Even though my time in France is up, I told myself I would write a few more blog posts (which were intended to be written during my time in France, but that’s what happens when you simply begin “living” instead of doing only what’s required…)
So, onto the topic of this blog -- my weekends.
In my opinion (and I’m sure other people would agree), weekends are what make your time here go by more quickly, give you something to look forward to, allow you to take a 3 day vacation (every weekend), give you opportunities to lose yourself to Europe/France/etc., and of course, give you time to experience things you’ve never and may never get to experience again (like me).
The first 2 weeks in France, I hated to admit, but I was pretty homesick. This was a strange feeling for me because I’m so used to being away from home and those I love (since I live several hours away from them all). Looking back, the first 2 weekends were probably the least exciting during my stay, all because of slow weekends, but that’s okay. Once my friends and I learned about the wonderful CarTreize cards (which allow you to ride the CarTreize buses all day for just 2 euro), even our free days became booked.
Here’s a rundown of my weekends for my memory and your enjoyment. Each of these trips was done on quite a budget, for you money conscientious students out there (like me).
So, onto the topic of this blog -- my weekends.
In my opinion (and I’m sure other people would agree), weekends are what make your time here go by more quickly, give you something to look forward to, allow you to take a 3 day vacation (every weekend), give you opportunities to lose yourself to Europe/France/etc., and of course, give you time to experience things you’ve never and may never get to experience again (like me).
The first 2 weeks in France, I hated to admit, but I was pretty homesick. This was a strange feeling for me because I’m so used to being away from home and those I love (since I live several hours away from them all). Looking back, the first 2 weekends were probably the least exciting during my stay, all because of slow weekends, but that’s okay. Once my friends and I learned about the wonderful CarTreize cards (which allow you to ride the CarTreize buses all day for just 2 euro), even our free days became booked.
Here’s a rundown of my weekends for my memory and your enjoyment. Each of these trips was done on quite a budget, for you money conscientious students out there (like me).
Weekend #1: Welcoming weekend! June 1st-2nd
Saturday, June 1st: Arrive in France (after more than 24 hours of travelling). Go to cirque du soleil show by the rotund with host momma and housie until midnight. Have a blast. Fall into sleep coma.
Sunday, June 2nd: Sleep coma from jet lag until 3pm. Wake up to venture around town with map given by IAU to find IAU and go to open house by 6pm. Go to open house. Go home. Sleep more to try to sleep off jet lag.
Saturday, June 1st: Arrive in France (after more than 24 hours of travelling). Go to cirque du soleil show by the rotund with host momma and housie until midnight. Have a blast. Fall into sleep coma.
Sunday, June 2nd: Sleep coma from jet lag until 3pm. Wake up to venture around town with map given by IAU to find IAU and go to open house by 6pm. Go to open house. Go home. Sleep more to try to sleep off jet lag.
Weekend #2: First real weekend! June 7th – 9th
Friday, June 7th: First IAU excursion to the Luberon region (which is free and covered in your program fees). Bought things in the market in first town (which I cannot remember the name of for the life of me), saw the little and big luberon mountains, saw lots of poppy fields, hiked to the top of the town of Lacoste to the castle ruins, ate lunch, took LOTS of pictures of the pretty French country side, saw the red soil in Rousillion where they take the pigment out of the dirt to make paints and whatnot, ate nutella ice cream, started my post card obsession, got bus sick (of course), come home. Sleep.
Saturday, June 8th: Explore Aix with housie and hang with her friends. Simple as that.
Sunday, June 9th: Travel to Marseille for the Transhumance 2013! Saw lots of animals. Ate good pizza. Took a boat to the island not too far from Marseille to visit the Chateau d’If (where the Count of Monte Cristo took place), get splashed by the Mediterranean on the boat. Saw the church on the port next to the sea (which I also cannot remember the name of). Come back to Aix and eat dinner with housie, her friends, and her professor from her college and order a bunch of new French food to try (which I didn’t like, for once). Go home. Sleep.
Friday, June 7th: First IAU excursion to the Luberon region (which is free and covered in your program fees). Bought things in the market in first town (which I cannot remember the name of for the life of me), saw the little and big luberon mountains, saw lots of poppy fields, hiked to the top of the town of Lacoste to the castle ruins, ate lunch, took LOTS of pictures of the pretty French country side, saw the red soil in Rousillion where they take the pigment out of the dirt to make paints and whatnot, ate nutella ice cream, started my post card obsession, got bus sick (of course), come home. Sleep.
Saturday, June 8th: Explore Aix with housie and hang with her friends. Simple as that.
Sunday, June 9th: Travel to Marseille for the Transhumance 2013! Saw lots of animals. Ate good pizza. Took a boat to the island not too far from Marseille to visit the Chateau d’If (where the Count of Monte Cristo took place), get splashed by the Mediterranean on the boat. Saw the church on the port next to the sea (which I also cannot remember the name of). Come back to Aix and eat dinner with housie, her friends, and her professor from her college and order a bunch of new French food to try (which I didn’t like, for once). Go home. Sleep.
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Weekend #3: 2nd weekend/Finding out about the 2 euro bus weekend! June 14th – 16th.
