Sur le pont


Was in Avignon this weekend, visiting this happy friend of mine.

En route from Avignon to Antibes, convinced that I was now a seasoned traveller, well adversed in the French railway-system, I took a brief look at the screen informing me of departures. I bought The Economist and sat down waiting for the train. As time went by, passing the point of departure with no train emerging I still wasn’t worried. Ten minutes past a train coming from, instead of going to Nice arrived and desperation filled my body. I asked a fellow seasoned traveller if what was happening, and he kindly pointed out to me that I’d looked at the arrival screen instead of the departure screen.

Two hours later I stepped onto the next train with a thouroghly read The Economist in my hands, again trying to come across as one of these experienced TGV-users. The embarrasment I still felt must have been apparent though.

I was supposed to move into my new appartment today. However, the landlords called in the last minute, postponing the moving in to Tuesday. This certainly doesn’t make me less convinced that they are scamming us. My room mates aren’t quite as convinced as me though, so I will try maintaining a positive front.

As a result of the moving in-postphoning, I’m officially homeless for the next couple of days. Guess I can sleep at day and walk around hunting boars at night.

Writing this while sitting on the train supposed to arrive Antibes in fifteen minutes, the train suddenly stops and a nice woman is informing us on the speakers that there is a tree blocking the lines, and that we will be at least one hour late.

The last bus to Sophia Antipolis has already left, so I have to find another means of transport to get ‘home’ and move my last stuff from CIV to my numerous lockers at school.