Toulouse or Bust!

Feb 20, 2007

What a day! In leaving Cauterets we experienced a wild bus ride down the mountains and back into the valley, after which we wandered through Lourdes while waiting for our train to Toulouse. It was a beautiful day - the kind that lends itself to travel. We explored the famous basilicas in Lourdes, stood at the foot of the town's old fortified castle, and picked up a few things from a market. Then we boarded a train for Toulouse and arrived after some time hungry and tired as dusk was falling. We toyed with the idea of heading on to Barcelona, but decided that before we made any such maneuvers we ought to have some sustenance first.

We tried one cafe in the station - but they didn't have what we wanted. We went to another eatery, said good evening to the waiter and sat down - but he never came to serve us. Fed up (and not fed), we decided to try the train and possibly get some food on board. But we would need cash, so we sought out the ATM and discovered it out of order. I asked about a train to Barcelona at information and was told there were none that night. How about tomorrow? Something garbled in response. The woman at the ticket counter certainly spoke a different French than I do. I detected a Spanish accent, so that may have complicated my understanding her. She also wasn't eager to make me understand. She told me about a train the next morning only to then say it wasn't taking any more reservations - so no possibilty of us taking it. I asked about another and she showed me that there was one early the next morning: 6:50am. Uggh.

So, we left the ticket counter and found a map of Toulouse with the intention of finding accomadations for the night. While trying to decipher the strange map, a drunk man approached me and breathily asked for money "to get a ticket." (Yeah, right. I'll bet that's what he wanted.) Next, we went across the street to look at the prices of the hotels near to the station (prices are posted outside hotels in France). As we walked a little further from the station, they were cheaper. Of course, we had to wonder if we were in the best part of town, as we passed a sex shop in an alley. We were eyeing one hotel´s prices when an old man approached and spoke to us. He seemed to be miffed about something - perhaps another hotel? - and I asked if he spoke any English so that I could better understand. He said his English was terrible, but that he spoke Castillian, and Catalan. And then it was a contest to see who spoke more languages, only I wasn't playing... If I was to take him at his word, he would win, with Basque and Italian skills thrown into his lingual prowess. Though I tried to speak with him in Spanish (Castillian), his own skills in that were humorously poor. Eventually we (he) gave up talking and we went inside (we had decided silently that any place an elderly man would stay couldn´t be too bad), thus having settled on the Hotel Chartreuse, which was strangely devoid of that arresting color.

We paid the 35 euros for a double room which promised a grand lit (a huge bed). As directed, we walked up to the fourth floor and opened up our assigned room, to find the lights wouldn't work and someone's clothes and luggage were already there! Quickly we walked back down and I explained the situation. The receptionist swore ( Merde!) and we were apologizingly given a new room, this time without the other possessions already present. And the huge bed? A queen - big by European standards.

After sloughing off our packs in the room, we hit the streets again in search of an ATM and some late dinner. All of the days troubles were by now weighing upon us and we were ready to eat and get to bed. I found an ATM and withdrew some money while Mandy was approached by a somewhat drunk woman hoping for money. She seemed quite nice, but strange, and asked Mandy if she spent her days like she spent her money. A strange question... Soon after we wandered on and found a place to eat at a bistro along rue Bayard, with some big salads and quiche. The food was delicious and, to compliment it, I ordered a rosé, which came in a petite bottle. The waitress with protective foil and cork still in place, and left. I turned the bottle about, wondering how to get into it. I suggested that maybe it was standard issue to bring your own corkscrew to a restaurant. Mandy suggested it was a screwtop. And as I sat turning the bottle, studying it, something like a cave man and ready to crack it against a rock like one, the waitress reappeared - with corkscrew in hand - and gave a hearty and friendly laugh at our confusion. We had to laugh, too.

We finished our meal, stuffed full by the generous portions, and returned to our hotel to sleep and make ready for our early morning train. Lying in bed, we watched the end of a CSI episode, dubbed in French (which worked surprisingly well), and we found it a fitting close, the last of the day's absurdities.

And it would have been, if as we turned out the lights and prepared to close our eyes our upstairs neighbors had not determined to grace those below with what seemed like rain but clearly wasn´t, streaming from the balcony and weaving its way down our window - artificial precipitation. And the color was vaguely chartreuse.

Little Known Facts

Merde du Chien

You have to watch your feet in some French towns. Such has been my experience in beautiful Cauterets, where every 50 meters there seems to be a pile of dog poop on the sidewalk, nearest to the buildings (usually enough out of the way of pedestrians to be avoided - usually). And there must be some different dog chow here because some of that feces is down right brick red! I had to warn Mandy about several piles as we promenaded and she gawked at the houses along the rue. Moi? I kept my head down, and avoided all these canine landmines. But still I was ready with the ironic and a propos exclamation, Merde!, should I have stepped into that red deposit.

