Wed, 15 Oct 2003

author Tim	location Barcelona, Catalunya, España
posted 10:20 CEST 17/10/03	section Europe2002/Europe/France/France 1 ( all photos )

Waiting for Trains II ( )
Getting up the earliest we had for a long time, we easily beat the sun out into the world, heading straight for the station and the 8:07 train.
Only it didn't exist. That's not a huge problem, except that there were two other options to get us to Port-Bou. Firstly, we could pay up 44 euros extra on top of the ticket price we had already paid and get on some ultra super-dooper fast train at 8:46. No thanks, these tickets cost us enough already.
That left us with option number two - the 13:29 slow cheap train. Pausing briefly to wonder just how useless and out of date the timetable at the hostel which mentioned the 8:07 train must have been, we trudged out of the station to get some breakfast and begin a long wait in the town Perpignan with seemingly nothing whatsoever to do.
We sat for a couple of hours at the first café we found, having a hearty breakfast of croissants, juice and coffee as we generally sat and planned all the things we want to do should we ever get anywhere via train.
Upon leaving, we asked for an Internet café and were directed further down the main road of town (there's only one of note) to Hotel Meditteranian. There we fought with silly French keyboards for a while, tapping away and reading mails. Not much chance of plugging the laptop there, we thought.
But we were wrong - as we were leaving, a guy was sitting at the bar with a laptop, wireless card hanging conspicuously out the side! How silly, one of the few places we didn't bother to check, and there was free wireless net access in this crappy little town! A few clicks and we were away, updating the website and doing other things we haven't done for ages. The girl didn't even charge us for the wireless bit because she didn't know she had the system there! No arguments from us.
It was finally time to go back towards the train station, where we sat for another eternity before the train appeared on the boards and went to wait for it on the platform.
The poor old run-down thing rattled into the station, and clattered us towards Port-Bou. Remember we still haven't made it to Spain yet, which has been our goal for two days or so now.
Just before Port-Bou station, we crossed the border into España.

author Tim	location Barcelona, Catalunya, España
posted 10:06 CEST 17/10/03	section Europe2002/Europe/France/France 1 ( all photos )

Waiting for Trains ( )
This was a day where not a huge amount was achieved, mostly due to the poor connections between trains across the south of France.
First we waited in Nice for a train which would take us to Marseille, then we waited outside the station there. I did a run down to the cheap food shops, returning with a couple of huge kebabs and some pasta sauce.
We plotted a route towards the famous yet hard-to-reach border station with Spain, Port-Bou. But by the time we had managed the changes in trains, we decided that a good place to rest for the evening was a few stops short in Perpignan. The main reason for this was there was a HI hostel only 400m from the station.
Arriving there, we found the town really didn't amount to much. A helpful woman at the station pointed us towards the hostel, where we trudged along for a while (notably further than 400m, though). In the dark this ugly town looked even worse, so we weren't expecting much. It turned out to be alright though, in a nice old Catalan-style house where everything was clean and functional, if far from new.
After waiting while the rather rude guy talked to his mates for twenty minutes as we just sat there with the bags waiting to check in, we did so. He seemed a bit apologetic and gave us a cheaper deal.
The kitchen was outside, where we had to elbow in for some space on the two burner stove (Campingaz, no less!), to cook guess what. Liz attended to that while I went for a walk with a Canadian guy called Mark, returning with some refreshments for the night.
We took note of the trains for the next morning, setting alarms to get up early for the 8:07 train to Port-Bou.

author Tim	location Girona, Catalunya, España
posted 08:03 CEST 16/10/03	section Europe2002/Europe/France/France 1 ( all photos )