Friday, June 14th: Adventure to Cassis using the CarTreize buses. Had an hour layover in Aubergne (or however you spell it) to eat breakfast at a cute little local café. In Cassis by 11am – walk to rocky beaches to explore and take pictures, visit the market, buy lunch, chill at tourist beach (while others venture off to find beaches of their own… like nude beaches, welcome to France!), swim in the Mediterranean for the first time, eat first croque monsieur, shop in little shops in town, play Rich Man Poor Man while waiting for the bus (which some French people watched while waiting as well, commenting about how my shuffling of cards is casino-worthy), get back to Aix, plan for the next 2 euro bus trip.
Friday, June 14th: Adventure to Cassis using the CarTreize buses. Had an hour layover in Aubergne (or however you spell it) to eat breakfast at a cute little local café. In Cassis by 11am – walk to rocky beaches to explore and take pictures, visit the market, buy lunch, chill at tourist beach (while others venture off to find beaches of their own… like nude beaches, welcome to France!), swim in the Mediterranean for the first time, eat first croque monsieur, shop in little shops in town, play Rich Man Poor Man while waiting for the bus (which some French people watched while waiting as well, commenting about how my shuffling of cards is casino-worthy), get back to Aix, plan for the next 2 euro bus trip.
Saturday, June 15th: Adventure to Arles using the CarTreize buses. Saw some nearby cities to Aix, more country side, and whatnot. Arrived in Arles for the afternoon – saw the yellow café that Van Gogh painted (my favorite part), saw lots of Roman ruins (like the amphitheater and coliseum), saw the Seine river for the first time, ate more gelato, played more Rich Man Poor Man while waiting for the bus (and getting a wet wipe of cherry gunk thrown at me because an old French lady thought I purposely put a cherry under her butt before she sat down), arrive back in Aix by dinnertime.
Sunday, June 16th: Recovery/homework day in Aix. Explore the town some more with friends. Go to French church service. Go out to dinner with housie, her friends, and her professor again.
Sunday, June 16th: Recovery/homework day in Aix. Explore the town some more with friends. Go to French church service. Go out to dinner with housie, her friends, and her professor again.
Weekend #4: Halfway point/ Sam’s last night/We’re still bad at planning things weekend/Music Party! June 21st – 23rd
Friday, June 21st: France’s fête de la musique! A giant nation wide party where in each town there are stages set up for different bands to play on from 4pm until 3am the next day. Lots of drinking in the streets, street fighting, and weird people. Oh, and the biggest crowd of people I’ve ever been in my entire life. We also went out to eat at the Bistro Roman on the Cours Mirabeau to celebrate the end of our first 3 week class, the end of finals (which are way different here and a bit more intimidating thanks to an oral section of a final exam), and Sam’s last night in Aix. I had some of the best spaghetti ever.
Friday, June 21st: France’s fête de la musique! A giant nation wide party where in each town there are stages set up for different bands to play on from 4pm until 3am the next day. Lots of drinking in the streets, street fighting, and weird people. Oh, and the biggest crowd of people I’ve ever been in my entire life. We also went out to eat at the Bistro Roman on the Cours Mirabeau to celebrate the end of our first 3 week class, the end of finals (which are way different here and a bit more intimidating thanks to an oral section of a final exam), and Sam’s last night in Aix. I had some of the best spaghetti ever.
Saturday, June 22nd: Excursion with George to St. Tropez! Elisabeth, Issac, Emily, and I all paid 25 euros through the school to go with a tour guide, George, to St. Tropez, which is somewhat hard to reach without a car or organized mode of transport. We got to go to the market in St. Tropez and see a bunch of cruise ships and super nice boats before we went to Le Ciotat (a SUPER NICE SANDY BEACH) to swim in. Found a hole in the ground for a toilet… literally.
Sunday, June 23rd: Rest in Aix day. Went out to eat with housie, her friends, her professor, and her professor’s French friend at a nice restaurant to celebrate Dr. Savage (her professor)’s last weekend in France (since the other Wheaton professor was coming to switch out with him for the last 3 weeks). Ate another awesome pizza because, you know, I’m addicted to pizza. Also finished planning out trip for the next weekend to Barçalona, Spain thanks to Nathan and his momma!
Sunday, June 23rd: Rest in Aix day. Went out to eat with housie, her friends, her professor, and her professor’s French friend at a nice restaurant to celebrate Dr. Savage (her professor)’s last weekend in France (since the other Wheaton professor was coming to switch out with him for the last 3 weeks). Ate another awesome pizza because, you know, I’m addicted to pizza. Also finished planning out trip for the next weekend to Barçalona, Spain thanks to Nathan and his momma!
Weekend #5: Cultural experience weekend/”Let’s go to another country” trip/weekend of train problems! June 28th – 30th . [this weekend will have the longest write up… HAHA.]
Friday, June 28th: Worst day of living in France ever (thanks to traveling issues).
