Language Barriers
10:17 PM, 9-5-06
We finished the battle tour and Ashley and I returned to the bed and breakfast in Bayeux. We decided to go out to a nice restaurant for a genuine French dinner. We browsed around, checking virtually every menu in town until settling on a restaurant that was both classy and affordable. She had the ham baked in a sauce made of apple cider. (They were really into apples here, selling all kinds of cider, brandy, and apertif, which is a combination of the two). I had the chicken sautéed in some kind of sauce with “Normandy” in the title of it. As an appetizer, I had prawns and shrimp. I must say, as much as my tastes have expanded since I was young, I still found eating these prawns a bit disconcerting—mostly because they were served cold with the heads still attached. We finished and had dessert—a couple scoops of what may have been the best ice cream I’ve ever had.
Ashley wanted to walk around the main street and check out the store windows so I headed back to the B&B. I took some pictures of the Notredame-like cathedral at night, when it was all alight. Soon Ashley returned and we shared a bottle of wine before settling in for the night. We looked over some pictures and talked, but we’d each had a long day and were bound to have an even longer day to come. She was planning to head back to Paris to see all the things she’d not yet seen, while I was going to head west and north toward a monastery called Mont Saint Michel (or something to that effect).
Ashley woke early and caught the train to Paris. I slept in to an amazing 8:00! The extra sleep was much-needed, though. I packed up and headed for the train station (getting somewhat lost in the process) only to discover that the train I wanted would not be departing for another couple hours. This meant that in all likelihood I would get marooned in the little village next to the monastery. Instead, I did something spontaneous.
One thing that’s nice about traveling on one’s own is that plans can be changed in an instant. So that’s what I did. I reverted to one of my many original plans, which included touring the Loire Valley, which hosted a large number of vineyards and chateaus. Only, I needed to figure out the best way to get there. At first I thought this would be a simple case of catching the right train to the right city. WRONG. If indeed I wanted to wait three or four hours, I could have caught a train down to the area of the Loire Valley. But no. I was going to be clever (and by that I mean stupid.) I thought it would be quick instead to head for Paris and catch a train to my intended city, Tours.
Good in theory, bad in practice. Why? Because I assumed a train leaving for Tours would depart from the train station in Paris that I arrived in. Another big WRONG. Instead, I had to do what I had been avoid like the plague. I had to do the thing that had driven me to walk across most of Paris with my fifty pound backpack. I had to navigate the metro.
I had managed to learn the system in London with ease, but in Paris, it may as well have been in—well—French. Or Chinese. Or Martian for all I cared. It was like trying to decipher a puzzle without clues and with your eyes shut. The metro system map was this elaborate array of colored lines criss-crossing throughout the city. It didn’t help that I wasn’t even sure what train station I was in. I don’t know how long I spent staring at the various maps, but I’m sure it was the better part of half an hour. And it’s not like I could really ask for help. I tried, but it usually only confused me more. A person would say I needed to go to such-and-such place, but since French words don’t sound at all like they’re spelled, this posed a very real problem for trying to locate this place that I was supposed to be.
Then eventually, as I stared almost vacantly at the metro maps, I was hit by a flash of insight. Have you seen the movie Phenomenon—it was kind of like that, except instead of gaining supernatural powers like telekinesis, I instead gained the much more amazing ability to navigate the Paris metro. Everything became illuminated. Suddenly I was Master of the Mtro. I knew where I needed to go and without a second thought, found myself navigating the underground as if I actually spoke French.
I arrived at the appropriate train station eventually, though only to wait another hour. This passed quickly and I was finally on my way to Tours. Thus hours after I left Bayeux, I ended up departing Paris for Tours at roughly the same time the train from Bayeux to Tours would have departed. However, with my new found metro-brilliance, at least I’ll have no difficulty navigating the metro when I return to Paris in a few weeks.
Tours is a relatively small town, consisting of what I guess would be twenty or thirty thousand people. The buildings are much more modern than those of Paris, but there’s still a quaint, “old” feel to the city. It also has several beautiful cathedrals and state buildings that rise over the rest of the houses. Upon leaving the train, I was immediately confronted by a man from the information booth who (thankfully) spoke English well. He was trying to sell me on doing a tour around the Loire Valley, and I wasn’t a very difficult subject, seeing as I wanted to do that anyway. He helped me arrange a hostel in Tour (the only hostel in the city) and explained to me the options for tours in the Loire Valley. I opted for the all-day tour that would take me to four different chateaus throughout the area. I then walked (getting somewhat lost…again) until reaching the hostel. With how much I get lost, you may be wondering how I even survive in these situations, and I honestly don’t have an answer. It’s a wonder I haven’t had to sleep on a street corner yet.
The youth hostel was quite nice, though a bit on the expensive side. Then again, everything in France is on the expensive side. The only thing that isn’t is bagettes, which I’ve been capitalizing on for at least one meal a day. It’s fortunate I like French Bread. So despite the hostel’s expense, it turned out to be well worth it didn’t have any dorms. Instead, all the rooms have two beds. The result is that I had an entire room to myself. Between this and the B&B, I think I’m getting to be a bit spoiled. Once in Barcelona, though, I’ll be back in 20 bed dorms—oh what fun. After a long day of traveling, I was really ready to relax. I explored the town a bit, looking for somewhere affordable to eat. I found a place that sold kebabs, and seeing as I’d never actually had a kebab before, I figure it was as good a time as any to start. I returned and settled in to my room, doing a bit of writing and relaxing. After a long day of traveling, one needs that. It’s amazing how much traveling takes out of you, considering it’s mostly sitting.
I explored the hostel a bit, looking for anyone that spoke a smidgeon of English. It’s strange going through an entire day barely speaking at all. When I found out the guy at the information desk spoke fairly fluent English, I think I may have gone a bit crazy with the talking. I’m a fairly loquacious person, so when I go too long without talking, it seems to build up like some kind of reservoir. At least in Spain I’ll know a few basic phrases; here in France I can hardly pronounce the words, though everyone gives me genial (albeit amused) smiles when I try. People warned me that the French were rude and not to expect much of them, but so far, I’ve found them as polite as any, except perhaps the Scottish and Welsh.
Tags: Europe, France, Hostels, language, Loire Valley, Tours, Travel
gregbilsland
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