Amboise (part 1): 4 French train stations (7/1/17)

                                                                                San Sebastian (Spain) to Amboise (France)

This was an intense day of travel followed by a whimsical conclusion—arrival at La Vieux Manoir, a wonderful slice of old France created by Gloria and Bob Bingham, an American couple in the middle of a Middle Ages French city.

Let’s start with the gritty beginning—getting up at 6:00 AM to be ready for a 7:00 AM taxi departure from General Artexte. Daniel, the apartment owner, arranged the cab pickup. Daniel stayed in texting contact with me and I had to add the Danalock app to my cellphone to get access in-and-out of the apartment. The requirement added a Kafkaesque element to the rental. Kafkaesque maybe too strong an adjective, plus cellphones didn’t even exist in Kafka’s day. Orwellian maybe be more appropriate, but also too strong, Big Brother! Our landlord connected to our in-and-out schedule via cellphone? Let’s just call it modern life.

Daniel said the Danalock would be “easy” to use. Computer geeks always say everything is easy, because it is for them. Daniel lived an hour away from the San Sebastian apartment, but constantly traveled the globe as an employee of a German multinational firm. Between Somehow, I felt something like an employee rather than just a guest— but the system did work.

The cab whisked us to the Amara train station. We would take the “topo” train, the mole, to Hendaye, France. We got to Amara well before 7:15 AM and made an earlier train to Hendaye as a result. I noticed two separate groups of young guys on the train. We found ourselves in the same car with a group of Spanish teens and several seemed drunk from partying through the night. One guy, clearly inebriated, looked to be hunting around for a new adventure. A couple of train gendarmes, probably Spanish police, eyed them with care and walked past their group. On a later stop, a number of African youths got on the train. I assumed that they entered on a stop in France, but actually not sure. Maybe the train would not reach France until Hendaye? These guys got on earlier. I associate African emigres more with France than Spain, but not for any fact-based reason. The gendarmes really eyed these guys carefully. Eventually the African youths got rounded up for questioning—as I saw them being escorted out of the Hendaye train station.

The Hendaye train station, not exactly a charming location, had an open-air urinal tucked in the outside area not far from the tracks. Presumably other customers could see you from behind as you relieved yourself, and I noticed there was less self-consciousness around bathroom culture. Female attendants freely walked through the mens’ room at these train stations, often pay toilets in clean condition. A few pence was required and you entered through a turnstile being watched by an attendant.

Two trains were listed for Paris (Montparnasse) but turns out the two train numbers indicated the same train. Our exact seats were listed, as with the bullet train we took earlier and the Spanish Renfe train. We had second class seats and our car eventually filled every last seat with middle class French people. A collection of luggage filled beyond the brim just across from our seats. We watched our suitcase and duffel bag fall further and further down, increasingly covered with other baggage as more customers entered the car. The effect was somewhat comical, but all bags got crammed in without falling on anybody and off to Bordeaux we went.

Bordeaux, a beautiful outdoor train station, was jammed with throngs of people exiting trains and headed to an underground corridor leading to the main station. Reed and I had an antagonistic moment as we wondered what to do next. He asked if we were headed the right way. I got defensive and said we should just follow the crowd. A few sharp remarks followed. Vibes between us were very unsettled, probably the tensest moment between us on the trip. Exhaustion had settled in and now we had to find the train from Bordeaux, leaving 13:14 (1:14 PM) to St. Pierre des Corps (Tours). There were 14 tracks. We tried to figure what to do next, and the system seemed to follow Paris train announcements. About 10 minutes prior to departure, a track number or platform number, gets listed on a big electronic board. A crowd of riders waits for the magic moment to arrive and then dashes to the platform. We had a four digit train number, but the destination name, Paris (Montparnasse), was exactly the same as the train we had exited earlier.

Due to our unfamiliarity with Bordeaux train station, our nerves were taut. Reed bought two French baguette sandwiches, quite good, for a reasonable 10 euros. I was relieved to get on the next train to Tours.

Confused by the strange name  of our next destination (St. Pierre de les Corps) I struggled to pay attention to our train’s progress. My T-Mobile plan worked well, as I felt free from data roaming charges. Google Maps showed us heading north—onward to Amboise-- but we had another stop first! We were heard toward our third train station of the day. From St. Pierre de les Corps we would catch our final train to Amboise.

Reed had brilliantly got us tickets to all these trains and VRBO rooms from his computer at home but my cellphone seemed to get us to the various places on the ground. Cellphone communication was the key to connecting to our landlords, Jose in Barcelona and Daniel in San Sebastian. Amboise would prove a little different—a deluxe bed and breakfast—in the traditional vein of European travel. We still were not there. I got up and exited the train car to get to the restroom. A group of young guys hung around the entry and I asked aloud “Do you speak English?” to the whole group. One answered, “Yes.” He confirmed Tours would be the next stop. Tours was the city name, and actually the same place as  the St. Pierre de les Corps train station. 

Reed looked into car rentals at the Tours station as Amboise was not so far away. That did not work. We chatted with an Aussie couple, maybe 10 years our junior. Reed engaged them in a warm and friendly manner, as he did many English speaking travelers. His relaxed approach added more tranquility and provided a bit of cushioning between us. The angry exchange in Bordeaux had not completely passed. And there was also an accumulation of travel challenges, a near month of travel with one-on-one interaction between the two of us. The Aussie couple had walked part of the Camino, the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, with a group of friends. Reed recounted that he had enjoyed every leg of the trip and this had a soothing effect on me. The European sojourn worked for Reed—and that was important to me.

Here were our European stops:

·      Paris

·      Barcelona

·      Santiago de Compostela

·      Sada, A Coruña

·      Comillas

·      San Sebastian

·     Amboise (soon)

That’s seven destination in about 4 weeks. I’m a little tired—but the Amboise arrival proved to a big upper, an exhilarating thrill at being in such different surroundings. Ain’t that what travel is all about!

travel day—7/1/17