for. My flight was meant to take off at 7-ish. They didn’t make any announcements. Around 7:30, they updated the screen to say that more information would be available at 8:15. Great. So I got a sandwich for dinner. It was a poor substitute for real paella, but whatevs.
At 8:30, they put up a departure gate so everyone started lining up before there were even employees there. Again, too soon. About 20 minutes later, they announced that the flight had been cancelled. Spectacular. I joined in the exodus and got on my phone to Flo (well, first to Antoine to whom I explained the situation and then he said, “Uh. Here’s my mom.”) and told her what the dealio was and she said that of course I could stay chez eux (at their house). Because, obvio, I couldn’t get back to Belley. (Did you know that the last bus to Belley leaves at 6:30 from the train station? On weekends, the last bus back is at 1:30.) So I was waiting and emailing my dear mom all the while and she asked me about refunds. In my state, I had kind of decided to side-step the issue and file a claim later. She told me I better get my toosh in that line. So I did. As I walked up, the clerks were explaining that all EasyJet flights to Barcelona were full for both Friday and Saturday but that Sunday was still an option. That seemed like a waste to me since I would be leaving Barcelona on Monday. In the end, I just went (cut! Quite Frenchly.) to the front of the line and asked for the piece of paper that I had missed receiving. They gave me the wrong one so I asked some guy if I could peep his and I made a mental note of where to go online and then went in search of Flo. We quickly found each other and went back to the auberge.
Flo’s sister, Marionne, was there as she had decided to not go home due what with the snow having already arrived. (Note that when EasyJet cancelled the flight, no one actually gave a reason. When I went outside, I was actually surprised to see that it was snowing.) Anywho, Flo and I looked online for alternatives for me to get to Barcelona. We found a sleeper train that would leave around midnight the following night (Friday) that would get me into Barcelona at 10am on Saturday. It would be long, but fun to be asleep on a train. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the price online, so we decided I’d call the next day while Flo was at work. If it wasn’t too much money, I’d just get a ticket for that. Otherwise, I’d just stay with the Martins until Monday when I’d get on a train to meet up with Jen in Basel before we’d go to Strasbourg ensemble (together).
The next day, everyone headed off to school and work while I stayed in bed reading Frank for a bit. (That book is racist, but that’s neither here nor there. It also was, frankly, not very well written. I have a lot to say about this. Want to start a book club where we bash celebrated works? We’ll start with Frank.) When I got up, I had some cereal. I decided to try and kick it child (aka Maryse and/or Camille) style and have some cereal clearly intended for children. That was a mistake. It was the chocolatiest cereal I’ve ever had. It was like cocoa puffs (a favorite that is a bonus cereal because it is also really good dry) but with chocolate bit inside. I was a bit overwhelmed. So I helped myself to some bread and Olivier’s jams. I’m getting old (and European?) in my old age.
I went upstairs and hemmed and hawed for a bit before making the call. She said it was 140€ and that seemed like a decent price for a last minute international train ticket with a reclining chair. So I gave her my name and had her put a ticket on hold for me. Then I called Flo and asked if she could please pick up the ticket for me. Pas de problème, she told me. So then I had the day to kill. It was snowing intermittently, so I was nervous about leaving the house and being trapped in a snowdrift because, as you can tell from reading this blog, that would actually be my luck. So I stayed in, watched some Gossip Girl (you know you love me), read, and enjoyed the company of Snoopy.
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| She was totally into our hanging out all day. |
Also, Olivier made me lunch! Fish and rice. Before you scoff, remember he won an award for his fish preparation! BaBOOM.
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| Please let me live over a restaurant forever. |
Eventually, Antoine and Greg came home from school. Much later, Antoine and I had some dinner (chicken and rice. Which reminds me of the rhyme my mom would always say, “Chicken and rice is very nice but when I want my favorite dish, I ask for fish. Foo yatchy catchy, want some seafood, mama.” The end.). We then watched this TV show that’s France’s version of Come Dine with Me, Un diner presque parfait. As we watched, Antoine turned to me and said, “We still have some brown sugar and chocolate.” And I responded with a side-eyed okaaaaay. Then he told me it was time to make cookies. What could I do?