Beaches - Monaco, Nice ( )
The weather was excellent as we awoke, so I dragged my shorts out from the bottom of our pack, we ate the great included breakfast and then it was time to head off to soak up some sun.
Getting from Nice to Monaco on the train again was less hassle this time, rolling into the station and out the far exit, we found ourselves at a little fruit market in place d'Armes. That such a thing could exist in a place of such oppulence was at first suprising, but the more we looked around, the more it was apparent that not just the ultra-rich lived here, but more 'average' people called this place home also.
It took a while to work out how to pay for the apple we selected for consumption, but that done, it was off in search of touristy shops. We were running low on cash, which turned out to be a very good thing - not much could be afforded at all! Even our fridge magnet for the collection had to wait until we could find an ATM - something which was far harder than we expected in such a place. Perhaps if you are rich you just have accounts everywhere and don't need cash.
We walked down the quay on the south side of Port de Monaco, past billions of dollars worth of yachts, hyper-expensive restaurants, and generally feeling quite out of place. That's a feeling that didn't really leave us - nobody was actively rude to us, but there is an atmosphere of exclusiveness, something backpackers aren't really all about.
Next around the Port to the northern side, where we had the general aim of exploring Monte Carlo and finding an ATM for some cash. There are lots of streets going the same way here, but each is terraced higher than the next, so as to provide a way of getting around on such a steep landscape. We chose one of the lower ones, which still wound fairly high through the side of the mountain, with great views of the water out of the one open side.
There was a lift up into the famous casino here, which I guess explains the presence of a tourist shop. They have the standard stuff available, with an emphasis on Formula 1, due of course to the fact that one of the races is run here in late May. We had tried to pick pieces of the course out during our walks (it's all run on the streets), but settled for the fact that driving anywhere around this place at 300km/h is going to be pretty nuts. With fantastic views, however.
Out the other side of the mountain, and past an amazing piece of architecture in the Jardin Japonais towards our holy grail - Monte Carlo Beach.
It has been so long since we saw a piece of coastline, let alone in fantastic weather, with huge fish swimming right up to the water's edge and in a place as famous as this. The stones were even much smaller than in Nice (perhaps the rich employ people to break them in to smaller pieces?) In no time at all, we were lazing around, soaking up the rays and cursing the fact that our swimming costumes are back in Rosie. Who would have thought that mid-October in Europe would be swimming weather. Plenty of people, I guess, since there were others around too. Most of these, however, were so over-tanned that their skin was sagging middle-aged women, obviously living here while hubby was away earning millions, with nothing better to do than laze on the beach all day.
It wasn't such a bad plan, and it was quite a task to tear us away from the place, but there was more to see, and a beach, although not as pretty, was awaiting us in Nice also. We looked pretty silly there anyway, being the youngest there by about thirty years, and the whitest since we tan incedentally to our travels only, not as an occupation.
We found our way up a couple of tiers, and walked back past the famous Casino de Monte Carlo where so much rich people's money has been moved to other rich people that we felt it deserved a photo, but not our patronage. Besides, I don't think we quite fit the desired clientele profile.
Almost back to the train station to hitch a ride out of there, we remembered that we didn't have a magnet yet. The fastest way back due to the fact we were now a long way up from the water and hence the cheapy tourist shop was to go back in the station, down a huge long lift into the mountain where the station is, then walk down some more steps and ramps, arriving at place Ste-Dévote. The return journey to the touristy place was eased by the fact that we also grabbed a couple of ice creams, our first in weeks and quite justified in the heat of the day.
The last of our little coastal trains was waiting for us, which pulled out eventually and chugged back to Nice, stopping again at all of these tiny little stations, which I imagine only a month or so ago were totally clogged with rich tourists staying places where the poor dare not to tread.

The beach in Monte Carlo had given us a taste, and now there was only one thing for it - get a picnic and spent the afternoon and evening doing pretty close to nothing on Nice beach. We spent five hours there in total, doing nothing but chatting, munching, drinking, and looking forward in no small terms to doing exactly the same back on Cronulla beach in a month or two. And there, there is actually sand, which our bums would have loved after five hours of sitting on large stones.
The sun went down early, which coupled with the fact that it doesn't get light until about 8am now (very strange after our travels to North Cape) means that daylight savings must be on the way, which we look forward to.

