Day 25: St Malo
I am still undecided about St Malo. On the plus side are the pretty harbour views, the lack of tourists and the fact I can speak French. On the minus side is the undeniable fact that we are stuck on a peninsula miles from anywhere with non-existent public transport and mediocre weather.
La plage
To my amusement two people today thought I was French: a man in a van asking for directions and an English couple in the laundry, who were debating (in English) whether or not to ask me for change. Luckily they didn't and I didn't have to admit to eavesdropping on them for the previous half-hour. Maybe it's because I smelt French, not having had a full clothes wash since Vienna. [Andy: Boo. Why the racism?]
The laundrette, walking to the station, shopping, eating and various wanderings around the peninsula filled the day.
Le havre
In the evening we had a wide-ranging argument about where to go next. Bad timing of the ferries ruled out Guernsey (the temptation to say 'I told you so' was very strong) - so a half-hour shouting match ensued. Richard and Andy seemed to have totally incompatible demands so I tried to keep mainly out of the flak. Eventually we settled on somewhere that satisfied us all.
Day 26: St Malo
Today I found the tourists and to a lesser extent, the good weather.
First though a dreary hour-long slog to the hypermarket, followed by a dreary half-hour slog to the station.
Things improved when I ate my picnic lunch and set off into the Old Town - Intra Muros - surrounded by ramparts. This was definitely the tourist trap, although the traditional French pastimes of boules and ignoring foreigners continued. [Andy: Boo. Why the racism?]
Les joueurs
Time passed. Not much happened. The sun set.
Day 27: St Malo > Rennes > Paris > Toulouse > Foix
The sun hadn't yet risen again at 6:15am when we got up and pitched camp.
C'est nuit
Dawn broke as we plodded through the deserted port, the first step on a journey which would take us the length of France in the next 12 hours.
Paris proved the most hectic of our changes: we had just 10 minutes to walk (run) down the length of platform 5 and up the length of platform 6. Soon though, the TGV was sending us at breakneck speed towards Bordeaux, Toulouse and the South.
An hour on a rather less comfortable local train brought us to Foix, the place we'd all agreed upon two days earlier. As the train rolled off towards the Pyrenees, I was left with a familiar feeling. It's the feeling TV programmes try to show when a car/bus/train drives off, leaving the hero on the pavement, surrounded by their luggage. You're on your own, mate.
The feeling can usually be assuaged by shelter and food, and a half hour routemarch along the N20 brought us to the Camping Du Lac and Danelli Pizza.
Camping du Lac
We pitched the tent during a break in the insistent rain; and hurriedly got inside as a major storm broke. Rain was hurled against the tent with astonishing force but (thank God for man-made fibres) we stayed warm and dry.
Day 28: Foix
Why does it always rain on me? Apparently this is the worst weather Foix has seen for some years: that's little consolation when we're only here for three days.
The long walk into Foix town is enlivened by the 'Encore en Foix' game. Each time you pass the 'Foix' sign you say 'Encore en Foix'. Oh, the punnery.
Encore en Foix!
Foix is presided over by its fairy-tale style castle on a steep mound which rises out of the valley.
Better than Disneyland any day
Since today was a Jour de Patrimonie I got in for free (this only happens twice a year apparently!) There were great views of the town and the Pyrenees in the distance, as well as a touchy-feely-smelly interactive museum.
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On a bench halfway up the castle mound I had an entertaining chat with a woman from South Wales on the mutual topics of the weather, Andorra, passport stamps, the Gower peninsula and the weather.
In the afternoon I wandered around the largely deserted town (it was Sunday), buying the odd Orangina and pain au chocolat to sustain me through the day.
Deserted Foix
Back at the campsite I demolished Richard 7-0 at table-tennis and almost demolished Andy 7-0 (well OK, he won 4-2).
Tomorrow may bring a new country or two.
Day 29: Foix > La Tour De Carol > Barcelona
The plan was simple enough: catch the train to L'Hopitalet then a bus to Andorra. A lateish start, a replacement bus service and our missing the stop at L'Hopitalet meant it had gone 1pm by the time we reached La Tour Du Carol.
There was indeed a bus to Andorra, but 5 hours travelling for 2 hours in Andorra wasn't very appealing. Time to put Plan B into operation..Throughout the trip I've wanted to go to Barcelona, an ambition not shared by Richard and Andy. Does Andorra have an Olympic Stadium? Does it hell.
