2008- On our way to Italy- Stuck in Nice, France-Pt. 1

-Nice, France-

(sorry for lack of pictures, there really were none to be taken at this time, and if you want to see a picture of Nice, just go to Google...I would have snagged a picture from there anyway!)

Our journey from France to Italy is not a smooth one like the rest have been. And any trouble we have had travelling so far has paled in comparison to what we are about to experience. This is the point in our travels that I have been waiting to tell you about in great anticipation!

Chelsie and I go to the train station again in Avignon to head out. Our plan is to take a train from Avignon to the town of Nice (France). From Nice (pronounced: Neece), we will take an overnight train to Florence, Italy. The distance between Nice and Florence was so far, that we felt an overnight train would make this easiest instead of a bunch of stops in between.

Aside from trying to sleep on a moving train at night, it sounds relatively easy, right?

It's late afternoon at the station, and Chelsie and I are on the 2 hour train to Nice, watching the French countryside whip by. The majority of the ride takes place on the coast, and the sights are too much. We see villages that grow into the hills, plantations, wineries, the ocean, and a sunset going by. Our train is clean and comfortable, and I am listening through a playlist of songs Kenton made for me on the i-pod. Although I am not missing Kenton any less, I am coming to a turning point in this trip. I am finding it easier to embrace the experience of being here, and thinking of going home less. It is Thursday, May 15th, and we are halfway through the trip. I am enjoying the trip more, and getting somewhat used to the lifestyle we have established here, packing up and going every couple of days- and we are finding some routine or pattern in the chaos of each day. 

Chelsie and I arrive in Nice, France towards the evening. From this train station, we are supposed to take a bus (like a Greyhound), to the next train station where we will have our overnight ride to Florence. While we wait for the bus, we head across the street to a little diner to get some dinner. It is kind of a dive, but there isn't really any better option nearby. We eat, and come back to the station. 

It seems like there are more and more people in the station as time goes on. A lot of us hang out outside where the bus pick up/drop off is. It's a warm evening, but the cool, late-spring evening is setting in.

What happens next is all sort of a blur, and I will try to recount it as best I can.

Night is near, and there is a huge crowd of people at the station. Our bus has not come to take us to our overnight train. A couple of large buses with people in them pull up. As they are getting off, the people waiting at our station move to the buses, wanting to get on for the same purpose as us- to get to our next station for the overnight train.

The drivers of the buses are shouting at the crowds in French, and Chelsie and I have no clue what is going on. We move in the crowd, and are squished between people talking and shouting in foreign languages. A guy near to us sees Chelsie and I talking to each other in english, trying to figure out what is happening. He can speak both french and english, and fills us in. There is a strike going on with the transportation drivers in France right now, and there are not enough buses to take everyone to their scheduled overnight train rides. To get to the next station is about half an hour away, and we could not walk there in time to make our train departure. Basically- too many people, too few buses=many people missing their overnight trip to Florence and who knows where else!

This is bad. We don't speak French, and now we don't know what to do. The bus drivers are aggressive, not letting just anyone jump on the bus. They take those closest to the front, and will not budge. They shout at everyone like they are cattle. Chelsie and I begin to realize that we are not getting on one of the two buses that everyone is crowding around.

We aren't the only ones noticing the reality of the situation. A couple that had been standing near us are frustrated and confused. They are from Australia, and are trying to get to Rome. They had been staying in Nice for the past little while. Their names are Luke and Angela (or Ange is what she liked to be called). Chelsie and I stay close to them in the chaos.

Taxi cabs begin pulling up and taking rejected travellers in their cars-if the price is right. The cab drivers are asking for ridiculous rates to take people to the next station, preying on people's desperation. We debate with our Australian friends on splitting the price with them, but the amount keeps rising, and we become angry and stop bartering. The French transportation just can't leave us stranded here all night...can they?

Maybe more buses will end up coming...?

Maybe we should just go stay somewhere for the night? But all the rooms are probably booked up by now, and we doubt there will be anything in the area at this hour.

Our translator friend from earlier continues to translate what else is going on. His name is Alexander and he becomes a part of our small group forming. He tells us that apparently they will do something for the night, maybe bring in a train that we can all sleep on but won't take us anywhere. At least we will have a bed for a night. Great, we think. Just great.

