TRAINS, planes and automobiles....

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”
Confucious

When you’re dragging two ridiculous suitcases and a beackbreakingly heavy rucksack down the steps of the Gare de l’est in Paris you realise that living abroad is not quite the easy ride you thought it would be. Two months ago, I recall the hideous experience of travelling across Paris cumbersome with the luggage from hell. Not only did I think seriously about throwing the lot of it into the Seine, or even selling it for a bit of extra cash (times were hard)…but as I looked down at my red, sore and blistered hands, I realised that the reality of travel is painful! I also wondered why the ‘clever’ architects who design train and metro stations never thought of us poor travellers and our luggage! Why must we travel down one flight of steps just so we can walk several metres before climbing yet another dreaded staircase? In my recent experience of this process, I find that the latter is most difficult…the dragging of a suitcase up each step with all one’s might. Of course, when travelling without luggage one forgets just how hideous the entire experience is. I vowed never to repeat that ordeal again.
Yet, somehow precisely one month later, I found myself subjecting myself to the same torture. In fact, this time may have been worse. I had spent a week at our house in the Limousin with my parents, and was en route back to Verdun, Lorraine. I’d caught the train early in the morning from La Souterraine to Paris Austerlitz. However, my TGV (the fastest train in the world I think?) wasn’t until the evening. In short, I had a day to kill in Paris. Perfect! Well, so I thought until I decided to explore the innerworkings of Paris’ metro system. Don’t ask me why! In hindsight I should have just got a taxi. But, I felt a tremendous sense of achievement once I reached my destination, after eight staircases and much sqeezing through crowds. The moral of this story is…always travel light – your body will thank you for it.

French public transport seems to be extremely efficient. Too efficient. In fact it is a little out of place amongst the chaotic disorganisation that is France. That fateful first train journey through France demonstrates the pedantry of the public transport system here (or perhaps my terrible eyesight). Each SNCF train ticket explicitly states ‘Billet à composter avant l’accès au train’. This means that it is imperative that one stamps their ticket before embarking the train. How I neglected to do this, I do not know. But, as the ticketmaster approached, a wave of panic came over me. I prayed he wouldn’t notice. But, he looked up, confused, and said that my ticket was invalid. I feigned ignorance, with a little distress thrown in for good measure, oh and a token ‘je suis anglaise’, which usually does the trick. Thankfully, I just got a stern warning not a fine! And since then, I’ve always ensured that each ticket is ‘composté’.