SO, my friends and I all got up at the butt-crack of dawn (and I mean it.. we were at the Aix train station by 5:40am) to catch our first train to Marseille.. [Looking back, I don’t see why we didn’t take a bus….] Luckily, MY FIRST TRAIN RIDE EVER (I know, I’m sheltered), went fine. We left Aix at the scheduled 6:10am and saw more new places on the way to Marseille that we’d never seen and arrived to Marseille St. Charles on time. We went over to the screens that displayed the next trains to leave and whatnot, spotted our next train (we had 4 or 5 different trains/connections for this trip), got McDonalds for breakfast since it was inside the train station, waited for the platform, found the platform, and waited some more. The screens had said our train was running late, but little did we know, it kept getting delayed more and more. The SNCF personnel told us to go back to the screens because our train was no longer at the platform that we were on. Confused, we go back to the screens to watch our train be delayed another 10 minutes (making that 50 minutes total), and then watch the word “Annule” pop up on the screen next to it.
Okay, so my French not be the best, but there’s only one thing that could mean: CANCELLED. We all start to panic. We go to the information desk, where everyone from our train had already gone, watched some crazy guy try to fix things (and only embarrassed himself… I have a video):
Friday, June 28th: Worst day of living in France ever (thanks to traveling issues).
SO, my friends and I all got up at the butt-crack of dawn (and I mean it.. we were at the Aix train station by 5:40am) to catch our first train to Marseille.. [Looking back, I don’t see why we didn’t take a bus….] Luckily, MY FIRST TRAIN RIDE EVER (I know, I’m sheltered), went fine. We left Aix at the scheduled 6:10am and saw more new places on the way to Marseille that we’d never seen and arrived to Marseille St. Charles on time. We went over to the screens that displayed the next trains to leave and whatnot, spotted our next train (we had 4 or 5 different trains/connections for this trip), got McDonalds for breakfast since it was inside the train station, waited for the platform, found the platform, and waited some more. The screens had said our train was running late, but little did we know, it kept getting delayed more and more. The SNCF personnel told us to go back to the screens because our train was no longer at the platform that we were on. Confused, we go back to the screens to watch our train be delayed another 10 minutes (making that 50 minutes total), and then watch the word “Annule” pop up on the screen next to it.
Okay, so my French not be the best, but there’s only one thing that could mean: CANCELLED. We all start to panic. We go to the information desk, where everyone from our train had already gone, watched some crazy guy try to fix things (and only embarrassed himself… I have a video):
and got our tickets changed to say “en route to Montpellier”, which meant we could take WHATEVER TRAIN POSSIBLE to get there. We made our way back to the display to find a train to Montpellier that would leave in 20 more minutes and still allow us to make our connecting trains (thankfully). We waited for the platform to find our train, watching it be delayed… and delayed…. And delayed some more…. And after 60 minutes, “annule” -- AGAIN. Well, so much for not having any more problems. Unfortunately, neither we nor the SNCF personnel knew that someone committed suicide on the tracks to Montpellier, making things almost impossible. I walked to the information booth, trying to find ways to get to Montpellier in any way possible, as my friends met a young couple from the States and a young guy from Israel that were in the same predicament as we were – trying to get to Barçalona and their train (the same one we were scheduled for), was cancelled. Luckily, the guy from Israel, named Dean, had talked to the SNCF personnel and found out that his, now “our” best bet to get to Montpellier would be through a train to Avignon, then to Port Bou, which had a stop in Montpellier. Fortunately, this train was on time, we boarded, and were on our way to Avignon, a bit out of the way for our journey, but at least a step in the right direction.
We enjoyed our lunch in Avignon, a bit early, but well welcomed after our fiasco in Marseille and a way to spend our 2 hour layover for the train to Port Bou. There, we met 2 British girls who were also on their way to Barçalona, who joined us for lunch in the train station as we waited. Dean and the young couple made attempts to talk to the SNCF personnel about our situation and to get advice, but told us the same. Our train to Port Bou finally came, and we boarded. Our long train ride commenced. We spent about 2 hours on the train before the stop in Montpellier, which was waaaaaaaaay after our connecting train, so we decided to stay on the train after hearing from Dean that all of the trains from Montpellier in the direction of Barça were sold out, meaning we would have to stand. We remained in our seats for another 2 hours, until the STUPID sound of the SNCF (if only you knew how many times we heard that sound) came over the intercom, telling all the passengers, in French of course, that they would have to get off the train and transfer onto the other train in the station at Narbonne (with no reason, might I add). We took our things and ran in the direction of the other train. Our 11 car long (at least) train was being transferred into a smaller, 3 car long train. WHAT ABOUT THIS MADE SENSE TO THE SNCF PEOPLE, I WILL NEVER KNOW. Everyone was packed into the train like sardines as they closed the doors. Of course we couldn’t fit, along with many others from our train, now getting quite annoyed. Elisabeth talked to the SNCF personnel, who were actually nice to us this time, and told us a TGV in the direction of Port Bou would be at the station in 30 minutes. Of course, we had no choice but to wait for the next train, bought some snacks, and boarded MY FIRST EVER TGV to Port Bou.
