Trains and Rains!

Location: Le Havre, France

I have no idea when we will leave this harbor, but hopefully it will be soon since we're due to arrive in Dublin, Ireland on Friday.

Day 3: Brugge to Paris

I packed my bags and departed Snuffel hostel on the morning of the 14th, planning to spend a few hours in Brugge before taking a train to Brussels and then a bus to Paris.

It was a moist, overcast sort of morning, but before I left the city I was determined to take a canal tour through Brugge's many waterways. The walking tour guide on the previous evening had cautioned us that canal tours in the rain were not particularly fun and probably best skipped, but it wasn't really *raining* per se: more like lightly misting. So I found one of the canal tour landings (it's a popular activity in Brugge, so they aren't hard to find) and squished into a boat with a group of about twenty others. The captain (how big of a boat does it have to be before one is considered a captain? He looked like a captain, so I guess that's what I'll calling him) was an sturdy bearded man who conducted the entire tour speaking nonstop in three different languages (Dutch, French, and English) such that it was at times difficult to tell when one language began and the other ended.

Brugge is even more beautiful by water! At least, that was my impression during the first ten minutes or so of our trip. After that, things became very damp very quickly. The heavens were apparently just waiting for me to step into a boat in the middle of a canal with all my worldly possessions before letting loose.

But it wasn't the rain that got you wet––it was the umbrellas. Everyone who didn't have an umbrella was provided with one by the captain, and we all rustled about until the entire ship was more or less covered. At least, that was the plan. But if you can take a moment to think about the mechanics of an entire boat full of overlapping umbrellas you will start to see the problem. Yes, the umbrella above you keeps your head dry. But in doing so it channels the rain down onto the umbrellas to either side of it, which in turn proceed to dump all of that water onto your lap. So you try to position yourself so that no particularly large rivulets are gushing down on you, but that only works until the boat passes something cool (being in Brugge that happened quite a bit), and everyone turns to look at it, whereby all of the umbrellas shift and more water is deposited into your lap.

So you know how I was talking about having all of my worldly possessions with me? Well don't worry, I left most of my stuff back in my cabin on the ship. But I did bring both of my cameras (I will get into justifying why I take two cameras around with me in a later post), my iPod, and my laptop. Yes, all of my expensive beloved electronic devices are there with me on that silly little boat road which was determined to get me as wet as possible. Also, as I was packing light and only intended to be gone for a couple of days, I didn't pack much by way of changes of clothing. What I did pack is, of course, busy getting drenched in the bag that I am clutching.

So by the time my canal tour ended, I was very wet and kind of wondering if I would dry sufficiently so as not to have to go buy clothes at a thrift store in Paris. I was in good spirits though, because despite the constant fear for all my electronic devices, there is something very fun about being on a canal tour in the rain as everyone tries to keep control over their umbrellas while craning to see what sights the captain is narrating about. At one point we came to a very low bridge (tall people would have to duck to avoid hitting their heads) while we all had our umbrellas out, and the captain was like "everyone duck!" and we flattened down under our umbrellas and hoped for the best.

Speaking of hoping for the best, I had actually forgotten to do something very important while I was back at the hostel––print out my train ticket! Oops! So I speed-walked back to the hostel, and by the time I had finished getting the ticket to print I only had about a half an hour to get to the other side of town and catch my train. Ideally I would also find a supermarket to grab some quick breakfast for the road while I was at it. Time for some more speed-walking!

During the course of the next 25 minutes, I found a supermarket, grabbed some food which looked like it would be good (I couldn't actually read what it was because the only languages on the label were Dutch, French, and German), and then hopped on a conveniently located bus toward the train station.

I maintain that I could have barely caught that train, if platform 5 existed. As it so happened, when I followed the sign indicating platforms 1 through 10 I was met with 1, 2, 3, 4... 6, 7, 8.... yes, I kid you not, platform 5 was definitely the only one not there. I have no idea how that went wrong, but I would clearly not be boarding that train. Fortunately, there was another train within 40 minutes, which would be leaving from the much more accessible platform 9. So I contentedly munched on some rolls that I had gotten along what turned out to be potato salad with sun-dried tomatoes (a helpful Belgian guy on the train would later read the label for me, so I knew what my food was for sure) and waiting for the train to arrive.

The journey to Brussels passed without incident, and I was seated across from the aforementioned Belgian guy (and his uncle) with whom I talked a great deal about similarities/differences between Belgium and the US, and who helped ensure that I got off at the right stop in Brussels (there are three). Upon my arrival at Brussels "Noord," I set off to go find the Eurolines bus terminal. I fortunately still had plenty of time to catch the bus, and aside from it being almost 30 minutes late, I set off without incident.

Then commenced a long and rather uneventful four-hour bus ride to Paris. Now this time I actually did book a hostel ahead, but Paris is very large and apparently very busy this time of year, so the only hostel I managed to find room at was called the Aloha Hostel, and it was on the opposite side of Paris from where the bus dropped us off. Which was okay, because that just meant I got to ride on the Paris underground! I figured out my route and managed to catch the right train and get off at the right stop so that I could catch another train and get off at another stop. By the time I climbed up out of the station it was dark and I was feeling very keen to find my hostel. Note that I am in Paris, France, and everything is in, well, French. I also do not yet have a Paris map (I plan on getting one at the hostel), so navigating is a bit of challenge. I keep getting excited when I find a street name and it's actually the one I'm expecting it to be.

So I turn one last corner and head down a well-lit street off the beaten path––and there it is! I was so happy to see that hostel. I check in and head up a creaky spiral staircase and to my 6-bed female dorm. It is now about 9pm. I hunt around for a plug-in for my laptop for a while before finally giving up and heading back down to the common area where I claim half of a bench next to the reception desk, plug my computer in, and proceed to spend the next three hours hurriedly finishing a 5-page essay on French Art for my Mixed Media Visual Journal class which was supposed to be due that day (Get it? Trying to finish the essay before midnight so that it technically counts as being in on time? Yah, that's me.) I tried to work on the essay back on the bus, but my poor old laptop can't hold a charge for that long, and while there was internet on the bus there were no power outlets, so that only worked for about the first hour.

Anyhow, I finished it! That essay was sent off at 11:55pm via email (an acceptable method of essay submission on the ship), and I was feeling very accomplished. In case you were curious, that essay was the reason I was dragging my laptop around with me the whole time––I would have preferred to leave it back on the ship, but classes are very fast-paced on SAS, and there had been no time to finish the essay beforehand. There's something really neat about sitting in a hostel in Paris while writing an essay about the Visual Art of France though, so who's complaining? Also, my clothes had dried completely by about half-way through the bus ride, so that turned out all right too.

So that was my last day in Belgium and first day in France! It is now super late and I have classes tomorrow, so I will probably wait to post pictures until after my next post. Au Revoir!