So the day in the dump of the hostel was okay as I shared a room with a layed back Australian guy and two guys from Singapore who were really nice. I talked with them for quite a long time before going to dinner myself, as they were interested in where I was from and where I had been. One of the guys was 27 and you never would have thought, except for if he told you his profession; he was a stockbroker who was working in Shanghai. Apart from that I would have thought they were teenagers, but in any case they were good company for the evening, especially after the KFC run as they had nothing better to eat.

I went out to search for a nice resteraunt to eat at myself, since I was in Nice for the night. I found this nice strip of resteraunts and an English-French cuisine resteraunt. They seated me on the patio right next to the cars that were racing down the street and they were pleased to have me. I never realised how difficult and awkward it is for someone to eat at a resteraunt alone. Everyone was staring at me and giving me weird looks but I just played with my bread to pass the time, and screw everyone else; if i need to eat them I’m going to eat where I want damnit! I was moved to another table halfway through dinner because this group of annoying Dutch women decided to take over the entire terrace; so I was moved to the other side with my grilled chicken platter. It was fenominal I must say and the service was really nice; so I was sure that I was going to leave a tip for the first time since September.

When I was going onto desert and about to pay, they brought me a shot of Cognac, which was a surprise and then the bill but there was a disturbance down the road and it turned out that some Arab guy was hit by a car and was laying unconscious as many people crowded around. He was unconscious and tons of ambulances and such came around to get him, and I left after paying my 26€ meal. It was damned good though, I must have to say so I was fine with paying that hugely large amount of money.

Back to the hostel and straight into bed since I was knackered and still recovering from my departure with Markus. I was rudely awoken in the morning, but pleasantly surprised when it was an SMS from Markus’ Skype wishing me well in my travels back and how much he enjoyed the time that we had in Italy. It made me smile and made the leaving Nice a little bit better.

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I left the hostel and went towards the bus station to sit around for a few hours, and the streets of Nice were chaos. The entire city is under construction and it’s aboslutely horrible as you can see in the photos. The park by the bus station was a nice place to sit and take a nap in the afternoon before going to the airport; so I sat there and people walked by mostly couples with their children but it was nice. Some Americans came to ask me for directions but I couldn’t help but; unfortunately.

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As I was leaving I caught my eye in a tree near a statue and it nearly made me cry. I saw the most amazing flower that I’d ever seen in my entire life and so I was determined to take it. I picked one and put it into a book for safe keeping, and I wore the other one in my ear as hommage ot my trip in Italy with Markus. It even survived the way back to Strasbourg which I was surprised about.

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I made it to the airport with all the Norwegian tourists, and got on my flight to Strasbourg and in no time flat I was back at my flat unpacking and at the same time packing for my trip the next day to Prague. It was all so rushed, not helped by the fact that I was delayed by the bus, but I eventually made it and went out for a few drinks and to say goodbye to some people before I embarked on my next adventure.

So after a week of being out of contact with the world I’m back and I did not in fact fall off the face of the world, but it felt pretty nice to be out of contact with everything for some while. So my adventure in Italy you ask? I will start right from the beguinning.

The night before I left was when I bought my train ticket to take a TGV train to Marseille and then transfer to Nice on the duplex trains (weird concept). So the night before was the last night that I would see some of my friends from the Erasmus group so I went and had some drinks outside of Paul Appel building, and then as the others were going to Misquito I went home to pack for my next day travel. I said that I would go back because the Columbians were there getting drunk on their last night, because they were leaving Europe forever and they all started to cry when they saw that I came just for them. It was very sad, but we will all keep in contact via Facebook and e-mails and such; so it’s okay!

I came home at about 02.00 and went straight to bed knowing that I had to be up at about 07.30 to get to the station on time. The train was coming from Paris via Strasbourg headed to Marseilles via Lyon Part-Dieu. That’s one crazy trip! Anyways, I got to the train station with my backpack and sleeping bag and got onto my train and found my horrible seat in one of the four-persons places. Obviously nobody sat in the right places because there were fights over the seats the entire time. There even was this girl that was trying to get to Besançon and didn’t have a ticket, the conductors just harrassed her and said that she was trying to use her huge tits to get out of a sticky situation. Too bad that the conductor was gay and didn’t fall for any of that trip. Also there was a girl that was heading to Marseille but she didn’t have enough money to get there so she had to get off the train in Venise near Avignon. I found the situation really funny, especially since I totally didn’t realise that I was on a special train anyways which was doubled for some reason.

