burabura » Eurail

VIII: The Lourve and Dirty Old Men

Gloria — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 18:44:06 +0000

I figured I’d better finish writing about my Europe trip now even though I’m really keen to write about my adventures in China. Here goes!

Lucky me, I had the cabin all to myself on my way back to Paris! The sleepers are actually quite comfortable if the ceiling isn’t right in your face.

Lower

Killing time

Train conductor came to have a chat with me, I forgot what we talked about. As part of the Italian culture, I allowed him to kiss me twice (once on each cheek) when we bade goodbye, but he requested a kiss on the lips saying two kisses is for French/Italian (I forgot) and three kisses is for Italian/French! Nice try. I refused and locked my cabin door once he left.

I found this amazing little craperie that was located literally around the corner at 2 rue sauval.

Creperie St Eustache

I LOVE CREPES! “Very thin pancakes,” as Hert would put it. Can’t resist a nutella crepe every now and again in Paris and London. They served both savoury and dessert crepes here and the owners were really kind and friendly towards me.

So I was walking about around The Louvre when an elderly man approached me and asked if I’m going to the museum. I wasn’t because I thought it was closing, it closes at 10pm on Wednesdays and Fridays. He told me he’s a teacher and he has some special teacher’s pass to the museum and that he’d meet me near the Mona Lisa if I’d like and give me a little tour. I thought it’s not a bad idea. He asked for my name shook my freezing hand, then began warming my small palms. I still thought he was just being nice.

We met near the Mona Lisa and one interesting bit he told me was that if you walked from one side to another while looking at her, her eyes seem to follow you. It’s true! The Mona Lisa was way smaller than I’d imagined and it’s protected quite a distance behind glass and you don’t get to stand up-close to view it . Here’s where it starts getting creepy. He wanted to hold my hand during the tour of the museum claiming I’m cold and he wants to keep me warm. We walked around the museum while he gave me some insides on some of the painting before he had to leave for class, that’s when he said, “Would you like to come to my place to see my tower after my class?” Fuck, no?!

That’s the end of this entry. More about London next.

IV: Florence and Pisa

Gloria — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:28:46 +0000

Hopped on to the Eurail to Florence from Rome and stayed at Hotel Domus Florentiae. I made a few hotel reservations via venere.com and they’re reliable. The hotel is actually very near Santa Maria Novella (SMN) station but somehow, I walked about in circles as I tried to follow the directions provided by the hotel and it took me awhile to find it, tucked away inconspicuously.

Hotel Domus Florentiae

Lovely way to start the day

Bed and breakfast cost me 113.28 EUR for 2 nights. Apart from a very dark corridor that smelled a little funky and a slightly mouldy mirror, this is a very quaint hotel with clean sheets, decent breakfast and free wifi. There was a vintage wardrobe that came with an antique key that I really liked, and a balcony. I have a thing for balconies because I don’t have one at home (and also because you can smoke there).

Spizzico and Chinese takeout

I couldn’t resist getting some Chinese takeout after 5 days of cold cuts, croissants, pizzas and pasta. If you’re wondering – yes, Spizzico is good and I haven’t had a pizza in Italy that’s not delicious, and no, I didn’t finish everything for dinner. I probably reached the hotel around 7pm, twittered and checked my mail on my trusty iPod Touch, polished off the Chinese takeout and half a pizza, watched some MTV and news in Italian, went to bed, woke up in the wee hours and finished the other half of the pizza. Yes, it was cold. No, I didn’t have a microwave or oven to heat it up. Went back to sleep.

Morning. Hopped on the Eurail again, Firenze SMN to Pisa Centrale. Leaning tower, checked.

Leaning tower of Pisa

Things got more interesting from there on. There was a strike or something on my way back to the Pisa Centrale. I think some of the locals felt irritated when our bus got caught in the traffic but I thought it was rather exciting because we don’t have strikes or riots in Singapore.

Strike in Pisa

While waiting for the train back to Florence, Yukari approached me to help take a photo of her and we became friends on the train. She thought I was Japanese which was quite funny that she couldn’t tell that I’m not. We communicated with what little Japanese I spoke and with the help of her translator. Yukari was on a working holiday in Paris and came to Italy for a short holiday. She was living in a hostel where she got to know Ryota and Kojima. Ryota was a fugu chef who came to learn Tuscan cuisine and Kojima was on his grad trip.

