Saturday, October 14, 2006

July Trip
19/7 - In Transit (Italy-France)


[Ed: With this post, I've 11 days of travelogue left!]

After Italy, France was a refreshing change. Instead of people chattering to me in Italian, which I didn't understand, I had people chattering to me in French, which I didn't understand.

The pen cap of one of the French girls was chewed. Eugh. I thought only boys did that, and only in Primary school. One was reading 'Code de Route' or something, and inside were road signs.

I was warned by my French ex-housemate that Marseille could be dangerous, especially outside of the more trafficked areas. He also recommended Lyon since the people there are very friendly. Maybe another time.

I was thinking whether I should've stayed at Arles for one night, but Nimes had an amphitheatre as well (though maybe it was a bit smaller).

At Nimes, I asked on a lark and found out that there were vacancies on the night train from Avignon to Reims. Either the French don't like the Italians or Italian English is really CMI. Interestingly there were couchettes in 1st Class. Wth.

While buying train tickets I was offered the French <25 discount card which cost €49 and would give me a substantially greater discount (at 50%) than just being under 25 (between 25 and 33%, IIRC). In the end I got it, since the night train already cost €70 and I was getting a headache trying to optimise my utility function. Too bad I hadn't been told about it in Marseille. It required a photo, but luckily I had one with me.

"Reims" was a French word I found particularly difficult to pronounce. The way the woman at the ticket counter and someone pronounced it can best be described as someone sneezing. The woman at the counter eventually kindly humoured me by pronouncing it as 'rhymes'.

It's good to be young in France. You automatically get discounts on domestic train travel and a youth discount card for further discounts on them. Unless you're French, of course, since you'll be unemployed. Maybe the concessions are meant to appease the army of unemployed youth.

There was an "Avenue Franklin Roosevelt" in Nimes. I didn't see Fuck Street beside it.

Outside Paris people are more polite. They bonjour you when you enter their establishment and au revoir you when you leave.

Getting off at the HI bus stop, I bought a can of boisson ('Jemsa! Jus d'orange') at a gas station to fortify myself for the climb uphill. It was the worst vile juice I'd ever had. I should've plumped for Minute Maid. So much for supporting local brands - there's a good reason why they stay local.

A 500+m climb awaited me to get to the HI hostel from the bus stop, but someone driving by in a car gave me a lift. Heh.

The HI hostel at Nimes was modern and big by HI standards - not only was the reception open 24 hours, it used magnetic cards to gain access to the rooms. It was supposed to have internet access too, but the computer was broken. It even had a minibus leaving at 9am which brought guests to the train station. Wah.

The staff were quite friendly - the main ones were a British punk (who asked about my Lewis Chessmen shirt) and a middle-aged French man who kept talking to be in French (so it was hard to communicate).

Consulting with the staff at the hostel, I realised I couldn't do Arles, Nimes and the Pont du Gard in one day ("Do you have a car?"). Such a pity. I decided to drop Arles, since apparently the arena there could fit in the Nimes arena, and this was better preserved as well. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to visit the amphitheatre in Nimes because there was a rock concert held there. Damn July!

Since I was already at the hostel, and it would be too much trouble to venture out down the 500+m slope, into town , eat and then come back up 500+m, I decided to eat there. With my pork chop I got 'Pueros' brand 'Poivre du Mekong'.

The temperature was supposedly 33 degrees, but it was noticeably cooler than Italy's 33 degrees. Maybe it was psychological. Then again, Cinque Terra's 33 was cooler than the rest of Italy's 33 too.

I was in the shower when a grasshopper jumped onto the floor (disadvantages of being on top of a hill and close to nature). I whacked it with one sandal but it wouldn't die, so I had to whack it again.

someone: Do you miss us?
Me: Do you want to pay my phone bill?
someone: *I can't believe he said that sound*
Me: Then stop asking stupid questions like that on my [handphone] time!

At the hostel there was a wall where people posted photos of themselves on the countries they came from. Europe, North America, Australia and New Zealand were shown, as was Korea and Japan but the rest of Asia wasn't there. There was also a wall of [currency] bills, on top of which people had written things. There was an old Singapore $5 note with the PSA container terminal on it, on top of which was written: "I don't come from this godforsaken country, but I thought I'd demonstrate my wide travels - Matt Hortin (Australia)". At least Singapore has a law against defacing currency (and so cursing the country). We should arrest him if he returns to Singapore!

During the night I was woken up many times by mosquito bites, which had been itching since the night before. Gah.


It'd been a while since I'd read a book, but you know the thing about urgent/important, urgent/not important, non-urgent/important and non-urgent/not important tasks. I would place reading in the non-urgent/not-so-important sphere and so it's usually shunted (I have philosophical disagreements with some people over this). Andrew had brought some book about South African boxing and exchanged it for Neil Gaiman's Everywhere Neverwhere, which I took possession of when we parted.

I'd always shyed away from him because I found his work disturbing; the Sandman pictures alternately scare and repulse me, the story about eating babies is disgusting [Babycakes] and I'm quite sure the story about the boy sitting at the bottom of the swimming pool over the water intake sluice and wanking because the suction stimulated him, until one day his guts got sucked out and he had to leave his intestines behind or drown was by him too.[Addendum: Apparently it's not. Guts was by Chuck Palahniuk, but anyhow it's as disturbing as Babycakes]

Everywhere Neverwhere was alright but probably that's because it was an early work (1996).

I exchanged Everywhere Neverwhere for "A short history of tractors in Ukrainian" which, if nothing else, had the imprimatur of my favourite periodical.


Travel tips:

- If you can travel with a friend, you can watch each others' backs, talk on long journeys and if you want comfort, a double is less than twice the price of a single. Though of course the downside is less flexibility, but in cities you can split up.
- Get 1 Visa and 1 Mastercard, in case the establishment doesn't accept 1 (these places do exist, but I haven't seen a place that accepts neither but does others), and/or one fouls up.
- Don't take Eurolines. Let's Go said Eurolines is the best way to visit one of the countries listed early in the book (they were listed in alphabetical order); I'm not going there until there's a better way!
- Bring photos with you for various silly things. If you're cheapskate you can be like the cock and scan one in and printing multiple copies.
- Bring a lock for lockers, if you have anything you want to keep safe
- Use a packing list
- Be shameless. Crash everywhere with people you (hardly) know
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