In any case my seat was right acros from the bistro so I was disturbed quite a bit with people going to eat and drink; but noticed that it really was just the same people so I was a bit confused. There was this woman who got on the train at Besançon who looked a little weird. She was heading towards Marseille also but she had this odd look about her that made me think that she was homeless. She kept clutching to her bag like it was the only thing that she owned, so I took a bit of watching mode for the entire trip. It turns out that another woman had taken her seat and put up a fit when she went to reclaim it, so she was moving around seats for the whole eight hours, poor woman. She was sketchy looking though with skinny fingers that reminded me of an old witch.

On the way when we got to Avignon Markus sent me an SMS from his Skype profile which was a great surprise, since he had no other form of communication. He said that he would be there for when my train arrived in Nice. This made me excited and very nervous all at the same time. Anyways we arrived at Marseille St-Charles train station which was completely under constuction. It was so odd to see the entire place just wrapped up but it’s a huge station. All TGV trains everywhere, even duplex ones which are just double decker trains basically.

I had to wait only 20 minutes but as I was getting ready to get off the train I noticed the really overly-goodlooking person that was working in the Bistro as he sat ready to get off the train. As I was looking for the track that I was supposed to be on, I noticed that the worker met with a child and another overly-goodlooking man. This is where it clicked in my mind, they were a gay couple with a child; how amazing I thought especially for a backwards country like France. This theory was confirmed as the two men progressed to kiss passionately whilst hugging their child on the train platform, all I could do was smile when I walked by giggling to myself saying that “I knew it!”

I walked all the way down the platform to where my train was arriving with my seat and the opressive sun beated down on my head and made me sweat in moments. Since I had arrived in the south I could tell that humidity was huge, the sun was always seemingly at noon-position, and people seemed even more ethnically diverse. The train finally pulled in and the mass amount of people got off the train, and I finally managed to get in there. The car that was in, had a seat in the lower level at the end of the train and it looked like there was no space for luggage until I got passed this British group who were loud and obnoxious.

I managed to put my bag at the bottom where there wasn’t anything else and found my spot next to a tired woman who was with a newborn baby. I thought to myself “Wow, ideal spot to spend two hours of my life” but it really turned out well as the baby slept and played. The woman looked like that she was having a horrible time, but as we made some stops some seats opened up so she put the baby to lay down elsewhere. As it turns out the train was coming from Calais, and basically was a connection crossing the country from the EuroStar from London, hence the large amounts of British people around me. I pretended not to understand English so that I fit in better with the French population. By the time we got to Cannes, everyone had gotten off the train, so it was quite bare and there were these two woman who got on at Cannes and were heading for Nice.

They were cenile I reckon, speaking very loudly since we were the one ones in the compartement. They spoke very thick accented southern French with a lot of slang but slowly because they were older. They kept saying that I was looking at them and that I didn’t speak French, so they were saying rude things. I should have just piped up and given them a piece of my mind, but they were just having too much fun bitching about other stuff that was going on, like the closing of the Cannes Film Festival and such which is why I assume many people got off the train in that region.

Finally arriving in Nice just before it was about to rain, I headed to the main station which was a riot with people everywhere and Markus found me and we were off to the hostel that he had reserved a room with him. We got there and this really nice but ignorant Australian girl was in our room. Turns out she’s never been outside her town in Australia and didn’t know there were different accents of people, so she was quite a differnet breed of Aussies that I’ve met before. We were basically fasting so we went out to the local market to get something to eat. We decided on sandwhich meat, local cheese, and baguettes; all cheap and easy to make!

We went to the kitchen and began our binge, which turned out pretty well with additional lettuce that I got to be more healthy! We ate and then went back to our room to meet a Kiwi guy who was sleeping and two other Kiwi women who were quite a bit older than the rest of us. We were making our beds and the two women, who were sisters were just complaining about everything known to mankind. They hated the hotel (which was weird, but for the 20€ price exactly what you pay for plus AC!), and the people and the weather and everything. They were just miserable, but whatever, we humoured them. They are, like most of the people in Nice on this programme called BusAbout which apparently allows you to get on a bus at 7am and go to various cities that are on a circuit. So everyone was headed to Barcelona the next day, with no accomodation plans at all, so I just couldn’t help but laugh.

