train impressions

once again with the train, and despite the dampness of my jeans and the rainwater pooled on my backpack from the journey to the station, it was an amazingly beautiful train ride, and of course, the rain ceased once i made it to the train station. the french trains are well organized and supremely cushy. my provisions were delicious. and there wasn't a single baby (that felt the need to make itself heard throughout the duration of the ride anyway) and overall the montpellier to brussles portion of the journey was reletively flawless. five hours spent daydreaming and peering excitedly through the window (i miraculously scored a window seat) at the scenery, straight out of a painting, which sped past in a blaze of thick velvety fields and jewel-bright blue skys adorned with the most picture perfect fluffy clouds. if only i could have photographed it all, but all that would have shown would have been a blur of colors and my face reflected in the glass. too bad.
however, i must here make a comment about the belgian train i took from brussles supposedly direct to amsterdam. it was filthier than a bad track muni bus, damp and overcrowded with insufficiently sized luggage racks which deposited their contents periodically upon the occupents unsuspecting heads. after over an hour of jostled elbow-y travel in a hard plastic seat with a sticky fingered child sitting next to me on what was clearly never intended to seat more than one person, during which i befreinded the american sitting across from me (taking a weeks holiday to see his sister in amsterdam) the train came to a sudden stop at a rather out of the way, uninteresting station, and emptied rather alarmingly. we streached out, ggrateful to the newly aquired roominess of our carrige, only to have a man come down the aisle to inform us that this was as far as the train was going before returning to brussles and we must immediatly depart. well this was odd. the train was supposed to be non stop. i was somewhat baffled. and after consulting the ticket-collecter-woman (who had incidentally never been seen to collect a single ticket) i discovered that this was just a fluke today, it is normally a much nicer train, it normally runs direct to amsterdam however due to complications today specifically and for unknown reason of course, this was not the case and i would have to board another train to amsterdam and no she had no idea which one as she was not from the dutch train system and had no idea how their lines were oriented and therefor no help.
shortly however a train pulled up to the station, massive and shiny and double decker, with amsterdam central emblazened in lights upon it's side and i immediatly got on and made it sucsessfully to amsterdam (this was according to another passenger the type of train it should have been direct from amsterdam of course) and the tram was simple to locate (though the most difficult to maintain a standing position i have ever encountered) and easy to navigate to the hostel which is palacial and incredibly clean (and green, recycling and resposible water notices everywhere) with pool tables and a bar and free breakfast (at which they provide nutella!) and the city seems tidy and small enough to be easily traveled on foot and i am looking forward to seeing some of the paintings which i was so distinctly reminded of during my countryside-gazing on the train yesterday afternoon. crazy one eared man anyone?

an unhappy turtle

and once again it is time to shoulder the dreaded backpack (don't get me wrong i'd rather have it than not-but must it live on my back?) and head to the train station. fittingly it is raining, a perfect mirror to the day i arrived a little over two weeks ago. the air smells wonderful and i am now most completely justified in taking the tram to the station instead of walking (it's only ten minutes) due to the wet conditions.
my bags are packed....i'm ready to go....
and all that. breakfrast in the belly and provisions all stocked. my ipod has been inundated with new radio material for happy listening times and fully charged. my raincoat is in an easily accessable side pocket of my backpack. i am completely prepared for this, but i feel sort of as if i am starting out again for the first time. i got so settled it was near impossible to pack last night. like i didn't even know what i was doing. and i am sure once i get going it will all come rushing back to me and it is all like riding a bike it is true, but i haven't been anywhere for as long a streach as this (here in montpellier) since the blueberry farm in upper hutt. i pretty much settled. moved in in travel time terms that is.
so ready ahead of schedule, and with nothing much to do but wait and get to the station inordinatly early, i sit here musing about travel, and time and distance and plans. rather amazed that i have made it this far (just one month left, thirty simple days. which will fly past with alarming speed) and been doing this for five months or 150 days exactly as of today. it's like a routine i have become used to and therefore pulling out the backpack from the corner i shoved it into two weeks ago wishing not to have to look upon it's loathsome crumpled form, covered in floor dust and bits of leaf and corners of paper on which i have written things i wished to remember, is almost like greeting an old friend.
almost. if only that friend didn't have the indecency to hitch rides on my back.
and off i go to (hopefully) another adventure!