Yukari and Ryota at Michelangelo

Carousel

We walked around till late and I had my first good meal at a restaurant with my new friends. Not sure if it was a Christmas market but there were people dining at this carousel-like structure and there were booths selling wooden toys, fresh herbs and candies. It was about midnight when they walked me back to my hotel and I realised it wasn’t so scary to walk about at night after all.

I: Paris to Roma

Gloria — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 08:44:21 +0000

“This is it,” I thought to myself as I stepped through the customs at Changi International Airport after waving goodbye to my teary-eyed family and friends. Backpacking isn’t common in Singapore, not to mention alone. It was a blasphemous decision to everyone I knew. When I belted up on the plane and felt the familiar vibrations of a take-off, I thought, “Fuck, this is it. THIS-IS-IT. There’s no turning back now.”

Transit at Amsterdam. They wanted to check my hotel reservations, I left everything in my check-in luggage – a 60 litre backpack I named Mr Tatonka. Lucky I had my iPod Touch on me with my e-mail receipts stored, they let me through. It was cold and quiet in Schipol Airport. My cheery yellow cotton shawl did little to save me in T-shirt and jeans during the 2-hour transit. Time crawled.

Finally, Paris, Charles De Gaulle (CDG). A smile peeked through the gloom as I stepped out of the airport. Paris probably has one of the most complicated train system by far. Doesn’t help that I don’t speak French. I took my first train to Gare Paris-Bercy where my next train heads to Rome in the evening. Noted that EUR to SGD was 1.898 and I donated more than I should dropping what I thought were shillings to a not-very-friendly man playing an accordion.

Paris - Bercy

First meal, Bercy Cafe on 118 Rue De Bercy where I ordered one of the set menus at 18.30 Euros. I vaguely recall reading filet on the menu which I mistook for fillet. Slightly surprised when I received steak instead of fish but I kept quiet.

Pate de Campagne

Formule E/P

Time: 1248hours. My initial plan was to explore Paris for a bit before the night train to Rome but the complexity of the Paris subway threw me off, even though there was absolutely nothing to see around Gare de Lyon. I didn’t know how to get to Champs Elysee or know how long it’d take me. Being the virgin backpacker I was, I have to admit that I was afraid of hiccups.

Gare de Lyon

This is the waiting area on the second level of Gare de Lyon. Now that I look at the Eurail timetable again, I realised there are only morning trains and night trains. There wasn’t a single passenger except me for a long time until a man arrived and slept across a couple of seats. Five more hours to go. The silence, the emptiness, the waiting and the loneliness was driving me crazy! With my backpack strapped to one of my arms, I set my alarm clock and tried to sleep. It got colder, I pulled over another sweater and continued to force myself to sleep.

Soup machine

More and more people gathered at the train station as I drifted in and out of sleep. I think I drank two cups of tomato soup from this vending machine in between. I followed the crowd due for Roma Termini at 1859 to the trains and got out of the station, it was so much colder outside and a wind was blowing. As much as I’m afraid of the cold, I like it and it got me all excited.

I shared the cabin with a quaint, old Italian lady whose name is Emi, if I recall correctly. I cannot remember her age, probably 70. I remember that she loves cats and she’s got adorable grandchildren, whose photos she showed to me on her mobile phone. Emi was full of vigour for her age and she stole quite a few cigarette breaks during our ride to Rome. She couldn’t speak English and I didn’t understand Italian so our conversations didn’t get us very far. She taught me to be careful and locked the cabin before we went to bed.

Non Smoker T3 Lady Upper

Emi

Sleeping on the upper bunk, there wasn’t any space for me to sit upright. It was dark outside. I was supposed to arrive at 0950 but the train was retardo (delayed). I got hungry. That meal at Paris Bercy was the only meal I had 24 hours ago. I didn’t buy dinner on the train when they offered because it was like 25 Euros and I thought no way am I gonna pay that sorta money for train food. I nibbled on my only pack of crackers that my sis insisted I bring for the trip and washed it down with the complimentary sparkling water. I don’t think breakfast was on the menu but they served us coffee and buns. I gobbled them up.

Breakfast for Emi and I

After about 20 hours on the train and hours of forced sleep, I finally got to Rome.

Someone came to pick Emi at the station, I think it was her son. I wonder how she’s doing now.

Non Smoker T3 Lady Upper