We went to sleep and then woke up a little later than we had hoped, but it was okay because we went down to the kitchen for breakfast and met these three Americans that Markus had previously made aquaintences with. They were really nice and not ignorant like most of the other Americans that we had met along the way. We talked for awhile and it turned out that the entire Côte d’Azur region had train str
ikes so there was no service except to Paris. This was no good since we wanted to get to the border of Italy by noon. So what we did was went to the train station and I went in an asked some questions, and we found the bus station. The lineup was absolutely massive, for a bus that goes through Monaco to Menton which we thought was a border town.

Somehow we sqeezed our way to the front of the bus, and after seeing the two Americans we had met at the stop, we managed to get in, him and I being the last two allowed on the bus. We were like sardeens on the bus which was completley unsafe, but was funny because we were the last to arrive and there was at least 200 other people still in line! I feel bad, but not that bad! On the way to Menton we took an aditional 1.5 hours to get there since the traffic was so bad (due to the train strike). Once we got past Monaco the bus was less unbearable and since I was segregated from the others, Markus came back to sit with me which was really nice of him. We talked and laughed about the fat French man that I had spoken to earlier after he was commenting on the disgusting accent of English, and the unsafeness of the bus (which was completely true).

We got to the terminus of Menton and had no idea where to go, so we went to the signs for Tourist Information but being a Sunday everything was closed naturally. Next stop was the train station to see if there were any trains going into Italy, they told us that there was nothing and that there was no bus connection. No bus connection, so how are we supposed to get to Ventimiglia, the border town? Well I thanked the woman politely and went outside, we walked down the strip of the town and I asked some locals how far it was and if it was walkable. They all told me very short distance and that it’s doable. The Americans had these huge backpacks, and Markus and I had significantly smaller ones, so I looked for other options. I talked to the man at the Casino and he told me that it’s 15km to the border of Italy and that walking would be long and difficult so it would be better to get a taxi. I called the taxi company and one showed up to the train station, where there was a group of Italians who were waiting for some reason. It turns out that he came because of my call but the Italians were trying to con the cab out of us.

We decided that the it was cheaper and easier to take a taxi across the border, since it was only 5€ each, so we did that after I got into the cab before the angry Italians. It was better becasue I spoke French and the taxi driver only spoke broken Italian. We got to the border and the train station, and since we were going to Cinque Terre, along the coast we had to get our trains, and the others were going to Milan, which meant that they had to go Genova first. We got our tickets and we were all on the same train so we stuck together before getting a few photos of course!

Funny thing about this trip was that the moment I arrived Markus dragged me to the market and he baught this huge bottle of Polish Vodka for some reason, so we had been holding it the whole time and baught some fruit juice to mix with it. So we downed a bit of it on the train before the conductress bitched at us for not having the right seats, so we moved about 10 times before arriving in Genova to change trains. We had a few hours later we had to split up after meeting this Italian conductor who took our photo and pulled an “I love America, America I love you” in a thick Italian accent. He was funny and put a smile on our faces while we were saying goodbye.

We got to our train and waited…

So on the Wednesday night, whilst my mother was sleeping in my room I went around the corner to collect some kebabs for her and I, since it was the first time that she would have them. As I was coming inside from the rain in the dark foyer of the Gallia, I was unlocking the door to go up the stairs when I caught in my eye someone that looked familiar. I thought, wow that girl looks famliar, but it’s impossible that I know her since it’s France. So I decided to do a double take and look again, and it turned out to be Susan Ferrel, my music teaching assistant in first year. I screamed out her name and ran to give her a hug in such a confused moment; what’s up with that? She and I caught up really quickly and it turned out that she had been in France for awhile and was just making a stop-over in Strasbourg for the night.

All of a sudden from the corner I heard someone on the phone, and to my utter surprise it wasn’t some dirty form of French that I’d never heard before, but English coming from a male voice. And before my eyes laid someone who I hadn’t seen in a long time, but was somehow made aquaintence with, Markus! We both sort of stood there looking at each other and smiling and then he said my name, and I said his and I asked what the heck he was doing. I had totally forgotten that he mentioned to me, that he had done a study in Frankfurt the summer before, and since he graduated this year he was going on a huge three month European adventure and decided to come to Strasbourg and be with Susan. I was shocked and appuled, and I begged them to come out to where we were going that night, so I gave them directions on how to get to The Living Room, our local classy establishment. It was perfect because Wednesday is Erasmus night and they’d forsure get in!

