Off Again

Aware that I am still missing Christmas posts and French posts, thought I would reappear in blog land with a far more recent one. Here is the beginning of my journey to Spain in the school holidays of last month right up until yesterday.

11:30 a.m.
It began with a running leap to the train. As ever, late.
Currnetly enduring the spectacle of a ticket inspector horribly patronising a woman (she got on one stop earlier than she should have) and he is extorting the 2€ from her like it was life and death and she was a small rebellious child... France.
On the train, reading my book I find France and the French countryside surprising me again and again. I have travelled this route six times now and yet, I find the tiny villages and mysterious canals pulling my gaze from the page. I picked the best seat, the sun keeps dipping out of the clouds and warming up my face, while spreading this orangey light over the meadows and maze-like towns we pass. Then something completely unexpected- an empty factory, sun streaming through the broken windozs from one side to the other, the graffitti coating the sides looks like art, the building looks anything but run-down.

6:30 p.m.
Paris, again, for half a day. Found otu how easy it was to get to our hotel from New Years on foot. Returned to Morry's for bagels- much busier than last time- perfection.

Bag weighs nothing when rolling it, but is a bit of a weight on my back. The cobblestoens are a little too loud in the beatuifulness of Paris. I'm definitely nto a super light traveller (something to factor in for later this year and the adventures I will have then) I like my comforts too much. And by comforts, I mean multiple clothing opitions.

I passed the afternoon on rue de rivoli, bought shoes- magazine- bread- prepared myself for the flight, metro tickets, train tickets. Made my way to Emile's*, stillwithout a phone number- and still having not pinned down a time to meet at his place... Of course...

*Emile is the son of an English teacher at school. I stayed with him before Christmas and it was amazing, but ended on the rather awkward note of him going out drinkign on the Saturday night and accidentally dead-bolting the door behind him. Then, missing the last metro train home- leaving me trapped in the apartmant till midday. He had lost his phone the week before.

So, I turned up at half past 5, I'd sent him an email the day before saying it would probably be this time, but had not received a reply since the email where he had said the February 15th was fine.
No Emile.

I deposited myself in a cafe across the street with a wine and settled in.
Received a call from Fred- Emile's father.
"Ah. Niki. Are you with Emile?"
Alarm bells.
"No, am across the street in a cafe waiting."
"Ah."
"Is there a problem, Fred?"
"Well. Emile mentioned off hand that he might be coming home this weekend."
"Oh. Oh dear."
"His phone is off."
"Oh. Oh dear."
 "I did not put two and two together until just then. I am very sorry. I will try to fix it."

He promptly hung up.

I lay my head on the table and made a loud pained noise that alerted the bartender and the two old men in the cafe that I was a crazy person and proceeeded to try and use the café's WiFi to find a hostel, as is my lack of faith in Emile.
WiFi not working.
Relocated to the front of Emile's apartment building. Café people heave a sigh of relief at my departure.

Phone rings half an hour later.

"Niki."
"Yes?" World's of hope contained in this one word.
"Where are you?"
"At Emile's."
"With Emile?"
"No."
"Ah."

Fred then got onto his mother, who lives, coincidentally in the coolest part of the city and arranged for me to stay there if Emile did not show up in Paris or Tours or on this planet before 9pm.

10:00 p.m.
Grandma Cerf- as I will call her, never actually finding out her name in my state of panic- lives in a street called 'rue du marche des blancs manteaux' which crosses 'rue du vieux temple' which itself crosses 'rue des blancs manteaux' which itself crosses 'rue du temple'.

I got lost.

Then. Magic happened. I arrived, was suddenly able to speak french at an appropriate level, they fed me tea and biscuits and then announced that I would stay downstairs in the apartment of their grand-daughter, Fred's niece- who was on holiday in Barbados.

She works for Christian Dior and has the coolest apartment I have ever seen. I almost cried with happiness.

Also, Grandma Cerf was about the nicest person I had ever met.

So, hey; thanks Karma.


(More on Spain later xo)