prelude to normandy

Sorry for the delay with updating – I had a rather busy week and weekend. I was going to enjoy a quiet Saturday by a) refining what I already wrote by adding some facets I forgot; and b) write about Paris and Normandy. However I was awoken early on Saturday morning by a phone call from my friend Zack, asking if I wanted to play at this nearby indoor Frisbee tournament for this coed Norwegian Team. [Quick note – in Frisbee there are two groups: open and girls. Girls can play on guys teams (thus making it “open”) but guys cannot play on girls team. Most “open” teams are usually just guys though.] I obviously accepted and have been since playing ultimate. Needless to say I am very sore, as I haven’t had any real physical activity in three weeks; and our team only had two subs, two girls, and one dude with a bad toe. But here goes (warning, its VERY long):

Mariah and I got into Paris sometime on Tuesday night and checked into the (bad) hostel. I had a horrible time trying to make a phone call to the hostel in Bayeux as my international sim card, which hadn’t worked AT ALL yet, wasn’t working either. In Ireland I was able to survive because their phones used change. In France however, you need to purchase a seven-fifty euro phone card – which also didn’t work. It’s been two weeks and I am still angry about that. Nevertheless I/we met some of Mariah’s friends from her school in Italy, and we spent Halloween night wandering around Paris.

I was quite worried when I first got to Paris, as I was supposed to go to Bayeux the next day but I had not: contacted the hostel to see if there was any vacancy; purchased a train ticket; or spoken with my other friend whom I was meeting in the city as both of our phones weren’t working. Luckily Katie gave me the address of the Hotel her mother and she were staying at, so I quickly left the hostel and went to the hotel at around 11am (which is when most places require you to check out). When I got into the hotel, I pretended that I was someone really important and that I needed to know whether the two of them had checked out or not. The lady at the desk offered me a telephone to call the room. I did, and discovered that they were in fact still there. I met them in the lobby, whereupon Katie’s cousin, who was living in Paris, also arrived to meet them. I told Katie my situation with Bayeux, and her cousin offered his cell phone to me to make the call. I did, and found out that there was in fact vacancy so I could sleep there at the hostel, and not have to cancel my reservation for touring Normandy the next day.

With the heavy burden off my shoulders, the three of us (Katie’s mom having flew home) went to a friend of Katie’s cousin, where he cooked us French toast. The rest of the afternoon was spent with us lounging around until I had to leave for the train station. Needless to say with all the traveling and the near disaster I managed to avoid, doing nothing for a few hours and watching television while someone cooks you food was WONDERFUL.

So in Europe, you need to validate your train ticket before boarding the train – otherwise you’ll get scolded and/or fined. When the train for Bayeux departed, I realized that I had in fact forgotten to validate my ticket. Luckily a rather cute gal was sitting across from me and I was able to ask her (in French that is) if she spoke English, and if not validating your ticket was a big deal. In a very friendly manner she said yes to both. I was worried that I would infuriate a French conductor (already did it in Italy and its not enjoyable) and then get fined, more so than an attractive and seemingly kind French gal, that was willing to speak English, was sitting across from me. Luckily my anxiety subsided when she reassured me that it wasn’t too big a deal, but I should notify a conductor when they walked by. She even told me how to say it in French! (No conductor however ever came by to check, so that crisis was avoided). Before long we were engaged in a conversation for the entire train ride about all sorts of things. Among which are: she thinking I was English (why does this keep happening!?); my lack of “American” (i.e. Texan) accent; her being an art student at Toulouse; the French Rivera and Provence; her laughing/reveling at the European-language phrasebook and guidebook I had on me; and how she was from Normandy. Not to get sappy but I think I fell in love that night, and by the way she said goodbye and how nice it was to meet me I think the emotions were mutual. Alas.

Like any small town in Europe, Bayeux was extremely old and beautiful. I had to walk through it to get from the train station to the hostel, and felt (surprisingly) at home. It was so quiet and serene, and it was really nice to be alone for an extended period of time. The cathedral was light up so beautifully that I was just totally in awe – on my list of favorite places I visited, it is one of the best. And the hostel there was equally as amazing. It was in an extremely old building that wasn’t a house or a mansion – it was really quite unique. The woman running it didn’t really speak any English, as she just gave me my key and asked for 20 euros. I had my entire room to myself, which was quite a relief as the night prior in Paris was tumultuous because of these two German girls stumbling in around 3am and making lots of noise (but that’s another story for another time). Once of the best memories of my trip was as I waited for my dinner to cook, I stood outside and reveled in how peaceful it was. The weather was also wonderful - just brisk enough that a sweatshirt suffices. There weren’t very many people in the hostel (I would say 5 total), but I was able to bump into this girl from the States who recently graduated college and was currently teaching English south of Lyon, and we watched a soccer blooper tape from the 1980s – in French. There was also this other guy in the room, but he never spoke so I don’t have anything to say about him.