So I ran upstairs after catching up and whipped my stuff together to go out, and then headed over with the girls later in the evening to Mosquito. Guess who was at Mosquito, but Markus, Susan and their American friend Brian who dated a girl from Mt.A last year. What funny coincidences, so I finally met Brian and then we chatted for awhile. I was on my third or forth Sangria, post a bottle of wine, so things became a bit tipsy, but they agreeded to come to Living Room with us and we set off for there. The music at The Living Room that night added to the amazingness of the evening; it was a mix beteween popular non-jungle music, with classics like Its Raining Men and Copa Cabana! so we all had an amazing time.

I had a special bonding experience with Vanessa as well, the lovely Columbian girl who along with her friends had been teaching me some Spanish phrases. The most important of all was “¡ Vamanos Perras !” and for all those of whom don’t speak Spanish it means “Lets go Bitches” because apparently all of them were my bitches, go team! I speak with a perfect accent after their help, but anyways we had a special moment this night while at Living Room. We were discussing the goodlookingness of all the people around us, when we developed the word seasoned, I shit you not people; we were calling people seasoned. We are awesome, so from this point forward our connecting phrase was “seasoned,” we are the most amazing people ever.

The music got really amazing and the British people mixed with Columbians was getting tired and I had a ton of energy and lot of drunkness so I found Brian, Susan and Markus right next to the bar dancing and I joined in on them. Now if there is one thing that I can say about each person at this moment…
Susan: Was extrordinarily drunk
Brian: Is a boy from Arkansas, and it’s very obvious by the way he is
Markus: Can dance amazingly, nearly as good as I

So joining them was the most amazing idea ever, and the music just kept getting better and better. It got to a point where Markus and I were actually screaming out, and singing with the lyrics whilst dancing. Music became very intimate in a rap sense, and with that came very, very, very dirty dancing. That went on for a good hour, with a lot of pent up energy released but wow was I happy that they were there. For the record, I regret nothing. I went to the bathroom and came back to them dissapeared, so I was sad but it was okay since it was past four in the morning anyways. Susan, Markus, Charlotte and I had made plans to meet early the next morning for breakfast and coffee, so I went home, took mom to the train station in a drunken rage, and went back to meet the girls, plus Markus.

We walked around, and I was still drunk holding it together pretty darned well, and we discussed all of the things that they had done and what they had seen and what their plans would be. Markus had a train in the late morning, and Susan was leaving the following morning for Paris to go home. We helped Markus get his train ticket to Nice via Lyon and then we saw him off in a teary goodbye thanks to his Eurorail pass that he would be using for the next few months. We accompanied Susan back to the Maison de l’Étudiante and wished her well.

I talked with Charlotte for awhile about Markus’ awesome hiking adventures, and how much I had fun with him and she kept mentioning how much I should go with him. Obviously it was too late and there was no way for me to contact him, so I gave up on the idea and got sad really quickly. I was moping around for the day when I decided that I was going to do something crazy. I went out that next night again and we stayed out late, making it day 5 in a row of being piss drunk with little sleep. The next day I was still moping so in the afternoon I did something really irrational. I got out the phone book and I called every hostel in Nice to try to find Markus, after the 5th one I found where he was, and the lady even went to go get him. I was so afraid that he was going to freak out at me, but he seemed happy to hear from me. I told him that I wanted to meet him there and we agreeded on when; and my mind was put at ease. I was so excited about going to the south, something I didn’t think I’d have a chance to do.

That night I went out and everyone wanted to hear all my exciting plans, and I went home to book the really cheap airfare to Nice from Strasbourg but it was too late. My options were limited because I wanted to go to Nice before he left and I’d have no way to find where he was. So I booked a train ticket to leave in the morning to Marseille, and then to Nice from there. The train ride was going to be about 9 hours total, really long and boring and slightly stressful. Luckily I got on a TGV train for a good price and I was off to find Markus, my hiking adventure. I won’t be able to update until next Friday when I’m in Prague, so I’ll tell you how my irrational romantic hiking adventure goes when I get back!