Monday, November 22, 2010

11:34 PM
Rome, Italy
2 Ducks Hostel Kitchen

I’d like to bitch and reflect, but I feel that I need to catch up on the story thus far before I can really do that. I won’t write much now because I must get some sleep, but I’ll at least try to get us out of France.
Anyway, so I went to my room, settled in and went out for some food. I never did eat, tired as I was, and I soon found myself back in bed. Only to be awoke about an hour later by the guy running the hostel at that time. He had come in and was questioning one of the other guys in the room and I only really woke up when I realized he was staring at me. “Yes,” I said. The man proceeded to grill me, asking me if I had paid for my night. I said of course I had, and then he asked me for my name. I gave it to him and he said I didn’t pay. Well, now I was pissed off. I grabbed my receipt and thrust it at him. He looked at it and sheepishly said, “Fine.” I crawled back into bed and went to sleep.
I woke up late, having done that wonderful trick I do where I shut my alarm off in my sleep. I bolted for the train and made it with only about two minutes to spare. The train was from Paris to Irun where I’d transfer to a train going the rest of the way to Madrid. Well, my train never made it to Irun. With absolutely no translation of French (on a train presumably filled with Spanish speakers), we were apparently told to get off a full stop before Irun. I had no idea until a kindly drunkard informed my in slurred and severely broken English to get off and go to my left. At least I figured out he had said left later, after I had gone to an information desk to find out just what the f happened. It turns out there were transferring us to the metro system to go the rest of the way. Of course, they never told me which stop to get off once I got on the metro. So I ended up all the way in San Sebastian, lucky enough to find some Kiwis just as confused as I, but who had realized that San Sebastian was the stop after Irun and that we could get on there.
I explored this unexpected city for a bit, enjoying the warm air and waves crashing violently from the Atlantic against the shore. I finally got on the train and, if memory serves, slept most of the way to Madrid. Once at my true destination I had no trouble finding the hostel and was extraordinarily pleased to find it welcoming, warm, and friendly. A far cry from the Parisian nightmare I had so recently come through. All the same, the next day I headed to Barcelona since Madrid didn’t look very exciting.
Barcelona was nice. I enjoyed a comfortable room, dinner, and the next day wandered around the city, taking in the vibe and experiencing all the Gaudi architecture, including the unfinished cathedral (quite a sight!). But, Barcelona just wasn’t doing it for me and if I headed back to Paris I’d be just in time to spend a full day at the Louvre and attend a writer’s circle at the Shakespeare and Company bookshop. So that’s what I did.
I hoped a train to Cerbere where I had an hour wait for the night rail to Paris. I explored the very tiny Mediterranean town of Cerbere. There wasn’t much to see, but it was very quaint. I skipped rocks on the water.
In Paris, again, I went to a writer’s circle, wrote some stuff that is going to make for an awesome story, and hung out at an American bar with some awesome American writers. The next day I finally went to the Louvre. The Louvre is indeed huge, but after spending a lot of time at the Met I felt I could handle it, though I can understand how some inexperienced museum-goers could be overwhelmed. I already know what sort of art I like and I’m able to brush by what I’m not a fan of. I saw the great works. The Mona Lisa, as stunningly a letdown as I have been led to believe. It was wonderful in how anticlimactic it was. A tiny painting on a wall separated from the viewers by about eight to ten feet by a barrier, with two guards at either side. The sculptures were the true winners at the Louvre, especially the “Winged Victory of Samothrace” and at least two of the pieces depicting the love of Cupid and Psyche (so glad I read Metamorphoses before I left).
I also took another visit to the Sacre Couer as I have been wanting to, and finally saw the Moulin Rouge. The next day I jumped on the first random train and went a few stops until I was in the country. I walked around Creil, where I landed, got on another train, and kept going. I landed in a town I can’t remember the name of at the moment, and explored for about three hours. Really, incredibly quaint. Like, dirt roads, old walls and buildings, curing around and up over tiny hills, nestled against a small mountain. One bakery, one restaurant, one school. I hiked up a trail and found a mansion at the end. It was a really magical sort of place in that it was the place I’ve seen a million times in movies.
After Paris it was time to head for CERN.