We enjoyed our lunch in Avignon, a bit early, but well welcomed after our fiasco in Marseille and a way to spend our 2 hour layover for the train to Port Bou. There, we met 2 British girls who were also on their way to Barçalona, who joined us for lunch in the train station as we waited. Dean and the young couple made attempts to talk to the SNCF personnel about our situation and to get advice, but told us the same. Our train to Port Bou finally came, and we boarded. Our long train ride commenced. We spent about 2 hours on the train before the stop in Montpellier, which was waaaaaaaaay after our connecting train, so we decided to stay on the train after hearing from Dean that all of the trains from Montpellier in the direction of Barça were sold out, meaning we would have to stand. We remained in our seats for another 2 hours, until the STUPID sound of the SNCF (if only you knew how many times we heard that sound) came over the intercom, telling all the passengers, in French of course, that they would have to get off the train and transfer onto the other train in the station at Narbonne (with no reason, might I add). We took our things and ran in the direction of the other train. Our 11 car long (at least) train was being transferred into a smaller, 3 car long train. WHAT ABOUT THIS MADE SENSE TO THE SNCF PEOPLE, I WILL NEVER KNOW. Everyone was packed into the train like sardines as they closed the doors. Of course we couldn’t fit, along with many others from our train, now getting quite annoyed. Elisabeth talked to the SNCF personnel, who were actually nice to us this time, and told us a TGV in the direction of Port Bou would be at the station in 30 minutes. Of course, we had no choice but to wait for the next train, bought some snacks, and boarded MY FIRST EVER TGV to Port Bou.
We played some Rich Man Poor Man to pass the time, but were quickly interrupted when the SNCF jingle played over the intercom and told us that we were reaching the last stop, in which everyone had to get off the train in Perpingnon. WHY THE SNCF PEOPLE NEVER TOLD US THIS, I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND EITHER. We were lied to. The train was SUPPOSED to go to Port Bou, but wasn’t. WHAT WAS UP WITH ALL PROBLEMS?! We talked to information once again, who assured us this was our train’s last stop (which I still can’t believe) and we would have to wait 2 and a half hours for a train that would get us to Barça by 10pm, or wait 4 hours for a TGV that would get us to Barça by 9pm. Of course, we picked to wait for the TGV so we would get to Barça sooner. After the train stopping at Figures (the “border”), a few rude words to the ticket reader when he almost wouldn’t let us on the train despite our tickets for earlier that day and our numerous train problems, we finally got on the Spanish train (which was way nicer than the French trains) that brought us to Barçalona at about 9pm. We walked the 40 minute walk to our hostel, checked in, ate food at a hipster restaurant (it was a form of “slow” food, not fast food, that was healthy and had a wine vending machine – SO COOL), and retired for the night.
Saturday, June 29th: Explore Barçalona and get blisters (basically)!
We left our hostel at a reasonable 9:30am to grab breakfast across the street at Pain and Company, a pretty popular chain in Spain (which makes no sense to me, since “pain” means “bread” in French) and had a delicious, fulfilling breakfast for cheaper than imagined in Aix. We walked to a few of the Gaudi architectural houses, took a bunch of pictures, then bought a 10 ticket pass for the metro to save us some time. (The metro in Barça is pretty easy to use, thankfully it’s color coded). We headed to the Sagrada Famillia, a huge church created by Gaudi. We wanted to go in, but the line would have had us waiting for at least 2 and a half hours just to see the inside, so we decided to visit Burger King, get slushies, and souvenir shop in a few local shops before heading to the Barça football stadium (really soccer, you know). We hopped on the metro to get to the stadium, walked the hefty walk, and made it to the stadium and the land of the jerseys, aka the FBC store. Nathan had to buy some jerseys for himself and a relative while Elisabeth and Joanna took funny pictures with the mannequins. I sat on the cement stairs inside to rest my feet. I honestly don’t think I’ve seen more jerseys in my entire life… or decently attractive soccer players. Hmm…
We hopped back on the metro after the stadium to head to the mall near the beach, since Joanna wanted to see the beach. We had lunch at a cute Austrailian (I think) pub/bar thing that served some mean tacos (and a burger in a bowl). We ventured down to the beach, took pictures, and headed back to find more Gaudi houses towards the center of the town, where the tourists go.
We stumbled upon a church that Gaudi helped design (apparently?), and ran into a wedding taking place, basically opened to the public. We also saw a bunch of huge dolls standing outside for no reason… or at least we couldn’t tell what the reason was. Ready to see more, we walked to the Cathedral, the second biggest church in town aside from the Sagrada, and saw synchronized old people dancing (which apparently goes on a lot, based on a schedule of some sort… it’s apparently a part of the culture – very interesting and somewhat funny to watch). I couldn’t go inside the cathedral because I was wearing a tank top and you had to have sleeves/modest clothing/at least shorts on in order to go in. I didn’t feel like paying a euro to borrow a scarf just to see another church, so I waited, watching the old people with Joanna. Ironically enough, we ran into the same British girls we ran into at the train station in Avignon who stopped by to say hey to us. They encouraged us to visit the Gaudi park (which we had been debating over all day). We parted ways, figured out the easiest way to get to Gaudi park (which was a struggle with our limited Spanish speaking – thanks Nathan!).