While we wait for this train to come and give us a temporary hotel, we sit in the train station. Another guy (I think from New Zealand?) joins us. Now, any of you reading that know Andrew Schoentaeler will find this amusing. This NZ guy was a dead-ringer for Andrew. Looked like him, talked like him, had the hand gestures like him, even dressed like him. It was eerie, and yet comforting in a strange way- like something familiar from home in this weird, late-night train station. I forget his real name, so let's just call him Andrew. Andrew suggested to the group that we buy some beer and wine to pass the time. Everyone was in. I wasn't, already feeling ill from lack of sleep and wanting a nice bed to sleep on by now instead of sitting on some gross, cold train station floor. 

We sat around with our big travel backpacks as people opened huge bottles of cheap beer costing a fraction of what they would in Canada. Andrew was drinking some gross concoction of cherry coke mixed with red wine I think, which he swore was amazing. The thought made me want to hurl.

Eventually some security guys told us we couldn't drink in there (which we should have known), and tell us to get rid of it...like right now. As in hand it over and too bad they are throwing it out. When our translator friend, Alexandar, stupidly argues their request, they become irritated and make some threatening remarks. Luke complies and suggests everyone else do the same, and the security guards take what they see and eventually move on. They didn't know that there was still more in a few bags next to some of us sitting there.
Chelsie and I want a snack, and we see a vending machine with chocolate bars and chips. She suggests I get the Kinder Bueno. I do, and I think I get another. It tastes like the most delicious chocolate bar I have ever had. I am tired, and hungry!

Finally the train that contains sleeping quarters in every car, arrives and all of us leftovers from the bus chaos earlier, pick up our things and move outside to where is has been parked. I am exhausted, and wishing I was back home right about now. I know I probably won't sleep much tonight!

Each car has 3 beds stacked like bunk beds on either side of the compartment. It's a tight space, especially for all of us with the big backpacks. In our car we have Chelsie and I, Luke and Angela, Andrew the New Zealander and Alexander the translator for the group. Ange and I take the middle bunks, the most tired two people out of the group. We settle our things into the train car, and Ange and I nestle into our individual beds for the night. The rest have brought out the rest of the booze, preparing for what seems like a possible all-nighter for them. By this point I am so tired, I don't feel like worrying about where Chelsie goes, or what she does. She is drinking with the others, and I just hope she can take care of herself. But we are all talking and laughing, until finally Ange and I can't keep our eyes open anymore. Her and the others head outside, and I think they play football (or some sort of game of pass) and run around laughing and such. Ange and I talk in and out of sleepiness.  I don't really remember much else, but eventually everyone makes it back into the car, and try to sleep. I do know that is wasn't much of a sleep, and it was super uncomfortable and somewhat chilly. (Chelsie and I didn't have our own sleeping bags, and I am not a fan of using hoodies or sweaters as a make-shift pillow). I hear that Chelsie has barfed outside at some point, the cheap beer getting to her. Andrew is still drinking his nasty mix of wine and pop, and telling us stupid funny stories of stuff.

Apparently we have to ride a subway/train thing the next morning, and then find a different train to take to get to Florence. We have to be up early to get on the first train. This is told to us over an announcement system on the train that Alexander again translates.

Finally things seem to simmer down, and I am certain by now that if the other "passengers" trying to get rest can hear us, they basically hate us by now but just aren't saying anything. I am in and out of sleep for the next few hours, until I seem to wake for the day at 5:00am. The "excitement"-if you can call it that, from the night before is not letting me fall back asleep. I can see that there is daylight outside. I feel like absolute death, and hate that I have to face a day full of finding our way to Florence because all of our travel plans have been ruined by a stupid strike in France. Apparently Nice is a very beautiful place, and it is too bad that we don't get to see any of it.
Chelsie and I, being the smart travellers we are, have apples and peanut butter in our bags, and we pull them out for some breakfast. Chelsie confirms that she did indeed throw up at some point last night, and feels nasty from drinking the cheap beer. She also swears off alcohol for the rest of the trip...or was it the rest of her life? Either way, she is not going near the stuff any time soon.

As we much on our breakfast on a bench on the platform, we watch the sun rise in the crisp and cool morning. I am freezing. I was cold last night, and it's cold this morning, and everything including my hair and clothes have that cool damp feel to it. I feel gross. My hair is greasy. I really want a shower. I really want this nightmare to be over.

We see the rest of our fellow compartment mates slowly making their way out of the train car with their bags. Everyone sort of recounts the night and what took place. Most don't really recall. We are all just so tired.

I don't see how things can get any worse than they did last night...

...but somehow they do.