author Tim	location the 13:29 Perpignan to Port-Bou train, France
posted 14:09 CEST 15/10/03	section Europe2002/Europe/France/France 1 ( all photos )

Marseille, across Côte d'Azur to Nice ( )
Shunning the not-included-at-HI-hostels breakfast, we shouldered packs early, having learnt that the bus we had taken to get there the day before didn't run on Sundays, and hence we would have to take another one.
We walked around the local soccer field where plenty of morning action was going on, interestingly with the spectators outside the fences. This bus-stop proved a little tricky to locate, but we did so on a side-street. Reading and understanding the maps and timetables proved to be almost impossible, so we just sat back and waited for a bus to arrive with the correct destination on the board.
Two more tickets got us back into the centre of town, and then it was back to the train station. After dumping our bags at the station for a ridiculous sum of money, we were quite naughty and fell for a Sunday morning McDonalds breakfast, tasting pretty much the same as it does back home.
Being France's second largest city doesn't really do much to change the fact that it is grotty and doesn't do much to hide that. We set off in search of the soul of the city, buried under kebab wrappers and all the rest of the rubbish. We headed first west along la Canebière, down directly towards the water. Strangely, as we did so, the city cleaned up its act just a little. I guess it is similar to leaving some parts of Redfern in Sydney.
Along quai des Belges at the end of Vieux Port, there was a fish market which paled in comparison to others we have spent time in such as Bergen. The fish were all fresh enough though, most being in buckets out the back, and prodded on the stands to show that they were still kicking. Not quite what we wanted to see to entice us into a purchase.
So, instead, we headed north to see a few interesting places with little time to do so before our annoyingly 'booked' train. We walked west along the north of Vieux Port, along quai du Port. Randomly choosing a side street, we turned north in search of adventure. I'm not sure we really found that, but this whole area, the Panier Quarter, was certainly quite different. Steep narrow streets were the order of the day, and although not quite immaculate, the area was much cleaner than we expected it to be.
Prices were high at most of the little shops, but at least they were open. We didn't grab anything to cook with there, instead just pushing through towards the station. We eventually hit boulevard des Dames, and followed this back east towards the station Gare St. Charles.
Massive roadworks made our progress slow and frequently we had to dodge into the middle of the road to get around. At least the French drivers try not to hit you, unlike the Italians did!
It was almost time for our train, so we trudged back up the huge staircase to the train station, where I went back to get our bags out of the lockers. In the second incident in recent times, there were four Australians giving us bad names in the locker room. If you insist in swearing your head off in foreign countries, at least do it without an Australian flag on your pack.

The much-slower-than-the-TGV train took us along the pretty coastline, weaving our way towards Monaco, the main famous part of which is Monte Carlo. First we had to change in Nice though, and we had an hour or two with nothing to do. We were hungry again, so split a pizza at a place near the station, one of the cheapest reliable eats we can find around the place.
We boarded the local train towards Monaco, which sits on a blurry line between a country and state of France. Technically its a Principality, but it's only 1.95km square so for most practical reasons it's part of France.
Whatever the case was, we got off the train there in the spiffy new train station, picked a random exit and set off in search of our hostel. The change from Marseille was absolute. Since the residents of Monaco pay no taxes, you can imagine that the rich all feature quite prominently. Ferraris and BMWs were all in evidence parked under/around the huge high-rise buildings with views over the sea.
Our exit from the station had been through a lift which took us high up the hill, so at least our search for the hostel was all downhill from there. After a few wrong turns, we found ourselves outside the right building. Only the demolition company's sign, the huge crane overhead and the rubble all around did not bode well. Checking the sign above the building confirmed that we had infact found Centre de la Jeunesse Princesse Stèphanie, but it appeared that the Princess had long since deserted the place.
We threw our bags down to have a think about this. Here we were, in one of the world's most expensive cities, with the only cheap place to stay boarded up. We checked a couple of times, but it seems that the entry in our February 2003 Lonely Planet is somewhat out of date. Infact, for the city, they show the train station in the right place, but the hostel description is relative to the old train station, now nothing but a shell!
So, we did what any budget travellers not prepared to pay 85 euros for the next cheapest option would do - we trudged back to the train to get back to Nice. We could have asked the Tourist Information if there were any other places, but they were all closed - both offices.