Toilets

I'll bet that France has the most diversity of toilet styles in the world. You´ve got your "normal" toilet that an American is used to; the pseudo-American toilet without liftable seat; the train toilet which cannot take toilet paper; the quasi-American toilet with garbage-disposal-like drain which also cannot take toilet paper; any number of toilet styles with a flush button split in two parts, a smaller 1/3 part for quick flushes and, indeed logically, a larger 2/3 button for larger flushes; the pit toilet (which I know is out there but have not seen yet); and probably more that I haven´t encountered. It´s a strange feeling to not know how to use a toilet and to try to figure it out. "Do I poop in this one or don´t I?" You almost feel childlike, as though you're starting over learning the most basic things. Let me tell you, that is an adventure itself. And don´t get me started on the mystery of bidets...

Cauterets

Feb 17, 2007

What a trip from Lourdes and what a change from the bustle of Paris. Our bus ride to Cauterets was gorgeous! We passed through several small towns and lauded the driver's ability to steer the autocar up such winding mountain roads. Thank goodness for smaller cars coming the other direction. If we'd have met a Hummer, we'd surely have been done for.

As we venture further south from Paris - now near to the Spanish border - we notice a change in the topography and a change in the dialect. We're at the foot of the Pyrenées, which have so far been shrouded in mist revealing only the rocky pleats of their skirts to us. And we've noticed a change in the price too. Our hotel tonight - Hotel le Chantilly - is half what we paid in Paris. Cauterets is a resort town with a gondola that carries winter sports enthusiasts up to the pointed peak of Cirque de Lys. The town is hilly and streets are delightfully narrow, offering up secrets and discoveries at every turn, not to mention crazy Fiat drivers unconcerned with unwary pedestrians. Hotel le Chantilly is warm and welcoming with an Irish couple (originally from Galway) as owners. It's refreshing to speak our native tongue freely with others and to thus strike up a conversation.

After arriving and walking around town, we went to les thermes (hot springs) which Cauterets had originally been known for (in the Middle Ages, a distinction that has given way to hiking and skiing). After a long wait in line and an embarassing failure of my French skills to ascertain whether there was a student discount, we gained access to the pools and the sauna, all to the tune of 22 euros. Ouch. It wasn't what we expected. The "pools" were a normal swimming pool at best, actually a quite small one, cool and full of children. And we learned that we were prohibited from entering the warmer pool with hyrdojets which was right along side of the other. (It seems this other pool costs more...) Why do they call it les piscines (that's plural pools) if they mean you may only go into one? Fortunately we made it into the sauna for a little bit and got to sweat it out. This was relaxing, but all in all, the whole 30 minute affair wasn't worth the euros. And as for the wait beforehand, my theory is that they stress you out by making you wait so that you that you can't possibly feel anything but relief when you finally get out of line and into the pools, er, I mean pool.

Anyway, tonight, after a satisfying meal of galettes, we plan to read in the cozy study of the hotel. And maybe we'll strike up a conversation with owners.

02-18-2007 (Amanda's Post)

We reached Lourdes last night and easily found Hotel Ibis, which we later found to be a chain of hotels throughout Europe. A bit more than we would normally pay, but the hostel in town was closed. We had dinner at a pizzeria down the street - think Rocky Rococco, with a rugby theme! The owner was really friendly and pizzas were 8 euro, enough for 2 people, though they wouldn't say so. This morning we bought bus tickets to Cauterets, a 45 minute ride for 6,50. Across the street from the train station was a nice cafe with internet access, so we used that for a while before we caught the bus (typing very slowly as the keyboard was set up much differently!). The ride to Cauterets was scenic: small towns nestled in the green mountains, a mist in the air. This is what I love to see and experience - the rural landscape and rural folk.

Cauterets seemed larger than the 1300 people proclaimed by our guidebook, Let's Go. We found during our stay that it is very much a resort town, with skiing in the winter and hiking when the snow's gone, so perhaps the small number refers to the permanant citizens. We reached the town at a time when both activities were possible, and were attracted by the hotsprings as well. Walking around town, we were taken by the old, pretty buildings, the narrow cobble streets, and the mountains that rose on both sides into the fog. We saw where the hiking trails take off into the hills. I look forward to coming back some time to hike the Pyrenees in warmer weather, when I can camp or stay at gites or refuges. It is possible to hike between the small towns and villages. We tested the hotsprings, which turned out to be very modified, a very expensive health spa. (Even liposuction was available!). We tried the pools/sauna for 11 euro each, and the experience was not really worth the money as the pool was small and not that hot, and the sauna was nice but we had to compete for space. Overall, we were only allowed 15 min in the pool and 15 in the sauna. For richer travellers, massages and other benefits of the spa could be a real treat, and in the future they plan to build a larger community pool. However, we were disappointed to not find the small primative hotspring we envisioned.

