I wrote this on the day it occured. I am thankful for God's protection and helping me get home safely.
Another night in Paris...
I (no exaggeration) just had one of THE most stressful days of my 23 years on this planet.
I woke up this morning with an email from Christine telling me that the train station is having a strike today, and that my train was cancelled. I was to go to the train station, try to get my ticket switched to tomorrow. She gave me the address of her friends who live in Paris, but since they work during the day she could not get a hold of them until nighttime, and the plan was for me to stay with them overnight.
Wow. Mom, take a DEEP breath as you are reading this.
My friends that I was touring Paris with were so nice, they took me to the train station and helped calm me down. I tried to be positive and think to myself, "Hey, I get another night in Paris, this is great..." But the power of positive thinking can only go so far! I did not start to worry REALLY until we got to the train station to try to switch my ticket to the next day. Because of the strike, half of the information desks were closed, there were long lines, everywhere, ect. In the US, "information desk people" are overly kind and helpful. I remember complaining about this before, how I wish people would just be genuine and not overly fake and nice. I think I have changed my mind on this.
I could not find anyone who spoke good English, but everyone was just telling me, "Oh it is okay, just come back tomorrow and get on the same train." They basically were saying I did not have to officially switch my ticket. That just really did not make sense to me. I have an assigned seat number, ect. What if someone bought a ticket for FRIDAY in the first place.....I could not just take their seat with the wrong date on my ticket. I waited in THREE different lines to talk to different people and everyone kept telling me the same thing. "Oh it is fine just come tomorrow..."
Christine had told me I needed to talk to information and get my ticket switched. Therefore I knew this didn't line up..
MEANWHILE It was everyone else's last day in Paris as well, and they had already spent the morning trying to help me. There was nothing else I could do at this point. We decided to go eat, and then they were going to help me find the address of the people I would be staying with at night. (I really appreciated their helpfulness!) I figured the French family I was staying with could maybe help me figure out the train for the next day, or if worse comes to worse have my daddy-to-the-rescue and buy me a plane ticket to Nice, France the next day.
*** My 3G was not working at all in Paris, so I had NO way to contact Christine or Christophe this day. Unless I got wifi. Pretty much after I left the hotel and wifi it was "good luck to me." Once we sat down for lunch, I decided to run to starbucks to replace my official "Paris" starbucks mug that happened to break and grab some coffee. While at starbucks, I thought it would be wise to check my email from Christine to see if there were any updates. I GOT AN EMAIL FROM HER SAYING THAT IT WAS ONLY THE MORNING TRAINS THAT WERE CANCELLED AND MINE WAS STILL ON! Whew. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. However, my train left at 2 :50 and it was currently 1:40--and we had just ordered lunch at a restaurant. In the US, you can be (if you really try hard) in and out of a nice restaurant in 30-40 minutes. In France, going out to eat is at least and hour and a half ordeal. Long story short, we all made it back to my train station with 20 minutes to spare before my train left. Whew!
I basically sprinted to find my train!
Didn't. See. It. Anywhere.
The train staff informed me that my train REALLY WAS cancelled.
Oh.
Luckily Christine and Christophe informed me that there was another train to a near by city from Valbonne. It was one that was departing a couple hours later after my original one---I needed only to get my ticket changed. As you have already read getting your ticket changed is not that simple. My friends were so kind to stay with me up until this point. They train staff told me (again) that I did not have to get my ticket changed, I could just jump on the train I needed. So far I have experienced in France is that different people will tell you all different things. I was not sure if this was correct or not. Maybe these people did not really want to "deal with me" and they just told me the easier answer. I really did not know what to believe. All I knew was, is that there was a train headed towards where I needed leaving in 3 hours, and I was going to do whatever it took to get on it.
In fact, Christophe warned me if people were telling me not to get on that train, I needed to just "play dumb." So, that was my game plan. My friends were still with me at this point, and they told me they were going to stay with me until I got on my train. There was no way I was going to let them spend their last afternoon in Paris waiting with me at the station. I was fine and there was nothing else they could really do to help. We said our goodbyes, and they were off.
And there I was. In the world's biggest train station, not having a clue if I could even get on the train I needed, thinking I might be finding my way around the subway system during rush hour to find these people's house I was to stay with if I did not get on the train, without cell service, in Paris. Not to mention it had been pouring down rain all day, and the train station is partially uncovered.
Apparently, at this train station, you do not know the "gate" number of your train until right before the train leaves the station. There are many trains, all with numbers, but no one knows which train goes where until it flashes on the giant blue screen that all the people are staring at. Once a number was flashed, all the people would literally start RUNNING to their gate. It was a mad house today. I do not know if it was because of the strike or if this is just how their system is set up.
So there I stood. Cramped between all these people. I could not sit down and try to relax because I did not know if the people running were to the trains because they were trying to make sure they got on because of the strike. I knew if I did not get on my train it would be TERRIBLE. I just stood there for 2 hours watching that little blue screen, waiting for the location of the train to Cannes to flash on the screen.
Just to be safe, I ended up asking about a million different workers, if the current ticket I had for the train that was cancelled earlier today, would still be good for another train to another city later in the day. None of them understood what I was asking....I even had to use the french phrase,
"Est-ce bon pour Cannes?"
Everyone answered me, "Oui, Oui."
19.
It finally flashed. The train headed to Cannes was leaving at station 19. The people started running. I felt like I was a small critter in the midst of a stampede. As I was running towards my train, a French business man who was also running asked me (in FRENCH) "Excuse me, is this train headed to Cannes ?" I just looked at him, dumbfounded, and murmured a quiet, "Oui."
Even HE didn't know! Finally I am on the train, but before I could breath a big sigh of relief, I had to make sure I was in the "right" seat. I did not want a repeat of my last train ride. Of course I was in the way wrong spot, and I sprinted alllll the way to the other end of the train, got back on, and hoped I was in the right seat this time.
As I was sitting, there were many people coming onto the train, telling others they were in the wrong spot. It was like a twisted French version of musical chairs right in front of my eyes. No one seemed to be in the right spot. It may sound terrible, but I must confess...If someone came up to me tell me I was in the wrong seat, I (for a split second) considered to pretend I was a deaf person and just start using sign language. I even hid my headphones.
But really, I was scared if I moved seats, somehow, I may end up off the train again, and that is the last thing I wanted to happen. Literally every single person around me had someone else make them get out of their seat. This was not my original train. Of course I was probably in someone's seat.
Nope. No one approached me. I am currently sitting in seat 107, room 15. This train is PACKED. Every seat is full, people are squeezed and sitting on the stairs, on the floor, in the walkway, ect. I am very thankful I have a seat, and I am on the train, and I am headed HOME.
Home. My second home. I miss Marie and my little French family a lot! I really do feel like I am headed home. Which is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
Another night in Paris?
Maybe in a few years.
click the link!
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