We left our hostel at a reasonable 9:30am to grab breakfast across the street at Pain and Company, a pretty popular chain in Spain (which makes no sense to me, since “pain” means “bread” in French) and had a delicious, fulfilling breakfast for cheaper than imagined in Aix. We walked to a few of the Gaudi architectural houses, took a bunch of pictures, then bought a 10 ticket pass for the metro to save us some time. (The metro in Barça is pretty easy to use, thankfully it’s color coded). We headed to the Sagrada Famillia, a huge church created by Gaudi. We wanted to go in, but the line would have had us waiting for at least 2 and a half hours just to see the inside, so we decided to visit Burger King, get slushies, and souvenir shop in a few local shops before heading to the Barça football stadium (really soccer, you know). We hopped on the metro to get to the stadium, walked the hefty walk, and made it to the stadium and the land of the jerseys, aka the FBC store. Nathan had to buy some jerseys for himself and a relative while Elisabeth and Joanna took funny pictures with the mannequins. I sat on the cement stairs inside to rest my feet. I honestly don’t think I’ve seen more jerseys in my entire life… or decently attractive soccer players. Hmm…
We hopped back on the metro after the stadium to head to the mall near the beach, since Joanna wanted to see the beach. We had lunch at a cute Austrailian (I think) pub/bar thing that served some mean tacos (and a burger in a bowl). We ventured down to the beach, took pictures, and headed back to find more Gaudi houses towards the center of the town, where the tourists go.
We stumbled upon a church that Gaudi helped design (apparently?), and ran into a wedding taking place, basically opened to the public. We also saw a bunch of huge dolls standing outside for no reason… or at least we couldn’t tell what the reason was. Ready to see more, we walked to the Cathedral, the second biggest church in town aside from the Sagrada, and saw synchronized old people dancing (which apparently goes on a lot, based on a schedule of some sort… it’s apparently a part of the culture – very interesting and somewhat funny to watch). I couldn’t go inside the cathedral because I was wearing a tank top and you had to have sleeves/modest clothing/at least shorts on in order to go in. I didn’t feel like paying a euro to borrow a scarf just to see another church, so I waited, watching the old people with Joanna. Ironically enough, we ran into the same British girls we ran into at the train station in Avignon who stopped by to say hey to us. They encouraged us to visit the Gaudi park (which we had been debating over all day). We parted ways, figured out the easiest way to get to Gaudi park (which was a struggle with our limited Spanish speaking – thanks Nathan!).
When we stepped out of the metro we had no clue where we were – It wasn’t even on my map. Nathan spotted an old guy and decided to ask him for directions, which was pretty interesting. He told us to walk down the road and look to our left to find escalators that would bring us to the park. Easy enough. No one told me that it would be a 45 degree angle up a hill to said park….. At least I only had to walk up 2 hills that steep. I think we all had to stop a few times to take a breather. It was extreme, but so worth it once we got a beautiful shot of Barçalona right before our eyes.
That park was the highlight of the trip, in my opinion. Such pretty architecture, so artsy… Even better because we made it to the top to watch the sunset over Barça from the top benches. We took many pictures, bought several souvenirs from the peddlers throughout the park (who all seemed to be of African/Middle Eastern descent… all selling things super cheap). We walked a bit of a walk to the next metro station, hopped back on and made our way to the bottom of town to walk up the tourist road, attempting to find dinner.
We stopped to eat at this Tapas Café, next to a short man wearing a monster suit, trying to scare people and obtain money. Quite hilarious. I got a pizza and tapas so I could try them since the paiya (or however you spell it) would’ve given me heartburn and was a bit more than I wanted to pay after splitting a pitcher of the best Sangria I ever had with someone.
We walked up tourist alley, dodging people asking us to go to clubs, people who wanted to sell us stupid things, people trying to sell beers, and the occasional drunk people to our hostel. Everyone immediately fell asleep, while I, a bit buzzed from my Sangria (but SO worth it), decided to take a warm shower, and chill on facebook until 3am when I finally decided to call it a night.
That park was the highlight of the trip, in my opinion. Such pretty architecture, so artsy… Even better because we made it to the top to watch the sunset over Barça from the top benches. We took many pictures, bought several souvenirs from the peddlers throughout the park (who all seemed to be of African/Middle Eastern descent… all selling things super cheap). We walked a bit of a walk to the next metro station, hopped back on and made our way to the bottom of town to walk up the tourist road, attempting to find dinner.
We stopped to eat at this Tapas Café, next to a short man wearing a monster suit, trying to scare people and obtain money. Quite hilarious. I got a pizza and tapas so I could try them since the paiya (or however you spell it) would’ve given me heartburn and was a bit more than I wanted to pay after splitting a pitcher of the best Sangria I ever had with someone.
We walked up tourist alley, dodging people asking us to go to clubs, people who wanted to sell us stupid things, people trying to sell beers, and the occasional drunk people to our hostel. Everyone immediately fell asleep, while I, a bit buzzed from my Sangria (but SO worth it), decided to take a warm shower, and chill on facebook until 3am when I finally decided to call it a night.
Sunday, June 30th: A happy ending… Goodbye Barça!
We left our hostel at 7:30am, after a good night’s sleep and made our way to the metro (since we didn’t feel like walking to the train station) that would take us directly to the train station. We got off at the station, checked to see that our train was on time to Figures – IT WAS! We hurried over to McDonalds and a little café to get a few things to eat, got our stuff, went through a bit of security (they actually x-ray’d our bags before we got on the train… hm), and got onto the train, in our original seats. It was such a nice problem to have after Friday’s adventures.