Time then for one of my silliest solo excursions to date: an evening in Barcelona, a night in a hostel followed by a mad dash back to Foix in time for the Paris night train.
As the train travelled south and down from the Pyrenees, the thermometer displayed inside my carriage gradually rose. 15�C... 16�C... 17�C... By the time the suburbs of Barcelona streamed past the window it was a dizzying 28�C and I was hit by a blast of warm air as I left the air-conditioned train.
I checked into my hastily-booked Youth Hostel then set out for an evening stroll, first to the nearby Nou Camp (sadly Barca were playing away today) and then to the famous Ramblas.
The Ramblas
This long street is supposed to be the very essence of Barcelona and it was certainly packed on a Monday evening. The crowds were 'entertained' buy the usual entourage of Peruvian pan-pipe bands, piss-poor Diabolo jugglers and myriads of bloody human statues.
For dinner I headed to an 'all-you-can-eat' restaurant, just off the Ramblas. These places should be banned - they can't be good for your health. For €8,80 you first filled a large plate from the salad bar (it put Pizza Hut to shame). In the next room there were mountains of pizza and pasta as well as huge vats of soup. Luckily I left room for dessert - unlimited chocolate ice-cream. and fruit (very healthy). and unlimited tea coffee and hot chocolate.
Suitably bloated I waddled round the Ramblas for a while, swelling the coffers of Mr Stelios at the 'EasyEverything' Internet Cafe and not swelling the coffers of the human statues. Ha.
Day 30: Barcelona > La Tour De Carol > Foix >
Despite being in a dorm full of snorers, tappers, groaners and creakers, I got a good night's sleep and was up and out of the hostel by 9. I headed to the Pla�a Espanya and walked up the imposing Avenue Reina Ma Cristina past rows of fountains and the buildings of the Catalan parliament.
The views over Barcelona were magnificent, but my target lay further up the Montjuic hill - the Estadi Olimpic.
When the gates were finally opened I rushed inside but there was a problem. No-one was allowed on to the track. I had two options: 1) Leap over the crowd barriers and run around the track before anyone could stop me. 2) Ask nicely.
1101 (T-30) I tried option 2. It didn't work. "Is not possible". "But..." "No. Is not possible." Clearly this was going to take rather more time than I had anticipated, and time was something that I did not have. It was now 11:01. In precisely 30 hours I should be leaving Brussels on the 17:01 service to Ashford. Barcelona would have to wait - I had to head home.
I boarded the 12:06 train, destination La Tour de Carol. Although my Olympic efforts had come to nothing it had been great fun to visit such an exciting city - I will return.
1631 (T-24.5) The train system round here is royally screwed at the moment. Pour aller en Foix, c'est necessaire de changer en Tarascon utilising an undocumented (though free) bus. Still bus seems the way to travel, with views of the Pyrenees all around.
2101 (T-20) Encore en Foix! It's very cold - Richard and Andy were complaining about the freezing night they had endured. After a few games of table-tennis we took down the tent for THE FINAL TIME!!! We ate at Danelli Pizza for THE FINAL TIME!!! Now we are ensconced in the station awaiting our train. Richard and Andy have resorted to the incredibly unamusing 'translate song lyrics into French' game.
Day 31: > Paris >Brussels > Ashford
0601 (T-11) As expected, an uncomfortable, sleep-challenged night. Unlikely to get back to sleep now. Today is likely to be a mixture of tetchiness (sleep deprivation) and excitement (going home!)
1031 (T-6.5) On the high-speed Thalys train with the French -or possibly Belgian- countryside rushing past. Weather looks depressing. Welcome back to reality.
1501 (T-2) Our trip to Brussels was a re-run of last time - a struggle with the lockers, a nice meal and the much-anticipated trip to the Euro shop to stock up on tacky Euro souvenirs.
1701 (T-0) Eurostar 9149 departs bound for Ashford International, with three very tired InterRailers amongst its passengers.
Barring catastrophic collapse of the Channel Tunnel, it marks a happy end to our month's travel. It may sound cliched but it's been a holiday of real contrasts - camping in beautiful scenery, youth hostelling in bustling cities; some of the world's most civilised places, Belgrade; travelling on the TGV at 300km/h, going nowhere in Litohoro; swimming in the Aegean, sailing across the Adriatic.
Richard yelled at me at one point "YOU FIND EVERYTHING INTERESTING!" Which is, sad to say, very true. I'm even starting to appreciate human statues.