montpellier photoy awesomeness

ode to my backpack, upon being faced with the prospect (odious though it may be) of once again shouldering the burden i had lain aside for a while

i loath you
dirt/clothes/memory
on my back

oh la la

well according to a well placed source there is grumbling among the readership (such as there is) concerning the lack of new material since my sodden arrival in the south of france. i apolagize for the delay but in true french style i have been at leisure this entire time and far to occupied with snoozing to write, and far to calm and restful to have done much of anything worth writing about in fact. i have also been suffering for a long awaited and not entirely unexpected (due in some part i imagine to the length of my travel and the intensity of the growing sniffles around me and the undeniable exchange of germs in shared hostel spaces) cold which has given me just another excuse (to add to the list) to lie about doing not much and getting a good rest.
a general montpellier day involves a slow wake up somewhere in the relm of the ten o clock hour, shower and liesurely breakfast on the terrace under the impressive spread of the most enormous whisteria i have ever seen (much more tree than bush or shrub as there is most definatly trunk) and perhaps reading in the dappled sun until about noon. at which point i generaly gather my things for my walk into and around town. usually this is for some sort of 'errand' such as buying postcard stamps, scouting out train ticket prices or having run out of orangina (a suprisingly popular item in france-didn't foretell that one) but most often the aim of this meandering stroll is the meandering stroll itself. there is a very lovely tree lined avenue with park benches and fountains and an artfully contemporary art designed childrens play park that provides numerous lovely shaded or sunny spots (whichever i prefur on a given day) in which to sit to read, write or just people watch from behind my sunglasses. there is a very large square surrounded by impressive old buildings and playing home to a beautiful double decker carousal which is unfortunatly, always stationary and seemingly deserted but impressive nonetheless, and an uncountable number of winded cobblestone streets down which one could wander, poking in shops, examining windows, admiring the artful displays of fresh fruit outside a small market.
in the later parts of the afternoon and into the evening, there is generally some sort of lingering lunch followed by or preceeded by a long bout in the hammock, in which i alternatly read or sleep or sometimes admittedly begin by reading and doze off with a book on my face. and there is dinner and sometimes a perusal of the interwebs for any mail from far off distant lands, and a dinner sometime later in the evening, and more reading. sometimes i pull out my stinted art supplies (much depleted since i forgot most of them in the bangkok hostel which succeeded in theiving away many an accidentally forgotten possession of mine) at the kitchen table and make and write postcards for a few hours. sometimes i watch old movies with french dubbing on tv. sometimes i accompany my host suzanne to neighborhood art shows or movies. on thursday we had an 'americans for peace and justice' meeting at the house where i was able to meet a small number of americans living here in montpellier or surrounding areas, and it was nice to have people to talk to in english as opposed to an amalgamation of sign language and heavily accented english. today i plan to wander the book fair that has been set up in the center of town.
mostly however i intend to enjoy the remaining week of my stay here without plan or purpose, doing as the french do and working to live rather than living to work. it is lovely here, and i am going to rest up as much as i can before the crazy madness of six countries in five weeks that is the staggeringly full and plan and fun filled rundown to the end of these adventures which might possibly be termed a 'holiday'. i like that word. rather aptly describes this all, like a very long day off.
note: i would just like to add that if anyone not reading this would like to recieve a postcard while i am still traveling (and there remain less than six weeks of that so i advise swift action) the original agreement still stands. write to me and i will write to you. oh and i need your address. and if you think you ought to have already gotten something but haven't and are cursing the futility of the postcard program, a reminder is perfectly acceptable, the list is long, i might have greiviously miscalculated. i'm trying to get as many out as possible so please forgive a slip up if it has occured. and happy spring to everyone!

