Ti-juan-a

We were up and out way before the sun came up today. We have a train to catch at 9:20, from a train station on the other side of Paris. I think Maridee is in “airport mode” and wants to get there one-and-a-half or two hours before we depart. When we have our suitcases, we like to take the bus instead of the Metro—there are no stairs! So we don’t know how crowded the bus will be and we don’t know how long it will take to get there because of rush hour traffic. So we leave extra early at 7am!

Oooops, I forgot…I don’t think the French go to work until 10am! We get right on the bus, it’s practically empty, and there isn’t hardly any traffic. We get there in half an hour and so we sit down. We already explained how the train station works. Apparently they have no idea which track an incoming train will arrive on. This train station probably has a total of 30 or 40 different tracks and loading platforms. So everyone sits or stands and watches the big board with the departure schedule. Some time, from five to twenty minutes before the departure, they will add the track number and everybody goes running for that track to get their seat.

So anyway, there we are, two hours early, sitting, watching our train move up the big board as earlier departures leave. Watching the pigeons, watching people lose their money in vending machines, betting on whether the coffee vending machine positions the cup correctly before the coffee starts pouring out, lots to do, lots to do! There are security guards walking the halls kicking out the vagrants who are occupying seats that travelers could use to sit in. There are armed French military walking the halls in pairs of three, kind of in search mode like a platoon walking through the tall grass in Vietnam! Every once in awhile they capture a loose suitcase and interrogate the bystanders for admission of ownership!

Finally! Up pops a track number on our train on the big board. Track 22—where is that? Right in front of us are tracks A, B, C, D, E, F, G, and H—where’s Track 22? So a whole herd of people are heading out through the archway to the left and “yes”, there is a sign that says Tracks 19 to 29, with an arrow. So this train station is kind of like three train stations in one. We walk out and around and down a long hallway and there are a whole other set of tracks. OK, we found the track, and our train is sitting there. Next we have to find our car. Each car is marked with a one or a two—first class or second class. Then each car is also numbered. We are in first class, car number 2. Once you find your car, you maneuver your suitcases on board. Sometimes you have to lift them up three or four feet to get them on the train, but this time, it is simply roll them right onboard! Find a place to stash them and the hunt begins for your seat.

After all of that, the ride is amazingly fast, quiet, and smooth. I couldn’t see a speedometer but I would guess we were going 100 to 150 miles per hour! We were in a constant process of changing speeds, but when they really opened it up, we were going really, really fast—and yet very smooth. Our coach was very quiet—with only an occasional cell phone or a baby whimpering.

The scenery was all typical French countryside—farms, forests, and white cows lying in fields. We got to Montpelier very quick—two and a half hours with only one stop. We had a three hour layover there, enough time to leave the station and get something to eat for lunch. Then it’s back to the station and wait for the big board to put up our track number!

It is at this station, in Montpellier, where you change from a French train, to a Spanish train, for those people going to Barcelona. The whole Spanish railway is on a different system than the French. The distance between the rails is different. So I don’t know whether there is a Spanish rail laid all the way to Montpellier or whether there is a special train that can accommodate the different rail setups. This is also the major train hub for the south of France which means thousands and thousands of people are moving in and out of this station. People were sitting on the floors everywhere. Why?  Because there are only 36 seats in the station!!!Yes, Maridee counted them. A whole 36 seats for people waiting for their train to post on the board.

Remember our last European trip when we took the train from Paris to Naples, Italy? It’s like déjà vu all over again! Maridee nearly cried when we had to get off our first class French train and get on to a first class Italian train. It was the same with the Spanish train! This was a dirty, old, rickety train that looked like it was built in 1959! We found our “first class” car, which meant that our car was the first one, right behind the engine! I heard someone behind me saying, “The difference between first class and second class is that we got toilet seats!” Well, we rambled our way towards the Mediterranean, very bumpy and jerky and through tunnels. We were stopped two or three times for the police to come through the car and ask for everyone’s passport. This car was full of Americans and British, (and even someone from Gilbert!) all going to Barcelona.

The Spanish landscape looks a lot like Arizona’s landscape— very dry and similar plants, like agaves. Even the houses look similar—kind of boxy and made with stucco. Our stop was at a town called Figures, about 50 miles north of Barcelona. As soon as we stepped off the train, I thought, Tijuana, Mexico! Same language, same crowds, same atmosphere! We hopped in a cab and took a 10 mile trip to our hotel—Prestige Hotel Victoria, right on the sands of the Mediterranean! Whew, we made it! Print this post