All this finding accommodation stuff was getting to us, so we rang ahead and booked a room in Nice in what was actually a hotel, although which strangely had a double bed in a dorm room, Hôtel Belle Meunière. We laughed away the hour or so we had to wait for a train back thinking that the place we were about to travel through might sound like a pile of manure, but at least they answered the phone.
It turned out to be right near the station, and a great little place too. France and Spain seem to have a number of hotels where they do dorm rooms, or even proper double rooms for very cheap prices. Just not so in Monaco.
One thing the place didn't have was a kitchen, so it was off to our third take-away meal for the day, not very good at all really. At least we push for cheap stuff, which in some cases is less than the cost of cooking. We located a kebab shop (a bit harder task than it was in Marseille, but not much) and grabbed some food, which we wanted to eat on the beach washed down with a beer. Three of the local lads thought it would be amusing to throw their pistachio nut shells at us as we waited for our food - we glared and said 'Pardon' but only got laughs in return.
When I went into a shop to grab a beer to take with us, it turned out that one of the shell-throwers was running the store. I made it quite clear that he wasn't going to get any money off me, put the beer back and off we went. Stupid idiot.
We found a drink somewhere else (cheaper!), and capped off our dinner with a nice long walk along the beach front. The beach was only about 1km from our hotel, and was covered in 1-3 inch stones, not quite the sand we have back home! Still, they were rounded and quite easy to walk along. Our walk back went via some of the centre of town, blundering our way along but generally having a ball exploring the city.
Arriving not too late, we didn't wake up our room-mate in the single bed (we had a double, remember), Hayley from the US.

author Tim	location the 13:29 Perpignan to Port-Bou train, France
posted 13:46 CEST 15/10/03	section Europe2002/Europe/France/France 1 ( all photos )

Into Marseille ( )
Being in separate dorms which we aren't quite prepared for, we only have one alarm clock. We had chosen quite an early time to meet downstairs, breakfast and get on the rails, but Liz didn't show! She wandered in quite a while later, having had not the best night's sleep. Happens now and again, unfortunately.
After our breakfast, we decided to leave Lyon, and hence headed back to the main train station. Discussions the night before had meant that we wanted to spend little time in the middle of France, instead heading for the famous "South of France", on the French Riviera, or Côte d'Azur, to spend quite a bit of time there.
Our journey was through the scenic Rhône Valley, to change trains at a previously-unheard of place called Nimes, where we intended to buy an extra return ticket to Monaco. Most of this went fairly well, although we had to get another train through to Marseille before we could head further east. The annoying thing about having tickets on the French train system is that you have to specify specific times you wish to travel, and in many cases pay suppliments.
We had happily paid the suppliment to travel from Lyon down to Nimes, on one of the trains I had wanted to get on ever since I was a little kid and learnt all about trains of the world. The pride of the French train fleet is the TGV, an ultra-fast way to get across the country. The GPS proved to us that we were infact screaming along at 295km/h, easily the fastest we have ever travelled while still having something joining us to the earth.
By the time the connecting train got us late into Marseille, we only just made it to the next train, where we found other people sitting in our reserved seats and a train number that didn't quite match up. Confused, we chose to break our journey there and changed our reservations to the next morning.
Looking into the great little French Youth Hostel Association guide book, we found that we could get to a HI hostel there with just a simple bus ride. Lonely Planet describes the city as "not in the least bit beautified for the sake of tourists". What an apt description. There was rubbish everywhere, beggars, and generally not much to bring a traveller there at all, except maybe as a stop if you were passing through. It did manage to have such a concentration of kebab shops that at one stage we saw three right next to each other - a feat not achieved even in Istanbul.
After waiting for a while on the busy arterial la Canebière, the bus arrived, and we somehow managed to get a ticket from the driver, and it wound its way towards Auberge de Jeunesse Château de Bois Luzy, in a neighbourhood about 5km out of town. The place itself is rather interesting, being in an old castle, rather run down, but that is part of its character. We had to lug our bags there quite a way from the bus stop, but it was all worked out in the end.
We couldn't quite check in yet, so I went for a wander back down to the shops to gather some foodstuffs for dinner, communicating with the shop-staff how I do not know, and coming away with a couple of cake things, some pasta sauce and a two euro bottle of wine. Not a bad haul really.
Paying up the tiny suppliment for a double room (far better than being split apart, although when they say double room here, they mean twin), we dumped our bags and set about dinner.
Saying that the place had a kitchen was a little over-kind. Infact it had gas burners that wouldn't have passed safety standards in 1950 (which at least boiled the water in about two minutes flat), and a set of cutlery, crockery and pots and pans that were extremely close to useless. We salvaged one glass to drink out of, pulled a handle off one of the pots (which actually made it better), and enjoyed a good meal.
We weren't sure where to sit at first because there was a huge conference of people all getting together and speaking rapid French (not suprising, I guess). We have no idea what it was all about, but after a while we did notice that there was not one male among them, a fact I found a little dis-concerting as I ate my dinner, the only male in the room of a hundered or so.
That all done, we continued our habit of retiring early to wake and get on the move as soon as possible.