We stopped at a cafe to taste the almond crepes Mom had told us she loved. They were really delicious, a sweet treat complemented with an espresso. Thanks, Mom! Later, we had dinner at La Creperie du Molleau, where the highest item was 9 euro! Most of the menu consisted of Breton-style crepes, with the edges folded over, and with a variety of fillings available. I had La Creole, with chicken and pineapple curry and cheese, and Shaun had tomatoes, cheese, and basil, and both came with a bit of basil. They were just the right size and price, and really good. We are staying at Hotel Le Chantilly, run by an Irish couple, so it is easy to communicate with them. At 34 euro total per night for a double bed with toilet (shower down the hall), it's a great place to stay. We'll remain here two nights, so tomorrow we can ride the gondola to the ski area and do a bit of hiking.

02-21-2007

Monday was a great day in Cauterets. We were up a bit late for breakfast (I had slept terribly the night before), but our hosts were very kind to accomodate us anyway. They also recommended Pont d'Espagne in the National Park for hiking (or snowshoeing as it had snowed there the night before). It sounded beautiful, but we later found it a better use of time and money to simply hike out one of the trails leading from Cauterets itself, avoiding a bus fare and ride, and snowshoe rentals, etc. We rode the gondola from town to the ski area above and it was nice to see the hill from that vantage point. Back in town, we ate at the Ski Bar and checked out the Pyrenees information office before we headed up the steep mountainside toward Lac d'Estom, a 3hr 45min trek (one way). The trail evened out after a while as we began to walk cross-hill. We chatted somewhat with an older man who shared the trail with us for a while. He commented on the beauty of the place, and we agreed, but couldn't understand much more as he admitted his English was terrible, and of course our French was not on par with his! However, we felt enlivened by our friendly encounter with the man. We walked about three hours and made it to Le Fruitiere, an empty restaurant sitting alone where the trail meets a small road. The trek was absolutely wonderful, and I can't wait to return to do more hiking someday. Upon returning to Cauterets, our hosts recommended places to find the local stew, Gabure, made with potatoes, carrots, roast duck, and pork, among other ingredients resulting in a delicious, hearty meal. Paired with Basque cider, it was especially good.

Tuesday, we made it to breakfast on time, then said good-bye to our hosts who had been so gracious and friendly. We let them read the excerpt about their hotel in our Let's Go guidebook, as they'd never seen what the girl who visited only a year ago had written. They chuckled at the phrases, "charming" couple and "sleepy" town. They also recommended some spots near Galway to see, where they are from in Ireland. Then we headed out to use the internet, send postcards, and pick up some food at the market. We took the bus back down the narrow, windy valley to Lourdes, where we walked about and explored the basillicas and viewed the fortress from its base. Lovely buildings and architecture, and a sense of peace as the day was again beautiful and the place serene (even with a good number of tourists peaking about).

We didn't stay long in Lourdes as we were catching the train to Toulouse. I began feeling ill, with a headache and dry sinus, so the night grew more and more unpleasant as it went on. At Toulouse, we discovered we could not catch a train to Barcelona that night as we'd hoped, so we found a hotel near the station. We had a great dinner, conversation, and lots of laughs and release from the evenings flustering events. To top it off, Shaun tried desperately to figure out how to open the small bottle of wine he'd ordered, which the waitress had left on the table as if that was all she planned to do. As he turned it about confusedly in his hands, she returned laughing heartily, saying no!, no!, and revealed the corkscrew she'd brought to open it.

Later, we watched a bit of CSI a la Francais. The morning came quite early (6:50 am), and we rushed to the station and were directed to the train to Marseille. We left this train at Nabonne, along with other travelers trying to get to Barcelona, and found a train to Cerberre, near the border. We traveled with a Brit from Liverpool who spoke no French or Spanish and was "desparate" to get to Barcelona to see the futbol game taking place this evening. It was nice to have a new travel companion for a time. We shared stories and a compartment to Cerberre, then went in together for a taxi across the border to Port Bou. The ride was quite memorable...