Once we got to Figures, we switched onto our train to Nimes, which was in the style of a TGV, just going normal speed. Our seats gave us a table, so Elisabeth and Nathan worked on homework while I slept and Joanna jammed out to music. It was such a nice, quiet ride:
We got to Nimes on time to have a bite for lunch at Paul. I decided a bag of chips and a soda would suffice from the vending machines, since it was cheaper and I wasn’t very hungry. We got onto our TGV to Aix on time, made it to the Aix TGV station a couple of minutes late, but it was no big deal. We had to wait for the next navette (shuttle) to Aix, but ran into a couple from the states that were travelling. We were able to help them with the navette and drop them off at the Rotonde so they could find their hotel. They were really nice!
Elisabeth went out to eat that night and I ate with our host mom, since I wasn’t invited (it was her new professor who had organized dinner). I ended up feeling sick and fell asleep super early. It was all worth it, though!
We left our hostel at 7:30am, after a good night’s sleep and made our way to the metro (since we didn’t feel like walking to the train station) that would take us directly to the train station. We got off at the station, checked to see that our train was on time to Figures – IT WAS! We hurried over to McDonalds and a little café to get a few things to eat, got our stuff, went through a bit of security (they actually x-ray’d our bags before we got on the train… hm), and got onto the train, in our original seats. It was such a nice problem to have after Friday’s adventures.
Once we got to Figures, we switched onto our train to Nimes, which was in the style of a TGV, just going normal speed. Our seats gave us a table, so Elisabeth and Nathan worked on homework while I slept and Joanna jammed out to music. It was such a nice, quiet ride:
We got to Nimes on time to have a bite for lunch at Paul. I decided a bag of chips and a soda would suffice from the vending machines, since it was cheaper and I wasn’t very hungry. We got onto our TGV to Aix on time, made it to the Aix TGV station a couple of minutes late, but it was no big deal. We had to wait for the next navette (shuttle) to Aix, but ran into a couple from the states that were travelling. We were able to help them with the navette and drop them off at the Rotonde so they could find their hotel. They were really nice!
Elisabeth went out to eat that night and I ate with our host mom, since I wasn’t invited (it was her new professor who had organized dinner). I ended up feeling sick and fell asleep super early. It was all worth it, though!
Weekend #6: Final travelling weekend/we split up here/dreams realized in Paris! July 5th-7th
Friday, July 5th: IAU excursion to Moustier (or however you spell it) and the Lac St-Croix (I think was the name of it). We got to go to a market of a super cute town; I looked at waterfalls, listened to some musicians, tried more dry sausage, and took lots of pictures. Next, we went to the manmade lake nearby that was super well known for its TURQUOISE (my favorite color) water and all the fun activities you could do there. I went with 2 of my classmates in a canoe around the lake until we were tired, to which we retired to the beach to lay on the rocks and chill in the sun.
Friday, July 5th: IAU excursion to Moustier (or however you spell it) and the Lac St-Croix (I think was the name of it). We got to go to a market of a super cute town; I looked at waterfalls, listened to some musicians, tried more dry sausage, and took lots of pictures. Next, we went to the manmade lake nearby that was super well known for its TURQUOISE (my favorite color) water and all the fun activities you could do there. I went with 2 of my classmates in a canoe around the lake until we were tired, to which we retired to the beach to lay on the rocks and chill in the sun.
Saturday, July 6th & Sunday, July 7th : I left at 7:20am for the bus station to take the navette to the Aix TGV station for my first alone trip of the session. Funny story: a professor from my university found out I was running low on funds towards the end of the session and found out I didn’t have a chance to go to Paris, so they wired me more money just for Paris – a blessing from God, for sure.
Instead of writing this again, here’s the link to my French (as in, I wrote in a different language) blog, where you can translate it into English: http://fromagechronicles.tumblr.com/
Instead of writing this again, here’s the link to my French (as in, I wrote in a different language) blog, where you can translate it into English: http://fromagechronicles.tumblr.com/
Weekend #7: Goodbye Aix, hello London, hello Chicago, welcome home! July 12th – July 14th
Friday, July 12th: Final day in Aix. We all took our final exams, I went souvenir shopping some more with Elisabeth, and I went to the inauguration of the new building for IAU. I got an IAU t-shirt for helping and a buttload of callisons for the plane ride home. Check! After, I ate my last dinner with my host mom and Elisabeth and met a former student that our host momma had hosted: Bethany. After dinner, we all went to Les Deux Garçons on the Cours Mirabeau to celebrate our last day in Aix and have a celebratory… something. We all went home and packed after saying our goodbyes (which were pretty hard for me… I made it through without crying, though!)