nature show

my first real day in france was a study in the french person in there natural habitat. i walked the city of montpellier, in a mission for postcard stamps i followed suzannes directions down a street callet 'bernard the delicious one' if roughly translated, and found a post office next tp as store called marguerite selling i don't know what, and through hand gestures and pointing i was able to explain that i wanted stamps to send postcards to the us, and had to hold up fingers to denote the number of stamps i desired. then, since i was already out and the rain from the night before had stopped and i had really good music on my ipod i decided to continue my exploration of a city i had seen only in darkness and while lost. so i set off up the hill along a meandering cobblestone street lined with odd shops and cafes. people walked seemingly aimlessly and no one stood in the doorway of their resturaunt beckoning you in insistantly like they made a habit of doing in both greece and italy. i bought a few postcards and made my way all through the shopping center area of town, out to the train station where i inquired about the train to paris, the times it ran and such. the woman was polite and wrote me out a little timetable. i passed through a square where an elaborate two decker merry-go-round stood silent and imobile and people walked past without glancing at it. i read several signs advertising 'american food' which turns out to include a hamburger with french fries stuffed inside, and steak, served silent and lonely, on a plate by itself. again another european city which looks like a picture book/ movie set.
in the evening we drove nearly an hour into the country to a friends party to celebrate a complete project. three younger people had designed and created a form of modular home which they were unveiling on that occation. the drive was spectacular. endless vistas of furowed fields and rows of vines with small stone cottages perched in the distance. near black stormclouds hovered over the whole scene, adding their menace to the prospect of an outdoor gathering. to the right one could see it was raining about a mile away, looking like someone had dragged a brush down through a just painted cloud, leaving a thin flim on the sky below it. the pqrty was full of charming french people, more than half of whom wore scarves of some sort (and the same amount of the scarf wearers were men as women) and almost none spoke any english. i was introduced as an american traveling around the world who didn't know any english. a few of the younger people admitted to knowing 'a very little' bit of english which turned out to be quite a lot. an english man who also spoke french translated my answers to so many questions for a while, a group of men demonstrated how they had gained some english through music and serenaded us with frank zappa. the aformentioned rain came and drenched to earth, turning it swirtly to mud, and everyone ran for cover on the large porch of the module home, rescuing bottles of wine and plates of snacks. the piano player continued to play under a wide umbrella. the group continued to talk. i tired to get a good grip on the french greeting of cheek-kissing. it seemed to be generally three kisses but on a few occasions just two, i am assuming if the person was less well known though several people grabbed me and tri-kissed me even upon knowing my non-french-speaking american traveler status. there seemed to be an elaborate system of knowing which side to begin kissing on, or at as sometimes the cheeks just touched and one made dense kissing sounds next to the ear of the other without actually kissing them, and sometimes the cheek was actually kissed though whether on purpose or lack of kiss greeting coordination i will never know.
an earnest frenchman who spoke some english told me of how he had been to america only once to visit new york in '71 and while there he had purchased 'rollers' which i took to mean rollerscates. he loved that he could roller all around the city of manhatten. he seems to have had a very enjoyable two weeks there and still continues to roller here in france though he bemoned the fact that no one would go rollering with him and spoke long of the french automobile drivers inability to share the road with anybody. we left at eleven just as they were starting to ready food for supper. the stars streached infinatly in the sky, which seemed much more domelike than the last time i had viewed it properly. like some vast painted ceiling under which we located the car and drove home in dark and silence.

using my fav french word...