Our driver was a petite woman looking about 60, but with a spitfire personality! She was lively! We shot out of the narrow enclosed parking lot at Cerberre, but I really knew it would be a wild ride when she turned up the radio and belted, "It's the light Fandango..." passionately at the top of her lungs. She whipped around tight corners, making comments and gestures at other drivers, which we couldn't quite understand, but somehow made sense. Another song began to play, and she cooed, "I lo-ve Frankie, baby!", with an accent somewhere between Spanish and French, and we laughed. She joked with our friend, Alec, that we'd picked the best driver, "speedy Gonzalez", and around another blind corner, we about ran into a huge pack of bicyclists, at which she swore endlessly. She slapped our passports against the window as we were waved through the French border, and again the Spanish, and she thought it helped that Alec had thick dark eyebrows and looked Spanish. She remarked that he looked like the guy from Top Gun. "Tom Cruise", I said. "OuI!" Then she dropped us at Port Bou station.

At Barcelona, Alec took off to join up with the many Liverpool fans, noticable by their red jerseys. We had a long, tiring walk trying to find our hostel, but finally were relieved of our packs and grabbed some dinner to eat on the street (a place called Organic is Orgasmic). We watched people as we ate, mostly Liverpool fans who had long since been drinking, singing, and whooping it up before the big game. We wondered later if some of these fans would even make it to the game as there were still some wandering around Ramblas, well away from the stadium, during game-time. We enjoyed the spirited atmosphere, and later, had tiny espressos and ate gelato before making our way back to the hostel.

Little Known Fact

Train WC's
It is a thrill on par with bungi jumping to pee in a train WC. It´s much like an airplane toilet but you´re given an OS handle to which you cling as the train tosses about in rounding the corners. All that would make it more exciting is to pee off the back of the caboose as the track whizzes below!

On a Southbound Train

Feb 17, 2007

We´re tearing through the countryside at well over 150 miles per hour on a TGV train southbound from Paris to Bordeaux, through Tarbes and Dax, and ultimately to Lourdes, which lies at the foot of the mighty Pyrenées. We go seeking repose from the rush of Paris; we venture seeking solace in the hot springs of Cauterets.

Yesterday we tackled the Louvre - er, most of it anyway - which is no small feat, and anyone familiar with the size and scope of this museum will understand and agrree. It´s hard to believe it built as a hunting residence originally (or at least part of it). So many works of art - Renaissance masterpieces, Egyptian and Assyrian artifacts, thousands of canvases and objets d´art each calling for individual attention. It´s enough to wear one out. Here´s the low down: The Mona Lisa, in all its glory, leaves the real one seeming small and blassé. C´est interessant, n´est-ce pas? Venus de Milo and Winged Victory at Samothrace are stunning and majestic sculptures; the Code of Hammurabi is an imposing black stone megalith - befitting the harsh laws it represented; and there were canvasses, by David, Géricault, Véronèse, and Rubens, that leave one gasping at their enormity. Try painting a 20x30 foot canvass in the intense realism of the Renaissance style!

We had the good fortune of entering the Louvre during a strike of the museum workers (une grève), who were preventing anyone from paying for an entry ticket in order to put pressure on the museum to meet the demands of the union. At the end of our seven hour stint within the museum (we stopped for a lunch at one of the cafes within), the strike was over, their demands perhaps met or an agreement made to go to the bargaining table, and people were paying to enter once again. Quelle chance, hein?

Our lodging at the Centre International de Paris (BVJ) was quite nice, a step up from the night before at the Hôtel Henri IV, and was located within an old building on a narrow Medieval-esque back street, very near to the Louvre. It had quite modern amenities and an inviting common area with cafe-like seating. Our room, on the fourth floor, opened like many into an open courtyard with a skylight below which was atop the common area. There was a welcome calm in the moderate air of the space, at least until the evening when a huge group of Germans (students perhaps?) arrived and many discovered how fun it would be to shout at a friend from one room to another across the courtyard space. I was reminded of my German friends and their delightful sense of humor, not to mention their impeccable language skills, as this group shouted in German, French and English. I also recalled the experience of my good friend Marcus in a similar hostel in Barcelona where someone had played trumpet into the courtyard air.

It´s a tremendous experience, the blending of cultures - the medium of language, the realization that you know not where another is from until he or she speaks (and perhaps not even then), and of course the good natured coexistence of persons, ambassadors of culture and travellers all on this earth.

Little Known Facts

Leftovers?
French restaurants are not likely to have take-home boxes for your remaining portions, so eat up! Bon appetite!

Seagulls
Seagulls sound different in France. Why? Because they´re speaking French. Though, really, they do sound different.