Saturday, July 13th: I woke up at 6:20am to say goodbye to Elisabeth, which was actually kind of funny. I had set my alarm for 6:15am so I could talk to her before she left, but when my alarm went off in the morning, I had no idea why (that’s what I get for staying up so late, haha). I watched Elisabeth pack the last of her things as she gave me a hug. I couldn’t help but start crying. She started crying. Such a bittersweet moment. You know, it’s really hard to say goodbye to someone who’s experienced the last 6 weeks with you – felt just like you, been homesick just like you, who’s introduced you to her friends because you were there alone, and always was there to talk to… in English. I always get attached to people like that. I watched her wheel her luggage up the hill towards the bus station where she would meet the rest of the Wheaton kids and head to Paris. I watched her and cried, the whole time. My host momma patted me on her back and went back to bed as I honestly laid in bed, silently crying, feeling like I had just lost my best friend. (Sap story, I know, I’m pathetic).
I ate lunch with my host momma as I looked up things for London. I found the name for the shuttle that would pick me up at the airport and take me to the hotel that my dad had reserved for me as a good grades present (straight As all year! Woo!). I finally packed the last of my things, weighed my bag (which was PERFECT at 49.8 lbs with a 50 lbs limit.. phew), and put my things in the hallway. Madame offered to drive me to the bus station, which I accepted, as she helped me put my things in as I got in. She made sure to roll the windows down and turn up the radio, knowing I loved it when she drove us around. She dropped me off, gave me two huge bisous and a hug, as I told her “merci pour tous” and tried to hold back tears. I recharged my 2 euro card for the last time, waited for my bus to the Marseille airport, got on, got to the airport and went along with my business as a typical international traveler. So much thinking going on that day.. but let’s not go into that.
I arrived in London a little later than usual and made my way to the border control so I could make it to my hotel. The people at the border control were very rude to me (I think it was all set up by the lady who was in charge of telling people which kiosk to go to). The man kept asking me where my parents were because he didn’t believe I was 21, despite my passport. He asked me so many questions… Finally, after about 5 minutes, he let me through. I made my way out past the lines of waiting people holding signs and iPads for travelers to the shuttles. The shuttle to my hotel was right outside the door, and as I walked onto the bus, the lady asked me where I was going. I replied with “Novotel”, my hotel name. She looked at me, a bit puzzled, and asked me how old I was. I replied honestly, “21”, to which she said “oh, I guess I’ll have to make you pay then” and asked me for 4 pounds. Apparently the shuttle to my hotel wasn’t free as the hotel had told my father. Awesome. Since I didn’t change money over at the airport, the lady apologized (in a very sincere way, with the cutest accent, might I add), and had me go get money inside the airport as she left. I did so, waited for the next shuttle, got on, and went to my hotel, of course, noticing the cars on the opposite side of the road.
My hotel was amazing – the only problem was, my plans for the night had been ruined. I had not factored in the (steep) price of a shuttle to and from the airport, which I would have to take again to take the train into London and spend the evening there. I found out that the shuttles to my hotel would only run into 11:30pm and was disappointed. I looked at the clock: 10:05pm. There was no hope. I decided to stay in my luxurious room (I was like a kid in a candy store) and eat at the fancy restaurant downstairs after calling my parents and boyfriend to let them know I made it to London safe. I bought fish and chips like the tourist I was and devoured it. I returned to my room and took the best shower ever and fell asleep the most comfortable I had in the last 6 weeks (thanks, air conditioning).
Sunday, July 14th: Goodbye London, Hello US!
I woke up at 5am to get dressed, pack my things, and grabbed a bite from the breakfast bar (that my dad paid for… I wished I would’ve gotten up earlier to enjoy more of it) as I caught the shuttle back to the airport at 5:45am. I checked into the airport, got my tickets, made my way through security, bought souvenirs and some snacks, and headed to the gate. Then I got this horrible gut feeling – are my bags really on the plane? I stood by for a security lady to help me. After a bit of confusion, I gave her my bag tag and she replied “well, your bag isn’t on the plane because we didn’t know you had a bag… but there’s a 50/50 chance it will be on there when you take off. There’s still 40 minutes until takeoff, so hopefully it’ll be on by then”. I had a bit of a panic attack. I said a prayer and hoped for the best as I got on the plane in my window seat (HECK YES) and made acquaintances with the lady sitting next to me. The ride back was nicer than the ride there. I slept a bit, watched the Admission (pretty good movie, might I say), and watched Glee.
We arrived in Chicago a bit before schedule and processed through border control to the luggage claims. Pleasantly surprised, THERE WAS MY BAG! On the carousel! I literally did a happy dance as I collected it and made my way past the customs guy to recheck my bags onto my plane to Knoxville and to the tram to take me to the next terminal. That was interesting. More security, then a bathroom break. I called my parents and boyfriend to let them know I didn’t die in the Atlantic Ocean and that everything was on schedule. I found a place that sold Chicago style pizza for lunch and sat at the gate enjoying it. Got on the jet back, played Angry Birds the entire flight while I listened to music, got to see a storm from in the air, and made it back to Knoxville safe and sound, on schedule.
Friday, July 12th: Final day in Aix. We all took our final exams, I went souvenir shopping some more with Elisabeth, and I went to the inauguration of the new building for IAU. I got an IAU t-shirt for helping and a buttload of callisons for the plane ride home. Check! After, I ate my last dinner with my host mom and Elisabeth and met a former student that our host momma had hosted: Bethany. After dinner, we all went to Les Deux Garçons on the Cours Mirabeau to celebrate our last day in Aix and have a celebratory… something. We all went home and packed after saying our goodbyes (which were pretty hard for me… I made it through without crying, though!)
