Yesterday, I boarded the TGV train at Gare de Lyon and headed to Arles in Provence. The French pronounce the “r” in Arles unlike us Americans…I’m really having a hard time pronouncing this in a French sort of way…and the French are having a hard time understanding me.
When I got my ticket for the TGV, I decided that I would try for first class passage. However, the price was really just too much…you know, the deal is important. The first class ticket was about $100 more. As when considering the warm boots, I just couldn’t justify the extra money. When I got to the train station yesterday, I checked the price again…maybe there was a special deal. Nope, same price. So, I decided on second class. How bad could it be? As it turns out, it was pretty darn good.
I have ridden trains in Europe for at least 10 years as we have traveled through and have even been in the lead in the last years on deciphering the tickets, etc. However, as with speaking French, when you don’t use it you lose it and somehow when you are alone, things are different. My expertise got me to the right seat, but the wrong compartment….UGHHH. I had my luggage in the rack, my coat off and began making friends with my seat mate and was having a great time! Then, the man who was really supposed to be in my seat approached me and, asked me to move. My seat mate spoke English, so I handed her my ticket so that she could help me understand all of this. She confirmed that I was in the wrong compartment. My seat was 2 sections back. OK…no big deal. She handed me my ticket and I gathered up my things and moved on.
When I got to the right place, someone was in my seat…go figure! It was a man who was traveling with his wife and baby. Cute baby, by the way. It really loved me…..staring and laughing as I talked to it. Cute. Anyway, the man spoke English and said that he would move. The train wasn’t crowded, so I said I would be happy to go to an empty seat so that he and his family would be more comfortable. There were lots of empty seats. He was grateful. I was grateful, too. It was one of those seats that has 2 seats facing each other with a table in between. I hate those seats. There is never enough room for my legs and my luggage. So, when the train began to move, I did, too.
The TGV is the fast way to travel by train in Europe. The scheduled time for the trip was about 3 and 1/2 hours from Paris, which is at the top of France to Arles, which is at the bottom…pretty remarkable. I was looking out the window and enjoying myself when I realized that the conductor would be around soon to look at my ticket. So, I got my ticket out in preparation for the review. As I looked at my ticket, I was taken aback. This was not my ticket. Oh no! What was I going to do, and where was my ticket?! I was sure that someone had exchanged it with mine as I was moving to my new compartment. Horrible person! Then, I thought, why would someone do that? That makes no sense. Maybe I had somehow picked up the ticket of the family with the baby. Nope!
So, now I’m starting to panic a little. The conductor is coming….how will I explain this? Maybe I will have to buy another ticket….geez… I have to say that my experience at my last job really helped me to stay calm and think this through. Each day, there was some kind of crisis to deal with…really, much worse than this one…and I managed to solve each problem as it came fairy effectively. So, I thought about the ticket situation and decided that I had picked up the ticket of the woman in the first compartment. I looked at the ticket. It was for the first compartment and what would have been her seat. So, I decided I would go back and ask her about this. She was sleeping, and I hated to wake her. But I really needed to get my ticket back. So, I tapped her on the foot. She looked up and said, “You’re back.” “Yes”, I said. “I think we have mixed up our tickets.” When we looked we realized that there had been a mixup. We were both relieved to have our tickets back, and I spent the next 30 minutes or so berating myself for not paying closer attention. I could be one of those people of ancient times who, in order to be better people, flogged themselves with chains and as a result were made saints. HMMM sainthood…no, not in the cards for me. After sufficient self-punishment, I got into the train ride and had a wonderful time.
I disembarked the train, got a taxi and arrived at my hotel at about 4:00. The hotel is very cute. Certainly not as upscale as the one in Paris, but it is about one third of the price. I have to say, though, that it’s not bad. It’s done in the provencal style it seems to be very clean…very important. I think the bathroom is better than the one in Paris. My room looks out onto an interior courtyard that is really pretty, even in the winter. I decide that I can be very happy here for the next 5 nights.
My last comment on this day is that I arrived here on a Sunday without having had much to eat….just a baguette and some cheese. So, I was a little hungry. Does no one in Arles eat on Sunday?! There were very few reataurants open. Even those recommended by the hotel were not open. I walked from place to place only to be disappointed. I ended up near the Tourist Information center at a small bistrot. There were about 5 people in there besides me. It’s hard to believe that in all of Arles, there were only 5 people that needed to have a decent dinner. In the end, it wasn’t bad. I’m grateful for that, too.
Travel With Betsy 
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