Sexiest scooter in Marseilles
(See next blog for catch-up photos)
The last day in Marseille. We woke to a beautiful day, secure in the knowledge that our train was booked for just after midday. All we had to do was to find some breakfast and go for a walk. Lovely.
We did that and managed to find a taxi to avoid the horror of ascending the Grand Staircase at St Charles Railway Station. All was well. Until Jane checked the tickets.
I hadn't checked them properly and only gone off what the ticketing clerk had told me. We had missed the first of our three connections to Genoa. It had left at half nine without the appropriate Australians aboard. I apologized as much as was bearable for both of us and ran back to the ticket queue. I was in that queue for an hour. There were two ticketing people serving and one of them spent forty minutes happily serving two young girls. There was a fracas when one gentleman decided that this was all too little, too slowly and there was a scene with pushing and finger-pointing and loud French insults being exchanged. He was almost thrown out. The queue loved it. The little guy in charge of security was easily roused but the big black security guy couldn't stop grinning at the superior's lack of carriage (so to speak). The little guy told the big guy to throw the protestor out at one stage. He sagely ignored the order.
The woman who wasted all the time serving the girls was called away and had her smile removed by management. I had to be in line when she still needed to be taught that lesson.
I got to her finally, after her lessons in the obvious, and I managed to get tickets to Nice. Nice is a problem because the Cannes Film Festival is on at the moment, Accommodation will be scarce and it is on the same weekend as that damned public holiday. We may have to get onto a train to Roma if we can't find a room at the inn. But then again, we may wing a trip to Cannes to see the stars. Unlikely but possible. Equally likely is a night at Nice railway station.
It seems that the Eurrail Pass is not what they advertise either. We kicked ourselves for not buying one before leaving Oz but apparently one is treated as a second-class citizen. There are only a certain number of seats allocated per train and the train will leave with empty seats rather than allow more Eurrail ticket-holders on. No last-minute seats. Just the sweet smell of Kafka in the morning.
We learned this from a young Melbourne guy who was doing the big trip on his own. He had not packed a coat and had been caught by cold weather. He was a bit crook as a consequence. It's funny to address someone in French and to get Australian back.
Anyway, all is well. The relationship is strong and we are very fortunate to be grumpy at different times of day.
We survived the trip to Genoa after a serious gaffe re train times. I misunderstood our departure time. We managed to haul into dirty Genoa only a few hours late.
I say dirty Genoa because it really is grimy and untidy. We launched ourselves at the best hotel we could manage as a consequence. And very nice it is indeed.
Gotta run, see some pics in next blog. Another stuff-up I'm afraid.
No comments:
Post a Comment