From Paris to Lourdes

02-17-2007

Yesterday, we checked out of Henri IV and found a room at the BVJ Louvre Hostel (breakfast included!). After stuffing our backpacks into lockers, we explored the Louvre for the rest of the day (about seven hours). Due to a worker´s strike, we gained free entrance! The Louvre building itself is beautifully decorated and architecturally interesting. I tried to imagine it as the hunting palace (vacation home, if you will) that it once was: what was the purpose of each room; where did each tall, graceful door lead? Images of the movies Marie Antoinette and Russian Ark kept coming to mind. Quite surreal, really. But on to the art: we saw all of the paintings that we could (the Holland wing was unfortunately closed when arrived there and I fear I missed some awesome works by Van Gogh, but I´m not sure). However, all of the paintings were really magnificient (though the Mona Lisa is surprisingly small) and I really enjoyed seeing works by Pissaro, Monet, and Bonnard. It was late when we finished the paintings, but we walked through some other areas for a bit and saw some sculptures and various works of ancient cultures, including the stone that holds the Code of Hamarabi. Overall, the Louvre was awesome, though it would take a very long time to really see all of the work that it holds. Later, we had dinner at the Louvre food court, then retreated to the hostel to plan our next move as Paris is a bit overwhelming at this point, particularily for me as I prefer the quiet country-side and can´t wait to see a forest! We´ll be back to see more of Paris at the end of our trip.

We decided today after breakfast (coffee, baguettes and jam, orange juice, and plain yogurt) to head to Cauterets to hike in the Pyrenees and enjoy the hotsprings. After Shaun made a reservation for a hotel, we loaded our packs and walked all the way to Gare Montparnasse to take the high-speed TGV to Lourdes. We had our Eurail passes validated as it was the first time we used them, and each paid a 3 euro supplement for the TGV. We watched the departures board carefully for Lourdes, but when it didn´t appear 15 minutes ahead of time as it was supposed to, we started asking questions! We found out that towns Tarbes and Dax were posted, through which we´d reach Lourdes at the end of the line (it pays to know your geography!), and were directed to the correct platform. But there, with only minutes to departure, we found our car was almost to the end of the train, so we had a mad dash and were glad for our light packs! We left the station at 14.40 and will arrive in Lourdes at 20.30, so we have the daylight to view the country-side. So far, it looks somewhat like the farmland of the midwest.

People have been very friendly and helpful thus far, and communication is becoming easier even for me! Of course, Shaun does most of the talking and is doing very well with his French. I know he feels a bit flustered at times, but he´s been able to get all of the information we need and relate to people in a way that builds bridges of understanding. As for me, I´m getting used to saying merci, au revoir, oui, no, perdon, and dropping the ends of my words!

Day One in Paris

02-15-2007

We arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris at 9:40 am today. After only four hours of sleep last night and two hours on the plane, it´s suddenly morning in Paris and time to get on with the day! We´re both exhausted and getting out of the airport took some time. However, with Shaun´s bit of French, we made it to the metro and were serenaded by two accordians most of the way to St. Michel. We found a room for the night at Hotel Henri IV, a modest room with double bed, desk, and bathroom with shower. Later, we took a walk and toured Notre Dame.

Second Day

Feb 16, 2007

It's the second day abroad and already I've experienced my first trip to Chicago - complete with generous seat space - and my first international flight - with much smaller seat space. I've had my first traveller's ailment (from a bit of dehydration and lack of sleep, I think - not from tainted water or food); my first scam (a man dropped his own ring, pretended to have lost it, gave it to me and then asked for "money pour food"). I've toured Notre Dame and seen more Renaissance paintings in the Louvre than I'll probably ever see again; I've spent more euros than I hoped to and I've felt more initial culture shock than I had expected. But all in all, I've proven to myself that I can travel smartly: I can make plans and follow through with them, I can be flexible when need be, I can overcome a language barrier (even with signing what I want to impart), and I can enjoy myself immensely half way around the world. More so after the jet lag subsides...

Shaun at O'Hare

02-14-2007

Shaun and I embarked on our tour of Europe today! After flying out of Spokane, we spent six hours on lay-over in the Chicago O´Hare airport and took lots of pictures in the lighted tunnel, then later boarded the plane for Paris. After take-off, flight attendants handed out warm wet towels. John told us about this event he´d experienced on his flight to Germany a couple years ago. Well, John, we were just as confused about what to do with them as you were, so we did as you did and watched those around us. People wiped their hands and some, their faces; we decided we were "washing up" for dinner, which was served a few minutes later.