Flo came home to freshly baked cookies. We enjoyed some cookies and telly until about 10:45 when Flo said we should make moves to get to Coppet where I’d take a train to the main Geneva train station. After a bit of a Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride (it was icy! And Flo was distracted by talking to me!), we got out at Coppet and Flo waited with me while I bought my ticket. We waited outside at Platform 1 because that’s the side Flo told me from which the train usually departs. But then, all of the sudden, the displays said that the train was to leave from Platform 2. So we went over and had a chat with some other displaced travelers. But then as the train started to pull up to Platform 1 and as the display changed AGAIN, I lightly sprinted back to Platform 1 with Flo behind me telling me to “Hurry, girl!” And hurry I did. Got on the train and dozed until we arrived at Genève Cornavin. The train from Coppet had been a few minutes en retard (late), so I booked it to the Barcelona-bound train.
I asked the man where my seat was. Oh wait! Everything is in Spanish now. So I was helpless. Whatevs. I figured it out. So I went to the last train and was in the second to last recliner seat. (I recognized some people from my failed flight attempt on the train. Great minds, my friends.) Since the train hadn’t yet left, I decided I’d stay awake until the train departed so that I could sleep for as much of the 10 hours as possible. Well, then it was 12 (aka 17 minutes after the train was meant to be pulling out), one of the lady who was working the train (like a hooker works a corner?) came around and collected passports so that we wouldn’t have to be awakened when we reached the border. Someone asked when we’d be leaving and she said it’d be 15 more minutes. So I made it until 12:15 and then crashed.
I woke up around 1 or something and noticed there was light coming into the train from under the curtain. That’s weird, says me to myself, so I pulled back the curtain. It wasn’t so weird when I saw that we were still at the Geneva train station. Merr. So I went back to sleep. I woke up maybe 2-3 more times and each time saw the light creeping through the curtains. I was scared each time as I pulled the cloth back for what would meet my eyes. Always the train station. Great. Around 4:50, the same woman came back and told us that we’d be switching to a bus and gave us all of our passports. Again, no actual reason we wouldn’t be taking the train. We’d be switching to buses in 15 minutes.
The best part of this was that when another passenger (British) asked about getting refunds or at least SOME of our money back (since obvio a bus≠train in terms of price. If we had wanted the “luxury” of a coach bus, that’s what we’d have bought a ticket for!), she said, “I don’t know. You have to ask.” Well, you tell me, lady running the train, who are we to ask? So that was great. About 30 minutes later, we were let off of the train and were put on the buses. I’d say we left the Geneva train station at 6:30. So that was great. Losing those 6 ½ hours of travel time. Do you think they tried to fix the train for 6 ½ hours? Or that they actually knew the train wouldn’t work but waited until a bus service was open to take us the 10 hour bus ride to Barcelona? (Debate in the comments section.)
Getting on the bus was a little out of control. And by “a little,” I mean “way too.” So I managed to get on after they let on loads of others and took a seat by the window. A larger man sat next to me, but as anyone who has ever traveled with me knows, it didn’t matter once I was in my seat. I just proceeded to go to sleep.
Who knows how many hours later we made our first rest stop. I followed half the group and went to the restroom. Mistake.
Then I went OUTSIDE to wash my hands in the cold stream of water. Did I mention it’s December? Chouettes! So I proceeded to go where the other half of the travelers had gone, which was a café/gift shop. What do you know? There were restrooms in there. I bet they even had real toilets. Oh well. So I got a muffin [in italics for French pronunciation: moof-eh (nasal eh or ah. Really no corollary in English)] and water. I was about to get back on the bus but then realized that I needed to get that toilet shot for you. So I did and then I got back on the bus.
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| Actual toilet. |
We stopped another time, the guy next to me ate a whole bag of chocolate chip muffins (and did not once offer to share), we had 2 crying babies, then we had a baby that would say the same sound for 10 minutes at a time and he was the darling of the bus trip, Jennifer called me a few times, mom called me, I listened to some NPR podcasts because reading in a moving car/bus makes me carsick, etc. etc. And then, around 5:30 on Saturday, I arrived in Barcelona.
Stay tuned for a gloriously mild climate, an Austinian, the most international family you’ll ever meet, the Belgian Titanic, snow, Paris at New Years, and OH! So much more!
Hoping you’ll come back,
Jessica
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