Bright and early at 7 this morning we were at the train ticket office, just as the information man suggested last night. Of course now we see that it doesn’t open until 8 AM normally, 9:30 on Sundays. He was no longer there so we could not strangle him. However another helpful agent showed us how to buy a ticket in the machine, and assured us it would work. We didn’t want to buy a ticket from a machine without that human verification. Although that human thing is only hitting 50% so far anyway.
So now we are travelling the way it was originally planned, just having had a helluva lot more stress as a result of the strike.
The area around the station is a bit dodgy, and around the bus station in particular. Toulouse seems less well kept than Italy and, further, Italian trains run on time.
Now that we are in France I can stop using my 5 words of Spanish that I was using to help the Italians understand me (it didn’t really work anyway).
This Toulouse hotel wins the award (so far) for the leakiest bathroom. The shower door actually closes OUTSIDE the shower stall.
It was cold and showery in the morning. It does not bode well for a sunny relaxing boat trip.
The train helper said the track number would be posted 20 minutes before departure, and it was, to the second. And they were off – the waiting crowd dashed for the stairway.
Of course there is a stairway – you have to shlep your luggage down, under the track and back up. Escalator is broken. French train exercises. We grabbed the first place in the train that we could sit with our luggage, and defended it again all comers. I am not strong enough to get our stuff in the overhead racks – nor would anyone else be.
By the time we arrived in Carcassonne the weather was dry and relatively bright so we were able to drag our suitcases to the hotel. We are on the third floor of a very old building, but we have our own large terrace, should the weather ever make it possible to enjoy it.
After settling in we went to find our boat rental office on the canal. It seems to be located in a garage with a roll up door, very closed. On the canal opposite, there is a boat of the type we expect with a very cold forlorn miserable looking couple sitting in it. We did not disturb the divorce proceedings.
On the way back to the hotel, the drain plug on the heavens was pulled and we were drenched before we could pull over into a brasserie for a glass of wine. Price is one quarter that of Italy. Not the same wine, perhaps?
And then out for dinner. A full selection of hors d’oeuvres from a salad bar, a meal of duck’s breast, with vegetables (at the same time, in the same course!!) and a selection from the desert table, all for the price of an Italian pasta course. Italian food is terribly overpriced. Of course they have the highest per capita debt, only slightly behind Greece.
And I stole a souvenir – a snail from the huge bowl on the hors d’oeuvre table. I threw away the inside bit and just kept the shell.
Will it rain tomorrow?
And best wishes to all mothers, including those no longer with us.