well yesterday saw another dawn to dusk travel day, beginning at half five when i was woken by my roomates who monopoliwed the bathroom until i left an hour later, thank goodness there was a backup downstairs, until arriving finally at a bit past nine that evening. after the bathroom debacle i walked leisurly like to the train station and remembered to validate my ticket, and got on my train and made it to genova just fine where i had almost two hours of inbetween time. i decided to use that to check and see if i could possible get the nice to montpellier tickets there, instead of upon arriving in nice like i had been told in florence. it turns out i could buy them but it would be a few euro more thn buying them in france, but since there was only half an hour inbetween trains i decided to buy the nice to marsailles ticket ahead of time and boy was i pleased about that. because i got the train to nice just fine, but it was ten minutes late and waited a good long while before taking off, and then even though it was so behind schedule, still paused at the italian boarder for what seemed like forever so two politzia officers could peer into each compartment, searching faces for suspision before moving on. at this point i knew that the train would be very late and so two stops ahead i hauled my backpack down from the overhead storage bin, nearly knocking myself unconsious in the process, and readied my things by the door, preparing for amad dash for some sort of departures board in the nice station.
and still the train lagged and when it finally pulled into the station the corridors were crammed with people desperatly jostling their enormous luggage and pushing to get out the door. i had at this point four minutes before my train was scheduled to depart and not much hope of reaching it in time but i ran out the door and scrambled down the stairs to find signs displaying arrival/departure times and destinations at every set of platforms, and there, right next to where i had just disembarked from my very very late train, was exactly the one i was looking for. so i dashed up the steps accompanied by several other harrwed looking travelers obviously bound for the same place, and mananged to make the trainwith over two minutes to spare, though i spent the first hour seated next to a rotund elderly chap who insisted on coughing, sneezing, breathing loudly through his mouth and producing projectiles of spit, at fairly regular intervals. thankfully when a forward facing seat became available he moved, as i am unsure i would have survived the entire journey next to such a pungent health hazard. unfortunatly this train appeared to be running a bit behing schedule as well as it was almost seven and it was still no where near my station, and to top it all it had grown dark and begun to rain and i was wearing flip flops and my rainjacket was foolishly located near the bottem of my bag.
and when the train finally meandered it's way into the station it was rather seriously pouring and i had four minutes before the only train of the evening was scheduled to depart for montpellier qnd i was in the furthest train car from the station and had to walk towards the covered safety of the station getting steadily soaked and terrified that i was missing my only connection, only to realize that there were just three ticket windows open and an impossibly long line ahead of me. well what could i do but try,or cry or both.but i decided an attemt was a good way to stave of stranded panic, and i was slightly heartened to discover the train was delayed by ten minutes, and thankfully reached an available ticket seller after much nervous toe tapping and knuckle popping to discover that the hour and a half journey cost as much as the entire florence to nice leg but again, as there was not really another option i bought my ticket and again dashed against time to the train minutes before it left the station. thankfully i had two seats and was able to lay my pack down and zip it open in order to have more room to dig in the bottem for my raincoat, sneakers, socks and another sweater which i was so very thankful for upon FINALLY reaching montpellier where the rain was still determined not to relent.
i bought a phone card to call suzanne (who i was set to stay with here) since the payphones don't accept change, and got directions but unfortunatly ended up on a bus instead of a tram (but it was blue with birds and said mosson as it's destination and remember i had been awake and going full out since six or earlier and it was now nine thirty) and ended up in completely the wrong place and began to wak back towards where i believed the train station to be, looking for a phone on which to call suzanne, and getting soaked and a bit distressed, and i felt so terrible for getting lost but really not to suprised. if it is possible to, i will, seems to be a rule with this journey. and i found a phone box and called but it was difficult to get directions without knowing where i was and there were no street signs and i asked a man passing by what street i was on but he only spoke french. so i gave him the phone and he spoke to suzanne with alarming rapidity and it was determined that he would point me in the direction of the station and she would meet me there. and he was so sweet, and walked with me instead of just showing me the way, holding his umbrella up over my head even though he was quite a bit shorter and had to fully extend his arm to do so. and he asked my name and i told him and he nodded his head gravely and replied that he was called armond, or at least i think that is what he said. and we spoke, mostly through hand gestures, about the rain; and he said i should call me if i got lost again and we parted ways when i could see the station up ahead. and i met suzanne and it was al fine. but really i couldn't help but marvel at how kind and helpful a stranger was, and after everyone griped in hostels about the rudeness of the french, i found the exact opposite. so thank you armond for rescuing me. i probubly looked like a drown cat on the verge of tears. i suppose i would have stopped and helped me to.
ps. the french word i found myself muttering all day, begins with an 'm' and is not merci nor is it at all polite.