Saturday, July 13th: I woke up at 6:20am to say goodbye to Elisabeth, which was actually kind of funny. I had set my alarm for 6:15am so I could talk to her before she left, but when my alarm went off in the morning, I had no idea why (that’s what I get for staying up so late, haha). I watched Elisabeth pack the last of her things as she gave me a hug. I couldn’t help but start crying. She started crying. Such a bittersweet moment. You know, it’s really hard to say goodbye to someone who’s experienced the last 6 weeks with you – felt just like you, been homesick just like you, who’s introduced you to her friends because you were there alone, and always was there to talk to… in English. I always get attached to people like that. I watched her wheel her luggage up the hill towards the bus station where she would meet the rest of the Wheaton kids and head to Paris. I watched her and cried, the whole time. My host momma patted me on her back and went back to bed as I honestly laid in bed, silently crying, feeling like I had just lost my best friend. (Sap story, I know, I’m pathetic).
I ate lunch with my host momma as I looked up things for London. I found the name for the shuttle that would pick me up at the airport and take me to the hotel that my dad had reserved for me as a good grades present (straight As all year! Woo!). I finally packed the last of my things, weighed my bag (which was PERFECT at 49.8 lbs with a 50 lbs limit.. phew), and put my things in the hallway. Madame offered to drive me to the bus station, which I accepted, as she helped me put my things in as I got in. She made sure to roll the windows down and turn up the radio, knowing I loved it when she drove us around. She dropped me off, gave me two huge bisous and a hug, as I told her “merci pour tous” and tried to hold back tears. I recharged my 2 euro card for the last time, waited for my bus to the Marseille airport, got on, got to the airport and went along with my business as a typical international traveler. So much thinking going on that day.. but let’s not go into that.
I arrived in London a little later than usual and made my way to the border control so I could make it to my hotel. The people at the border control were very rude to me (I think it was all set up by the lady who was in charge of telling people which kiosk to go to). The man kept asking me where my parents were because he didn’t believe I was 21, despite my passport. He asked me so many questions… Finally, after about 5 minutes, he let me through. I made my way out past the lines of waiting people holding signs and iPads for travelers to the shuttles. The shuttle to my hotel was right outside the door, and as I walked onto the bus, the lady asked me where I was going. I replied with “Novotel”, my hotel name. She looked at me, a bit puzzled, and asked me how old I was. I replied honestly, “21”, to which she said “oh, I guess I’ll have to make you pay then” and asked me for 4 pounds. Apparently the shuttle to my hotel wasn’t free as the hotel had told my father. Awesome. Since I didn’t change money over at the airport, the lady apologized (in a very sincere way, with the cutest accent, might I add), and had me go get money inside the airport as she left. I did so, waited for the next shuttle, got on, and went to my hotel, of course, noticing the cars on the opposite side of the road.
My hotel was amazing – the only problem was, my plans for the night had been ruined. I had not factored in the (steep) price of a shuttle to and from the airport, which I would have to take again to take the train into London and spend the evening there. I found out that the shuttles to my hotel would only run into 11:30pm and was disappointed. I looked at the clock: 10:05pm. There was no hope. I decided to stay in my luxurious room (I was like a kid in a candy store) and eat at the fancy restaurant downstairs after calling my parents and boyfriend to let them know I made it to London safe. I bought fish and chips like the tourist I was and devoured it. I returned to my room and took the best shower ever and fell asleep the most comfortable I had in the last 6 weeks (thanks, air conditioning).
Sunday, July 14th: Goodbye London, Hello US!
I woke up at 5am to get dressed, pack my things, and grabbed a bite from the breakfast bar (that my dad paid for… I wished I would’ve gotten up earlier to enjoy more of it) as I caught the shuttle back to the airport at 5:45am. I checked into the airport, got my tickets, made my way through security, bought souvenirs and some snacks, and headed to the gate. Then I got this horrible gut feeling – are my bags really on the plane? I stood by for a security lady to help me. After a bit of confusion, I gave her my bag tag and she replied “well, your bag isn’t on the plane because we didn’t know you had a bag… but there’s a 50/50 chance it will be on there when you take off. There’s still 40 minutes until takeoff, so hopefully it’ll be on by then”. I had a bit of a panic attack. I said a prayer and hoped for the best as I got on the plane in my window seat (HECK YES) and made acquaintances with the lady sitting next to me. The ride back was nicer than the ride there. I slept a bit, watched the Admission (pretty good movie, might I say), and watched Glee.
We arrived in Chicago a bit before schedule and processed through border control to the luggage claims. Pleasantly surprised, THERE WAS MY BAG! On the carousel! I literally did a happy dance as I collected it and made my way past the customs guy to recheck my bags onto my plane to Knoxville and to the tram to take me to the next terminal. That was interesting. More security, then a bathroom break. I called my parents and boyfriend to let them know I didn’t die in the Atlantic Ocean and that everything was on schedule. I found a place that sold Chicago style pizza for lunch and sat at the gate enjoying it. Got on the jet back, played Angry Birds the entire flight while I listened to music, got to see a storm from in the air, and made it back to Knoxville safe and sound, on schedule.