I Am Not Jean Rochefort

…I just don’t understand French train signs, is all.

I was sitting in a seat marked ‘Bordeaux St. Jean Rochefort’ on the train from Agen to Bordeaux. When we stopped at Marmande, a bunch of people got on. Because I and the lady I was sitting next to were sitting in reserved seats, we immediately checked to see if anyone was headed for our spots. I was convinced that I should watch out for someone name Jean Rochefort, but she never came. It was only after I arrived in Bordeaux that I realized the seat I had been in was reserved for someone (name unknown) from the St. Jean station in Bordeaux up to the station in Rochefort.

Durr.

Anyway.

Blogging here from the Bordeaux train station. The Wifi here costs twelve (Canadian) dollars an hour, so I’ll put this up somewhere else, I think. I’ll be in Paris by this afternoon, so hopefully they’ll have some form of cheap internet that I may inform you of my train travels.

   I’m on my way to Portsmouth, England. Unfortunately I had to cut my time short in Agen due to train strikes scheduled to start tomorrow. Sure, it would have been possible to get into Paris, but there would be one train for every three. Meaning three times as many people on the train. I don’t think it’s fair of me to carry a backpack like mine on a train like that. Also, the Paris Metro is going to be screwed up totally, so the more I get done today (Monday) the better.

   So, we’ll see.

   And here we are ON the train. My goodness. Surrounded by Russians on all sides, tearing apart a whole chicken and making sandwiches. Well, sure. Why not. My neighbours on all sides have sort of closed their windows, so there’s not much to see. Thank goodness I brought forty pounds of crap to keep me occupied. I was getting lost in thought. Like, really, lost. I was starting to stare into the abyss, or it was staring at me, or something like that. It was trippy. So I started to blog.

   Anyway, I met a nice girl at the train station; she said she lives in Sweden, and when she found out I was headed that way she gave me her address. Perhaps there will be a meeting? Who knows.

   And, here we are in Caen. Sorry this post is so broken up, I’ve been writing at different times each day to see what happens. So far…disjointedness. But I think I will finish here, at a hotel in Caen, after a very nice train ride from Paris. I talked with a French guy on the train for literally an hour straight (in pathetic French with desperation English thrown in) but, overall, an enriching experience. I now have two strangers’ addresses in one day; a new record for me!

   I’m going to go enjoy a scalding shower before I keel over from exhaustion. Until the next hotspot, my friends.