Day One: Travel Curse, Be Gone!

A vacation couldn’t possibly be a Becky vacation without a travel problem, and so far this one hasn’t disappointed.

Like any story worth its salt, it started off well enough.  Muriel had volunteered to drive me all the way to the Le Mans train station because she goes to Le Mans every Friday anyway for her Pilates class.  So yay, no bus fare or time crunches!  But then I forgot my luggage tag back in my room.  And then Muriel had to call her husband about groceries.  And then I’d forgotten my lunch in the staff room refrigerator.  And then Muriel had to pee.  So despite getting out of class at 9:50, we ended up leaving the school at 10:25 for my 11:33 train with an hour-plus drive depending on the state of the roads.

Honestly, it was funnier than anything, and I only wish that was my only travel mishap today.

Muriel dropped me off at the train station after a car ride filled with talk about the laying off teachers situation, Pascal leaving his job and learning English, and me trying to find a job.  I pretty much hopped right onto the train, and after an awkward moment of trying to find my Carte 12-25 in my backpack and holding up the entire car — ugh, I hate being that person — that part of the voyage went smoothly.  I changed trains at Massy TGV — one of those train stations always used for connection but no one really knows where it is — and this is where it got lovely.

The train station is poorly designed, featuring only one tiny waiting room and a generous cross-breeze: a great bonus during the coldest weather France has seen for a decade.  But I sat down to eat my packed lunch anyway, planning to warm up at the standing heaters halfway through my hour and a half-long layover.  Then I looked up at the departure board, and suddenly my train was running a half-hour late.  Great.  I wouldn’t be able to feel my toes for another half hour.  In frustration, I weaseled my way into some heater space.  And then they made an announcement: because they’d had problems hooking up the train in Bordeaux, they were now running forty minutes late.  Surprisingly, no one (outwardly) grumbled, but my toes were about to revolt and head for warmer climes, so I bought myself a bottle of water and a Bueno bar to increase circulation before settling next to the heater again.

The train did arrive 40ish minutes en retard, and the large family next to me at the heater ended up sitting in front of me.  Now, we all know my track record with small children on trains, and I’m continuing my headdesk streak.  This child — who was very much old enough to know better — screeched nearly continuously for the first half hour, and then on and off for the train ride, with the mom saying the equivalent of, “Be quiet.  Be quiet.  Be quiet,” in the most deadpan voice imaginable.  My only consolation was that the other passengers looked like they were ready to fashion some pitchforks as well.

Sunset! I was supposed to see this in Strasbourg, not on a train.

All in all, I ended up arriving in Strasbourg 52 minutes later than planned, therefore missing out on the sun and some precious sightseeing time.  I checked into my hotel, Le Petit Trianon, in order to drop off my backpack.  The room was small, especially the bathroom, but it matches what I need, if not the price.  It’s absolutely glacial, though, so that could be a problem in one of the coldest parts of the country.

My purse says hey.

Pictures cannot accurately describe how tiny this bathroom was. Or how glacial.

Because the front desk guy was eating dinner when I checked in, I felt guilty asking for directions or restaurant recommendations when I could just wander on my own, so wander I did, taking as few turns as possible because I didn’t have a map if I got lost.

Wandering in a general straight-ways directions paid off.  I eventually found myself in the old center and then all the way to the cathedral!  Yay, innate tourist attraction finder!  I could be a tourist GPS.

They still hadn't taken down the Christmas decorations. Oh, the French and their fluid relationship with time!

Cathedral! And the dust on my camera lens. Ugh.

I just might shop in a Galeries Lafayette if they all looked like this one.

Still Galeries Lafayette.

Strasbourg is the oddball mix of German and French architecture, at least in what I’ve seen so far.  You have the wide, majestic squares lined with grand neoclassical buildings with wrought-iron Juliet balconies — very French.  And then there are the stout German buildings, the ones with exposed wooden beams and pitched roofs, hanging like beer bellies over the sidewalk.  But the two extremes don’t clash.  I’ve seen the confluence of two architectural styles go horribly wrong before, especially with the modern/traditional dichotomy.  But there they seem to belong together, like the French have germanisized and vice versa.  It almost makes me wonder why it took so long for the two countries to realize that they work better as a team than they ever did trying to wipe the other off the map.  I took a few nighttime photos but didn’t go in since it was so close to closing time.  Deciding to wander some more, I started looking for dinner.

French? Why yes, yes it is.

As Alsace has changed hands between Germany and France approximately four billion times since the beginning of the world, the cultures (and therefore cuisines) are somewhat mixed and completely fascinating.  Choucroute, or every meat imaginable cooked with sauerkraut, and fondue are specialties of the region, so I set out to find a decently priced choucroute.

I ended up eating pot-au-feu (loosely translated as pot roast) at a tiny, cute place called Le Pilier des Anges instead.  The waiter asked in French if a French language menu was okay, and even though I said yes, an old couple at the table next to me jokingly pointed out to him that he’d asked the question in French.

I bought my own breakfast for the next morning, and though I would’ve liked to wander around a bit more, my toes were murmuring revolution again, so I figured I’d call it a day.  Tomorrow I’m planning to head to Sessenheim for Attempt #2 at finding some family history, so I think I might want to save my toes a bit longer.