author Tim	location the 11:14 Nice to Marseille train, France
posted 11:22 CEST 14/10/03	section Europe2002/Europe/France/France 1 ( all photos )

Into Lyon ( )
(Continued from Schweiz)
No dramatic changes as we crossed the border. Infact, we had technically been in France some months back, when we drove Rosie (R.I.P.) back to London from the Netherlands. The changes you see on the road as you drive around the place are far more pronounced than those on the trains.
On maps Lyon doesn't look all that far from the Swiss border, but it took quite a while to get there, proving the fact that France is the largest country in Europe. We hadn't chosen Lyon for any particular reason, other than it sounded interesting, was about the right distance for a day's travel, and Meaghan and Dave had been there a week or so earlier.
Alighting at the Gare de Perrache train station, we headed off in search of the HI hostel. This proved quite a hike away, across River Saône and up some amazingly steep streets to the hostel on the hill. The hike with the packs was quite strenuous, and we stopped a few times just to admire the cobbled old streets down below us and catch our breath.
Finally making it to the top, we followed the road down towards the hostel - as luck would have it, we had chosen the steepest path up (not knowing otherwise), and we had a bit of a run back down hill a way to where the hostel actually was. The bulding was huge, and admittedly had great views across the city, which has two separate World Heritage listed areas in its old towns. It seemed to take as long as the walk from the station for the girl to check us in, people jumping infront of us in the 'queue' all seemed to not have Youth Hostel cards and hence took ages to check in.
We were put in separate dorms which is most annoying with only one set of gear, so we stashed our stuff, waited twenty minutes or so to give our keys back to the receptionist, grabbed a town map and set off for a look around.
Our busy day hadn't left much time to eat, so we set off to the recommended Café 203, taking a walk through town to get there along the pedestrianised rue de la République. We ate the set menu, which was quite interesting to say the least, the 'highlight' being my dessert which was like a tart with carrot in it - very strange but edible. Sitting there was marred a little bit by the group of eight or so Australians sitting near us who decided that burping and farting would be a great way to pass the time. I think they were several under each, but that doesn't really excuse the bad wrap they are giving us to everyone else.
Looking for nothing in particular, we wandered back through the town, taking in the central square place Bellecour and then crossing back over one of the footbridges to take the shorter path back to the hostel.
We spent the evening getting our journals up to date in the communal area of the hostel, which, being a Friday night, was unfortunately doubling as a disco. The effect of the lighting was annoying enough, but the noise was just getting silly. We gave up after a while and went our separate ways to our rooms, where I had a great view out over the town from my window. All things considered, we slept quite well.

(customised)